From Isolation to Interdependence

Human life – like all life on this planet – seems to involve a constant struggle to find a wholesome balance between the individual and the communal, the parts and the whole, the needs of one and the common good of all. On the one hand, each of us prizes our individual interests and seeks to satisfy our individual needs; we rightly cherish our independence, whether as individuals or as nations, or along the whole range of groupings in between. On the other hand, our very survival as individuals – even as communities, or as a species – depends on our ability to recognize that we are, indeed, part of an interconnected web of all existence, and our independence is conditioned (or limited) by the web of relationships this implies. However much we may value our individuality and independence – and the two are not always the same, or even in harmony with one another – we cannot forever remain in a state of isolation; we must rather reconcile ourselves to the very fact that life itself is a state of interdependence, whether or not we choose to acknowledge it. And whether we thrive or perish – as individuals or as a species – depends upon our ability to harmonize our lives with the fundamental law of interdependence that governs not just this planet, but the entire cosmos.

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“True nobility and strength of character will not be found in the isolated human being," observed Edwin T. Buehrer; “it exists in the interlinkage of independent human beings who are also interdependent, each drawing strength from the others.” As the world grows ecologically (and technologically) closer together, we see increased social isolation and fragmentation. People are estranged from nature, from one another, and even sometimes from themselves. 

We may sometimes wonder if it is even possible to bring society into alignment with our obvious interdependence. Our hope depends upon it. In recognizing our reliance upon one another and the countless ways in which our lives intersect – as families and neighbours, spiritual communities and cities, the nations of the world, and yes, nature itself – we can move from isolation to interdependence, which is the only sure path to wholeness, peace, and sustainability.

“Our world is one world:

what touches one affects us all.”

I’ll let you ponder for yourselves how interdependence might operate in your families and neighbourhoods, skipping directly to how it is crucial to the wellbeing of spiritual communities. I do so if only because we are gathered together in such a community, one belonging to a tradition that has long been characterized by a fierce spirit of independences, for both individuals and congregations, which sometimes border on a kind of spiritual libertarianism that makes the quest for genuine connection and interdependence challenging.

One Sunday afternoon, on his way into a broadcasting studio during the golden age of radio – not long after he had arrived in Boston as president of the old American Unitarian Association – Frederick May Eliot was handed a slip of paper by a stranger, which asked, “Why isn’t it possible for a person to have a genuine and satisfactory religion without bothering with churches?”

While acknowledging that the spiritual life was profoundly personal, Frederick Eliot responded that it can never be a purely private affair. He understood that our spiritual health as individuals depended upon relationships with others, exploring life’s profundities in the company of spiritual companions.

“My friend, you talk about religion as though it were something entirely personal, a private possession of your own, as strictly a matter of your individual concern as your bank account, or your motor car, or your preference in hats or motion pictures,“ he said in response to the man who had handed him the letter. He pointed out that his correspondent’s letter was entirely self-focused and seemingly unconcerned with anyone or anything but himself.

However, Eliot argued that the whole purpose of religion is to draw each of us out ourselves, revealing to us “the vast network of human and cosmic relationships which alone give meaning to individual lives. Religion can never be a matter of private concern, because by its very nature it is social in the fullest sense of that word.” It is only by moving beyond isolation, “a solitude that ignores or rejects the need for expressing in terms of fellowship the deep impulses of the spiritual nature,’ that we have any hope of finding “the unreachable riches for which [our] whole being hungers.” 

Eliot observed that arguments for and against spiritual communities were little different than those made by some about education or labour, government or social movements, or any of the other human activities that bring people together in common purpose. Some may have enormous confidence in self-education, but for most, the school provides a disciplined approach to learning and the shared resources to support it. Some may fancy that they can do better for themselves by negotiating the terms of their employment directly with their employers, but it was trade unions and professional associations that won improved compensation and labour standards for working people. Some cynically scoff at government and see it as a problem, but governments have a vital role to play in maintaining civil order, providing public infrastructure, ensuring access to healthcare, and providing a social safety net. And some may well lead satisfying spiritual lives on their own, but it is in religious community that we can test our ideas, guarding against error, share our stories, and walk together with spiritual companions. In each of these cases, recognizing our independence leaves us better off than we might be on our own in glorious isolation.

“Our world is one world:

the thoughts we think affect us all.”

Congregations and other community-based organizations are major contributors to what is known as social capital, which consists of “networks of relationships that weave individuals into groups and communities.” Creating social capital takes time and effort – and it typically develops locally, spreading out through ever-widening social networks. And social capital only accrues when we understand that interdependence trumps laissez-faire, the common good is more important than self-interest, and mutuality transcends individuality. 

Sadly, social capital in the so-called developed world, and North American society in particular, has been in decline for half a century or longer. In his book Bowling Alone, Robert Putnam drew attention to the ways in which community life was in decline. The book took its name from the documented increase in the number of people who could be found in bowling allies who were there on their own, rather than bowling in a league or even as part of a group of friends.

