The 1998 Abbeyfield Address

Nga hau e wha, nga iwi e tau nei, tena koutou.

E nga mana, e nga reo, rau rangatira ma, tena koutou, tena koutou, tena koutou katoa.

We were told on the news the other day that we have a quite rapidly increasing population. Yet over the next 20 to 30 years at least, we will be having an increasingly ageing population, presenting a serious challenge to younger generations to sustain their elders, certainly in the manner their elders at present expect. In preparation for this tsunami of the aged, business people as well as community organisations are investing substantial sums in building retirement villages, rest homes, geriatric hospitals, the whole range of facilities needed to provide for the differing and often progressively increasing physical and social and emotional and spiritual needs of the elderly.

Abbeyfield seeks to met these needs in its own particular way, putting an emphasis on affordability and companionship. At the same time, it has picked up a challenge put by the Archbishop of Canterbury last year, when he gave the most recent of the Abbeyfield Lectures in the United Kingdom.

Dr Carey said: "In a society which has become rather reticent and incoherent about moral values, I believe that voluntary organisations like Abbeyfield have a major responsibility to talk explicitly about their values and to keep going back to those values, refreshing and nurturing them."

The Archbishop went on to state what I believe is one of the core values of Abbeyfield, when he said: "we human beings are interdependent, not independent of each other." That, I know, is a guiding principle of the way Abbeyfield itself is run: to allow as much independence as possible, and as much mutual support as might be necessary, all in an atmosphere of companionship and civility at the least, and of genuine community at best. And so, for this first New Zealand Abbeyfield Address (it's over 40 years since I last gave a lecture, so I prefer to think of this as an address), I have chosen the topic of our interdependence, for it is the realisation and acceptance of this that provides balance in our society.

But first, why does Abbeyfield, or any other voluntary organisation, have a responsibility to sustain and to proclaim its values? It is surely because yours and similar organisations epitomise service to others; and service to others is at the very heart of a civilised society. If that ideal of service is lost in the community we descend into barbarism. If an organisation loses sight of this essential nature of its mission, it becomes a vehicle for personal ambition or an arena for squabbling and dissension. Thus there is a twofold reason for talking about and nurturing an organisation's values. One is to promote the wellbeing and integrity of the organisation itself. The other is to help increase the wellbeing and integrity of society as a whole.

Were you to ask them, most people would, I think, go along with the idea that human beings are interdependent. It's the sort of general principle with which it might be thought foolish, cantankerous, or wilfully misguided to disagree. But in practice, many of us actually seem to subscribe to simpler, and rather cruder, beliefs about how society best works. Especially, many prefer the 'harder, faster' alternatives of fairly centralised and collective action on the one hand, or very high levels of personal autonomy on the other. To say this in a different way, the competing social prescriptions are, either, co-dependence as the basis of civilised life, or radical individualism; either the primacy of the state, or that of the unconstrained individual.

So at one end of the philosophical spectrum there are those who proclaim, with sincere passion, or whose lives are based on the premise, that we all have a claim on the collective whole, that we are all entitled to look to the state to bear all our responsibilities for us, and that the state has a responsibility to ensure the welfare of us all, no matter how little our real need may be.

From the other end of the continuum, you sometimes hear assertions, delivered just as passionately, or who live as if, "there is no such thing as society - because "society" is only an agglomeration of individuals. Individuals should, therefore, to the maximum degree possible, be left alone; to make their own way; even their own rules; to make their own provision for all eventualities; to make their own decisions - and to live with the consequences, whether they be for good or ill. We are not and must not be, in other words, our brothers' and sisters' keepers. And perhaps we should not even be too eager to be their brothers and sisters.

One can only regret any tendency to advance either of these extremes as the one more worthy of belief, as the way society is, at some deep level, best organised. Why is there reluctance to take what is good from both points of view and synthesise something better - a golden mean? Why the constant readiness to think that the world, our society, our communities, look their best when seen in black and white? Polar opposites are certainly more dramatic in their outlines than any blend of the two. Yet advancing one or the other in any debate is almost certain to create more heat than light - so arguing for either individualism or statism means that in the end, no-one is better informed, or better prepared to play a constructive role in the life of the community, or better able to navigate through the philosophical shoals of what, actually, is owed to one's neighbours and fellow citizens, and what is not.

