wisdom or senility?

After eight-plus decades trying to figure out what goes on in the world

(not to mention what goes on inside my own head) I have reached tentative conclusions on some general subjects, which may be of general interest.

Or perhaps not, but which I propose to inflict on you here

(in no particular order; just as they occur to me).

You are under no obligation to pay attention.

I will be as brief as I can.

Politics. Although we each live a purely individual life, we must establish institutions of governance that take others into account to solve group problems. This creates jobs for politicians, who are people looking for careers that will provide them a livelihood while requiring no special training or ability (except skill in raising campaign funds). There is a certain degree of brand loyalty among politicians, even when they disagree, that often prompts them to protect their professional colleagues in an opposing party, whether temporarily “in” or temporarily “out”. This is called either bipartisanship or loyalty.

Loyalty. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. Unless scratching yours will cost me.

Government. The assemblage of legislators, lawyers, policemen, jailers, and executioners considered necessary to enforce docility among the populace. At this point in the development of world government this is considered to be most effective when the task is divided among some 200 separate jurisdictions, each dominated by a different understanding of the rules, and often controlled by conflicting political and theological attitudes. These separate jurisdictions jealously defend their boundaries and their differing points of view, sacrificing vast amounts of treasure and the lives of their healthiest and most promising young citizens in efforts at enforcement. The different jurisdictions are represented by flags, to which citizens regardless of their individual shades of belief are expected to publicly pledge undeviating allegiance.

Bureaucracy. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. See above.

Privatization. Means by which governments can evade their primary responsibility for caring for their citizens by sub-contracting a number of their functions to businessmen admittedly more devoted to lining their purses than to social justice. Unbridled greed on the part of both providers and politicians has led to rampant graft. See Money.

War. Wars settle nothing. Winners are encouraged to continue to believe that all future problems can be solved with muscle. Losers are given a basis for plotting revenge. This is known as the Versailles Cycle. The existence of large armed forces, however, constitutes for bureaucrats a simultaneous solution to the problems of both unemployment and patronage. How that aligns in the Age of the Bomb with the possibility of an itchy trigger finger is a matter for the future to reveal. Always assuming that there will be a future.

Education. As generations succeed each other, we pass along our accumulating knowledge about the world to our successors through a process known as education. The surest way to stifle this process is to insist that students, instead of studying subjects about which they are curious and want to learn, waste their time instead “developing discipline” by memorizing formulas and learning the dates of wars for which they will have no use later in life. Students can thus be inculcated with such an antipathy for the process of learning itself that they will revolt and never recover. A burgeoning bureaucracy, however, will continue to provide millions of jobs to millions of teachers, protected by guild certification.

Science. The effort of each new generation is accepted to be to understand more about the world than the previous one did. A scientist is usually initially attracted to the scientific profession by a thirst for enlightenment, but his efforts can be counted on to produce resistance among those who have been most successful under the existing system and hence most resistant to change — they don’t want to see new information weaken their hierarchical positions. This produces pressure that expresses itself in low salaries and social opprobrium for scientists and high rewards for “deniers”, especially fear-mongers. The scientist desiring a decent salary and a late-model car in his driveway is thus often induced to accept lap-dog employment and fees for compliant consulting opinions.

Reason. This is what we turn to for support after we have made up our minds.

Religion. This is the conviction that belief trumps science. For a religious believer everything is already known, even if he or she personally may not (yet) be permitted to be party to all of the information. Generally this manifests itself in an effort to eliminate the influence of scientists (and sometimes the scientists themselves, think auto da fé). It also leads to bitter arguments among believers about the exact nit-picking details of their beliefs. This can result in confrontations of remarkable ugliness and cause large numbers of premature deaths in religious wars. Reality, except of the deaths themselves, plays a remarkably small part in these disputes.

Money. A poorly understood modern substitute for barter, enabling producers of goods to exchange them without face-to-face contact. Unfortunately, in addition to its usefulness as the measuring stick of value, its divorce from the nature of the goods it evaluates (known as fungibility) has also helped to create a vocabulary concealing degrees of greed and rapacity that we mostly failed to anticipate and that we have yet to learn to deal with.

