When I started this blog in January 2010, I was beginning my dissertation, so Wordplay was one of two creative ventures occupying my thoughts. I saw it as a sort of journal accompanying my dissertation research and writing; sometimes I worked out my thoughts in the blog and later went back to see what I had written once I was deeper into the research. Besides that, though, it was a way to put into practice what I'd been taught--how to look at the world through a mythic lens. I was very excited about it then and still am. When I talked to people about depth psychology and mythology, it usually seemed to strike some kind of a chord, and I felt a wider audience might also be receptive . . . so that's how Wordplay came about. I was having fun with what I was doing and thought I'd have even more fun writing about it.
At some point, I wrote a description of the blog that included a lot of the "descriptors" or buzz words that I thought would help people find it, but when I read that summary now (whether or not it helps in search results) it seems too wordy. If you were to ask me now, I'd just tell you that, pure and simple, this is a blog about the mythology of everyday life. The idea that ordinary life, and not just the doings of legendary figures from the distant past, is the material of mythology was one of the most exciting ideas I ever came across, and I think other people have also found that to be true.
Reading mythic texts from various traditions with a depth psychological eye was one thing; we spent a lot of time on this in my program, and it was a transformative experience. Learning how to look at the present-day world to see the myths and archetypes underlying current events was something else, at least for me. With an English degree in my background, I'm used to analyzing literary texts and can talk about the archetypes of any given book or film with a fair degree of comfort. But it seemed to me that for a degree in myth studies to be useful, it would have to encompass more than academic and literary subjects: it would have to provide insight into the world we live in.
The concept of reading events for meaning the same way one reads a literary text takes great skill, in my opinion, and subtlety--a certain amount of fearlessness doesn't hurt either. After all, real life moves and flows and doesn't stay still; it's not fixed on a page. There is no way to "prove" that one's reading of a particular event or phenomenon is "the" correct one, and chances are there are other ways of looking at the same event that are just as useful. We learned the term mythopoesis in my program, which to me means looking at the world the same way you look at a poem. In other words, you're alive to not only what's in front of you, the actual "words on the page," but also the implications of the words, the story that unfolds in between, beneath, and around them. This requires intuition and understanding; knowing what's there is only the first step.
Reading the world mythopoetically is complicated by the fact that, based on my experience anyway, it's often hard to know what the facts are. On any given day, I can read the news and think, "Hmmm, is that what really happened, or is that just what someone said happened?" It's much easier to read events when you know what they are, which may sound like a truism, but as recent events on the U.S. political scene have shown us, basic facts are often in dispute. Much of the news is colored by assumptions and written from a certain point of view. I'm firmly in favor of people expressing their opinions, but first I want to know what the facts are so that I can form my own opinion.
That brings me to an unexpected role I sometimes find myself playing on this blog, the role of mythojournalist. This happened because I often searched in vain for news sources that seemed to dig deep enough and connect the dots between events. Sometimes the what would be there but not the why; often, even the what would be hard to discern in a sea of opinion and misinformation. If an event left me scratching my head, I tried to understand the implications behind it. I certainly never pictured myself as a crusading journalist (book reviews and a little humor are more in my line), but my forays into mythojournalism were born of frustration. I often felt something was missing in other people's reporting, and I tried to fill in the gaps. After all, politics, business, and world affairs are a part of everyday life, too.
And speaking of trying to read events, I feel that our nation, and perhaps the world, is actually in a bit of a precarious position at the moment. I had hoped that when the election was over, things would seem calmer, but that hasn't happened. There's a lot of name-calling and saber-rattling and plenty of people ready to point the finger at anyone but themselves, and if you want me to say what I think the problem is, I'll give you my opinion: I think our nation has a deep unwillingness to look at its own shadow. This translates into: "We are pure; it's other people who have problems."
We seem to be sliding by degrees closer and closer back to a Cold War, which I don't suppose anyone views as desirable. I'm an American, and I support the Constitution, but still I find myself wondering: what's behind all the hostility between Russia and the United States? Is it barely possible that Russia has some legitimate concerns, too, as I have heard one or two American officials suggest? Does it really have to be "us or them"? I don't know who hacked the DNC, and I sincerely hope we find out, but even the facts of the who, what, when, where, and why seem to be in dispute. There are plenty of opinions being expressed, though, and since most of us have been taught to fear Russia, there seems to be a lack of balance to some of the coverage. I'm not saying that allegations of hacking and interference shouldn't be taken seriously; I'd merely like a little more light and less heat.
I will tell you that long ago, when I worked for a newspaper, I was assigned to write a Newspaper in Education supplement on Russia. This was right after the fall of the Soviet Union, and the supplement was meant to give students some background on Russian history. I didn't know much about Russia before I started, and as the country has over a thousand years of history, I feel that what I did merely scratched the surface--but I did come away from the project with a sense of respect for the Russian people, who have survived many difficult periods and apparently have great resiliency. It's a huge country, with many borders to defend, just like the United States. I am neither defending nor condemning Russia, but I am wondering what their point of view is in all the recent fracas. And I'm still not entirely sure I understand what happened in Ukraine.
Once you start looking at the world mythopoetically, your capacity to see things from more than one point of view increases, which I hope is a good thing and not a bad thing. Being understanding of someone else's viewpoint should tend to increase the chances of solving conflicts, not make things worse, according to my understanding of conflict resolution. I'm sincerely hoping there's a willingness on all sides to be honest and open about the real issues, as it seems to me that the world is much too small for this kind of conflict to be a good thing.
Well, six years of Wordplay, and there's much more to come, I hope. Perhaps someday soon I'll be able to get back to more lighthearted subjects, though I reserve the right to speak up on any subject if I feel the need. One thing I can tell you for sure is that Joseph Campbell was right: mythology is a call to adventure, though as is the usual way of things, the adventure may be different from what you imagined it to be. I was a writer without a topic before I started my study of mythology, and that blew my imagination wide open. It also helped me discover some personal qualities I didn't quite know I had. If you're feeling an interest in it yourself, my only caution is to be prepared: once you open your mind, things never quite look the same way again.
Showing posts with label United States. Show all posts
Showing posts with label United States. Show all posts
Friday, January 6, 2017
Thursday, December 17, 2015
From Kentucky, With Love
I'm back home after a wild and spontaneous trip out west. After my surreal and distressing 2012 California trip (see my post "Out West"), I sure wasn't planning to do anything like that again. I didn't think anything could induce me to cross the Mississippi River by car after that little adventure, but here's how it came about.
My regular readers will recall from last week that I was having lock concerns. I'm used to strange noises and people coming in and out of the building at odd hours, but something just didn't feel right that night. I had the lock changed temporarily until a permanent one could be made but was naturally concerned about what was only the latest in a series of strange events in and around my building. This has been going on for quite some time and shows no signs of getting better.
I was having new tires put on my car that day, so I was feeling extra vulnerable due to being sans vehicle. After I picked it up the next day, I was running errands when a feeling of unease started growing on me. I'd been thinking about my brother and nephew in Idaho ever since getting a card from my brother's former in-laws saying that my nephew was getting braces and a new little brother. Communication has been sparse from my brother for the last few years, which actually is a very surprising development, though everyone I mention it to seems to disagree (which I also find odd). Feeling that the "zone of silence" around my brother had gone on too long and that it was time to reconnect, I packed up some things and left that night.
I decided to break the trip up by visiting a friend in Denver. Although it was good to see her, it was a little distressing. She, too, tried to dissuade me from going to Idaho (what the heck is so unnatural about wanting to be in touch with family?). At first I thought she might be right, but then I decided that the need to lay my own eyes on my brother was more important than what anyone else said. I crossed the Colorado mountains at night and inched my way down a mountain range in Utah on snow (hey, at least I had new tires), reasoning that if I stopped I was only going to get stuck. Not my preferred way to travel, but you do what you have to do. Anyway, it worked. I drove out of the snow and made it to Interstate 15. One of the few transcendent moments of the trip came in seeing the beautiful white mountains south of Provo swing into sight and dominate the view for miles as I was heading north.
One of the least transcendent moments of the trip came a couple of hours later, when a green-gold Infiniti swerved and nearly caused me to wreck in heavy traffic. I later reported it to the Utah State Police as what looked like a deliberate act but didn't get much response. By the way, it was Utah license plate number C24 6RA in case anyone knows 'em. Despite that and a few other contretemps (including being boxed in by a number of cars as I approached a dangerous merging area), I got to Pocatello in one piece and went to the coffee shop my brother used to frequent. I was told there that he doesn't come in any more now that he has a new job, so I tried to contact him by leaving messages where he works. Call me irresponsible, but not being able to reach a family member by either phone or email for years at time seems a bit strange. Having people tell you they haven't seen him in a while doesn't do much to reassure you, either.
The last time I tried to see my brother (in 2012), I got a strange text message that I suspected he hadn't sent. This time, having failed to track him down, I drove up to the house, where I saw lights on and a vehicle in the driveway. There I ran into another barrier, since I couldn't get to the door due to a number of very excitable dogs. I had to knock at the window to try to get someone's attention, which resulted in a hullabaloo, because my nephew, evidently not knowing what to do, called 9-1-1. I had thought there was an adult in the house with him, but if not, he absolutely did the right thing, though it was disconcerting to have to wait with the sheriff's department for my brother to arrive. I passed the time by chatting with them but was distressed to learn that they've been called up there before and that the road behind my brother's house evidently attracts a criminal element. It was also reinforced for me just how difficult it can be to get the straight story on what's going on with a family member you've been out of touch with, as I heard stories from the officers on my brother's domestic situation that conflicted with what little I've heard over the past few years.
