There are two types of power: political and spiritual.
Political power is the power to influence others through coercion. It is the power to hire and fire, to punish, to imprison, even to kill. Or to threaten such things. Political power has nothing to do with wisdom or benevolence. It does not reside in a person or her character. It resides solely in money or position. This is why it is often referred to as temporal power, because these things are temporary. They can be stripped away overnight, just as Clayton Moorehouse's stroke stripped him of his position as chairman of the board and of the capacity to count his wealth.
Spiritual power is the power to influence others through one's own being-by example, by kindness, by humor, by wisdom and love. It is exercised at least as often by the poor as the wealthy, by the lowly as the high and mighty. Indeed, its hallmark is humility. The more spiritually powerful people become, the more aware they are that their power is a gift from God and has little, if anything, to do with their achievements-that it is not theirs, but God's power acting through them. And usually they are surprised by the extent of their influence for the good.
Spiritual power is invariably civil. Political power may be exercised with civility or it may be exercised with the grossest incivility.
People have an unfortunate tendency to think of political power and spiritual power as opposites. The reasons for this tendency are not hard to understand. Political power is achieved by ambition; spiritual power is not achieved at all; indeed, it often requires of its practitioner the renunciation of ambition. Political power has everything to do with control. Spiritual power has much to do with surrendering control. Political power is a matter of externals and spiritual power a matter of what is within. Political power enormously tempts its possessor to lose touch with her or his humanity and thereby forsake the path of spiritual power. It is no accident, therefore that there is something of a tradition within certain religions that political power is best avoided.
But this is simplistic, black and white, either/or thinking, which like all simplistic thinking can get us into trouble. Are we to leave the governance of our organizations and institutions to the spiritually infantile? At what cost to society? Would not the most spiritually powerful people be the ones most likely to handle political power gracefully-to exercise such power without succumbing to its temptations, its corrupting influences? And how could someone grow into the further reaches of spiritual power without the experience of political power to learn from?
The problem with Clayton Moorehouse was not that he possessed political power, but that he refused to learn spiritual power. One of the great hazards of political power is that it can be used to insulate us from life, and hence from life's lessons. But it does not have to be that way. Clayton Moorehouse was an obviously intelligent man. He would have observed others struggling with the issues of old age. Surely he could have figured out that the central issue is one of learning how to give up control. But spiritual power is to some extent a choice, and the will is free to choose to remain stupid. So he refused the vocation to old age even though it meant living his last years in such pathetic torment.
The problem of Martha Ann Moorehouse was that in 'caving in,' in forsaking the quest for political power, she also forsook her spiritual growth. She not only settled for having no money of her own; she also settled for having `no head for figures.' She virtually stopped thinking. The issue of the unbalanced control of money in their marriage was symbolic of the pervasive disease in the whole system. In abrogating all political power within the system, she had placed her soul in her husband's keeping, even to the point of rejecting the psychotherapy offered-rejecting psychospiritual growth and healing. The result of her choice of political impotence was, ultimately, that of spiritual and intellectual impotence.
Political and spiritual power are separate phenomena, but they may go hand in hand, and often should. I believe we are all called to spiritual power, and that frequently means to political power as well.
Since civility is organizational behavior that is ethical in submission to a Higher Power, and since God calls us to power, a major characteristic of civil women and men is their eagerness to help others grow into power. Civil behaviour is empowering behavior.
There are times in child raising and management and certain other situations when it is appropriate to hold on to control and political power. Had his wife been a compulsive spender, for instance, it might well have been the right thing for Clayton Moorehouse to keep her on an allowance. Since she was not, however, his treatment of her was uncivil. He discouraged rather than encouraged her independence.
Because civility is organizational behavior, the basic principles of civility in marriage will also be the basic principles of civility in families and larger organizations, be they business corporations or governments. It is the task of any good executive, for example, to make herself replaceable by empowering her subordinates through coaching, training, and other forms of staff development and through delegating to them the maximum responsibility they can handle. Conversely, one of the most common forms of incivility in large organizations is for executives to hold on to their power when they should be giving it away-just as it is when parents withhold power from children who have grown mature enough to assume it.