Economics. The study of how the existence of money and its equivalents alternately facilitate and obstruct the flow of goods and the distribution of wealth. The ratio between the number of different economic theories and the numbers of economists is roughly 1:1. Despite their ideas being constantly invalidated by events, the profusion of economists and their influence on policy-making grows steadily, as “unforeseen inputs” can always be blamed for the failure of their predictions.

MBA. A degree (Master of Business Administration) available at certain institutions of higher education. It attests to the scholar’s mastery of the skills involved in transferring wealth from people with low incomes to people with higher ones. Some of these techniques have attained popular jargon currency with names like mortgages or bankruptcy or investment funds. The successful MBA degree holder can expect a lifetime salary well up in the comfort range, plus bonuses at the end of the year when the black ink is bottled. He is not required to perform any useful productive work — just to juggle numbers. The MBA degree ranks in popularity with an LLD, another field in which mastery of jargon is all-important. See the following entry.

LL.D. This degree (Doctor of Laws), also from a specialized institution, qualifies the holder to fill a privileged position in the court system, where he or she can levy fees from clients for copying out (without fear of plagiarism) legal statutes and case histories and presenting them to judges as original thought, judges who were of course themselves formerly lawyers and can be trusted to protect the guild status of their ex-colleagues.

The Finance Industry. That branch of economics concerned with transferring money from the working levels of society to the upper non-working levels. The details of its functioning vary according to political belief but the same aim prevails everywhere.

B.S. Vulgar designation for the art of seeming to say something meaningful without really saying anything. A popular practice at any level of society where the number one goal is avoiding any action that could threaten the status quo. (See Politics.)

Academe. A refuge where thinkers as contrasted to doers can retreat when it becomes clear that the real world has no use for them. It bestows on its scholars degrees in what are denigratingly called The Humanities in lieu of wages high enough to live on.

Ecology. The study of how to deal with the fragility of our continued existence on this planet. Currently scientists are trying to convince businessmen and religious fundamentalists that global warming is a suitable subject for discussion, so far without notable success. Many examples of rampant B.S. (q.v.) can be found in their arguments.

Tree-Hugger. One who has more sympathy for Joyce Kilmer than Shell-Exxon. Generally today tree-huggers are considered an endangered species.

Literature. Surviving works written before approximately CE 1800 are considered by scholars to be classical. Works originating between 1800 and 2000 are still being sorted out and evaluated by academically licensed critics. Anything written since 2000 is mainly seen as compost material produced by the publishing industry, a branch of the entertainment industry, which is fast becoming the dominant industry in our society. It is contended by supporters that in this vast accumulation of classical writing, investigation, opinion, and exhortation there is an almost inexhaustible supply of wisdom if only we could find it. Unfortunately, the effort to thresh the grain from the chaff is poorly rewarded by our current value systems (See Education) compared to the emoluments offered to other truth-seekers, such as, for example, evangelical preachers in megachurches with their guarantees of everlasting life.

Journalism. The sub branch of literature that deals with day-to-day events. Today it is largely controlled by a few oligarchs through their ownership of the media, but there is currently some uncertainty over how this will play out in the Age of the Internet. The distinguishing characteristic of the average journalist is that he or she believes that behind every event there is a conspiracy, backed by an over-arching meta-conspiracy based on money-grubbing, if only it can be ferreted out. Most of the time this is accurate, but unprovable.

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I’m out of ideas. Add your own.

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The Donald’s Prayer

Our Savior who art in Office,

Donald be thy name,

Thy kingdom come,

Thy will be done,

On earth as it is on Twitter.

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Book us this day a hotel bed

And forgive us our debts,

As we have forgiven yours,

In all your bankruptcies.

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Lead us not into retaliation

And deliver us from Bernie,

For thine is the Brand,

The power and the glory,

At least till 2020.

Amen.

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Hymn to the Leader

(To be sung a capella by all at the start of each of Trump’s future Cabinet Meetings)

We gather together to ask Donald’s blessing;

As he fires off his tweets to make his will known;

May his critics be silenced and cease from distressing;

Sing praise to his name, as he praises his own.

Beside us to guide us, Dear Donald, e’er onward,

Ordaining, maintaining the sacred Trump brand;

So from the beginning, your deals ever winning;

You, Donald, our hero, all glory be thine!

We all do extol thee, head of our nation,

And pray that you ever our patron will be;

May never thy servants face investigation;

Thy name be e’er praised. Just make us tax free.

