January or Bust: The Hidden Values Within Our Goal-Oriented Mindsets

For many of us, January offers a fresh start. It’s a month to plan, set personal goals, improve our habits, or take up that new 10-step program. One of my colleague’s goals is to “optimize sleep” this year, while another is taking on a 52-book challenge. Whether you’re the type of person who delves head long into setting goals, or prefers to avoid it, the “rationally ordered methods for making human activity more efficient” (a concept dubbed “Technique”), is so pervasive in our culture that it affects each of us personally, often in ways that we don’t realize. 

Jacques Ellul was a 20th century French philosopher and theologian who wrote extensively on “technique.” Ellul pointed out that while technique’s rigor, applied to science and engineering, made possible the rapid advancement of technology, it has also permeated and shaped our society: our culture, education, how we make friends, how we think about ourselves, and how we measure our success or even our life’s meaning. Consider our daily checklists and routines, productivity apps, social media, 5-steps programs, life-hacking, algorithms that search for the perfect partner, the corporate latter, or annual goal setting - these technical methods offer efficient, linear, and easier shortcuts to living.  

Take a moment to think about the analogies we use to describe ourselves. How often do you think, “I need to unplug”, “recharge”, or “reboot.” It’s “nose to the grindstone” again. “I wish I could slow down”, “get into a routine”, and “increase my bandwidth?” We are using technological metaphors to describe ourselves. Yet, in this thoughtful podcast I came across, two professors point out that Jesus described people using natural metaphors, such as sheep, flowers, seeds, branches, and sparrows, with two notable exceptions that were meant to reprove the religious elite of their technique-encumbered practices [1]. What's more, Jesus and his father were professional carpenters who quite literally would have used the grindstone to sharpen their tools on a regular basis. The Greek word used to describe Jesus’ profession is “tekton”, a craftsman, which is related to our word for technologist [2]. He was a maker, surely employing various techniques to shape the world around him to create technology. Jesus employed technique, but it is not how he described himself.

I humbly admit that I tend to view myself as a machine. I am the recipient of inputs that are external to me, and which I often wish I had more control over: be it my diet, calendar, exercise, a clean house, or the vast resources and information available to me. Then there is me, the (hopefully) well-oiled machine, whose job is to make something meaningful - to achieve the goals set before me. The more efficient I am at managing the inputs, the more productive my output. Like dominoes, it's a matter of arranging all the pieces and setting them into motion.   

 

 

This realization challenged me. What am I saying about myself when I use tech-centered metaphors? How do I embrace a more human, more natural, and, for the Christians in the crowd, a more biblical approach to setting measurable goals? How do we employ technique, rather than be consumed by it? When I read Psalm 1, the analogy of a tree planted by streams of water resonates more deeply, more holistically with me than that of a machine.

“Blessed is the one whose delight is in the law of the Lord… That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season, whose leaf does not whither – whatever they do prospers."

A sketch of Psalm 1 from my journal (no judging, I'm an engineer)

The metaphor of a tree has several values that are distinct from that of a machine. Here are a few that I can spot, but I encourage you to think of others.

Independent vs. Interdependent 

A machine is independent, so long as its inputs are adequately controlled within what engineers refer to as "the control volume." People and resources become cogs in the system. I am the focal point and success depends on me. But a tree is interdependent and is only as healthy as its environment. When we are overwhelmed or unproductive, the machine in us pushes harder, relying on our own strength, and "rests" only to recalibrate ourselves or fix others. "If only [insert change], then I would [insert outcome]." When what we really need is to be deeply rooted in our relationships, present to our surroundings, and connected to God. This rooted-ness re-orients our priorities and inspires our creative and mundane work.

 

The next time you think “I don’t have enough bandwidth," recognize that this metaphor suggests you are a machine that should increase its bandwidth, or exercise more control over its inputs. Instead, if we say, “I need to root myself deeper in good soil,” immediately we are challenged to consider the health of our ecosystem and our connection to it.

Goals vs Fruit

The machine follows a linear process that churns out predictable results, or in this case, goals. On the other hand, fruit is the byproduct of a dynamic growth-oriented process. As such, we don’t know the exact quality, quantity, shape, or size of the fruit. Nevertheless, we can (and should!) envision, with hopeful anticipation, what the fruit of our lives may look and taste like. We can even ask ourselves what steps should we take to nourish that fruit and measure that progress. The subtle shift is from being goal-centric to growth-centric, from achieving to becoming, and from prescribing to nourishing.