Long story short, my brother arrived and didn't seem to think I needed to have come all that way. So I managed to see both him and my nephew but not really to get any answers to the things I've been worried about. I may be accused of needing to mind my own business, but let me just say this, since the fact that I drove halfway across the country with a worried mind may have failed to make an impression. If I had a partner, spouse, friend, or whatever living with me who had a pharmacy degree, I'd want to be absolutely sure he/she was of impeccable character. Because, well, drugs, you know: they can be dangerous. I'd hate for someone to give me a little something I didn't ask for in my coffee. Just sayin'.
I won't even tell you about the drive home. Interstate 80 across Wyoming is dreary in the extreme. It's truly a wasteland . . . a far cry from the beautiful Tetons and the Yellowstone area of the state. Colorado is evidently unable to handle a few inches of snow (which would have been dispatched forthwith here), and I ran into sleet in Kansas. None of the smaller towns looked like places I wanted to stop (even for gas) so I stayed on the road in spite of incredible weariness. (Sometimes you're caught between a rock and a hard place and no choice looks good.) Having made it to Kansas City, I had a car problem, so I stayed overnight there. I finished the last leg on Monday, arriving home after midnight, minus much Christmas spirit.
Well, my lock has been changed. I made gingerbread cookies last night, but my tree isn't up. I haven't quite caught the Christmas mood yet and don't know that I will, but it could be worse. At least I've lived on to blog another day. I heard the song "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" a couple of times while I was traveling, which brought back memories of a holiday visit to Idaho in much happier times, when my nephew was a baby. I still have hope that it will come true, though I don't know why. I've had to drop a number of people from my life when it became apparent that they weren't good for me, but I refuse to let go of family ties. I'm still here, and I'm just the same as I always was . . . though considerably sadder.
My regular readers will recall from last week that I was having lock concerns. I'm used to strange noises and people coming in and out of the building at odd hours, but something just didn't feel right that night. I had the lock changed temporarily until a permanent one could be made but was naturally concerned about what was only the latest in a series of strange events in and around my building. This has been going on for quite some time and shows no signs of getting better.
I was having new tires put on my car that day, so I was feeling extra vulnerable due to being sans vehicle. After I picked it up the next day, I was running errands when a feeling of unease started growing on me. I'd been thinking about my brother and nephew in Idaho ever since getting a card from my brother's former in-laws saying that my nephew was getting braces and a new little brother. Communication has been sparse from my brother for the last few years, which actually is a very surprising development, though everyone I mention it to seems to disagree (which I also find odd). Feeling that the "zone of silence" around my brother had gone on too long and that it was time to reconnect, I packed up some things and left that night.
I decided to break the trip up by visiting a friend in Denver. Although it was good to see her, it was a little distressing. She, too, tried to dissuade me from going to Idaho (what the heck is so unnatural about wanting to be in touch with family?). At first I thought she might be right, but then I decided that the need to lay my own eyes on my brother was more important than what anyone else said. I crossed the Colorado mountains at night and inched my way down a mountain range in Utah on snow (hey, at least I had new tires), reasoning that if I stopped I was only going to get stuck. Not my preferred way to travel, but you do what you have to do. Anyway, it worked. I drove out of the snow and made it to Interstate 15. One of the few transcendent moments of the trip came in seeing the beautiful white mountains south of Provo swing into sight and dominate the view for miles as I was heading north.
One of the least transcendent moments of the trip came a couple of hours later, when a green-gold Infiniti swerved and nearly caused me to wreck in heavy traffic. I later reported it to the Utah State Police as what looked like a deliberate act but didn't get much response. By the way, it was Utah license plate number C24 6RA in case anyone knows 'em. Despite that and a few other contretemps (including being boxed in by a number of cars as I approached a dangerous merging area), I got to Pocatello in one piece and went to the coffee shop my brother used to frequent. I was told there that he doesn't come in any more now that he has a new job, so I tried to contact him by leaving messages where he works. Call me irresponsible, but not being able to reach a family member by either phone or email for years at time seems a bit strange. Having people tell you they haven't seen him in a while doesn't do much to reassure you, either.
The last time I tried to see my brother (in 2012), I got a strange text message that I suspected he hadn't sent. This time, having failed to track him down, I drove up to the house, where I saw lights on and a vehicle in the driveway. There I ran into another barrier, since I couldn't get to the door due to a number of very excitable dogs. I had to knock at the window to try to get someone's attention, which resulted in a hullabaloo, because my nephew, evidently not knowing what to do, called 9-1-1. I had thought there was an adult in the house with him, but if not, he absolutely did the right thing, though it was disconcerting to have to wait with the sheriff's department for my brother to arrive. I passed the time by chatting with them but was distressed to learn that they've been called up there before and that the road behind my brother's house evidently attracts a criminal element. It was also reinforced for me just how difficult it can be to get the straight story on what's going on with a family member you've been out of touch with, as I heard stories from the officers on my brother's domestic situation that conflicted with what little I've heard over the past few years.
Long story short, my brother arrived and didn't seem to think I needed to have come all that way. So I managed to see both him and my nephew but not really to get any answers to the things I've been worried about. I may be accused of needing to mind my own business, but let me just say this, since the fact that I drove halfway across the country with a worried mind may have failed to make an impression. If I had a partner, spouse, friend, or whatever living with me who had a pharmacy degree, I'd want to be absolutely sure he/she was of impeccable character. Because, well, drugs, you know: they can be dangerous. I'd hate for someone to give me a little something I didn't ask for in my coffee. Just sayin'.
I won't even tell you about the drive home. Interstate 80 across Wyoming is dreary in the extreme. It's truly a wasteland . . . a far cry from the beautiful Tetons and the Yellowstone area of the state. Colorado is evidently unable to handle a few inches of snow (which would have been dispatched forthwith here), and I ran into sleet in Kansas. None of the smaller towns looked like places I wanted to stop (even for gas) so I stayed on the road in spite of incredible weariness. (Sometimes you're caught between a rock and a hard place and no choice looks good.) Having made it to Kansas City, I had a car problem, so I stayed overnight there. I finished the last leg on Monday, arriving home after midnight, minus much Christmas spirit.
Well, my lock has been changed. I made gingerbread cookies last night, but my tree isn't up. I haven't quite caught the Christmas mood yet and don't know that I will, but it could be worse. At least I've lived on to blog another day. I heard the song "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" a couple of times while I was traveling, which brought back memories of a holiday visit to Idaho in much happier times, when my nephew was a baby. I still have hope that it will come true, though I don't know why. I've had to drop a number of people from my life when it became apparent that they weren't good for me, but I refuse to let go of family ties. I'm still here, and I'm just the same as I always was . . . though considerably sadder.
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Obama and the White Bull
I saw a description for a course someone is offering on learning to recognize myths and archetypes in current events. What a good idea for a course--because how challenging is it to separate the real story from the apparently real in the news we see every day? Separating the false from the true is both an art and a science, and familiarity with myths can be a great help in discernment.
It helps, as I've said before, to view the political stage as just that--a stage. It's the practiced performance you see, not actors standing around being themselves (with a few exceptions). Unrehearsed events are so rare that it makes me wonder how often reporters even ask the right questions. I get the feeling sometimes that press events, talk shows, and public appearances of all kinds are predicated from the word "go" on certain things not being asked, so that it's not a matter of an official parrying a tough question or refusing to comment on something. The conversation never even gets to that point.
I've read reports in the news media that President Obama has been showing more emotion lately, as if to imply that he's "loosening up" and revealing a more human side. I view those reports with some skepticism, based on my observation that almost everything that happens in politics happens for a stone cold reason. I'm not saying that the President doesn't have any of the emotions he might be displaying, but I am saying that if he's letting you see them, that's a calculated decision on his part (the same goes for other warm and fuzzy Washington people).
Was there a time when being presidential carried more gravitas and less of the aura of carnival side show, or am I just imagining that? President Obama seems to want us to think that he's a great guy with feelings just like ours, a sense of humor, lovable foibles, etc., and that he's not even above appearing in someone's garage to record a podcast. I know this folksiness is meant to be disarming, but what I find interesting (and disconcerting) is the fact that Mr. Obama works so hard at projecting this image.
I try to read events--whether they're press conferences, speeches, interviews, or news items--a little like advertisements and a little like poems. If it's an ad, what are they trying to sell me? What's the motive? What's the gain? Reading an event like a poem means reading intuitively or slantwise--literal understanding is just the beginning. The more elusive truths only appear if you don't stare at them head-on but listen instead to your gut feelings.
Here's a Greek myth that surfaced for me this afternoon, in thinking about our President: Poseidon sent King Minos a beautiful white bull, a magnificent animal that, because it was sacred, was meant to be sacrificed to the gods. Minos coveted this bull, and instead of offering it up, decided to keep it for himself, substituting a lesser animal in its place. Much havoc ensued from this self-serving act; Minos' wife even fell in love with the bull, which led to the birth of a monster, the insatiable Minotaur, and the need for an elaborate labyrinth in which to hide it.
