Article
America
Character
Culture
Politics
5 min read

What would make America great again - humility

Hubris, Hope and Humility - and how they fit together in the court of King Donald

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

Elon Musk sits next to Donald Trump on a plan, while giving the thumbs up gesture with both hands.
Office of Speaker Mike Johnson, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Over the inauguration weekend, I was in Texas. Trump-Vance flags still fluttered in the cold wind, now more in triumph than soliciting votes. This was in the middle of the biggest winter storm to hit the southern coast of the USA in 65 years, where four inches of snow ground cities to a halt. The seemingly endless cycle of American TV news channels were caught between fascination with Storm Enzo, and the return of a political hurricane in Washington DC.  

President Trump’s first few days broke upon the world rather like a fresh storm. When a new government takes over, it is customary to sound a note of hope for the future, uniting the nation, cautious anticipation for a new dawn, pledging to try one’s best for the people and so on. Yet Trump’s speech was optimism on steroids. He announced the beginning of a ‘golden age’ for America. “From this day forward” he claimed, “our country will flourish and be respected again all over the world. We will be the envy of every nation, and we will not allow ourselves to be taken advantage of any longer.” 

Elon Musk went even further. This election, he said, was a “fork in the road of human civilisation.” As a result of the good Republican voters of the USA, “the future of civilisation was secured”, as he looked forward to a day when the stars and stripes would even be planted in the soil of the planet Mars.  

There is a fine line between hope and hubris. Many commentators have contrasted the gloomy outlook of Keir Starmer with the upbeat optimism of the Republicans in Washington. American always outdo us Brits when it comes to can-do optimism, yet this was something else.  

Hope lifts people’s spirits. It gives a sense of possibility and points to an unknown but bright future. St Paul asks “who hopes for what they can see?” Hope recognises that the future is not entirely in our hands, that events - and our own stubbornness and pig-headedness - can derail the best laid set of plans. It knows that the future is uncertain and yet, because of a simple trust that the world came from goodness and will end with goodness, believes that sometimes despite, rather than because of our efforts, the future is bright.  

Hubris, however, is when human confidence goes into overdrive. In the classical world, writers such as Hesiod and Aeschylus saw hubris as the dangerous moment when a mortal claimed to be equal to, or better than a god.  

Phaeton was a teenage boy racer, a son of the sun god Helios. He took hold of his dad’s chariot for a day, thought he could steer better than his aged parent, drove too fast, too close to the earth, burning it up and thus earning a trademark lightning bolt from Zeus for his pains. Arachne was a weaver who thought his cloth more beautiful than that of Athena, the goddess of all weavers. And of course, the most famous of all, Icarus, made himself a pair of wings, soared just a bit too high, melting the wax that held them together, plunging him into the sea like a burnt-out satellite falling, falling and then sinking into the dark blue depths of the vast ocean. A trip to Mars anyone?  

Yet without a dose of humility, the modesty that recognises not everything is in their control, that they will get things wrong, and need to admit it when they do, they will only generate antagonism and disharmony. 

There are, of course, parallels in Christian literature. The Tower of Babel is the story of a civilisation that thought it could build to the skies, to reach and rival God himself. God was not impressed and confused the speech of the uppity humans so they could no longer understand one another. King Herod - grandson of the one visited by the wise men at Christmas - dressed himself in finery, smiled smugly at the acclaim of the crowds that his was ‘the voice of a god and not a mortal.’ No sooner had he said this than ‘an angel of the Lord struck him down, he was eaten by worms and died.’ 

These are ancient stories of brash and overblown self-confidence, that a human could do what only the gods can. They recur in pretty well every human strand of wisdom. Hubris usually arises from an insecure desire to be better than anyone else, better even than the gods, or God. It is essentially competitive. If greed is the desire to be rich, then hubris is the desire to be richer than everyone else. It creates comparison, jealousy, and yes – envy - in fact, that is the point - to be the envy of everyone else. Of course, social media is full of it. It is hard to like hubristic people. They generate envy or resentment, or when they fall, a delicious dose of Schadenfreude. None of which are particularly good for us.  

