My Frustrations With Unitarian Universalism

I have a love-hate relationship with the religion of my upbringing, Unitarian Universalism. Unitarian Universalism is a creed-based religion that affirms its 7 principles. Unlike other religions, it’s not dogmatic and does not require commitment to any particular metaphysical doctrine (the existence of God, an afterlife, etc). It has its roots in Christianity, but has since evolved into what might best be described as “Humanism/Liberalism as religion.” Members are encouraged to do their own spiritual searching and study various world religions and philosophies in their own personal search for truth. But because there is no universal metaphysical doctrine on common religious topics, in practice the focus skews towards the openly stated values and goals, which are very Humanist. And Unitarian Universalism is very social justice oriented (at least, my congregation is, and it seems like the general trend). The majority of the services have themes centered around current events and progressive politics. This makes it very hard to not feel like you are going to a political rally - there’s always an emphasis on action and engagement. There’s certainly a “step into the struggle,” “save the world” kind of vibe. And for this reason, though this essay is obviously intended for Unitarian Universalists, I think that many people might be able to find this discussion about a religion they’ve never heard of relatable, because UUism is so tied to the values of Liberalism and American left/progressive politics. Prepare for a rant. This one’s for me. It’s my frustrations. It’s a pile of cathartic rambling, and I don’t apologize.

I’ll start with a statistic - a small percentage of children who grow up as UUs stay UUs, around 10%. They don’t remain active. Of course retention is a problem for many religions in the US, but it’s startlingly true of Unitarian Universalism. Why is such a “hip,” “cool,” non-dogmatic spiritual alternative so actively bad at retaining its youth? You might think they would perform at least marginally better than more traditional religious institutions given the gradual social movement towards secularism - but no, they are doing worse. I went to a young adult group recently, and I think I was the only one there who grew up as a UU - everyone else were people who found the faith later in life. And I was also the only man. It makes perfect sense - UUism is tied to progressive politics, so its commitment to feminism it’s part of its appeal for many people.

This low youth retention rate means Unitarian Universalism is unlike other religious communities. Most religious communities have deep historical-familial roots. UUism, on the other hand, is a community of spiritual migrants. It is constituted primarily of individualistic seekers with their own convictions. Many people come from a previous religious background that they became disillusioned with, looking for the sense of community that they lost when they rejected that part of their upbringing. So it is a community with an unusual amount of non-conformists who all have a chip on their shoulder against the idea of “tradition.”

Non-conformists are inevitably inconsistent people, because if we’re honest, most people aren’t anti-conformity, they simply want others to conform to their vision instead of the one they are critiquing. They still maintain a spirit of righteousness and make shows of disapproval targeted at what they can’t tolerate. “You can’t tolerate intolerance,” as the saying goes. They want to break the traumatic cycle of quiet shame and suppression that they found themselves a part of, creating a space that is more free and life-affirming for their children and the people of the future.

But if you study history and are brutally honest with yourself, you see a sad pattern in human history: many tried and failed attempts to create life-affirming spaces which create confident, charismatic people who love themselves for who they are, stand up for themselves and speak their minds. I think that is what we all want for our children, our friends, and everyone we love in our lives. But in order to truly break the cycle, we need to see the common pattern, and we need to take a deeply critical look at ourselves, what we believe, and most importantly how we act in everyday life. If I might make a nerdy analogy from my time as a software engineer, we need to look for the generic. When you write software, you look for common patterns so that you don’t have to write the same code over and over and over again. Instead of writing code for ListOfIntegers, ListOfStrings, ListOfTaxRecords, you write a piece of generic code, List<Type: T>, that will work with any type. You put in the hard work that goes into understanding all the common properties of any type you might want to use, you write the code, and then you’re finally done with it once and for all. You never have to copy paste that accursed List code and make tiny changes ever again. There is nothing more satisfying than knowing the fruits of your labor are running silently in the background, that no one will really have to worry about it ever again unless they’re simply curious about how it works. There is something a bit sad about seeing others take your achievements for granted. Back in my day, we spent hours every day doing XYZ! But when all is said and done, it’s wonderful to know that you have enabled a greater capacity for creativity and expression for the next generation than was possible for yours - it’s just too bad we won’t get to see all the wonderful things they will be able to create, now that they don’t have to worry about any of the problems we spent pulling our hair out over. (Programming might be technical, but it is a very creative pursuit.)