Routines vs Rhythms

 

The machine, along with everything that interacts with it, follows routines, and deviations from its prescription cause chaos. But a productive tree gracefully accepts the rhythms of life, be it rain, sun, or perhaps a bit of pruning. It is agile, robust, open to interruption, and thankful in the midst of change. Rhythm allows room for grace and growth, in a way that rote routine cannot.

 

Take for example, my two toddlers, who on several occasions have interrupted my focused work time by spilling their milk on the living room rug in the midst of a heated argument over a toy. My concentration is broken, our household rules have been crossed, and I feel my blood begin to boil. In that moment, I am tempted to enforce the rules with a heavy hand, reinforcing our family's prescribed routines and rules, akin to a programmer debugging an algorithm. 

 

But what I’ve found, after many unsuccessful attempts, is that the application of the law, and more generally, technique-based discipline, is a temporary and incomplete remedy. Rather, the example I set is far more important than the fix I employ. The outcome of parenting my children, and indeed my life’s work, is not determined so much by the techniques I employ, but by the source (the "vine" as Jesus says about himself in Matthew 15:5), that I am drawing from.

By responding to my children with affection and grace, I lay the groundwork for heart and character transformation [3]. This is real fruit that is much sweeter than any behavior modification, which even a machine can be programmed to mimic. On my better days, I recognize the rhythm of the moment, and participate in my calling to be a parent for 5-minutes before calmly resuming work. I gently and firmly restore order (often through a practical technique like the “1, 2, 3 Method”), but more importantly, I help restore a right understanding and right relationship between God, myself, and my children.

Product vs Process

 

The tree is a vessel, a steward of things already valuable. Phloem and xylem are critical to distributing valuable nutrients and water to and from the soil, and chlorophyll for converting sunlight into a usable form of energy. Even the tree's detritus is valuable to its surroundings. Like a tree, our work is a process of transforming value from one form to another, whereas technique emphasizes our output, especially anything new and revolutionary, over the input or the process. How does this relate to goals? I don’t think our goals necessarily need to be revolutionary in order to be valuable, and the means can be just as important as the end. In this broader context, there is great value in even our most ordinary everyday work.

Here’s to a fruitful 2023!
 

Fake Advertising

While visiting my old stomping grounds in rural upstate New York this Christmas, I had the chance to catch up with some old friends who, despite their opportunities to leave, chose to remain in our hometown. The area is struggling economically and suffering from the opioid endemic. The nearest town of about 30,000 doesn’t offer all the glamour and diversity that larger, up and coming cities afford. Yet, my friends are deeply rooted in the community, and committed to making a difference. They are teaching in schools where the senior class is 40 students or less, converting their barn into a local CrossFit so people can work out in the cold wintry months, preaching sermons on loving those outside their comfort zone, providing rehab classes for drug addicts, building friendships with the small contingent of Muslims at the local Islamic society, and renovating old industrial buildings into coffee shops. 

On the flip side, I came across this article in the airport as I was departing NY. The article describes a couple paid $200k per year to “travel” (“advertise”, really). As they confess, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Chasing the next expense-free trip ad contract, they’ve lost the ability to travel authentically - as a means of curiosity, education, and service - while maintaining the mirage that the nomadic life is the norm, the new American dream. This is treacherous, as it turns people into anxious consumers. After all, what are they really advertising: a vacation destination or a way of life that can only be lived vicariously through Instagram?

Almost all of us have experienced that the more we attach ourselves to social media, the more prone we become to comparing ourselves to others. Social media, when used to promulgate a virtual lifestyle, is a breeding ground for FOMO.

Admittedly, I sometimes will seek out the next travel opportunity partly due to a fear of missing out. But when I think back to my friends in NY, I am challenged to step back and think about the roots I am growing in the community around me. One could say that a town, or even a life, is only as glamorous as the community and commitments that knit and bind it together. Ultimately, what the world needs, what we need, is to resist the sway of social media and FOMO, and be true to our own calling.