The currency in this myth concerns the bait-and-switch, which in our day is the slick appearance and trappings of power as a substitute for the true working of democracy. In matters of personal rights, trade, and economic justice for ordinary citizens, the President, as I see it, is too often on the side of the moneyed and the powerful (a true son of Zeus, like Minos)--but he doesn't want it to look that way. So in place of that just, self-sacrificing, and courageous leader of the free world that we need but don't have, he gladly offers up a shiny, photogenic, and urbane substitute. We'd like to believe it's the real thing, but the truth is, you know, it's just some old bull. And you're not fooled, because you know your mythology.
It helps, as I've said before, to view the political stage as just that--a stage. It's the practiced performance you see, not actors standing around being themselves (with a few exceptions). Unrehearsed events are so rare that it makes me wonder how often reporters even ask the right questions. I get the feeling sometimes that press events, talk shows, and public appearances of all kinds are predicated from the word "go" on certain things not being asked, so that it's not a matter of an official parrying a tough question or refusing to comment on something. The conversation never even gets to that point.
I've read reports in the news media that President Obama has been showing more emotion lately, as if to imply that he's "loosening up" and revealing a more human side. I view those reports with some skepticism, based on my observation that almost everything that happens in politics happens for a stone cold reason. I'm not saying that the President doesn't have any of the emotions he might be displaying, but I am saying that if he's letting you see them, that's a calculated decision on his part (the same goes for other warm and fuzzy Washington people).
Was there a time when being presidential carried more gravitas and less of the aura of carnival side show, or am I just imagining that? President Obama seems to want us to think that he's a great guy with feelings just like ours, a sense of humor, lovable foibles, etc., and that he's not even above appearing in someone's garage to record a podcast. I know this folksiness is meant to be disarming, but what I find interesting (and disconcerting) is the fact that Mr. Obama works so hard at projecting this image.
I try to read events--whether they're press conferences, speeches, interviews, or news items--a little like advertisements and a little like poems. If it's an ad, what are they trying to sell me? What's the motive? What's the gain? Reading an event like a poem means reading intuitively or slantwise--literal understanding is just the beginning. The more elusive truths only appear if you don't stare at them head-on but listen instead to your gut feelings.
Here's a Greek myth that surfaced for me this afternoon, in thinking about our President: Poseidon sent King Minos a beautiful white bull, a magnificent animal that, because it was sacred, was meant to be sacrificed to the gods. Minos coveted this bull, and instead of offering it up, decided to keep it for himself, substituting a lesser animal in its place. Much havoc ensued from this self-serving act; Minos' wife even fell in love with the bull, which led to the birth of a monster, the insatiable Minotaur, and the need for an elaborate labyrinth in which to hide it.
The currency in this myth concerns the bait-and-switch, which in our day is the slick appearance and trappings of power as a substitute for the true working of democracy. In matters of personal rights, trade, and economic justice for ordinary citizens, the President, as I see it, is too often on the side of the moneyed and the powerful (a true son of Zeus, like Minos)--but he doesn't want it to look that way. So in place of that just, self-sacrificing, and courageous leader of the free world that we need but don't have, he gladly offers up a shiny, photogenic, and urbane substitute. We'd like to believe it's the real thing, but the truth is, you know, it's just some old bull. And you're not fooled, because you know your mythology.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
'Only a Paper Moon' or 'Look This Way and Smile'
When watching the news, do you ever find yourself asking, "OK, but what's the REAL story?" (No? Wow! I'm coming over to your house--your reception must be different from mine!) Of course, by the way I've asked the question, it's obvious that I have had experiences of doubt, and I'm not saying it's just the fault of the media. Certainly, there's faulty and incomplete reporting, but sometimes I have the feeling that, no matter how accurately journalists record events, what's shown is little more than a badly written skit complete with props, flimsy backdrops, and bad actors. ("OK, Senator McConnell, you stand here and look mean, and I'll stand there, and it'll look like we're fighting. Meanwhile, Rand will be shaking his fist." "Sure, Mr. President, glad to help.")
This is especially true when the news emanates from the rarefied vicinity of Washington, D.C. There are exceptions, of course. I certainly don't believe everyone in Washington is a lying coxcomb, but I do believe a lot of them are. I won't put a percentage on it, but let's just say I think it's alarmingly high. There, I haven't said anything you would probably disagree with yourself, since it's a truism that politicians lie. My question is, why aren't we more upset about it? Why aren't we angry? Are we uninformed? Is it mere apathy (which may be understandable but is still, by the way, bad for democracy)? Or don't we care if someone lies as long as their lies coincide with the ones we tell ourselves? I've come very reluctantly to believe that the latter is often true, which certainly doesn't reflect well on us as a people.
This is how bad it is: Last week I read the article by investigative journalist Seymour Hersh alleging that the story told to the public about the killing of Osama bin Laden in 2011 is largely false. Shocking, right? Mr. Hersh alleges that the Obama administration not only lied to the public about what happened but also double-crossed the Pakistanis. I certainly have no trouble believing that the true version of events is different from what the public was told, but Mr. Hersh's whys and wherefores didn't convince me either. He suggests that Obama's version of events may have been politically motivated (which I have no trouble believing). What I don't believe is that Mr. Hersh's article gives an accurate account of what transpired any more than Obama's did.
I don't know what happened in Abbottabad, but, personally, I wouldn't be surprised if U.S. officials had always known where bin Laden was. It always seemed strange to me that despite all the apparently strenuous efforts to find him, he managed to elude detection. The United States can apparently do anything from bug Angela Merkel's cell phone to spy on the phone calls, emails, and who knows what else (library accounts? hotel records?) of its own citizens, but it couldn't seem to zoom in on the allegedly low-tech, out-numbered bin Laden.
I don't believe that all the connections between the Bush administration, the Saudi government, bin Laden, and other players in this game--including the current administration--have ever fully come to light. There's simply too much paranoia from the administration in its stance toward the media and its own citizens, too much willingness to disregard the Constitution (allegedly for our benefit, isn't that a neat trick), for me not to conclude that something's fundamentally wrong. Eleven years ago, I was reading Craig Unger's House of Bush, House of Saud on my lunch hour at work and noticed the way the atmosphere in the office turned perceptibly colder after I discussed it with someone else. Mr. Unger's book does nothing but document the (by now, I think) well-known closeness between the Bush family and the Saudi royal house. My life was never quite the same in the office after that, so from my own experience, I know what an unpopular topic this is with some people.
My knowledge of what's happening in the world comes from reading, watching current events, and trying to think things through. I have the same sources as other people but often seem to come to different conclusions. My distrust of President Obama (someone I voted for twice) is based on his own actions, including his administration's interference with the press, his attempt to slip such serious deals as the TPP past public scrutiny, and, quite frankly, his seemingly obsessive concern with being ubiquitous on the talk show circuit and any place else that'll take him. It's all polish and no substance, a bit too Big Brother-ish for me. Nobel Peace Prize? Are you kidding? I don't believe he's really that different from some of the biggest hawks and warmongers out there. Some of these highly publicized political spats are, in my opinion, mere disguises for a mutual agreement to present the "facts" in a certain way to the public while a vastly different story goes on behind closed doors.
You may say things have always been this way. Maybe, but I think we've come to a critical point in the life of our democratic experiment (and remember, it is an experiment; it's only as good as we make it) where we have to decide how serious we are about our founding principles. Do we still think taxation without representation is tyranny? Do we still believe in certain inalienable rights? (Chris Christie evidently thinks it's hard to enjoy them in a coffin. Whatever happened to "Give me liberty or give me death"?) Do we still believe in government of the people, by the people, and for the people? Do we still think the government is privileged to work for us and is obliged to tell us the truth about the things it does in our name?
Are we still Americans? Or are we now something else? Inquiring minds want to know.
This is especially true when the news emanates from the rarefied vicinity of Washington, D.C. There are exceptions, of course. I certainly don't believe everyone in Washington is a lying coxcomb, but I do believe a lot of them are. I won't put a percentage on it, but let's just say I think it's alarmingly high. There, I haven't said anything you would probably disagree with yourself, since it's a truism that politicians lie. My question is, why aren't we more upset about it? Why aren't we angry? Are we uninformed? Is it mere apathy (which may be understandable but is still, by the way, bad for democracy)? Or don't we care if someone lies as long as their lies coincide with the ones we tell ourselves? I've come very reluctantly to believe that the latter is often true, which certainly doesn't reflect well on us as a people.
This is how bad it is: Last week I read the article by investigative journalist Seymour Hersh alleging that the story told to the public about the killing of Osama bin Laden in 2011 is largely false. Shocking, right? Mr. Hersh alleges that the Obama administration not only lied to the public about what happened but also double-crossed the Pakistanis. I certainly have no trouble believing that the true version of events is different from what the public was told, but Mr. Hersh's whys and wherefores didn't convince me either. He suggests that Obama's version of events may have been politically motivated (which I have no trouble believing). What I don't believe is that Mr. Hersh's article gives an accurate account of what transpired any more than Obama's did.
I don't know what happened in Abbottabad, but, personally, I wouldn't be surprised if U.S. officials had always known where bin Laden was. It always seemed strange to me that despite all the apparently strenuous efforts to find him, he managed to elude detection. The United States can apparently do anything from bug Angela Merkel's cell phone to spy on the phone calls, emails, and who knows what else (library accounts? hotel records?) of its own citizens, but it couldn't seem to zoom in on the allegedly low-tech, out-numbered bin Laden.