While she might have once wanted power, by the time I met her Martha Ann Moorehouse no longer desired it. This lack was itself uncivil. It may seem strange to designate a lack of desire for power as a possible form of incivility, but remember its ultimate effect on her husband. By failing to stand up to him, she contributed to the living hell of his last two years. Remember also that as 'consciously motivated organizational behavior,' civility is characterized by consciousness and incivility by a lack of consciousness. Again we are confronted by 'the hole in the mind.' Although unusually intelligent people, both the Moorehouses were remarkably unconscious of the obvious unhealthiness of the system in which they participated.
Since money is one of the two determinants of political power, it is inevitable that money and power issues in marriage should be inextricably interwoven. The role of breadwinner in traditional American sexist society, for instance, has tended to be of higher status than the role of homemaker, even though homemaking is usually the more complex and demanding job. But this kind of inequity-this incivility-can be combatted. If a division of labor is appropriate in a particular marriage, then (except under the most unusual circumstances) a division of income is also appropriate. There was no reason the vast Moorehouse savings should not have been half in his name and half in hers. To settle for the inappropriate was uncivil on both their parts.
For wives and husbands are called to enrich each other literally as well as figuratively. This same principle holds true in all organizations. People are called to empower each other whenever possible, and incivility always implies some failure to do so-some abuse of power within the content of an organization.
But all organizations, like all marriages, are different, and the civil use of power is contingent upon the particular situation and system. Moreover, since situations change, it is appropriate for systems-no matter how difficult it might be-to also change. The imbalance of power in the Moorehouse marriage was tragic in part because it became more rather than less rigid as the marriage aged. In the last chapter, Janet essentially said, `I'd rather stay depressed than adjust to this system change.' In their own way, the Moorehouses said the same; each preferred to die rather than assume or relinquish power. Spiritual power may be exercised inwardly as well as outwardly. Consistent civility in the use of power in relation to others requires the timely exercise of the power to change ourselves
Extracted from M Scott Peck' A World Waiting to Be Born
Political power is the power to influence others through coercion. It is the power to hire and fire, to punish, to imprison, even to kill. Or to threaten such things. Political power has nothing to do with wisdom or benevolence. It does not reside in a person or her character. It resides solely in money or position. This is why it is often referred to as temporal power, because these things are temporary. They can be stripped away overnight, just as Clayton Moorehouse's stroke stripped him of his position as chairman of the board and of the capacity to count his wealth.
Spiritual power is the power to influence others through one's own being-by example, by kindness, by humor, by wisdom and love. It is exercised at least as often by the poor as the wealthy, by the lowly as the high and mighty. Indeed, its hallmark is humility. The more spiritually powerful people become, the more aware they are that their power is a gift from God and has little, if anything, to do with their achievements-that it is not theirs, but God's power acting through them. And usually they are surprised by the extent of their influence for the good.
Spiritual power is invariably civil. Political power may be exercised with civility or it may be exercised with the grossest incivility.
People have an unfortunate tendency to think of political power and spiritual power as opposites. The reasons for this tendency are not hard to understand. Political power is achieved by ambition; spiritual power is not achieved at all; indeed, it often requires of its practitioner the renunciation of ambition. Political power has everything to do with control. Spiritual power has much to do with surrendering control. Political power is a matter of externals and spiritual power a matter of what is within. Political power enormously tempts its possessor to lose touch with her or his humanity and thereby forsake the path of spiritual power. It is no accident, therefore that there is something of a tradition within certain religions that political power is best avoided.
But this is simplistic, black and white, either/or thinking, which like all simplistic thinking can get us into trouble. Are we to leave the governance of our organizations and institutions to the spiritually infantile? At what cost to society? Would not the most spiritually powerful people be the ones most likely to handle political power gracefully-to exercise such power without succumbing to its temptations, its corrupting influences? And how could someone grow into the further reaches of spiritual power without the experience of political power to learn from?
