I have been silenced. Well, not exactly silenced. You see, I've been reading several essays by George Orwell. And I've got to say that I've been rendered mute for the past few days.
It's not that I am afflicted with an overpowering case of self-doubt, unless one considers my normal state of affairs overpowering, living, as I do, with self-doubt every second of my life. What I am re-realizing, if you will, is that there are many commonalities between the Orwellian political landscape of the 1940s and our current landscape. And such a realization makes me wonder if I am playing into the hand of something loathsome and abominable by engaging in overt political gamesmanship. Is it at all helpful to fight the way I am fighting?
One of the best books I've ever read was a work called Idols for Destruction. In it, author Herbert Schlossberg analyzes the ideals political parties or factions rally around and demonstrates that much of what is fought for on this planet in political fisticuffs is in the end so many idols. There are idols on the left: the perfect state, usually an engineered welfare state; income distribution and the obliteration of poverty; historical idealism culminating in the emancipation of all alleged oppressed groups, and so on. And there are idols on the right: the unfettered, laissez-faire market economy; the perfected state without engineering; distribution of wealth according to merit and personal industriousness; legal fortitude based both on natural law and some sort of theism.
But what both left and right fail to consider is that all governments and all economic projects will come to dire ends (I don't think this is Schlossberg's view). There is no possible earthly model that is eternal, nor is there a heavenly one that can be wrestled to the ground and made to work on this planet. Without making any reference to a God at all, it can be readily argued that humanity is adrift on a spaceship, upon which no one knows how they embarked; a ship heading no one knows where. What is merely known is that there is a finite amount of resources available for the crew and that all computer models show that the very cosmos, the very medium through which we all move and have our being, will collapse or explode into some sort of oblivion. There is no doubting this. There is no levee to protect us from this reality; there is no president or king or Congress or Diet or synagogue or church or legislation or protest that can prevent the inevitable from occurring. The ship is lost in space, and there is nothing to be done about the exploding sun or the black hole that awaits the very photons leaping off this screen.
I share this not because I am waxing fatalistic. I share this to highlight a theme to which I constantly must return. That theme is that the earth is in dire need of a healthy, enlightened and brilliant humility. What is needed is a Socratic Revolution, whereby all of us come to a quivering and contrite moment of self-understanding, recognizing that we do not know what we think we know.
The other night I was paralyzed by an exchange I witnessed between the inexplicably legendary Phil Donahue and the pugnacious Bill O'Reilly (on O'Reilly's "The O'Reilly Factor" aired on Fox). Neither of these men is what one might call "intellectual," though in Donahue's case one might show him the high courtesy of at least recognizing that he is intellectually pretentious. O'Reilly is a coffee break intellectual at the loading dock: hot-headed, righteous, and usually struggling toward something a bit bigger than he can handle, managing just enough mental agility to impress his buddies. Neither man is a genius.
But what I was paralyzed by is the elevation of mediocrity and the celebration of stupidity. Both of these men carry a big income, lead relatively privileged lives, and have hordes of fans who adore their contributions to the entertainment room on our marooned spacecraft. There are websites at which Donahue is applauded for his brilliance; there are others that celebrate O'Reilly's rousing defeat of Donahue.
What I saw was two men who are clear losers and a spacecraft filled with souls demeaned by such showmanship. Granted, on purely logical grounds, the scales tip in O'Reilly's favor, as he was able to refrain from the fallacy-riddled rhetoric oozing from every pore of Mr. Donahue. But that Mr. O'Reilly, who truly is a man of power and influence, could not stop Donahue without threatening to toss Donahue off the set, indicates that things are in a sorry state.
How, for instance, can an audience celebrate this sort of statement by Mr. Donahue:
We've already had two thou - almost thousand - (gestures for O'Reilly to hold off) - just let me have the last word. In the last year two things have doubled. The number of dead American troops in Iraq has doubled and you know what else doubled, Billy? The price of Halliburton stock. From $33 to $66. That doesn't shame you? That doesn't make you wonder whether this is an enterprise that is worth the support of the American people?