I remember saying at the time – the book appeared in 2000 – that I felt Putnam was overstating his case. Less than five years later, I was convinced that he had understated it. Today, I think he should have written it in all caps and posted it on social media. From service clubs to churches, social capital has been evaporating like Elon Musk’s equity in Twitter. From the early 1970s, Americans “began to join less, trust less, give less, vote less, and schmooze less.” By Putnam’s calculations, during the last third of the 20th century, participation in civic organizations, churches, social clubs, and labour unions declined between 25 and 50 percent, and similar declines could be shown in philanthropic giving and even time spent with family, friends, and neighbours.  Canadians are not much different. And when the decline in social capital is accompanied by growing personal isolation and increased social and political polarization, as we have seen over the past two decades, the consequences threaten to be catastrophic. We have been liquidating social capital and spending it on our own idiosyncratic interests while the world burns, both figuratively and literally.

“Our world is one world:

its ways of wealth affect us all.”

If congregations and other community-based organizations are antidotes to isolation and manifestations of interdependence on a local level, the cultivation of interdependence on a global scale is now more critical than ever – both geopolitically and ecologically. Conflicts between nations haven’t disappeared, but they have festered, and weapons of mass destruction haven’t gone away, they’ve just been hidden from view.

When I was younger, I was deeply influenced by the vision of several Winnipeg Unitarians who were active in the World Federalists of Canada. They were very different people, in many ways, but they were one in their vision of a united world community, governed by international law and committed to peace, liberty and justice for all the people of this fragile planet earth. These were practical people, but they were also idealists.  They realized full well the obstacles which stood in the way of realizing their dream, yet they held fast to that dream as the best hope for the survival of the human species and the propagation of humanity’s noblest values. They understood that isolated nations were as problematic as isolated individuals – and on a much larger scale.

In a 1954 speech at Columbia University, Dag Hammarskjöld, then secretary-general of the United Nations, observed: “We also hear of mutual dependencies and interdependencies, that make our world into one, whether we like it or not.” Noting that many were pleading for world government, Hammarskjöld said that, while he sympathized with their idealism, the “constitutional magic” necessary to accomplish such a world order was beyond our reach. “The variety of nations and systems makes it impossible to establish a world government, whilst our inter-dependence by necessity demands an organization for the world.” Thus, he saw the United Nations as a middle course between world chaos and world government, helping that nations of the world to “move towards a world community which constitutes the only alternative to self-destruction.”

“Our world is one world:

just like a ship that bears us all.”

The place of nature in the equation of interdependence is a subject unto itself, so I will do little more than acknowledge it this morning. ““An Armageddon is approaching at the beginning of the third millennium,” observed Edward O. Wilson in his 2006 book, The Creation. “But it is not the cosmic war and fiery collapse of [hu]mankind foretold in sacred scripture. It is the wreckage of the planet by an exuberantly plentiful and ingenious humanity.” But because the ecologically crisis is humanly self-inflicted, it is also humanly self-correctable, if we would only change our ways.

Written in the form of a letter from a secular humanist to an unnamed pastor of the Baptist tradition from which Wilson had fallen away, The Creation was an appeal to transcend their religious differences in order to join together to save the earth from the pernicious effects of human habitation. He called on concerned people to “meet on the near side of metaphysics,” which is to say, to set aside their assumptions about how the world came to be, whether or not it was created or evolved, and focus instead upon the current state of its health. “The defence of living Nature,” suggests Wilson, “is a universal value.  It doesn’t rise from, nor does it promote, any religious or ideological dogma. Rather, it serves without discrimination the interests of all humanity.” He goes on to say that “to protect the beauty of the Earth and of its prodigious variety of life forms should be a common goal, regardless of differences in our metaphysical beliefs.”

And so the quest to acknowledge our interdependence, embrace it, and live in accordance with it, circles back to the spiritual communities of the world, if we would take up the mantle and the mission to live it ourselves and model it for our neighbours.

Interdependence requires community – local community, global community – as well as communion with nature. Everything is bound up together in the interconnected web of all existence, which prizes interdependence as much as individuality. Politics and economics, science and technology, religion and culture – none are exempt from the demands and the blessings of interdependence. We are all a part of a great living system, and everything we do – or fail to do – somehow affects everything else. It’s not a matter for debate; it is the fundamental reality of life.

Our world is one world.

Works Cited

Edwin T. Buehrer, “We Must Work Together” and “We Need Each Other,” in The Art of Being (Chicago: Third Unitarian Church, 1971).

Frederick May Eliot, “Does the Religious Man Need a Church?” in Unitarians Believe (American Unitarian Association, 1939).

Robert D. Putnam and Lewis M. Feldstein with Don Cohen, Better Together: Restoring the American Community (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2003).

Cecily Taylor, “Our World Is One World,” #134 in Singing the Living Tradition (Boston: Beacon Press, 1993).