We do not recognize ourselves propagating the traumatic patterns of our history because the content changes but the form stays the same. Hopefully we feel like we make some steps in the right direction - but I think most of us imagine a revolution, and end up feeling more like a single brick in a long road under indefinite and arduous construction. And sometimes it feels like we are taking one step forward and two steps back.

That is what we need if we want to build a truly better future. We can’t stay at the level of particulars - we need to get our hands dirty, dig into history and see ourselves as part of self-repeating patterns unfolding in time, as humbling as it might be to acknowledge. And so I want to offer my perspective as someone who grew up as a UU, and I feel it might be hurtful to people who have committed part of their lives to this community. And this is just my perspective - I know I don’t have the whole picture, but maybe I can get the ball rolling on an uncomfortable discussion, one which I feel is necessary if Unitarian Universalism, or something which is descended from it, is to blossom into a truly transformative faith, and really deliver on its stated mission. It is hard to critique something which in principle you totally agree with. You just can’t put your finger on it. But now I feel I can articulate what has been bugging me for all these years. It is not the principles but the praxis I have a problem with.

I can only speak with my own voice, and it is often a rather vulgar, grandiose, sardonic voice. I spend a lot of time arguing with the imaginary voices in my head, and I will project onto you, the reader, even if it’s not how you really feel. Don’t take it personally, just have to cover all my bases. I have bipolar, I have struggled with depression, mental illness, shame and self loathing. I am trying to write this with as civil a tone as I can, but I just can’t resist a bit of dark humor here and there, which I’ve cultivated as part of how I cope with life. So that’s my trigger warning. Let’s get to the point.

My point is disappointingly simple, probably too simple. The way I see it there is one common thread in the long history of a stunted and suppressed culture propagating over time. The idea of moral obligation, responsibility, duty, etc. Yes, we have “inherent worth and dignity.” But we are all people desperately struggling for acceptance, we just want to be liked by others, especially as children. We are complete narcissists as children. When things are going well it’s all because of us, and when the people around us are upset, it’s also because of us. And we all know the wisdom “if you want to be loved, be yourself” is bullshit. It’s a half truth. Maybe more like a quarter truth. It’s true that if you’re not yourself, you can’t be loved - only your facade can be loved, the character you are playing. But people rarely love us for who we are, in all our neediness, messiness and complexity. We need to perform - we need to learn to play nice with others, do our homework, and generally carry out a gradually increasing list of responsibilities. And that is “just how it is.” It “can’t be helped.”

And when you have set a precedent, and you experiment and try to change who you are, you are often met with disapproval. Often in the form of a scolding, but just as often in the form of concern. I’m just concerned about you - you’re not your usual self. Of course we are always ourselves, but we are always trying to get back to our normal selves, the uncomplicated character everyone already loves.

We live “in a society.” We live in a demanding world. We are rigorously prepared for an adult life in the workforce, though as UUs we are often concurrently encouraged to be creative, expressive, and pursue our passions, and be engaged politically. And demographically, UUs have one of the most slanted income distributions of any religious group, according to Pew Research. If the conspiracy theorists knew about us, maybe we’d make a great target for secret society / reptilian body snatcher theories along with the Jews. Of course we’re in luck, since we don’t share their long and storied history - I think we’re safe for now. (I would love to be corrected if I’m wrong though - a good UU conspiracy theory would be wonderful. It would mean people actually know about us!)

We talk about progressive politics, and few of our members are socialists, communists, anarchists, people with critiques of capitalism and traditional Liberalism. But for the most part, we are a group of wealthy left-liberals (in the Adam Smith sense of the word) with a high achieving perfectionist culture, full of people striving to maintain an upper class lifestyle. We are generally people with incongruent visions of the future. The higher the standard of living you are pressured to maintain, the more you try to insulate yourself from risk, the harsher the responsibility you take on. And we take responsibility for everything - being creative, passionate people, maintaining wealth and status, and saving the world.