The opposite of hubris is humility. The root word for humility is the same as humus, humour, humanity. It derives from that ancient biblical story of the human race being fashioned by God out of the dirt. It punctures holes in our self-importance, reminds us of our lowly origins. It is the precious ability to laugh at yourself. Humility is appropriate for us precisely because we are not gods, and woe betide us if we think we are. We are instead poised between the earth and the heavens, sharing in the divine image, capable of great things, maybe one day even reaching Mars. Yet we are also capable of great cruelty and harm, frail and liable to get things badly, sometimes catastrophically, wrong. Once we forget our dual nature, made to be like God, yet moulded out of the earth; with huge potential for creativity and yet with a tendency to over-reach, a flaw within that leaves us vulnerable to temptation, we are in danger of blundering ahead like bulls in the proverbial China Shop.  

And this is the danger that Trump and Musk are flirting with. I wish them well. I really do. Maybe they will make America great again. Maybe they will usher in an age of prosperity and order. Yet without a dose of humility, the modesty that recognises not everything is in their control, that they will get things wrong, and need to admit it when they do, they will only generate antagonism and disharmony. And they will probably do more harm than good.   

Fyodor Dostoyevsky once wrote “Loving humility is a terrible force: it is the strongest of all things, and there is nothing like it.” Humility ends up being stronger and achieves more than hubris. Jesus was said to be “gentle and humble in heart.” And he changed the world more than anyone else. Donald and Elon – watch and learn. 

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Article
Comment
Leading
Politics
War & peace
3 min read

This security lapse signals much more about character

Sharing inflammatory emojis with the bros doesn’t inspire trust.

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

Screen grab of messages with text and emojis.
The Atlantic

I have - on more than one occasion - sent a sensitive message to the wrong person. It makes me cringe even to recall those mistakes, and so I have a certain amount of sympathy with senior US government leaders who, this week, have been caught out by private messages that got into the wrong hands.  

The messages at the heart of this scandal were sent on a Signal chat between National Security Adviser Michael Waltz, Secretary of Defence Pete Hegseth, Marco Rubio, Secretary of State, J.D. Vance the Vice President, and Tulsi Gabbard, Director of National Intelligence. What none of them had realised was that inadvertently included in the group was Jeffrey Goldberg, editor of The Atlantic.  

Needless to say, screenshots of the chat went viral. The problem, however, wasn’t just what was overheard, - which by itself amounts to a major security breach, - but about what that revealed about the participants – which, I believe, signals a much deeper problem: a breach of character. And there, my sympathy ends.  

The White House team was discussing the recent bombing campaign targeting Iran-backed Houthi rebels who have been disrupting navigation in the Red Sea and the Bab-al-Mandab strait. According to reports, the strikes left at least 53 people dead and injured almost 100 more. Some reports say that civilians and children were among the dead. But in the confines of the walls of power of Washington, these lives were written off in a crude series of emojis: a raised fist, the US flag and fire.  

Dehumanisation is a dangerous path. Once we stop seeing one another human beings with intrinsic value, dignity and worth our world becomes a far less safe place. It seems a dark day where people on one side of the planet can launch a drone attack on people on the other side and then brag about it on a messaging platform in emojis, like a bunch of mates celebrating a board game win.  

The messages on Signal were not just dismissive of those deemed to be enemies – but also of those they call friends. The comments highlight the disparaging way that members of the highest-ranking leaders in the US government view Europe, their faithful and long-term ally. “I fully share your loathing of European freeloading. It’s PATHETIC” writes Pete Hesgeth, US secretary of defence.   

As a European and British person, these are difficult words to read.  It seems our transatlantic relationship has descended into a transactional relationship. Viewing our historical partnership as some kind of profit / loss accountancy does not bode well for world peace. Anyone whose commitment to you is based solely on financial return is an unreliable ally, and that is why Hesgeth’s words are toxic for global security. 

Having recently divorced ourselves from Europe with Brexit, now it feels as though we are on the other end of annulment proceedings. The longstanding bonds between Europe and the US that once seemed unbreakable are now fragile, and the global landscape is shifting in ways that may leave us isolated at a time when cooperation and solidarity are more crucial than ever.  

It is difficult to hold those in power to account, as Jeffrey Goldberg of The Atlantic, knows only too well. It would perhaps have been easier for him to refrain from going public with the compromising information he found in his possession. However, when public servants are not who they seem, it is time for private individuals to speak up and demand better.    

We need to speak up in outrage not only about the security lapse, but about the character failings, not just about the breakdown in international relations, but in the breakdown in the ethical fabric of leadership. We must expose those who view human life as disposable, those who view friends as pawns in a financial game. We must hold those in power accountable for the values they uphold, or risk further erosion of the principles that underpin peace. Only by demanding higher standards from our leaders can we hope to restore the trust and integrity necessary for a more secure global community.  

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