[With apologies to Adrianus Valerius, the Dutch author of the original hymn, and trusting that the legal profession will by now have allowed the 1597 copyright to expire.]

 

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warden

Good Morning, 98567230. What can I do for you?

Good morning, sir. I am flattered to have the pleasure of being the first to greet you in your new appointment on behalf of your inmates.

All right. You aren’t my inmates; you are wards of the state. But my door will always be open. [Glancing down at a paper on his desk] Mr. ah Russell. Why have you requested this meeting?

Most people just call me Mike, sir. What I’m here about, sir, is helping to make your assignment here easier.

What makes you think you can do that, Mike?

Well, I am sort of in a manner of speaking the shop steward here, you might say. As chairman of the Inmate Council I thought I might explain to you how the system works.

The system? I was under the impression that it was my assignment to implement the existing system.

Of course, sir. Unquestionably. You’re in full charge. You have all the official statutes to back you up, a professionally trained staff, and even a National Guard with guns if you need them. There’s no doubt about who’s running the prison. On the other hand we do outnumber you roughly eight to one, and life for all of us will be pleasanter if we are agreed on certain basic rules of engagement.

Let me remind you that the rules already exist. Rules and regulations. Neither you nor I can change them. That’s for legislators to do.

But how they are interpreted in the cell-blocks, and how they are enforced, are day-to-day matters that we can control, sir. Don’t forget that we are all locked in here together. You for shifts of eight hours a day, we for the whole twenty-four. For those eight hours you are as much prisoners of the rules as we are. It’s a separate world from Outside. The customs are different. We need a set of procedures that we can agree on.

You are obviously an educated man, Mike. What put you here?

That’s not important, sir. What’s important is how we all get along during the hours we’re going to be spending together. Are we going to get along according to what both of us agree are the real facts on the ground, or according to what some politicians have concocted to guide the Corrections Department?

I think I see where you’re going. How about some specifics.

Well, for one thing, fairness. We are criminals, but that doesn’t make us stupid. We understand that this place is a safe haven. Outside, where you live, is a dangerous place. It has already, in a way, defeated us. From our point of view it has a variety of scary operators— predatory lenders, mortgage foreclosers, aggressive bill collectors, expensive schools, advertisers who teach your children that they must have Air Jordans instead of no-name sneakers, con men who tempt you with expensive offers to set you up to make hundreds of dollars an hour working from home on your cell phone once you have paid them for their worthless degrees, ridiculously expensive health insurance, even more ridiculously attractive automobiles, taxes that only go up and never down. Inside here we are sheltered from all that. We pay no taxes. We have free health care. We get three square meals a day. We pay no rent. The cable guy comes when we call. We have guards to protect us from the bad apples among us. We lead a secure life. It’s sort of a nanny culture, you might say. You, on the other hand, after your sixteen hours a day outside, struggling with all the uncertainties of constant capitalist competition, bring your anxieties to work with you when you come Inside, and you see how coddled we are by contrast, and this can tempt you into behavior we don’t need to give in to among ourselves — resentment against the impersonal injustice of society that you can if you wish take out in aggression against us outcasts. We have no defenders. It is not unusual for this to show up sometimes in the form of open warfare between screws and cons (forgive the jargon; they are standard expressions here) that just serves to make life more difficult for everybody.

Now I’m not so sure I know where we’re going.

Where we’re going, sir, is a defense of a carefully evolved division of labor evolved over a long period. Certain inmates among us are not as appreciative of our privileged lives as others. They have bad habits from their days Outside. And certain of your corrections officers have such overwhelming personal problems with their Outside lives that they bring them Inside and are only too happy for a chance to relieve their tensions with occasional rough, not to say sadistic, behavior. Both these types of transgressors require policing, and the deterrent of swift punishment. But if the policing and the punishment are administered only by your officers, that will naturally be resented by us prisoners, who will suspect that the referees are once again stacked against them, and will begin to behave in retaliatory ways that will disrupt the calm life all of us require for coexistence.

So what are you suggesting?