Let's look at the idea that it is the individual who reigns supreme; and that we should be exceptionally wary of all forms of collective action, because such action automatically infringes on the sovereignty of the individual. This position is founded, if it is thought through, on the belief that society is best organised, and only insofar as organisation is indeed necessary, from the very bottom up. Contributions, therefore, to the common good should be near-universally voluntary. Certainly, there is no obligation to care for others. There are, however, rights. It is in the assertion of rights that the cult of the individual can find its more extreme expressions. As a society, we have in fact become almost besotted with rights, blurring the distinction between right and licence, and the truth that there are two sides to the coin of rights, the other side being obligation - responsibility in the exercise of our own rights and in allowing others to exercise theirs. And in this blurring, there emerged the Me Generation, with its assertion that self-fulfilment and self-gratification are the ultimate goals of human existence. We have seen only too well the sometimes disastrous consequences of this assertion.

But surely the Me Generation's basic choice - that it is individuals who are the fundamental social unit - is mistaken: is not the fundamental unit in society the family? I grant that there are those who argue that modern families are somehow evolving away from the traditional definition of what, not to mention who, constitutes a "family" - but I wonder if we are not assuming too much when we think that some of the social trends that have developed over the past three or four decades, can continue for much longer. Yes, the Victorian and Edwardian version of the nuclear family is no longer so common, nor even, for some, any longer an ideal. So-called blended families and solo parent-families will certainly continue to exist, maybe even increase in numbers for a time yet. But, nuclear and extended, related-by-blood families are still, and generally will remain, the optimum way to raise children. Humans are flexible creatures, to be sure, but there are still limits to how much we may re-invent ourselves, limits which we should not exceed. Arguably, all family structures will have shortcomings. But some of the alternative family structures that have grown more common in recent decades seem to be creating as many problems as they solve - at least, I think that is what the statistics that measure our various social problems seem to tell us.

Families, preferably with both parents - and with grandparents if possible - are the social units that best produce the mature and autonomous adults that the individualists say are sovereign. But during our first twenty years or so, all of us are highly dependent on the goodwill of those around us; for food, clothing, shelter, education, and above all, love. The absence of any of these, but particularly the last, ensures that any child will fail to thrive, be as likely as not to fall short of his or her potential, and to lack genuine maturity, even when fully physically grown. And is not the dependency mutual, and is it not almost as important, if not just as important, as the original family unit grows older?

People do not, simply cannot, function at all well outside a social context. What is more, there is good evidence that even when fully grown, people never flourish in isolation (or even in semi-isolation): at least, that's what psychological studies of solo round-the-world yachtsmen, or people wintering over in the Antarctic, or people in solitary confinement, have concluded. In other words, being genuinely adult involves just what you would expect: some social engagement, some social responsiveness.

All of us have to learn both to give and to receive, to learn that we have both rights and reciprocal duties. Really, can there be any wholly-autonomous individuals at all? Surely, what each of is instead, is a social actor working within a range of social partnerships - within marriage, in the workplace, in any clubs and societies we may belong to, in contractual relationships. Rather than being autonomous, we are all interconnected, and highly so, to the point that John Donne could write, in words that are as true now as they were 350 years ago: "no man is an Island, entire of it self; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main; any man's death diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind."

So if all the social facts are taken into account, the idea of the autonomous individual as the foundation and measure of all things does not really stand up. But having come to this conclusion, some people then straight away leap to the conclusion that, one extreme proposition having been found deficient, its opposite must therefore be true - the philosophical pendulum should swing to the other end of its scale. If there are no wholly autonomous individuals, what is sovereign must therefore be some sort of a collective body or institution: the state, usually - some adherents to the belief then giving it the status of a capital S - 'The State' should therefore be endowed with the ultimate responsibility for everyone's health, welfare, economic and social development; the full range of social endeavour; and that individuals should be entitled to look to the state to meet all their needs in all these respects.

Centralising all legitimate authority, however - putting all social and economic decision-making and execution in the hands of the state - leads first into moral hazard, then, after a time, towards social turmoil, even collapse. That is what the history of the past century seems to tell us at any rate.

