Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.
         - Margaret Mead

         I believe this idea, but I also believe its corollary: Never doubt that a small group of zealots and ideologues can screw things up for everyone else.
         A lot of evidence shows that human culture is in deep crisis, especially in the destruction of our own life-support system--the natural world. We might hope that science will solve all our problems, but it would be pretty immature to count on it. So the world needs changing, and we need those small groups of dedicated people to drive that change. But how to distinguish the passionate people who are trying to help from the zealots who are perhaps driven by deep and unmet psychological needs to feel superior or to control others?
         The test I use is to look for what I call a “self-contained system of truth.” If someone seems to have all the answers, I’m skeptical. If they have a ready-made explanation for everything, and their views couldn’t possibly be modified by any conceivable evidence, then it looks to me more like zealotry than like a courageous attempt to understand and help the world.
         Some political philosophies are like this. Anyone who has ever fallen under the spell of writer Ayn Rand, as I did in high school, has known cult thinking packaged in anger and spite for those who stupidly refuse to see “the truth.” I haven’t listened to him much, but Rush Limbaugh seems to have all the answers, as do some libertarians I’ve talked to.
         Some religious doctrines are self-contained systems of truth that pander to the need for ready-made answers, instead of helping the faithful to live within the deeper mysteries of life--which is where I think spirituality really dwells. Opposing religious groups, each possessed with incompatible versions of “the truth,” have often slaughtered each other over their beliefs. “By their fruits you shall know them.”
         I have some religious friends who object to a moral “relativism” that says there is no right and wrong except for what is defined by a community in a specific place and time. These friends feel that the loss of absolute values is responsible for the social breakdown we’re witnessing today. They believe that right and wrong are structured into the very fabric of reality, just like the law of gravity. Their religion provides a code for identifying right and wrong.
         Maybe they’re correct, maybe these moral absolutes do really exist and are discovered by prophets and religious leaders just as scientists seek to discover the forces that hold atoms together. But if there are competing versions of “the truth,” how can we choose among them? In science, truth comes down to “what works.” Deciding “what works” for moral values depends on what questions you ask. I’d suggest judging competing values by asking: “What is most helpful for living in peace with each other and with the other species that share the planet?” Of course, this question already presupposes some values. You have to start somewhere; you can’t build something from nothing.
         I think humility is crucial in thinking about values. It’s safe to assume that none of us are perfect, that none of us have all the answers. It sometimes takes phenomenal courage, but listening carefully and with an open mind to different points of view leads to new understanding. Also, when we really listen to another, they often then almost magically become much more open to our point of view. This can prevent both war and divorce. Being attached to a self-contained system of truth stifles understanding. If that small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can somehow retain humility along with their passion, then the world will probably be helped more than harmed by their work.