AGOA or NOGOA

In an effort to foster local textile manufacturing, Rwanda, Uganda, and Tanzania have committed to phasing out the importation of Second-Hand Clothes (SHC) from the United States by 2019, despite the United States’ looming threat to reconsider the East African Community (EAC) members’ eligibility for duty-free access to the American market under the African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA). The move has sparked widespread debate, as the ban would directly affect governments, businesses, and the poor, in East Africa and the US alike. As an American who is deeply passionate about understanding and tackling the roots of global poverty, this issue challenges me to wrestle with all sorts of practical and ideological questions... 

Is America’s aid policy hampering African development? 

Is it fair for the EAC to be removed from AGOA?

What is AGOA anyhow, and is it any good? 

And of course, is it morally dubious to sell used clothes to Africans?

Where do we take our stance? 

The Ethics of Selling Second-Hand-Clothes

What may surprise many, including myself, is that our donated clothes are sold for profit to the EAC, and around the world, for that matter. While seemingly incredulous at first, freely donating clothes would undercut local textiles even more. An illuminating study by CUTS International reports, “the cotton produced in Africa (EAC) is spun and woven in Asia, converted into apparels and shipped to the USA and EU to be worn for 2-3 years and shipped back to Africa (EAC) as used clothing, to clothe up to 70% of the African population.” The demand for local fabric in the EAC is low precisely because the “fabric market is choked by SHC, which has led to the closure of several [at least six] textile mills” in Kenya and Uganda. 

As development leaders will point out (i.e. Paul Polak), donations and government subsidies undercut local manufacturing and prevent the economic forces of supply and demand from shaping new markets.

Furthermore, American’s typically perceive used clothes as worn, tattered, and out of date, especially the ones donated to Africa. But that isn’t always the case. At the marketplaces where I lived in Rwanda, the used clothes were of surprisingly good quality and I would shop there. I even brought the clothes back to the States and wore them without anyone noticing (or at least saying anything)! There is significantly more overlap between the used and new clothes markets in East Africa than in America.

AGOA and United States Aid

AGOA is a piece of US legislation first signed into law by President Clinton in 2000. At it’s core, the AGOA initiative is designed to increase Africa’s access to the US market by providing duty-free entry to the US, with a provision specifically encouraging “textiles and apparel” exports from developing countries in Africa to the US. In light of this, shouldn’t a ban, or the tariffs recently imposed by the EAC, be promoted under AGOA? Increasing prices on second-hand clothes would foster African textile mills, build local economies, and encourage EAC exports of textiles and apparel to the US, a primary objective of AGOA. However, in response to Rwanda's recent tariff hike on SHC from $0.20/kg to $2.50/kg, the US is reconsidering Rwanda's eligibility for AGOA membership.

There is a not-so-subtle conflict of interest written into the eligibility criteria for countries participating under AGOA. The criteria state that beneficiaries must “promote the development of private enterprise” within their country and work toward “the elimination of barriers to United States trade and investment”. The exportation of SHC from the US is aligned with America’s trade interests but at odds with the development of private textile enterprises in the EAC. It is by the latter criterion that President Trump may choose to disqualify Rwanda, Uganda, and Tanzania from AGOA. 

Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time the US has enacted aid programs encumbered by self-interest. Bill Clinton’s trade policy forced Haiti to drop its tariffs on US rice exports, resulting in the obliteration of Haitian rice farming, with a plus up for Arkansas’ rice farmers (Clinton apologized in 2010). Moreover, during the Cold War, as development economist Dambisa Moyo writes, aid was the tool of a political contest, given not by “how deserving a country might be… but rather the willingness of a desperately impoverished country to ally itself with one camp or another” (Dead Aid, p 14).

So which is it? Aid or trade? When the rubber meets the road, one criterion will take precedence over the other. The answer depends on the motives and priorities behind AGOA. Interestingly, the AGOA website never describes the program as “aid,” but rather as bilateral trade. However, its apparel provision is unequivocally focused on the growth of “lesser developed” countries, and the Seychelles was “graduated out of AGOA… due to the country gaining developed country status." AGOA seems to be trade, with a humanitarian "aid" mission. 

That said, the data highlights the United States’ obvious preference for African minerals and oil over textiles. The plots below depict the recent imports/exports from Nigeria and the DR Congo (major sources of oil and minerals), as well as the EAC. Remember, AGOA aims to increase Africa’s market access, or in other words, increase exports from Africa to the US. But the EAC consistently has a negative trade balance. Despite AGOA providing a provision specifically for African apparel, the US, in practice, prefers to foster oil and mineral exports from Africa. Personally, I think the EAC should be encouraged to produce a product worth exporting under AGOA. Furthermore, I am excited to see how the new “Made in Rwanda” initiative will encourage Rwandan creativity, design, and entrepreneurship, in markets beyond just textiles. 