We talk about community and building a network of support, but generally speaking, in my experience we are traditional American individualists. We have deep protestant roots, and that comes with the protestant work ethic, the duty to earn a living in the market economy. We are self-sufficient people who are afraid to impose our own needs onto others. If you’re struggling, you’re not supposed to be out of commission for too long - the goal is always to get back to “functioning” and self-sufficiency. This leaves very little room for a positive vision of life for people who are disabled and people who struggle with mental illness. Of course that is the world we live in, and when push comes to shove, quiet resentment stews in families and communities as people struggle to figure out how to get by, a sea of eyes silently evaluating who is failing to fulfill their financial responsibilities. You can blame “the man” all you want, but at the end of the day, the people your fear and frustration have power over are the people you love, so inevitably that’s where they are directed.

And so it goes, as generation after generation scrambles to keep it all together. No matter how much you direct your rage at our institutions, you still have to figure out how to make it all work from day to day. We haven’t really, in almost any way, overcome this pattern of quietly persisting in rising to the level of one’s responsibilities. Many of us struggle and burn out, cope with humiliation and pat each other on the shoulder when someone is bold enough to admit they’re struggling in public, and timidly freeze up because we just don’t know what to do. This wasn’t part of the plan. We’re all supposed to heroically triumph, blossom into hard working adults with cool jobs. Shame about Alec. Shame about so and so. Hope they’re hanging in there! Hope things turn around for them! We rail against the system which puts people in that position, but don’t make meaningful changes in our everyday lives because they would require us to be unafraid of being a burden on our community and the people we love. It would require us to be more capable of dealing with frustrating situations without pointing fingers or telling others, “I know how you feel, but you just have to do it.” But what if they collapse and fail? You see the implication - you have to do it, but you’ve failed to do it. Ah, um, ah - I still love you, so maybe you didn’t have to do it. It’s okay. But, uh, this is frustrating - could you please figure out how to make this work? Don’t worry, we’ll help you, you’ve had a few stumbles but we know you can do it! (Could you be less complicated?)

It would likely require us to tolerate a higher level of individual financial risk than our wealthy asses are comfortable with. It would require us to confront fears about not maintaining the same level of financial success as previous generations. We talk about “systemic” this and “systemic” that. But at the end of the day, when our lofty political dreams fail to materialize, we have the same conversations behind closed doors as other Americans, with all the little unwritten rules and expectations. And we handle this just as opaquely and clumsily as the prototypical rugged individualist. Maybe we’re even worse. We use our political commiserating to dodge the hard work of building a culture that is more resilient, that takes action on the level of the community rather than government institutions.

If we could build a supportive community of resilient, self-secure people who are capable of unconditionally affirming themselves instead of suffering silently as they stoically strive to fulfill their duty, maybe we could actually build the sustainable momentum necessary for realizing our political goals. But we are unwilling to soul search and take a hard look at what that might actually look like. If we are really committed to the “inherent worth and dignity of all people,” how do we foster people who don’t only see that in the “other” they are trying to save, but also in themselves?

Our emphasis on changing the system can set people up for disappointment. We dream big, we call on people to be ambitious, but there is an implicit message in this. You can’t just be a person struggling to get by - you have to be more. You need to push yourself. You need to rise to the occasion. And it’s always already and all the time an “occasion.” Now is always the time. Frankly, I’m sick of this rhetoric of “this is where you come to be challenged,” I am already challenged. I come for the community. I come for a place of respite and solidarity. I’ve struggled with depression and mental illness. I’ve lost friends to suicide and I watch the people I care about simply struggle to exist. Let me challenge you - priority number one should be fostering an attitude of resilience in the face of anything. I despise “hope” as it relates to our broader social ambitions. Here is what I want - you matter, always, no matter what. Of course I want to live in a world united, but if at the end of the day it’s just me and my small community, I’ll be OK. To quote Kendrick Lamar,

I love myself
The world is a ghetto with big guns and picket signs.
I love myself
But it can do what it want whenever it want, I don't mind.

Come rain or shine, whether we achieve our goals or not, even if the world is about to end, we value our lives because that’s what you do. At the end of the day, you’re here and then you die, and you enjoy the ride and make the most of it. A warrior who looks out for themselves in a dangerous world is more self assured of their “inherent worth and dignity” than us liberals clinging to “hope,” clinging to our standard of living and our sense of moral obligation.