I don't believe that all the connections between the Bush administration, the Saudi government, bin Laden, and other players in this game--including the current administration--have ever fully come to light. There's simply too much paranoia from the administration in its stance toward the media and its own citizens, too much willingness to disregard the Constitution (allegedly for our benefit, isn't that a neat trick), for me not to conclude that something's fundamentally wrong. Eleven years ago, I was reading Craig Unger's House of Bush, House of Saud on my lunch hour at work and noticed the way the atmosphere in the office turned perceptibly colder after I discussed it with someone else. Mr. Unger's book does nothing but document the (by now, I think) well-known closeness between the Bush family and the Saudi royal house. My life was never quite the same in the office after that, so from my own experience, I know what an unpopular topic this is with some people.
My knowledge of what's happening in the world comes from reading, watching current events, and trying to think things through. I have the same sources as other people but often seem to come to different conclusions. My distrust of President Obama (someone I voted for twice) is based on his own actions, including his administration's interference with the press, his attempt to slip such serious deals as the TPP past public scrutiny, and, quite frankly, his seemingly obsessive concern with being ubiquitous on the talk show circuit and any place else that'll take him. It's all polish and no substance, a bit too Big Brother-ish for me. Nobel Peace Prize? Are you kidding? I don't believe he's really that different from some of the biggest hawks and warmongers out there. Some of these highly publicized political spats are, in my opinion, mere disguises for a mutual agreement to present the "facts" in a certain way to the public while a vastly different story goes on behind closed doors.
You may say things have always been this way. Maybe, but I think we've come to a critical point in the life of our democratic experiment (and remember, it is an experiment; it's only as good as we make it) where we have to decide how serious we are about our founding principles. Do we still think taxation without representation is tyranny? Do we still believe in certain inalienable rights? (Chris Christie evidently thinks it's hard to enjoy them in a coffin. Whatever happened to "Give me liberty or give me death"?) Do we still believe in government of the people, by the people, and for the people? Do we still think the government is privileged to work for us and is obliged to tell us the truth about the things it does in our name?
Are we still Americans? Or are we now something else? Inquiring minds want to know.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Death and Taxes, Not Necessarily in That Order
"April is the cruellest month, breeding/Lilacs out of the dead land . . ." --T. S. Eliot, The Waste Land
I was looking up the quotation above in my copy of The Waste Land and saw that I had written a note in the margin about Eliot having turned Chaucer's pilgrim gaiety on its head with these opening lines. Chaucer's spring fever is Eliot's elegy: clearly, these are two different views of spring. Is one more apt than the other? It probably depends on who you ask, or, maybe, when you ask. I don't think the sentiments really contradict each another.
Almost all of us have felt the surge of renewed energy that arrives with spring. Likewise, most of us have known times when we felt out of step with this mood, for one reason or another . . . a personal tragedy or an illness, perhaps. And regardless of anything else that might be happening, April is tax season, not really the highlight of anyone's year. It always seems like a shame to be preoccupied with 1099s and schedule Cs just when the weather's finally getting nice, but, in the wisdom of the Federal government, it has been so ordained that we must suffer (so you know it must be right).
Somehow, I hadn't really paid much attention before to the fact that April 15 is the date of Abraham Lincoln's death. Had you? Maybe it's because April 15 is overwhelmingly associated now with the Internal Revenue Service, e-filing, and tax forms, but it seems a shame that these things so far overshadow such a major tragedy in our history. I hadn't noticed much being made of the anniversary in the past, but this year, as you've heard, is the 150th anniversary of Lincoln's death, and so it has come to the forefront.
To me, collecting taxes is an odd way to honor President Lincoln, but apparently the date was appointed in the 1950s to give taxpayers more financial leeway (the filing deadline used to be March 15). I'm wondering now how much thought went into the selection of the date other than its being conveniently located an exact month later than the previous deadline. Did no one think of Lincoln, did it not seem to matter, or was the need to pick a date already associated with taxes (and thus easy to remember) the most pressing concern? Many people probably make little of the coincidence, but looked at from a symbolic viewpoint, it almost feels like a "papering over" of a painful moment from the past. (Don't tell me these things don't happen--they do.)
Of course, we now have a more recent tragedy associated with April 15, that of the Boston Marathon bombing. I was out walking the other day, a lovely, mild evening on which the local park was filled with young people dressed for prom night, the sparkling colors of their clothes competing with the tulips and blossoming trees for brilliance. As this exuberant crowd of students, parents, and friends milled around, the Boston tragedy came into my mind. I agree, it's sad that such a festive evening turned my thoughts toward something so tragic, but there it is: the mood near the finish line in Boston that day must have been similarly exuberant.
Loss is no respecter of seasons. Personally, I've lived through tornadoes, a fire (which actually occurred on April 15 some years ago), the death of a friend, and traffic accidents, all occurring in or near early April. Some of these events affected me greatly, and some very little in the long run, but one thing I do know is how surreal the beauty of the season seems under circumstances of loss, how disconnected one can feel from the flow of things. I've come through most of these events in no way diminished (except for losing the friend). I love spring, but I can't help but think of the people whose lives were interrupted that day in Boston and wonder how they're coping.
There's no bringing back Martin Richard, Krystle Campbell, Lu Lingzi, or Sean Collier, no undoing the devastating injuries suffered by the survivors. It's hard to take in the scope of what occurred until you imagine it happening to someone you love, in which case it comes into focus pretty quickly. I look at the Kentucky springtime unfolding all around me and wonder how long it will be before the survivors can look with anything but grief at the beauty of a Boston spring.
Death and taxes. Death and new life. Tragedies occur, and somehow life moves on. Is there a point to this post? Well, yes, there is. I keep thinking of smiling 8-year-old Martin Richard, holding up his sign, expressing his wish that people would stop killing each other. I often think, when I read arguments and counter-arguments for fighting terrorism with more war, that it's amazing the human race has come as far as it has. Why wouldn't you look for those who support terrorism, financially or otherwise, and charge them in a court of law? Isn't it more salutary to treat acts of terrorism as crimes than to start wars that seem untenable from the outset and may do little to address ultimate causes? We go around in circles, never getting to the bottom of things. Our government makes a show of being tough on terror but merely perpetuates it (and for this, we pay taxes).
Martin Richard will never see it, but for his sake, I'm making a plea that we do some soul-searching as a society and try to look more deeply into the root causes of terrorism. This will probably hurt. I believe that many people who consider themselves completely opposed to terrorism actually support it by trusting the government to fight it on their behalf, a government that is not only dysfunctional but also not opposed to doing away with constitutional rights in its quest to--it tells us--make the world safer. The government doesn't always have a vested interest in telling the public the truth about things--far from it. But the public always has a duty to insist on it.
I was looking up the quotation above in my copy of The Waste Land and saw that I had written a note in the margin about Eliot having turned Chaucer's pilgrim gaiety on its head with these opening lines. Chaucer's spring fever is Eliot's elegy: clearly, these are two different views of spring. Is one more apt than the other? It probably depends on who you ask, or, maybe, when you ask. I don't think the sentiments really contradict each another.
Almost all of us have felt the surge of renewed energy that arrives with spring. Likewise, most of us have known times when we felt out of step with this mood, for one reason or another . . . a personal tragedy or an illness, perhaps. And regardless of anything else that might be happening, April is tax season, not really the highlight of anyone's year. It always seems like a shame to be preoccupied with 1099s and schedule Cs just when the weather's finally getting nice, but, in the wisdom of the Federal government, it has been so ordained that we must suffer (so you know it must be right).
Somehow, I hadn't really paid much attention before to the fact that April 15 is the date of Abraham Lincoln's death. Had you? Maybe it's because April 15 is overwhelmingly associated now with the Internal Revenue Service, e-filing, and tax forms, but it seems a shame that these things so far overshadow such a major tragedy in our history. I hadn't noticed much being made of the anniversary in the past, but this year, as you've heard, is the 150th anniversary of Lincoln's death, and so it has come to the forefront.
To me, collecting taxes is an odd way to honor President Lincoln, but apparently the date was appointed in the 1950s to give taxpayers more financial leeway (the filing deadline used to be March 15). I'm wondering now how much thought went into the selection of the date other than its being conveniently located an exact month later than the previous deadline. Did no one think of Lincoln, did it not seem to matter, or was the need to pick a date already associated with taxes (and thus easy to remember) the most pressing concern? Many people probably make little of the coincidence, but looked at from a symbolic viewpoint, it almost feels like a "papering over" of a painful moment from the past. (Don't tell me these things don't happen--they do.)
Of course, we now have a more recent tragedy associated with April 15, that of the Boston Marathon bombing. I was out walking the other day, a lovely, mild evening on which the local park was filled with young people dressed for prom night, the sparkling colors of their clothes competing with the tulips and blossoming trees for brilliance. As this exuberant crowd of students, parents, and friends milled around, the Boston tragedy came into my mind. I agree, it's sad that such a festive evening turned my thoughts toward something so tragic, but there it is: the mood near the finish line in Boston that day must have been similarly exuberant.
Loss is no respecter of seasons. Personally, I've lived through tornadoes, a fire (which actually occurred on April 15 some years ago), the death of a friend, and traffic accidents, all occurring in or near early April. Some of these events affected me greatly, and some very little in the long run, but one thing I do know is how surreal the beauty of the season seems under circumstances of loss, how disconnected one can feel from the flow of things. I've come through most of these events in no way diminished (except for losing the friend). I love spring, but I can't help but think of the people whose lives were interrupted that day in Boston and wonder how they're coping.
