How Context is Everything

January has just ended, and yet it already looks like 2011 is the year of revolution and change--ironically fueled by the changing world of social media. Thus far, Sudan is headed towards a divorce, Ivory Coast exploded, Tunisia imploded, Egyptians took to the streets in the face of violent deterrence, and Yemen's opposition rediscover their voice. Africa, my dearest Africa, looking for democracy, tolerance and justice. I don't want anyone to die, but the possibility of a more democratic Northern Africa and Middle East, is tantalizing.

To many Westerners and those of us living in moderate democracies, justice, respect and tolerance are just part of who we are. Yet sometimes is frightens me how dependent my behavior is to my context.

• If I had lived in Georgia in 1860, I could have owned slaves.
• If I had lived in Afghanistan in 2000, I would have worn a burqa and been subject to brutal gender based violence
• If I had lived in Columbia in 1984, I could have been involved in drug trafficking.
• If I had lived in Thailand in 1995, I could have been trafficked into prostitution
• If I had lived in China in 1966, I would have been brainwashed into the Communist Cultural Revolution
• If I had lived in East Africa in 1930, I could have been a European colonist conducting careless resource extraction
• If I had lived in the Western United States in 1850, I could have been involved in killing Native Americans.
• If I had lived in Alabama in 1955, I would have used the drinking fountain marked "whites"
• If I had lived in Germany in 1939, well, horrifying thought.

The modern, living, peacebuilder in me would never, never do any of the above. But if I lived in these situations, that would have been all I would have known. It would have been normal to abuse other human beings, or to carry along with the status quo, never questioning social injustices or acts of inhumanity. I would have been voiceless, or thoughtlessly deprived others of their voices.

But I do know better. Even though I was born into an unjust world, I somehow learned that the spark of humanity in each of us is reason enough for respect and kindness. There are others who haven't come to this realization. It's not our job to beat them over the head with a stick, but it's our responsibly to live a better and to give voices to the voiceless in the most peaceful way possible. And still others yet, blatantly ignore it. I struggle to resolve the feelings of anger and injustice which arise...sufficed to say...may I never behave similarly. People are rising up and demanding their voices be heard. They have learned to recognize and label injustice for themselves and to their world around them. For their sakes, I hope they achieve it.

We owe it to ourselves to question our world. We owe it to humanity.