I remember, as a small boy, being impressed by a prayer written by Sir Francis Drake, in which he asks, roughly, for the strength to change what needs to be changed and the patience to accept what needs to be accepted and the wisdom to distinguish between the two.
If I were trying to construct a modern equivalent, I think I would ask for the courage to tackle the threats we need to take on, the ability to relax about threats that don’t exist, and the wisdom to distinguish between the two.
It isn’t always obvious when one is faced with a real threat.
For example, a lot of people still don’t see that the danger created by the dependence of our economy on hydrocarbons is real.
But it can also be difficult to spot threats that are unreal.
The supposed onset of universal apathy is one of these. There is much wringing of hands that goes on all over the place about this alleged cultural disaster. Every time something that people used to do is no longer being done, we are confidently told that this is yet another example of the death of community caused by a thousand apathies.
Of course, there is some truth in the apathy thesis. Fashions and enthusiasms change and change back. People who used to do x find that they are more interested in doing y. But this is nothing new — and I see absolutely no evidence, at least in our rural area, of any net increase in apathy.
The number of West Dorset clubs, societies, voluntary activities, committees, religious organisations, community groups, social enterprises and, in short, every variety of engagement and enthusiasm is positively dizzying. There are dozens of these things in each of our towns and at least a handful of them in each of our larger villages, sometimes many more.
Rather than bemoaning apathy (which there isn’t), we should turn our attention to liberating all these examples of local community spirit from excessive bureaucracy (which there is).