On a philosophical note, I wrestle with whether it is beneficial to foster African exports, in light of globalization and industrialism? Take Nigeria for instance. As a result of AGOA, Nigeria’s economy is becoming more dependent on America’s demand, and the global supply, for oil. Similarly, the success of Rwandan coffee growers (currently an export under AGOA) hinges on our cravings for caffeine and the whims of the market. If (and that is an if) AGOA exists to satiate our culture of Hummers and Starbucks, at the expense of African jobs and creativity, at what point does our trade policy, and even our aid policy, become a form of economic colonialism? Furthermore, does a country’s participation in the global economic arena require its industrialization? When it came to the revival of villages in the face of industrialization, Gandhi wrote,

The revival of the village is possible only when it is no more exploited. Industrialization on a mass scale will necessarily lead to passive or active exploitation of the villagers as the problems of competition and marketing come in. Therefore we have to concentrate on the village being self-contained, manufacturing mainly for use. 

As Gandhi was extremely skeptical of industrialization (to put it lightly), due to its potential for worker exploitation, social stratification, and unsustainable urbanization, so must we be cognizant of policies that promote unsustainable socio-economic systems in Africa. 

Alternatives to banning Second-Hand-Clothes

Of course, a ban on used clothes could backfire on the EAC by removing the poor’s access to affordable clothes and putting local resellers at risk of closing. Last year, Zimbabwe reversed its ban on use clothes for the sake of the effected poor. Furthermore, there is no guarantee that the ban will help East African garment makers as Asian producers will provide stiff competition.

This article explains a few alternatives, including a ban on certain types of clothes, such as undergarments or high-quality used clothes, and a phased approach that would ease tensions with the US and allowing local industry to develop over time. 

For example, the US could negotiate with the EAC a price and/or tax increase on US clothes exports that is mutually beneficial. US businesses selling SHC could increase their prices and the the US government could place an export tax on SHC exports to the EAC, commensurate to the EAC’s import tax. The effect would be the same on EAC consumers and textile industries (an increase in the price of used clothes), but the extra revenue would be shared among the governments and US businesses.

In summary, I believe the US should retain Rwanda, Uganda, and Tanzania's membership under AGOA and work with East Africa to negotiate a phased or partial ban on SHC. Furthermore, the US should be more consistent in its application of AGOA, by encouraging African manufacturing and exports over US imports, and not preferring oil over textiles.

Of Dogs and Men

Today, Patti and I took a stroll around San Francisco's Union Square, without much of an agenda except to meet people and practice street photography. We ended up meeting Jay, and his dog, Pepper, on the side of a busy corner where we chatted over some Starbucks about his journey from Southern California to SF. A few blocks later we ran into Ari and his dog, Chico. Ari was a legit fellow - he was friendly, knew his scripture, and had a great smile. We talked for half an hour about how to clean shrimp and the value of generously celebrating the lives of those we love before they pass away. 
                  

Ari and his dog, Chico

Jay and his dog, Pepper

We prayed together before parting ways and Ari was very encouraged and spoke of God's favor resting on some people but not others because they've "been in a bad way", referring in part to himself. But now, he said, he hoped that would change. 

The beauty of carving out time in our lives to be spontaneous, or just having the mindfulness to set our own agendas aside for even a moment, is that it shifts the focus away from ourselves. And if we can step outside of ourselves and the walls that we have created (the comfortable house in the hills, shopping malls, holiday getaways, badge-only access to work), then we begin to connect with the needs, the beauty, and the unique stories of others.

It's not unlike hiking, where I often have to remind myself to look up from the roots on the trail in front of me in order to experience the people and places that surround me. 

As for these gents and their dogs, we didn't have a plan, we didn't hand out a meal, we didn't solve anyone's problems, but I think that's ok. Their stories are worth hearing, and that alone is reason enough to pause. 

And because Macy's was supporting dogs up for adoption through the SPCA, they had this pup on display in their window. Adopt a dog! :) 

Note: Out of respect, the individuals' names were changed and permission was asked to post photos online.