If everybody shares the responsibility for economic management, say - that is, if 'The State' runs the economy - then ultimately, nobody is properly accountable for economic results. This has meant that in formerly-communist countries, for example, economic performance was satisfactory only during the early years of the state's management of the means of production, distribution and exchange. Thereafter, economic efficiency and output began to decline, slowly at first, then precipitately, then disastrously. Indeed, large parts of some countries' industrial and agricultural sectors actually managed to subtract from the value of all the raw materials and the labour they employed. This wasn't intended, but that's what comprehensive collectivisation delivered anyway. It's that sort of outcome that seems to be built into the very nature of any centrally-planned approach to social organisation. Without some measure of individual responsibility, people lose, after a time, the impulse to want to look out for, and after, themselves. In the end, they come to feel 'dis-empowered' - in other words, people slowly lose their dignity, or they feel that their dignity and sense of self-worth is progressively taken from them.

Once again, members of Abbeyfield will understand better than most, what a trap dis-empowerment can or could be; one that has to be avoided, if people are to live happy and reasonably productive lives, where people retain the dignity of deciding what level of outside support they might need, while still maintaining some measure of, not so much their individualism, but their individuality.

Just as saying that the fully autonomous individual is the foundation of society is mistaken, so too must the claim that the fundamental social unit is the state, also be in error: as I claimed earlier, the most important unit in society is surely still the family. 'The State' does not and most definitely should not, "own" its citizens: rather, it has them only on intermittent loan from their families. The family is the group where tomorrow's citizens best learn to assume responsibility, come to best understand the rights they have, and hopefully, begin to know how they may best be of service to other members of their families, to their neighbours, even to all of their fellow citizens. The family is the social group where individuals learn how they are dependent some of the time, independent some of the time, interdependent all of the time.

But basic social unit though the family is, it is not the be-all and end-all. No family is an island, either. The family is part of the wider community, which is itself part of an even larger community, national and international. By its essential fact of interdependence, the family prepares its members for life in this wider community, and also exemplifies the qualities that are so important for the health of that community: mutual respect, commitment to the wellbeing of all, the faithful discharge of responsibilities towards one another. This kind of interdependence is the essence of the human condition. It is the true basis upon which a well-balanced, cohesive, society must be founded.

Archbishop Carey put this much better than I could. He said: "[we must] remember, first, that we human beings are interdependent, not independent of each other. We seek to help bear one another's burdens, with a special responsibility to help the poor, the weak and the afflicted, knowing that we ourselves will need help and support to different degrees at different stages of our own lives. We are all in this together as human beings, and the responsibility which each of us has to help advance the common good, not just our own, is matched by our acknowledged right to receive the help and care we need if we happen to be the ones struck down by misfortune."

These are universal truths, truths that we must constantly bear in mind in all our dealings. They are so important in our international relations, where we New Zealanders have long ago learnt that we cannot go it alone, but are part of a global community which interrelates and is interdependent at so many levels. They are of particular importance in this country, where there are increasing concerns about disparities in economic and social circumstances and opportunities; as we endeavour to remedy the wrongs of the past and the very grievous consequences that followed from them; as we strive to give full recognition and value to the increasing ethnic, cultural and religious diversity of our people. It is, I think, an Anglo-Saxon failing, demonstrated in our nation's history, that we tend to regard others as appropriately dependent on us, failing to recognise that as part of the one human family, as part of the one community in this land, we are in truth dependent on each other. Social, cultural, separation diminishes all of us.

There is a Maori saying which expresses all this very well. Think if you will of a plaited rope, the many fibres woven together so that, intertwined, they have a strength far exceeding that of the separate strands:

He kopu puta tahi, he taura whiri tatou;
Whiringa a nuku, whiringa a rangi, te whatia e.

Issue of one womb, we are a plaited rope,
Plaited on earth, plaited in heaven, we will not be severed.

The community in an Abbeyfield house is of course very different from that in an ordinary family. Yet Abbeyfield nurtures those same values of interdependence and communal life, combined with a respect for the individuality of each member, that is at the heart of every good family. May I come back to Archbishop Carey and give him the last word: " the whole point of Abbeyfield from Richard Carr-Gomm's early work onwards is that individuals cannot flourish alone. We need each other. We are interdependent. We all need to give and receive. These are the fundamental human truths which should have their fruits both in deliberate collective arrangements and in the commitment which we make as good citizens to the community as well as to our own families."

I have complete confidence that all members of Abbeyfield New Zealand share that vision of Richard Carr-Gomm's, and I pray every blessing for you as you spread it around this country of ours.