There's no bringing back Martin Richard, Krystle Campbell, Lu Lingzi, or Sean Collier, no undoing the devastating injuries suffered by the survivors. It's hard to take in the scope of what occurred until you imagine it happening to someone you love, in which case it comes into focus pretty quickly. I look at the Kentucky springtime unfolding all around me and wonder how long it will be before the survivors can look with anything but grief at the beauty of a Boston spring.
Death and taxes. Death and new life. Tragedies occur, and somehow life moves on. Is there a point to this post? Well, yes, there is. I keep thinking of smiling 8-year-old Martin Richard, holding up his sign, expressing his wish that people would stop killing each other. I often think, when I read arguments and counter-arguments for fighting terrorism with more war, that it's amazing the human race has come as far as it has. Why wouldn't you look for those who support terrorism, financially or otherwise, and charge them in a court of law? Isn't it more salutary to treat acts of terrorism as crimes than to start wars that seem untenable from the outset and may do little to address ultimate causes? We go around in circles, never getting to the bottom of things. Our government makes a show of being tough on terror but merely perpetuates it (and for this, we pay taxes).
Martin Richard will never see it, but for his sake, I'm making a plea that we do some soul-searching as a society and try to look more deeply into the root causes of terrorism. This will probably hurt. I believe that many people who consider themselves completely opposed to terrorism actually support it by trusting the government to fight it on their behalf, a government that is not only dysfunctional but also not opposed to doing away with constitutional rights in its quest to--it tells us--make the world safer. The government doesn't always have a vested interest in telling the public the truth about things--far from it. But the public always has a duty to insist on it.
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Perfidy and Email in the Iron Age
"This is Kaliyuga, buddy, the Iron Age. Anybody over sixteen without an ulcer's a goddamn spy." --J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey
Reading the news about the Hillary Clinton email situation creates mixed feelings for me: I'm grateful for the evidence that, even in the unfriendly environment now existing for the press, investigative reporters are still trying to do their jobs. It's very encouraging to know that some things are still working the way they're supposed to.
At the same time, I'm disappointed to see how the Democratic leadership and many usually quite opinionated officials either defend Ms. Clinton or refuse outright to comment. A bad sign, isn't it, when people shut completely down on a topic? To such defenses as "Her critics will say anything to try to destroy her" or "This is being blown out of proportion," I say, "The emails in question are public property. They belong to the American people." A public official like former secretary Clinton doesn't have the luxury of deciding what to do with communications created in the course of her duties because they aren't "hers." They're ours. Hence the lawsuit from the Associated Press, which has been attempting for some time--without success--to obtain some of these emails through the Freedom of Information Act.
I've been watching Ms. Clinton and many of our other top leaders particularly closely for the last four years--four years I can never get back. I watch the same news as everyone else, read the same stories, see the same news videos. I've become increasingly concerned about the uncritical acceptance of Ms. Clinton by many otherwise intelligent people who seem so wedded to the idea of her as our next president that they're blind not only to red flags but to giant red banners that seem to virtually scream, "Look Out!" Reading her body language and hearing her testimony during the 2013 Benghazi hearings was alarming; reading her body language and hearing her responses during yesterday's press event was downright scary.
Perhaps we really are in the Iron Age the ancient sages spoke of, where the thieves are kings, the kings are thieves, and people believe what's false instead of what's true, because I have to tell you, I blame the public in part for what's happened. I admit to being a former supporter of Ms. Clinton, for whom, rather naively, I voted in the 2008 primary election. I think I had misgivings about her then but endorsed her for some of the same reasons other people did: despite her shortcomings, she seemed to have the experience and ability for the job.
I'm not questioning her experience and ability even now, but rather her character and actions, which I've had a chance to view more closely during her time in the State Department and after. I don't doubt that some of her detractors are, let's face it, no better than she is in the transparency department, but that doesn't change the fact that she is (to all appearances) the likely Democratic nominee for the presidency in 2016. I ask myself on an almost daily basis, "How can this be?"
It goes beyond Benghazi, of course. Actually, I suspect it would be hard to overstate her perfidy. Support of the Clinton Foundation from foreign governments and banks under investigation for criminal practices; influence peddling; refusal to condemn the spying practices of the NSA . . . and this is only what's widely known. Now we come to the lack of transparency in maintaining State Department records and lame attempts to explain it away, which I must say, I've been expecting. People: do you believe these explanations? If so, I have some swamp land in Florida that I really think you might be interested in. No, seriously.
I think that many people, based on name recognition, "brand" familiarity, Ms. Clinton's smooth rhetoric, the endorsement of most leading Democratic officials, and her "record" are willing to accept her as better than the alternatives. I am not. I know everyone complains about corrupt politics and that a lot of us don't really trust politicians--but we keep voting for them anyway, and once they're in, we don't shine a light on their activities.
I sometimes think, based on the level of complacency, passivity, and unwillingness to look beyond the surface that I see all around me, that Americans don't deserve the system we have. In the end, though, it doesn't matter whether Americans deserve America or not. The important thing is that the country's founders, and countless others since then, managed to create a miracle. We have system based on freedom and protection of individual rights that's an example to the world and a beacon of hope for others (or used to be). Imperfect as it is and always has been, we can't afford to let it fail.
Our elected officials are elected for one reason only: to serve the public. They're not elected to enrich themselves, give favors to their supporters, and do end-runs around the country's laws. I see many of them using the mythology of American exceptionalism and American pride as a means of convincing people that all is mostly well in the land when it most definitely isn't: I see it every day. A true patriot is not a cheerleader. A true patriot questions things and demands answers.
If you were to ask my advice as a mythologist, I'd say: pay attention. Adolf Hitler used mythology very successfully, as we all know. Of course, if someone arrived in Washington wearing a swastika today, we'd recognize a tyrant easily . . . but no one's going to do that here. Just because someone wears a business suit, graduates Ivy League, and carries a BlackBerry, though, doesn't mean they're any less dangerous. Manners and clothes do not make the man--or the woman. Seeing them as they are and holding them accountable is our responsibility, because it's our country. While we still have a country.
Reading the news about the Hillary Clinton email situation creates mixed feelings for me: I'm grateful for the evidence that, even in the unfriendly environment now existing for the press, investigative reporters are still trying to do their jobs. It's very encouraging to know that some things are still working the way they're supposed to.
At the same time, I'm disappointed to see how the Democratic leadership and many usually quite opinionated officials either defend Ms. Clinton or refuse outright to comment. A bad sign, isn't it, when people shut completely down on a topic? To such defenses as "Her critics will say anything to try to destroy her" or "This is being blown out of proportion," I say, "The emails in question are public property. They belong to the American people." A public official like former secretary Clinton doesn't have the luxury of deciding what to do with communications created in the course of her duties because they aren't "hers." They're ours. Hence the lawsuit from the Associated Press, which has been attempting for some time--without success--to obtain some of these emails through the Freedom of Information Act.
I've been watching Ms. Clinton and many of our other top leaders particularly closely for the last four years--four years I can never get back. I watch the same news as everyone else, read the same stories, see the same news videos. I've become increasingly concerned about the uncritical acceptance of Ms. Clinton by many otherwise intelligent people who seem so wedded to the idea of her as our next president that they're blind not only to red flags but to giant red banners that seem to virtually scream, "Look Out!" Reading her body language and hearing her testimony during the 2013 Benghazi hearings was alarming; reading her body language and hearing her responses during yesterday's press event was downright scary.
Perhaps we really are in the Iron Age the ancient sages spoke of, where the thieves are kings, the kings are thieves, and people believe what's false instead of what's true, because I have to tell you, I blame the public in part for what's happened. I admit to being a former supporter of Ms. Clinton, for whom, rather naively, I voted in the 2008 primary election. I think I had misgivings about her then but endorsed her for some of the same reasons other people did: despite her shortcomings, she seemed to have the experience and ability for the job.
I'm not questioning her experience and ability even now, but rather her character and actions, which I've had a chance to view more closely during her time in the State Department and after. I don't doubt that some of her detractors are, let's face it, no better than she is in the transparency department, but that doesn't change the fact that she is (to all appearances) the likely Democratic nominee for the presidency in 2016. I ask myself on an almost daily basis, "How can this be?"
It goes beyond Benghazi, of course. Actually, I suspect it would be hard to overstate her perfidy. Support of the Clinton Foundation from foreign governments and banks under investigation for criminal practices; influence peddling; refusal to condemn the spying practices of the NSA . . . and this is only what's widely known. Now we come to the lack of transparency in maintaining State Department records and lame attempts to explain it away, which I must say, I've been expecting. People: do you believe these explanations? If so, I have some swamp land in Florida that I really think you might be interested in. No, seriously.
I think that many people, based on name recognition, "brand" familiarity, Ms. Clinton's smooth rhetoric, the endorsement of most leading Democratic officials, and her "record" are willing to accept her as better than the alternatives. I am not. I know everyone complains about corrupt politics and that a lot of us don't really trust politicians--but we keep voting for them anyway, and once they're in, we don't shine a light on their activities.
I sometimes think, based on the level of complacency, passivity, and unwillingness to look beyond the surface that I see all around me, that Americans don't deserve the system we have. In the end, though, it doesn't matter whether Americans deserve America or not. The important thing is that the country's founders, and countless others since then, managed to create a miracle. We have system based on freedom and protection of individual rights that's an example to the world and a beacon of hope for others (or used to be). Imperfect as it is and always has been, we can't afford to let it fail.