This statement is utterly mystifying for two reasons. First, it is completely fallacious. The comparison between the two variables–the American death toll and Halliburton stock prices–is meaningless. The only way it could be meaningful is if Donahue revealed the rest of the premisses of his argument, the ones he keeps hidden in his fallacy. As it stands, my retort to Donahue would be to simply observe that my dog's age has doubled since last year; my credit card debt has increased two-fold during the same time and my bench press has fallen 50 percent. In other words, I would observe that there is no correlation between the two variables insofar as Mr. Donahue presents them.
The statement is also mystifying because Mr. O'Reilly fails to deal with Donahue's fallacy at all.
What is most disconcerting is that there are people who think Mr. Donahue has said something important, brilliant and decisive. Donahue is also lauded (by bloggers abundant) for his allegedly incisive remarks regarding O'Reilly's conspicuous lack of personal involvement in Iraq combat, suggesting that O'Reilly should support a war only if he himself joins in the carnage. (This is logically akin to saying that I should not support football if I myself do not play it.) And then there's Donahue's deification of Ms. Cindy Sheehan's grief, elevating it beyond the realm of criticism, all in the fallacy argumentum ad misericordium, the appeal to pity, that is so often deployed when argument is sacrificed for the appearance of victory.
Truly, I am at a loss. I am starting to think that St. Paul was right: there is an imminent delusion about to fall upon the eyes and hearts of men, whereby no one will "endure" sound reasoning. Alas, perhaps the end has already come. There is nothing left to do but sit on the ship patiently, remonstrate against fallacies, and pray that there is another ship, and another cosmos.
While it is undeniably true that George Orwell and I would not agree on what is the best thing to do while crammed uncomfortably on our spaceship, I am certain that he and I would agree on this: the first thing we all must do is destroy our idolatries. Actually, maybe that is the best thing.
Contratimes
©Bill Gnade 2005/Contratimes - All Rights Reserved.
PS. If you need to harm your soul, if you really need to hurt yourself, then watch the exchange between O'Reilly and Donahue. Or you can read the transcript. But I would advise against either. Actually, what would really damage your soul is a perusal of the comments posted on myriad blogs. THAT might make you jump ship.
4 comments:
Hi Bill.
As a distant friend, and as a semi-regular reader of your blog, I would like to make a very sincere suggestion in response to your latest missive on the suffocating vapidity of our mainstream culture. Though it is certainly personal, I make it public because I think, perhaps over-optimistically, that it might help to heal one of your readers if they stumble across it and take it seriously.
My suggestion is this: simply take a break: unplug your TV and your radio (hell, SELL your TV and your radio, if you really want to do something drastic--drastic for an American, anyway). Cancel your newspaper and magazine subscriptions--you could even stop reading for awhile (and I say that as a confirmed bookworm). Spend a month or so of your leisure time listening to (preferably instrumental--we all need a break from verbal human messages) music, taking long quiet walks through the woods...I know that you already do these things, but do them MORE! Reject our media-driven culture by ceasing to even observe it. Imagine how even a few exasperated minutes spent watching two bellicose, hateful, manipulative, sad mediocrities like Donahue and O'Reilly slug it out on TV could've been spent swimming in a quiet pond surrounded by trees, or having a picnic with your wife.
Is this getting to sound like a guilt trip? I hope not. I honestly propose that your time might be too precious to spend so much of it reading and watching the various horrors that take place every day in the pages of the New York Times, on the sets of FOX News, etc. Imagine a life without constant soundbites, without the shrill and usually dishonest arguments of the sick, sick little gods of our pop culture. Imagine, say, six months without so much as a glace at a newspaper or television program. You and I are lucky enough to live in the country, where billboards do not assault us everywhere we go--let's take fuller advantage of it!
This is not an argument for isolationism. It is an argument for mental health, and an argument for peace, and for beauty. One of the greatest sicknesses of our society, as I see it, is our tendency to spend so much time plugged into the ceaseless information pipeline--and as a result, we end up too often losing our lives, thoughts, personalities and activities to the newspaper and the six o'clock news. I'm not saying that you shouldn't add your perspective to world events--but I think that perspective might actually be sharpened by total ignorance of the way they are broadcast. There are many who will attempt to guilt you back into being an informed citizen. Try not to take their advice. There are too many people in this world who try to guilt us into being informed citizens, which is a step on the road to being miserable, angry-hearted news junkies, and not nearly enough who abstain from listening to the buzz.