In Daoism, according to Laozi, you are supposed to “flow like water.” And water flows wherever it is needed, through the river, into the ocean, and into the crevices of the Earth. But what that really means is not some wishy-washy “go with the flow” hippy shit. What it means is to overcome fear and avoidance of risk, to trust the world, and in the case of this essay, to trust your community. What is really required to foster a totally secure sense of one’s inherent worth and dignity is something like a “warrior’s spirit.” But it’s much more complex than that term conveys. It’s a sensibility which is very spiritually dark. A deep sense of self worth which endures through every failure. Including when we fail the ones we love. Including when we are resented, hated, judged for not meeting social standards. A self affirmation which does not rely on hope for the achievement of higher ambitions. To love oneself simply as an animal, existing independent of all human enterprise. An unconditional self love. Maybe it sounds like I’m glorifying “not being afraid of poverty” - but that’s not my intent. I want prosperity, I want a future where the people I care about don’t have to fight so hard to get by. I’m just tired of all of this silent shame, this emotional insecurity, this inability to assure each other in the face of a difficult future. We don’t cultivate firmness, real resilience, real strength.

Look at a cat. A cat is a lone hunter. Have you ever seen a cat wallow in despair and self loathing? Have you ever seen a cat that doubted its own self worth? They are narcissistic little bastards, and so are most animals. And that’s what it really means to feel a sense of “inherent worth and dignity.” It is a totally amoral, asocial affirmation of self. We struggle with this as social animals. And we are unusually vicious and cruel in the way we keep our tribes together. The history of human culture is a long series of symbolic systems of rhetorical appeals and emotional coercion. People have been struggling to survive and maintain their standard of living for all of history, and they’ve been barking at each other about morality, duty and responsibility trying to hold it all together.

How much eloquence in philosophy, theology, and politics essentially boils down to a system of praise, inspirational messages and admonishments to get people to play their part in a social structure? A potent combination of spoon fed coping mechanisms mixed with various forms of emotionally coercive cultural messages reinforced in the language of everyday life, a psychological maze a person can spend their whole life in. Let’s be honest - there is no materially objective morality. God is clearly not smiting anyone - we do the smiting. There is no karma, though we certainly enact our vengeance and dole out punishment. Even if we are no longer metaphysically dogmatic, we still fully embrace the language of right and wrong, good and evil. The objective language of morality is a righteous mask for our subjective feelings. But we are afraid to drop that mask because it gives our fear and anger power. The cost is that it makes us subject to the fear and anger of others, and deprives us of our innate sense of self worth - am I a good person? Am I a bad one? Am I doing enough? Are there people in our congregation that feel that way? And if so, why, when we are so outwardly life affirming?

Is the way we talk about social justice really empowering, or does it make people insecure? When I am manic, I get hyped up, I become hyper-confident, I go on passionate monologues (ha, like this one). Then I slide back into depression and feel like a fake. When I see our services, I often see a desperation for the appearance of confidence that I am all too familiar with. I sense an overcompensating instability underlying the inspirational message. Can I live up to this? No, I can’t. Do I belong here?

What I’m saying may sound nihilistic to you, like I’m saying we should abandon the pursuit of broader social reform in favor of accepting that the world is the way it is, and live like selfish animals. But this is a pernicious false dichotomy. Not only is there no tension between amoral, asocial self-affirmation and positive social change, the former is a totally necessary prerequisite for the latter. Knowingly or unknowingly, without it it’s impossible to live a passionate, joyful life. A community that functions by depriving people of this innate sense of self worth so that they desperately conform to communal expectations to earn the approval of others is not a community worth participating in. It’s not a tradition worth passing on. But we end up passing it on anyway, because we don’t know how to escape - we remain trapped in a form which remains as we desperately try to change its content.

Maybe this sounds all too masculine to you Maybe you are outraged, or maybe you are concerned. But let’s be honest. Isn’t Unitarian Universalism a bit too feminine? Where are all the men? Where are the young men? Now I can’t resist it, I will project onto you, dear reader. I hear all the predictable talking heads whispering in my ears. In one ear, “Alec, might you be falling into the rhetoric of those alt-right, men’s rights groups? Isn’t this all a bit angry? Aren’t you buying into all that anti-wokeness bullshit?” In the other ear I hear some rightwing snake, “you’ve been deprived of your masculinity, you’ve been emasculated, those feminists are vicious, they hate men, come over here with us!” Fuck you both, there is no place for me. There is no one publicly articulating what I feel. I won’t fall in with the wolves. I’m empathetic and I’m not a total idiot, (more of an imbecile, really) so I can’t conscience ever sharing a bed with those cretins. None of those macho meat heads have a shred of real self love. It’s just a human centipede of performative hyper-masculine dick sucking for an imaginary authoritarian daddy who died centuries ago. Oh, and I hate the term “emasculate,” because it implicitly posits that the self-affirmation I’m talking about is the exclusive right of men. I don’t only want strong men - I want strong women, I want strong everybody. I want emotional resilience, passion and spirit across the board. I’m just tired of this weak shit. Who among us, I ask, has game? Who is it? Where is it? Where is the game? Where is the real shit?