The problem with Clayton Moorehouse was not that he possessed political power, but that he refused to learn spiritual power. One of the great hazards of political power is that it can be used to insulate us from life, and hence from life's lessons. But it does not have to be that way. Clayton Moorehouse was an obviously intelligent man. He would have observed others struggling with the issues of old age. Surely he could have figured out that the central issue is one of learning how to give up control. But spiritual power is to some extent a choice, and the will is free to choose to remain stupid. So he refused the vocation to old age even though it meant living his last years in such pathetic torment.
The problem of Martha Ann Moorehouse was that in 'caving in,' in forsaking the quest for political power, she also forsook her spiritual growth. She not only settled for having no money of her own; she also settled for having `no head for figures.' She virtually stopped thinking. The issue of the unbalanced control of money in their marriage was symbolic of the pervasive disease in the whole system. In abrogating all political power within the system, she had placed her soul in her husband's keeping, even to the point of rejecting the psychotherapy offered-rejecting psychospiritual growth and healing. The result of her choice of political impotence was, ultimately, that of spiritual and intellectual impotence.
Political and spiritual power are separate phenomena, but they may go hand in hand, and often should. I believe we are all called to spiritual power, and that frequently means to political power as well.
Since civility is organizational behavior that is ethical in submission to a Higher Power, and since God calls us to power, a major characteristic of civil women and men is their eagerness to help others grow into power. Civil behaviour is empowering behavior.
There are times in child raising and management and certain other situations when it is appropriate to hold on to control and political power. Had his wife been a compulsive spender, for instance, it might well have been the right thing for Clayton Moorehouse to keep her on an allowance. Since she was not, however, his treatment of her was uncivil. He discouraged rather than encouraged her independence.
Because civility is organizational behavior, the basic principles of civility in marriage will also be the basic principles of civility in families and larger organizations, be they business corporations or governments. It is the task of any good executive, for example, to make herself replaceable by empowering her subordinates through coaching, training, and other forms of staff development and through delegating to them the maximum responsibility they can handle. Conversely, one of the most common forms of incivility in large organizations is for executives to hold on to their power when they should be giving it away-just as it is when parents withhold power from children who have grown mature enough to assume it.
While she might have once wanted power, by the time I met her Martha Ann Moorehouse no longer desired it. This lack was itself uncivil. It may seem strange to designate a lack of desire for power as a possible form of incivility, but remember its ultimate effect on her husband. By failing to stand up to him, she contributed to the living hell of his last two years. Remember also that as 'consciously motivated organizational behavior,' civility is characterized by consciousness and incivility by a lack of consciousness. Again we are confronted by 'the hole in the mind.' Although unusually intelligent people, both the Moorehouses were remarkably unconscious of the obvious unhealthiness of the system in which they participated.
Since money is one of the two determinants of political power, it is inevitable that money and power issues in marriage should be inextricably interwoven. The role of breadwinner in traditional American sexist society, for instance, has tended to be of higher status than the role of homemaker, even though homemaking is usually the more complex and demanding job. But this kind of inequity-this incivility-can be combatted. If a division of labor is appropriate in a particular marriage, then (except under the most unusual circumstances) a division of income is also appropriate. There was no reason the vast Moorehouse savings should not have been half in his name and half in hers. To settle for the inappropriate was uncivil on both their parts.
For wives and husbands are called to enrich each other literally as well as figuratively. This same principle holds true in all organizations. People are called to empower each other whenever possible, and incivility always implies some failure to do so-some abuse of power within the content of an organization.
But all organizations, like all marriages, are different, and the civil use of power is contingent upon the particular situation and system. Moreover, since situations change, it is appropriate for systems-no matter how difficult it might be-to also change. The imbalance of power in the Moorehouse marriage was tragic in part because it became more rather than less rigid as the marriage aged. In the last chapter, Janet essentially said, `I'd rather stay depressed than adjust to this system change.' In their own way, the Moorehouses said the same; each preferred to die rather than assume or relinquish power. Spiritual power may be exercised inwardly as well as outwardly. Consistent civility in the use of power in relation to others requires the timely exercise of the power to change ourselves
Extracted from M Scott Peck' A World Waiting to Be Born
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