Happy Two-Month Anniversary!

Patti and I celebrating our two-month anniversary hours after my surgery.

Three days after returning home from our seven-week globetrotting honeymoon the right side of my neck is swollen like a softball, and I find myself, for the first time, lying in a hospital bed. An elusive infection in my lymph nodes has caused severe inflammation extending from my right ear down to my windpipe and from my cheek over to my shoulder. I'm barraged by daily blood tests, CT scans and ultrasounds, antibiotics that irritate my veins, IVs swapped every other day, and pain medication that makes me loopy and fatigued. Uncertain of the specific diagnosis, the conscious me sits on the sidelines of my own battlefield, watching patiently for the size of my neck to shrink or grow, tipping the scales in favor of my body or an unseen enemy. But one thing is certain: when reciting our vows, Patti and I never thought the "sickness" part of "in sickness and in health" would be played out so early in our marriage.

Sure, the circumstances seem pretty gloomy for a newlywed couple, but in some ways the hospital has been more restful than our honeymoon, gallivanting throughout Southeast Asia in search of beaches, diving, and cultural excursions. Compared to some of the AirBnBs we stayed at, the hospital is definitely cleaner, my sheets are changed daily, and there is hot water and a working thermostat, not to mention breakfast, lunch, and dinner are included! To our surprise, the service is actually on par with the resort we stayed at in the Maldives; the staff addresses me by name and knows I would prefer the honey-glazed chicken over the Asian cod. Dare I say, with my window view, I might even be getting a hospital tan.

Yet our "extended honeymoon" has a much more profound meaning to me in the sense that it has defined and shaped the beginnings of our marriage in a way that no resort or beach ever could. Despite the sleepless nights and my growing inability to perform daily tasks, like changing my gown or eating solid food, Patti has patiently been at my side, never complaining and never worrying. She's grown a sense for what I need, a glass of water or a blanket for my feet, before I even know I need it, and she cheerfully takes the initiative to help. Sometimes, she even sneaks into my hospital bed so we can play games and watch Netflix together, never mind the nurse saying something about a hospital policy and the bed's weight limit. Other times we just sit in silence, tapping away on our cell phones, contently side by side. She walks with me the same 4th floor figure-eight loop hallway to which I am restricted, over and over, until I reach my daily step goal. Suffice to say, I have grown to deeply appreciate and cherish my wife, just as she has grown to love and care for me, as a result of our unintentional honeymoon extension.

It is Friday afternoon, the day of our two-month anniversary, and my fifth day in the hospital. There are still no signs that the swelling is subsiding. The ENT surgeon walks into my room after viewing my CT scan from a half hour ago. The scan reveals a large abscess filled with liquefied tissue forming in my neck, which is preventing the antibiotics from reaching the bacteria. He wants to perform surgery immediately to drain the abscess. Waiting could risk the infection spreading to my heart or brain. Surgery poses its own risks of course. The carotid artery, windpipe, vocal chords, and a bundle of nerves are all near the abscess. This is our hardest moment, when uncertainties and realities begin to merge. And while the choice is clear, the repercussions are not. Tissues in hand, we go ahead with the surgery that evening. Before I'm put under, Patti and I read Psalm 138 together, finding comfort in the last verses:

"Your love, Lord, endures forever - do not abandon the works of your hands."       

- Psalm 138:8

A praise, a reassurance, and an imperative, all rolled up in one.

I woke up, slowly. Groggily, I recall Patti leaning over the gurney with a big grin. The surgery went well, the doctors were able to drain more than anticipated, and within hours my pain had nearly vanished. Now, as I finish writing this a week later, I am told I could be discharged within a day or two. The swelling has diminished but it will still take another couple of weeks of rest and antibiotics until the infection is completely cleared up. But alas, an end to our honeymoon is in sight.

This may sound strange to some, but I recall during my first week in the hospital, while resting with my eyes closed, a vision of a large wooden door, made from strong thick timbers, and built into a stone archway. I step back and look above the door to discover our names, "Kyle and Patti Gaiser" engraved in the mossy stone. The archway is built into an even thicker layer of rock, which is built into the side of a mountain. The image confers an overwhelming sense of encouragement and peace, affirming that through these events God is laying the groundwork for our marriage - a solid foundation, built on a rock that cannot be easily toppled.