Our elected officials are elected for one reason only: to serve the public. They're not elected to enrich themselves, give favors to their supporters, and do end-runs around the country's laws. I see many of them using the mythology of American exceptionalism and American pride as a means of convincing people that all is mostly well in the land when it most definitely isn't: I see it every day. A true patriot is not a cheerleader. A true patriot questions things and demands answers.
If you were to ask my advice as a mythologist, I'd say: pay attention. Adolf Hitler used mythology very successfully, as we all know. Of course, if someone arrived in Washington wearing a swastika today, we'd recognize a tyrant easily . . . but no one's going to do that here. Just because someone wears a business suit, graduates Ivy League, and carries a BlackBerry, though, doesn't mean they're any less dangerous. Manners and clothes do not make the man--or the woman. Seeing them as they are and holding them accountable is our responsibility, because it's our country. While we still have a country.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Dramatis Personae
Last year I wrote about the State of the Union address and tried to analyze it in terms of John J. MacAloon's anthropological categories of spectacle, festival, ritual, and game. Having concluded that it was largely spectacle and game, without much substance, I wasn't sure I even wanted to watch again this year--I mean, why bother? If it's just yadda, yadda, yadda, what's the point? I'm in the middle of a Great Courses DVD on "Philosophy in the Middle Ages" this week, so wouldn't it be more profitable just to spend the evening with Saint Bonaventure?
After an inward debate, I concluded that possibly it was more responsible, as a mythologist, to watch the address and make a few cultural observations. So I decided to watch with the volume turned down. You might think I'm being facetious, but I'm not. I knew the speech would consist of a lot of well-considered, carefully sifted words, and I wasn't going to believe more than one or two of them, all told. More interesting to me was to watch the people in the room, see their reactions, and observe how the President conducted himself.
You may dismiss this as missing the point of an address, especially if you believe that the important information is always in the words. But don't forget, non-verbal messages are often just as important as the verbal ones, and maybe more so, especially if they conflict with the person's statements. In this case, I figured I could dispense with words. I've found it very useful to carefully observe people, whether they're speaking or not. Are you with me so far?
I didn't see the President looking directly at the camera much--he addressed his remarks largely to the people in the chamber. I didn't think he looked especially relaxed, though, as he neared the exit after the speech. Of course, the Vice President and the Speaker of the House were really in the hot seat since they were on view most of the time the President was speaking, and I have to say they both looked remarkably uncomfortable last night. As the camera picked out various people present, I was struck by how self-conscious some of them seemed. I noticed a range of reactions, from intent listening, to smiles, to amusement, to tension, to frowns, to sadness. I saw people who seemed to have tears in their eyes.
I admit that my own attention was not undivided. I decided the speech needed some musical accompaniment, so I played Grateful Dead's "Touch of Grey" and the theme from Star Wars, among others. I did a little interpretive dancing. I talked back to the screen and made faces (if you can't do it in your own living room, when can you?). I ended up watching a video of Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech while the President was finishing and the GOP Senator was giving her response. I was really wondering what Dr. King would make of it all.
This is as much to say that I'm not pleased with the President, many of those in his administration, some members of the Supreme Court, and a number of our Congresspeople. I know there were hard-working, dedicated public servants in the room, and my annoyance is not directed at them. But, seriously, how do you expect me to take sitting down the remarks and stated goals of a President under whose leadership the United States has fallen to number 46 (as of 2014) in the World Press Freedom Index by Reporters Without Borders? (That's right, folks, we were ahead of Haiti and Taiwan--just barely--but behind South Africa and El Salvador.) It's fine for the President to smirk while Chinese president Xi Jinping apparently refuses to answer a reporter's question (on 11/12/14), but he really should be more concerned about the dismal showing of his own country on issues of press freedom and constitutional rights. (Aren't you shocked at that ranking? If you aren't, you should be!)
With all this in mind, I've decided that the way to view the State of the Union is not as a straightforward outline of things to come but as theatre, pure and simple. If we're talking Shakespeare, I'd say it was most like Macbeth. It's not an exact fit, perhaps, but the rapacious, overriding ambition and hubris of that play's characters fit my idea of what I saw last night more closely than anything else I can think of. My only fear is that there might not be enough bad guy roles to go around for Joe Biden, John Boehner, John McCain, etc.
Let's see, the President as Macbeth, and that would make the First Lady, well, Lady Macbeth, and for the three witches, we have Dianne Feinstein, Barbara Boxer, and Nancy Pelosi, and well . . . you get the idea. Just use your imagination.
After an inward debate, I concluded that possibly it was more responsible, as a mythologist, to watch the address and make a few cultural observations. So I decided to watch with the volume turned down. You might think I'm being facetious, but I'm not. I knew the speech would consist of a lot of well-considered, carefully sifted words, and I wasn't going to believe more than one or two of them, all told. More interesting to me was to watch the people in the room, see their reactions, and observe how the President conducted himself.
You may dismiss this as missing the point of an address, especially if you believe that the important information is always in the words. But don't forget, non-verbal messages are often just as important as the verbal ones, and maybe more so, especially if they conflict with the person's statements. In this case, I figured I could dispense with words. I've found it very useful to carefully observe people, whether they're speaking or not. Are you with me so far?
I didn't see the President looking directly at the camera much--he addressed his remarks largely to the people in the chamber. I didn't think he looked especially relaxed, though, as he neared the exit after the speech. Of course, the Vice President and the Speaker of the House were really in the hot seat since they were on view most of the time the President was speaking, and I have to say they both looked remarkably uncomfortable last night. As the camera picked out various people present, I was struck by how self-conscious some of them seemed. I noticed a range of reactions, from intent listening, to smiles, to amusement, to tension, to frowns, to sadness. I saw people who seemed to have tears in their eyes.
I admit that my own attention was not undivided. I decided the speech needed some musical accompaniment, so I played Grateful Dead's "Touch of Grey" and the theme from Star Wars, among others. I did a little interpretive dancing. I talked back to the screen and made faces (if you can't do it in your own living room, when can you?). I ended up watching a video of Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech while the President was finishing and the GOP Senator was giving her response. I was really wondering what Dr. King would make of it all.
This is as much to say that I'm not pleased with the President, many of those in his administration, some members of the Supreme Court, and a number of our Congresspeople. I know there were hard-working, dedicated public servants in the room, and my annoyance is not directed at them. But, seriously, how do you expect me to take sitting down the remarks and stated goals of a President under whose leadership the United States has fallen to number 46 (as of 2014) in the World Press Freedom Index by Reporters Without Borders? (That's right, folks, we were ahead of Haiti and Taiwan--just barely--but behind South Africa and El Salvador.) It's fine for the President to smirk while Chinese president Xi Jinping apparently refuses to answer a reporter's question (on 11/12/14), but he really should be more concerned about the dismal showing of his own country on issues of press freedom and constitutional rights. (Aren't you shocked at that ranking? If you aren't, you should be!)
With all this in mind, I've decided that the way to view the State of the Union is not as a straightforward outline of things to come but as theatre, pure and simple. If we're talking Shakespeare, I'd say it was most like Macbeth. It's not an exact fit, perhaps, but the rapacious, overriding ambition and hubris of that play's characters fit my idea of what I saw last night more closely than anything else I can think of. My only fear is that there might not be enough bad guy roles to go around for Joe Biden, John Boehner, John McCain, etc.
Let's see, the President as Macbeth, and that would make the First Lady, well, Lady Macbeth, and for the three witches, we have Dianne Feinstein, Barbara Boxer, and Nancy Pelosi, and well . . . you get the idea. Just use your imagination.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Shall We Gather at the River?
In my first year of graduate school, I tried to figure out the myths we currently live by in America, in the absence of a single religious tradition and the presence of multiculturalism. It was hard to identify one thing that most people hold as sacred until someone mentioned money. I guess I was reaching for something loftier, thinking that surely there was something grander we all subscribe to. I was slow to come to the realization, but you know, money explains a lot of things.
This unpleasant truth has slowly become clearer to me as I've watched the news over the last few years. It's not that there's anything wrong with making money, but when it becomes the highest value, with no other principles to check it, things get out of whack pretty quickly. Jung talked about the importance of balance in psychic health, of not having too much of one attitude or value to the detriment of others, and this is true at the collective level as well as the individual.
Some depth psychologists, like Thomas Singer, talk about the idea of "cultural complexes," recurring themes in the nation's psyche that play out in social life, politics, cultural trends, entertainment, and the media. Over time, it's possible to work through some of these complexes, as we grow conscious of them, through debate, compromise, lawmaking, and social change. It's a long process, and one that only works when all of the viewpoints on an issue, whether it's gun control, abortion, or affirmative action, are heard, considered, debated, and tested. Singer has said that it's usually a mistake to locate soul and "rightness" on only one side of an issue. Only deep engagement, passionate disagreement, consideration, argument, reconsideration, and compromise, over and over, for as long as it takes, can ever resolve things.
Interestingly, the cultural complex surrounding materialism in our society is the area in which Singer sees little engagement, meaning that we remain stuck in any issues touched by money--which, after all, covers a lot of territory. From tax reform to corporate regulation, from consumer protection to the role of money in political campaigns, from economic growth to health care, we run into stalemates time and again because the high value placed on the making of money clashes with so many of our other values.