I’m tired of sunshine and rainbows. If we really want to preach “the inherent worth and dignity of all people,” it has to include complicated people. We have to make space for darkness. We have to make space for failure. We have to make space for real tension, real discomfort, real conflict in the community. Because the community should be resilient, it should respond to the pressures that individuals place on it. We do not have space for abrasive, messy people, we expect everyone to clean themselves up. I’m sorry, but we are a bunch of insecure anti-conformist conformists. In the words of Lil Wayne, “I call it like I see it, and my glasses on.”

So there. That’s what I think. I still agree with the principles of Unitarian Universalism, and I think it has a lot to offer the world. But I’m afraid that my vision for a change in its culture is just too misaligned with its current trajectory. But I would love to be wrong. I would love it if people heard what I have to say, and took it seriously, and didn’t take it too much to heart in spite of my harsh critique. This is just my perspective. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it resonated with some people, especially people like me, who grew up in the congregation and stopped being active as they got older. Facts are facts - Unitarian Universalism is bleeding its children. It’s failing to be a place that passes on a life affirming tradition from generation to generation. And if that’s how the kids feel, that’s how they feel. I don’t want it to stay that way - so that’s why I’m speaking my mind, representing myself as a boy who grew up in the congregation.

There are certainly things I’m grateful for, that I now appreciate about growing up at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Phoenix. I appreciate that I went to different churches and learned about a variety of religions. I’m still passionate about that. I appreciate all the friends I made. I appreciate my experience in YRUU, our youth group, and the open discussions we would have about a variety of different topics. I’m grateful for that. I think young people should be encouraged to have those kinds of serious conversations in a group setting. We didn’t get preached at like we were in some bible study group. We got a chance to speak and practice articulating ourselves.

But this deep seated protestant culture, an individualistic culture where we hesitate to lean on each other, where we are afraid of failing to maintain economic standards or being a burden, has to go. It’s inconsistent with our values. Unitarian Universalism is a community which has critiqued and rebelled against its own heritage in everything but praxis, the everyday subjective experience of the members of its community. So much passion has gone into it - but when will passion come out? That’s what I want to see. I want us to figure out how to practice what we preach - we’re great at lofty rhetoric, but we fumble the execution. I know it’s not fake - I know that people really care, that there is real compassion, real dreams and heartfelt ambitions. There’s just not a whole lot of people who are real with themselves. Or real with each other. Please, for the love of God, let’s become stronger. Let’s become more resilient. Let’s lean on each other. Let’s learn to love ourselves.

What would I like to see more of? What is my vision? Listen, I feel this way because I authentically don’t know what would work. I am a guy sitting around thinking, but I will speak my mind even if I don’t know exactly how to put my thoughts into action. But here’s what I want. I want to see us tone down the politics and focus more on the community. We are a bunch of individualistic rich people, we have tons of high achieving, highly educated members. How does it feel to be part of the congregation as someone who is less “successful,” less educated? Who has a lower income? Who doesn’t have their shit together? I can tell you from my personal experience: it doesn’t feel great. Hang in there! You’re so smart, you’re so talented, you’ve hit a rough patch but I know you’ll be successful! I don’t want to hear that. I want to hear “no matter what happens, you matter.” I want to hear “there’s lots of ways to get by.” I want to hear “let’s lean on each other.” Of course I want to succeed. Who doesn’t? But I can’t control the outcome. Fuck hope. It’s fine the way it is. We want to make it better, but no matter what we’ll survive. I don’t have a ton of respect for “successful” people. Congratulations, you rolled the dice and didn’t hit any major obstacles, there were no extended rough patches, a path was laid out for you, you had all the right support systems. Good for you.

