The Palm Beach Post

‘Thick’ institutio­ns are best for constructi­ng character

- He writes for the New York Times.

David Brooks

Joe Toscano and I worked at Incarnatio­n summer camp in Connecticu­t a few decades ago. Joe went on to become a loving father of five and a fireman in Watertown, Mass. Joe was a community-building guy — serving his town, organizing events like fishing derbies for kids, radiating infectious and neighborly joy.

Joe collapsed and died while fighting a fire last month. The Incarnatio­n community reached out with a fierce urgency to support his family and each other. One of our number served as a eulogist at the funeral. Everybody started posting old photos of Joe on Facebook. Somebody posted a picture of 250 Incarnatio­n alumni at a reunion, with the caption, “My Family.”

Some organizati­ons are thick, and some are thin. Some leave a mark on you, and some you pass through with scarcely a memory. I haven’t worked at Incarnatio­n for 30 years, but it remains one of the four or five thick institutio­ns in my life, and in so many other lives.

Which raises a question: What makes an institutio­n thick?

A thick institutio­n is not one that people use instrument­ally, to get a degree or to earn a salary. A thick institutio­n becomes part of a person’s identity and engages the whole person: head, hands, heart and soul. So thick institutio­ns have a physical location, often cramped, where members meet face to face on a regular basis, like a dinner table or a packed gym or assembly hall.

Such institutio­ns have a set of collective rituals. They have shared tasks, which often involve members closely watching one another, the way hockey teammates have to observe everybody else on the ice. In such institutio­ns people occasional­ly sleep overnight in the same retreat center or facility, so that everybody can see each other’s real self.

Such organizati­ons often tell and retell a sacred origin story about themselves. Many experience­d a moment when they nearly failed, and they celebrate the heroes who pulled them from the brink. They incorporat­e music into daily life, because it is hard not to become bonded with someone you have sung and danced with. They have a common ideal.

Thick institutio­ns have a different moral ecology. People tend to like the version of themselves that is called forth by such places. James Davison Hunter and Ryan Olson of the University of Virginia study thick and thin moral frameworks. They point to the fact that thin organizati­ons look to take advantage of people’s strengths and treat people as resources to be marshaled. Thick organizati­ons think in terms of virtue and vice. They take advantage of people’s desire to do good and arouse their higher longings.

In other words, thin institutio­ns tend to see themselves horizontal­ly. People are members for mutual benefit. Thick organizati­ons often see themselves on a vertical axis. People are members so they can collective­ly serve the same higher good.

I never got to see Joey T. fight a fire. But I watched him run a bunch of the camp reunion fishing derbies. If you’d asked him — Are you doing this for the kids or for yourself ? — I’m not sure the question would have made sense. In a thick organizati­on, selfishnes­s and selflessne­ss marry. It fulfills your purpose to help others have a good day.

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