In fact, I like to say that there are no world events. There are only local events, a few of which are hand-picked by the forces in the national media and blasted at us for hours and hours, thereby making them "world events" often with little positive impact resulting from the "awareness" this spreads. Most of us know more about Madonna, Curt Schilling and the president than we know about our own backyards, and that is a crime.
I have gone without radio, television and newspapers for almost a year now, following the nauseating media blitz that accompanied the last election, and I find it has made me a more patient and attentive person, as well as a much happier one. I can only tell you that a good mental distance from media, for me, has been accompanied by a rebirth of childish, wet-eyed joy--I use the time I used to spend fuming at the editorial page climbing trees and taking walks in the park with my girlfriend. Every few months I spend a day at the library catching up, and I think that's more than adequate. In fact, I may eventually give THAT up.
This has probably come across as overly preachy, but it's what I consider to be one of the very few pieces of genuinely helpful advice that I can give. Take it with an iceberg of salt, but please, take it into consideration.
grace,
your friend
Luke Buckham
Luke,
You are wise beyond your years, my friend. Trust me when I say that tomorrow's blog was going to begin something like this: I was happier when I was young, and I was young because I was innocent.
My wife and I both spoke last night at length about how we were happier, better people before we both had cell phones, answering machines, laptop computers and DirecTV. I feel personally ruined by having Internet access in my home most of the time. It has had a pernicious effect on me, largely because I have an addictive personality and hence am victimized by all sorts of media.
Tonight, I shut off the tube and took a walk in the deep dark, and was soaked to the bone by the remnants of Rita. To come back and find your comments was invigorating.
But you know that I can't quit. I am not talking about remaining addicted to the strife, the constant bombardment of vying perspectives. If you've read this entire blog (you say you have but I doubt it), you would know that I constantly remind myself and my readers that there is more to life than political one-upsmanship. I search for the beautiful every second; I set like a tea bag and steep in the boiling beauty every second, or so I try. It is the only thing, complemented by a furious fight to be truly thankful for the privilege of breath, that has kept me alive.
My guess is that Contratimes readers over time will witness, not so much my rantings, or my flag-raising at fallacies, but my conversion into something better than I am now. I am on a journey here, and I am trying, often desperately, to find who I am, what I fully believe, and whether I am wasting my voice. Am I speaking to the right things? Am I honoring God with my gifts? Am I leading folks towards or away from psychological damnation?
You must know that my only desire is to love; to love people and truth in wholeness; toward wholeness. And I am attempting to model, flounderingly perhaps, what reason and grace and the bouyancy of God's hope look like when invited into serious consideration of dire and dark realities. There is need for light; there is need for a real confrontation with the world, even the cyber world.
There is a passage in the prophetic text of Jeremiah (20:9). It reads:
But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.
I had this scripture posted on the door of my dorm room in college. It speaks to my very heart: I am weary of holding it in.
No doubt this is something you might see in the weariness of my prose. But the reality remains that I cannot permit myself to be quiet for long.
There is a fight afoot, damnit. And I can't stand idly by. You are right: I need to further immerse myself in blissfulness. But that is not all I need to do. My problem is that I don't know exactly what to do. I am prone to discouragement, despair, depression; you know, the dreadful D's. And Lord knows I am all too quick to lose my way; to turn pugilist when I should turn peacemaker, or just turn tail and run.
If there is anyplace I feel most effective, even pertinent, it is here, in this part of my blog, where I interact with people who've posted comments. I want people to know that Christians are profoundly intellectual; the deepest of all, in fact. But I also want them to know, not only that Christians can be hard-headed, but that they are soft-hearted. As others have said before me, the sad fact is that too many Christians are soft-headed and hard-hearted.
What does St. Paul tell Christians to do? Does he tell them to meditate on darkness, to contemplate confusion? No. He tells the Church at Philippi:
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.
In other words, St. Paul and you agree. And I confess that I merely give assent to Paul's exhortation, and then only part of the time. I do not turn myself over to this sort of holy living nearly as zealously as I should. And though I said that I try to steep myself in beauty, I admit that I have not done so with the alacrity, even abandon, you recommend.
Yes, Luke the Lucid, you've aimed your light upon my shadow. I am wanting. But I do play with puppies like a puppy. Not bad for a man who's now 44.