I want pastoral care, and I want people who are willing to use it. I want us to have a robust capacity to act as a safety net for our people. I want childcare, because being a parent today is hard. I want us to not only our financial resources but our time, concern and attention to these things. Fuck politics, let’s take care of each other, and when we’re not so exhausted, when we’re energized and passionate and well cared for, then let’s cry “the time is now,” and not a moment sooner. I want to change the world, but I’m sorry, it’s not my number one concern.

I want more small groups. I just don’t feel like I build relationships or make friends when I go to services. I go, I listen, I putter around after service, and I don’t know how to plug into a space where I can meet people. I really don’t care all that much about services. It’s good for us to listen to each other get up on our soap boxes, have our heroic moments, but I much prefer intimate conversations about personal and spiritual topics. I prefer a social setting that is more democratic, more involved, more equal.

And this is more personal, but I am interested in religion, spirituality and philosophy, and I feel this takes a back seat to more secular and political topics. I feel us shifting more towards the appearance of a movement, and I want us to be a religion. I want to talk about life and death, metaphysics (even if we won’t all agree), theology, meditation and prayer, methods of introspection and emotional expression. And I want to talk about them independent of politics. We are part of the broader world, and so it’s not possible to talk about our subjective experience without a discussion of the broader society. But I want to keep the focus on the personal and subjective. It’s our stories that move us. It’s speaking our truth which empowers us. And our lives do not cleanly fit into political narratives. I don’t want to be a victim. I don’t want to be pitiable. I just want to express my joy and my suffering, and I don’t want to rush to incorporate it into some broader societal narrative.

I want to make this space, whether it’s part of Unitarian Universalism or not. I am going to try and build it the way I want it to be, even though I’m a loner and an introvert and have absolutely no idea how to build a community. Even if it ends up as only me and a small group of friends. And no matter what, I love myself. Maybe my vision is in tension with yours. Maybe you want Unitarian Universalism to be something fundamentally different from what I want it to be. At present, it’s not going the way I want it to go. And I am not a leader, I do not control the sails of this ship. But goddammit I am going to blow my wind the way I want it to go. I am going to direct my current towards the path of my choosing. I think that what I want deserves to exist, even if it’s not the same as the Unitarian Universalism we have at present. Maybe it’s just too different, too incompatible, maybe it has to be something new and separate. But I want it to be here, because this is where I grew up. I love it much more than I’m frustrated by it. This is all very personal to me, and maybe I am generalizing to the broader community. But shouldn’t we speak our minds? Shouldn’t we try to honestly express our experience in the congregation, instead of only directing our attention outward to the broader culture? So thank you for listening, regardless of whether you agree or not. And I hope you speak your mind about your experience of being a Unitarian Universalist. Your frustrations, your vision.

Let’s try and make it what we want it to be. We won’t all want the same things, and that’s OK. Let’s not be afraid of it becoming something different than we personally envisioned. That’s how the world is - it doesn’t go where you want or expect it to go. We often feel entitled to control the small subset of the world that’s closest to us. But if we all try to control the outcome, there is inevitable tension, and things fall apart. But shouldn’t we try and keep it all together? Isn’t there much more common ground than division? Perhaps the only universal is that there are no universals - we are all distinct individuals. But maybe we can be united. Being both “Universal” and “Unitarian” is a messy, messy business. You have to get into the weeds. We’re all humans (well, maybe not our pet members) - and we need to embrace the fact that we don’t yet understand what is truly universal in being human.

But we should try. So let’s be together. Let’s figure out what is universal in being human. It’s hard not to universalize your own experience - I have certainly done a bit of that here. When you entertain how different others can be, it can make you feel alone - so without knowing it we often implicitly demand that others be just like us in the way that we speak about politics, ethics and morality. We have to be vulnerable. We have to learn to speak subjectively rather than objectively. We’re in an unhealthy relationship with the world, and we often shout our accusations and demands as if the world is listening. But the world isn’t listening - we are. I care how you feel. But when pain is only expressed as a call for action, the message comes off as, “if you don’t take concrete action towards enacting my vision, you don’t care about me.” Like a partner issuing an ultimatum. Do what I say, or you don’t love me. I find righteous anger about the state of the world exhausting - I want to love my people, love my community. Shouldn’t that be the starting point? Shouldn’t that be the stable foundation we build on top of? I’m not sure we have such a stable foundation. Maybe we think we’re already there, or maybe it’s just not a primary concern. I’m not sure we, as a whole, devote our time and attention to thinking about what it would look like. What if we did?