Everybody knows the story of King Midas, who was gracious when one of Dionysus's satyrs fell asleep in his vineyard and was in turn granted anything he desired by Dionysus. When Midas asked for the power to turn anything he touched into gold, even Dionysus (not exactly a model of moderation) asked if he was sure that's what he wanted. Midas got his wish, which seemed like a great thing for the first half hour or so, until he killed his own child by the touch of his hand and found that even his food and drink turned into metal. It turned out there was a cure, which involved bathing in the river Pactolus, though Midas couldn't undo the damage he'd already done. It's assumed he emerged from the river considerably chastened.
Talk abut a tale for our time!
I read an article yesterday discussing the recent Pew Research Center finding that the number of Americans who think the United States is "exceptional" is dropping. This is true regardless of political party, and the trend is especially evident among those aged 18-29; only 15 percent of them think the United States stands above other nations. There is more than one way to look at these statistics, of course (exceptional in what way, exactly?), but Aaron Blake and Jaime Fuller of the Washington Post suggest that this finding is related to another trend, revealed by a recent Gallup poll. In 2013, Gallup found that Americans' satisfaction with the level of freedom in their lives has fallen 12 percentage points since 2006 (we're now in 36th place). Gallup explains the drop in terms of unhappiness with the economy, the government, and corruption. In other words, the New Normal.
Most of the people I know do live by other values besides money, and I believe we've always taken it for granted that our country stands for much more than power and greed. The question is, are we still justified in feeling that way? And if money is the root of so many of our current problems, what can we do about it?
I think a reasonable first step might be to get clear on the things that matter to us most. If we want to curb the influence of money and support other values in our culture, we can do it, but we have to have the will. Do we have that will? It's a big question. What else do we hold dear, and what else do we think makes life worth living? What do we want our country to stand for? Maybe the right place to start the conversation is with questions like these.
This unpleasant truth has slowly become clearer to me as I've watched the news over the last few years. It's not that there's anything wrong with making money, but when it becomes the highest value, with no other principles to check it, things get out of whack pretty quickly. Jung talked about the importance of balance in psychic health, of not having too much of one attitude or value to the detriment of others, and this is true at the collective level as well as the individual.
Some depth psychologists, like Thomas Singer, talk about the idea of "cultural complexes," recurring themes in the nation's psyche that play out in social life, politics, cultural trends, entertainment, and the media. Over time, it's possible to work through some of these complexes, as we grow conscious of them, through debate, compromise, lawmaking, and social change. It's a long process, and one that only works when all of the viewpoints on an issue, whether it's gun control, abortion, or affirmative action, are heard, considered, debated, and tested. Singer has said that it's usually a mistake to locate soul and "rightness" on only one side of an issue. Only deep engagement, passionate disagreement, consideration, argument, reconsideration, and compromise, over and over, for as long as it takes, can ever resolve things.
Interestingly, the cultural complex surrounding materialism in our society is the area in which Singer sees little engagement, meaning that we remain stuck in any issues touched by money--which, after all, covers a lot of territory. From tax reform to corporate regulation, from consumer protection to the role of money in political campaigns, from economic growth to health care, we run into stalemates time and again because the high value placed on the making of money clashes with so many of our other values.
Everybody knows the story of King Midas, who was gracious when one of Dionysus's satyrs fell asleep in his vineyard and was in turn granted anything he desired by Dionysus. When Midas asked for the power to turn anything he touched into gold, even Dionysus (not exactly a model of moderation) asked if he was sure that's what he wanted. Midas got his wish, which seemed like a great thing for the first half hour or so, until he killed his own child by the touch of his hand and found that even his food and drink turned into metal. It turned out there was a cure, which involved bathing in the river Pactolus, though Midas couldn't undo the damage he'd already done. It's assumed he emerged from the river considerably chastened.
Talk abut a tale for our time!
I read an article yesterday discussing the recent Pew Research Center finding that the number of Americans who think the United States is "exceptional" is dropping. This is true regardless of political party, and the trend is especially evident among those aged 18-29; only 15 percent of them think the United States stands above other nations. There is more than one way to look at these statistics, of course (exceptional in what way, exactly?), but Aaron Blake and Jaime Fuller of the Washington Post suggest that this finding is related to another trend, revealed by a recent Gallup poll. In 2013, Gallup found that Americans' satisfaction with the level of freedom in their lives has fallen 12 percentage points since 2006 (we're now in 36th place). Gallup explains the drop in terms of unhappiness with the economy, the government, and corruption. In other words, the New Normal.
Most of the people I know do live by other values besides money, and I believe we've always taken it for granted that our country stands for much more than power and greed. The question is, are we still justified in feeling that way? And if money is the root of so many of our current problems, what can we do about it?
I think a reasonable first step might be to get clear on the things that matter to us most. If we want to curb the influence of money and support other values in our culture, we can do it, but we have to have the will. Do we have that will? It's a big question. What else do we hold dear, and what else do we think makes life worth living? What do we want our country to stand for? Maybe the right place to start the conversation is with questions like these.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
A Mythologist, a TV, and the State of the Union
The State of the Union address is a political ritual--or purports to be. I say "purports" because in a true ritual, what occurs is transformative. The ritual makes something happen. With the State of the Union, the idea is that the President outlines his views on where the country is and where it needs to go, thus galvanizing the troops to join him in creating change. The speech is incantatory, you might say.
While listening to the President speak on Tuesday, I found myself agreeing with a lot of his stated goals. He spoke forcefully and enthusiastically about environmental protection, helping the middle class, education, and other matters. I think he did a good job of striking a tone of optimism and creating the sense that America is in a good position, soon to be even better (whether or not it's true, he made a good case for it).
I've often been impressed with President Obama's intelligence and verbal ability; he is a quick thinker on his feet, a trait that's especially obvious during debates. Tuesday night's speech was largely the work of a speech writer, of course, which puts it in a different category than debating, but we know the President approved both wording and content. His style was evident in the address. I wouldn't put the President's rhetoric on the same level as that of, say, John F. Kennedy or Abraham Lincoln, but, truly, how many can aspire to that? That kind of eloquence is rarely seen.
What about the transformative power of the speech? Was this a true ritual? Well, we don't know yet. We heard the address, and now we await events. There has to be something genuine behind the words in order for them to have power. Certainly, there was a lot of energy in the House Chamber last night, and the assembled politicians and guests greeted most of the president's proposals enthusiastically.
I disagree with the President on some things. I was disappointed in his recent defense of the NSA data collection programs (which he only touched on Tuesday night), a position I find astonishing. His advocacy of those programs was very articulate, but seriously, are we supposed to believe, especially in light of recent data breaches like the one at Target, that yet more large collections of private data are a good idea? Some officials keep saying it's only metadata, not content. That may be true, but can no one envision ways in which even that information could be (and possibly is being) abused? If you're not involved in criminal activity, why should the government be able to find out who you've been talking to? Some analysts have said of 9/11 that it was not lack of intelligence that led to the attack, but failure to use intelligence already available. I have no doubt of the government's ability to track criminals and terrorists, but the average American is neither and has done nothing to forfeit the (by the way, constitutional) right to privacy.
I guess this issue of overreaching and secrecy overshadows, for me, a lot of the other (laudable) goals and achievements the President outlined. Take the Affordable Health Care Act, which was featured prominently in his speech. I see affordable health care as a positive thing and have heard people I know say they now have coverage for the first time in years. This is a big deal, despite all the snafus with the website and that oh-so-secure information applicants had to entrust to the government. On the other hand, I've been reading about negotiations the administration has tried to keep out of the press concerning the Trans-Pacific Partnership trade agreement. It would reportedly give foreign corporations the power to challenge laws and regulations that protect, among other things, food safety and environmental quality. As in our laws and regulations. Our food safety. Our air and water. If foreign corporations are granted the ability to challenge, in international court, laws designed to protect us, then you're going to need that Obamacare. (Many Democrats and some conservative Republicans alike oppose the TPP and/or the extreme lack of transparency surrounding it. I say, good for them.)
The President portrayed himself in his speech as willing to charge ahead and act on his own to accomplish his policies if Congress isn't willing to jump on board. A lot of political hay was made last year of Congressional intransigency. Naturally, the public is angered when the failure to reach agreements results in government shutdowns and lack of progress on important issues. However, I wonder if there isn't another side to the story, one involving Congress's frustration with an administration that shuts them out of decision-making in which they should be involved. Apparently, it even keeps tabs on who they've been talking to (a privilege not reserved just for the masses, it seems).
I'm suspicious of attempts to point the finger (or, as Jungians say, project the shadow), just as I'm suspicious of attempts to change the subject, do things secretly, or divide people. Ditto attempts to circumvent or lean on the press. I know there are good, hard-working people on both sides of the aisle in Congress. I suspect many of them would be glad to work with the President to achieve the goals he laid out Tuesday night. The question is, why isn't it happening? If they were candid--parties, partisanship, politics aside, just for one moment--I wonder what members of Congress would say about their views on the lack of progress. Maybe we should ask them.
So, you may be wondering, if, by chance, Tuesday night's speech wasn't ritual, wasn't transformative, what was it? There are other possibilities for what we saw, but I like the approach of anthropologist and historian John J. MacAloon, who has applied the categories of festival, spectacle, ritual, and game to no less an event than the Olympics. Ritual we've talked about. Spectacle is something designed to impress by reason of a powerful display; it's what the Olympics became in the hands of the Romans; it was Michelle Obama's odd appearance at last year's Oscars. A festival is a celebration, like a Fourth of July party. Games are, well, games. They, too, are a type of performance, one that requires roles, rules, and established goals.