Blessings, and many thanks!
Gnade
BTW. Go get the book, "Blink." I am reading it now. You'll love it. I promise.
Hi again Bill. I wanted to reply to a few items in your friendly rebuttal:
"we were happier, better people before we both had cell phones, answering machines, laptop computers and DirecTV..."
I don't have any problem with those devices in and of themselves, but if that really is the case, I urge you, try to get rid of these things immediately. When one recognizes a possession as a curse and a distraction from joy, it will begin to plague the sanctity of one's house, and become an eyesore. You don't have to be told that, I'm sure. I know that for you, these technologies are tied up with larger concerns; does that mean that the larger concerns must be banished also? It's something I struggle with myself. But if all these things, that we have willingly aquired, are tormenting us, surely something is very, very wrong.
"If you've read this entire blog (you say you have but I doubt it), you would know that I constantly remind myself and my readers that there is more to life than political one-upsmanship."
First of all, why question my truthfulness? I may have missed a few pieces, but when I said that I believed I've read the whole thing, including the archives. Believe it or not, I LIKE reading your articles. So you see, despite ridding myself of TV and radio, I'm still somewhat tuned in to politics.
And if you'll re-read my response to your article, you'll see that not once do I accuse you of not taking enough enjoyment in life, or of not encouraging your readers to do so--in fact I acknowledge near the beginning, after naming some enjoyable activities, that "I know that you already do these things," though I do urge you to "do them MORE"--clearly you did not enjoy watching those two muddleheads duke it out. You even went so far as to describe it as being hurtful to the soul. But I did not suggest that this makes you a miserable person--on the contrary, it reminds you of the cleaner air waiting for you in a truer realm. I was inviting you, as a friend, to spend those minutes lost to the blare of the TV doing what you already do best, instead. The invitation was not an accusation cloaked in friendliness.
"I want people to know that Christians are profoundly intellectual; the deepest of all, in fact."
Which people? Whose recognition would satisfy you? Why should a Christian yearn for the recognition by the world of their intellectual profundity? As for convincing them that Christians possess the deepest intellects of all--who, other than a fellow Christian, can you reasonably expect to agree with such a statement, even if you're right?
I, too, yearn for worldwide recognition of my brilliance and the supremacy of my religious beliefs. I think that's a pretty universal human urge. That doesn't mean it should be disparaged, and I'm not knocking it here. But I would say, though I can't explain this tendency in YOU, in me I think it bespeaks a neurotic desire to have the world affirm the validity of my beliefs and my intellect--which might mean that I doubt them and lack the affirmation within.
"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."
Amen. But I agree with you that sometimes we have to think about the SHIT. And I never asked you to stand idle, either. I don't think ignoring mass media means dropping out of society--on the contrary, I think it can force us to be more intimate with it, more directly confrontational.
"St. Paul and you agree."
That we should focus on the praiseworthy. But we would've clashed over exactly WHAT is praiseworthy. For instance, I rejoice in sex outside marriage (not "pre-marital" since I don't plan on getting married), if I find it to be loving and nurturing (and it can be, just as there can be wholesome joy in robust which makes me doubt Paul's supremacy in certain fields). Paul did not.
"...I do play with puppies like a puppy. Not bad for a man who's now 44."
44's not so old, dude. I don't doubt your puppy capacities. You seem pretty spry to me. I hope that we're both still doing that when we're 84--or rather, when I'm 84 and you're 105. Bless you.
Luke
And I love that Chesterton poem. Thanks for bringing it back to my attention.
And here's something else I love: recently, while looking through a book of Henri Matisse's paintings, I saw a picture of a bed-ridden elderly Matisse indulging in what was almost Chesterton's fantasy--he was using a drawing instrument the size of an oar to sketch something on the wall of his bedroom. It touched my heart.
Luke,
I should think my response was hardly a rebuttal. It is far more paean than polemic.
(For Contratimes readers who would like the inside scoop on Luke's reference to Matisse and Chesterton, I send up this quote from Mr. Chesterton that led Luke to connect Matisse/Chesterton:
Lying in bed would be an altogether perfect and supreme experience if only one had a colored pencil long enough to draw on the ceiling.
Blessings,
Gnade
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