The State of the Union address might have been more than one of these performance types. Certainly, it was impressive to watch, and I found it moving to see the mechanisms of our democracy laid bare in the House Chamber, with Supreme Court justices, members of Congress, and the President and members of his administration all coming together like that. It was a little like the Fourth of July, wasn't it? I hope it will give us reason to celebrate, but that remains to be seen. Words are powerful, but in politics, they too often seem to be merely that: words.
Rhetoric is nice, but sometimes homespun philosophy is more to the point. To put it another way, maybe what we need is, as Toby Keith says, a little less talk and a lot more action. Of the G-rated variety, of course.
While listening to the President speak on Tuesday, I found myself agreeing with a lot of his stated goals. He spoke forcefully and enthusiastically about environmental protection, helping the middle class, education, and other matters. I think he did a good job of striking a tone of optimism and creating the sense that America is in a good position, soon to be even better (whether or not it's true, he made a good case for it).
I've often been impressed with President Obama's intelligence and verbal ability; he is a quick thinker on his feet, a trait that's especially obvious during debates. Tuesday night's speech was largely the work of a speech writer, of course, which puts it in a different category than debating, but we know the President approved both wording and content. His style was evident in the address. I wouldn't put the President's rhetoric on the same level as that of, say, John F. Kennedy or Abraham Lincoln, but, truly, how many can aspire to that? That kind of eloquence is rarely seen.
What about the transformative power of the speech? Was this a true ritual? Well, we don't know yet. We heard the address, and now we await events. There has to be something genuine behind the words in order for them to have power. Certainly, there was a lot of energy in the House Chamber last night, and the assembled politicians and guests greeted most of the president's proposals enthusiastically.
I disagree with the President on some things. I was disappointed in his recent defense of the NSA data collection programs (which he only touched on Tuesday night), a position I find astonishing. His advocacy of those programs was very articulate, but seriously, are we supposed to believe, especially in light of recent data breaches like the one at Target, that yet more large collections of private data are a good idea? Some officials keep saying it's only metadata, not content. That may be true, but can no one envision ways in which even that information could be (and possibly is being) abused? If you're not involved in criminal activity, why should the government be able to find out who you've been talking to? Some analysts have said of 9/11 that it was not lack of intelligence that led to the attack, but failure to use intelligence already available. I have no doubt of the government's ability to track criminals and terrorists, but the average American is neither and has done nothing to forfeit the (by the way, constitutional) right to privacy.
I guess this issue of overreaching and secrecy overshadows, for me, a lot of the other (laudable) goals and achievements the President outlined. Take the Affordable Health Care Act, which was featured prominently in his speech. I see affordable health care as a positive thing and have heard people I know say they now have coverage for the first time in years. This is a big deal, despite all the snafus with the website and that oh-so-secure information applicants had to entrust to the government. On the other hand, I've been reading about negotiations the administration has tried to keep out of the press concerning the Trans-Pacific Partnership trade agreement. It would reportedly give foreign corporations the power to challenge laws and regulations that protect, among other things, food safety and environmental quality. As in our laws and regulations. Our food safety. Our air and water. If foreign corporations are granted the ability to challenge, in international court, laws designed to protect us, then you're going to need that Obamacare. (Many Democrats and some conservative Republicans alike oppose the TPP and/or the extreme lack of transparency surrounding it. I say, good for them.)
The President portrayed himself in his speech as willing to charge ahead and act on his own to accomplish his policies if Congress isn't willing to jump on board. A lot of political hay was made last year of Congressional intransigency. Naturally, the public is angered when the failure to reach agreements results in government shutdowns and lack of progress on important issues. However, I wonder if there isn't another side to the story, one involving Congress's frustration with an administration that shuts them out of decision-making in which they should be involved. Apparently, it even keeps tabs on who they've been talking to (a privilege not reserved just for the masses, it seems).
I'm suspicious of attempts to point the finger (or, as Jungians say, project the shadow), just as I'm suspicious of attempts to change the subject, do things secretly, or divide people. Ditto attempts to circumvent or lean on the press. I know there are good, hard-working people on both sides of the aisle in Congress. I suspect many of them would be glad to work with the President to achieve the goals he laid out Tuesday night. The question is, why isn't it happening? If they were candid--parties, partisanship, politics aside, just for one moment--I wonder what members of Congress would say about their views on the lack of progress. Maybe we should ask them.
So, you may be wondering, if, by chance, Tuesday night's speech wasn't ritual, wasn't transformative, what was it? There are other possibilities for what we saw, but I like the approach of anthropologist and historian John J. MacAloon, who has applied the categories of festival, spectacle, ritual, and game to no less an event than the Olympics. Ritual we've talked about. Spectacle is something designed to impress by reason of a powerful display; it's what the Olympics became in the hands of the Romans; it was Michelle Obama's odd appearance at last year's Oscars. A festival is a celebration, like a Fourth of July party. Games are, well, games. They, too, are a type of performance, one that requires roles, rules, and established goals.
The State of the Union address might have been more than one of these performance types. Certainly, it was impressive to watch, and I found it moving to see the mechanisms of our democracy laid bare in the House Chamber, with Supreme Court justices, members of Congress, and the President and members of his administration all coming together like that. It was a little like the Fourth of July, wasn't it? I hope it will give us reason to celebrate, but that remains to be seen. Words are powerful, but in politics, they too often seem to be merely that: words.
Rhetoric is nice, but sometimes homespun philosophy is more to the point. To put it another way, maybe what we need is, as Toby Keith says, a little less talk and a lot more action. Of the G-rated variety, of course.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
We the People
It's the Fourth of July and raining like the dickens. I don't know how all the city-sponsored festivities fared today, but most of them must have been rained out. The weather, to me at least, seems to match the mood of the country. Our spirits are a bit dampened by all the news about spying, IRS scandals, budget woes, etc.
It's disheartening to hear a constant litany of accusations, counter-accusations, and denials. The government tells us it has done us a world of good by invading our privacy but hasn't told us exactly how. People are continuing to lose their jobs. Things have become rather Orwellian, and you wonder which of our elected leaders are truly there to serve the country. That's what government's for, right? To serve the people?
The United States has certain guiding myths that we hold dear, although we've often failed to live up to them. I say "myths" in the sense of the foundational stories we tell about ourselves, the ones that tell us who we are. The portraits of the Founding Fathers reflect the seriousness with which the young country viewed its odyssey from wilderness to emerging nation, a land of freedom and opportunity based on principles of equality. There's a mythic grandeur in those faces and in the scenes of courage and struggle they participated in.
Despite the many ways in which these men failed to extend their ideals -- to women, slaves, and Native Americans -- the principles themselves were sound. The fact that they were applied so imperfectly is disappointing but not surprising. Over 235 years later, we still haven't got it right.
America is growing more diverse and is projected to attain a "majority-minority" status by 2043, meaning no single group will represent a majority of the population. It's uncertain whether this will also mean a re-distribution of opportunities and resources or whether those with advantages will try to hang on to them. The future isn't clear.
All the competing subcultures and groups that make up the United States represent the possibility of friction but also an opportunity to benefit from multiple points of view. There's no longer a predominant religious or cultural background, and as the country continues to grow, the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves will also change. One thing that doesn't have to change is the story of freedom and equality we told ourselves at the beginning, an idea that I think most of us still like.
I'm hoping the feeling I sometimes have that we're getting farther away from our story is just an illusion, that in reality we're moving closer to it all the time. Maybe it was such a big story that we just had to grow into it, and are still growing into it now.
It's disheartening to hear a constant litany of accusations, counter-accusations, and denials. The government tells us it has done us a world of good by invading our privacy but hasn't told us exactly how. People are continuing to lose their jobs. Things have become rather Orwellian, and you wonder which of our elected leaders are truly there to serve the country. That's what government's for, right? To serve the people?
The United States has certain guiding myths that we hold dear, although we've often failed to live up to them. I say "myths" in the sense of the foundational stories we tell about ourselves, the ones that tell us who we are. The portraits of the Founding Fathers reflect the seriousness with which the young country viewed its odyssey from wilderness to emerging nation, a land of freedom and opportunity based on principles of equality. There's a mythic grandeur in those faces and in the scenes of courage and struggle they participated in.
Despite the many ways in which these men failed to extend their ideals -- to women, slaves, and Native Americans -- the principles themselves were sound. The fact that they were applied so imperfectly is disappointing but not surprising. Over 235 years later, we still haven't got it right.
America is growing more diverse and is projected to attain a "majority-minority" status by 2043, meaning no single group will represent a majority of the population. It's uncertain whether this will also mean a re-distribution of opportunities and resources or whether those with advantages will try to hang on to them. The future isn't clear.
All the competing subcultures and groups that make up the United States represent the possibility of friction but also an opportunity to benefit from multiple points of view. There's no longer a predominant religious or cultural background, and as the country continues to grow, the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves will also change. One thing that doesn't have to change is the story of freedom and equality we told ourselves at the beginning, an idea that I think most of us still like.
I'm hoping the feeling I sometimes have that we're getting farther away from our story is just an illusion, that in reality we're moving closer to it all the time. Maybe it was such a big story that we just had to grow into it, and are still growing into it now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