That you respect our self-administered justice system, sir, even though it may sometimes violate the letter of the official rules. We have enforcers whose methods might not meet Emily Post’s standards. Our enforcers are inclined to accept a certain amount of lawlessness as inevitable. Smuggling, for example. Especially of small tension-relieving items such as bongs or little one-shot whiskey bottles. Small victories over the rules can have a powerful peacekeeping effect, especially if they reinforce the informally established hierarchy of authority recognized among us inmates ourselves. A fist-fight or two can release a lot of built-up steam before it rises to the level of shivs made from spoons or attempts to take revenge on especially disrespectful screws. Allowing us to run our own unofficial system for defining justice and administering punishment can save you a lot of headaches, sir. Obviously this can’t extend to attempts to escape, or serious assassination attempts, and we wouldn’t try in those cases to interfere with whatever your rules say. But overlooking small offenses that serve to relieve tension by waiving some of the rules against, say, disrespectful answers to guards, or deliberately slow observance of orders seen by prisoners as unwarranted, are best judged not by strict enforcement, but by their usefulness in keeping the peace. I urge you, therefore, not to spoil the start of your tenure here by being overeager.

Or without consulting you, Mr. Russell?

Or without consulting me, Warden. On behalf of the inmates, welcome you to our mutual prison.

I thank you for your advice. I will keep it in mind.

Thank you, sir. In Rick’s immortal words, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

 

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Tune in, Turn on, Drop out

The problem with this blogging shtick is that when a question occurs to me, I have to pursue it and worry at it and see whether I can make something out of it. In the days when I had a full to-do list just keeping my family fed and housed and clothed I used to be able to just shrug and move on. There was no time for extra problems. Now, as an old man, reduced to blogging for a way of convincing myself I am not altogether useless, I feel I am obliged to pursue every whimsical notion. It becomes like a tiny stone in my shoe, or a raspberry seed under my denture. I know it will stay there until I make the effort to make sense of it.

This once famous mantra sneaked up on me the other morning out of nowhere. As I recall it was first composed by Marshall McLuhan, already famous for “The medium is the message”, in the early 1960s and given wider currency by Timothy Leary, as part of his campaign for LSD as a lifestyle. It implies that everyone has a right to decide whether his own existence includes a duty to his fellow man or whether he can feel free to focus on himself alone and cater to his own desires without regard for the rest of society, from which he can, if he chooses, “drop out”. Conscience free.

This has become an earworm. I will not be free of it until I see where it will take me. So here we go.

Turn on.” That’s an obvious invitation to look for enjoyment in drugs : alcohol, tobacco, mushrooms, Valium, cocaine, marijuana — whatever is your pleasure. It’s your body. You can put into it whatever you choose. If you choose to mistreat it, that’s your own business. Of course this ignores the probability that the wrecked carcass you eventually drag to the emergency room in need of resuscitation and rehab is not going to represent an outrageous expense to the public purse, society’s rainy-day fund. Your Roman-candle approach to living most likely did not have room for health insurance. But even if it did, that doesn’t change the overall equation — public money spent to detox you is still money that might have been spent on more worthy purposes if you had lived a more responsible life. But those are depressing thoughts. Ignore them.

Tune In.” I take that to be an invitation to an ongoing party. The free-living, free-loving, free-floating party being thrown by all the free spirits who have chosen to be hedonists. All others — cubicle-slaves, 9-to-5-ers, three-piece-suits, Eagle Scouts, and Goody-Two-Shoes are to be turned away by cheerful bouncers at the door of this always-fair-weather venue, high on whatever they have chosen to be high on and determined not to admit wet blankets. You aren’t ready for the carefree life if you bring with you your worries about deadlines, your second thoughts, your financial insecurities, and your guilt trips. Tune in assumes that there is an alternative world where those cares don’t exist, and that the passport to that world is the one you have already applied for with your first drop of LSD. A quick survey of the scene at Haight-Ashbury or the 1960s East Village would have confirmed that the party actually existed — and you were welcome! Of course there would have been a certain amount of after-the-ball clean-up required — trash removal, broken windows and bones, vomit in the gutters, STDs (for the uninitiated, that stands for “Sexually Transmitted Diseases”), and a certain amount of minor crime requiring policing, court appearances, sentences, and incarceration at great public expense, but that’s to be expected at any large party where lots of revelers congregate. Not to take it too seriously.

Drop out.” This assumes that the inhibiting web of social obligations that seek to limit your absolute freedom can be shed by a simple act of abnegation. Once you declare your personal independence, you will be free to concentrate on your own happiness. The welfare of others will be the business of the self-appointed do-gooders and Eagle Scouts. Your connection to the civic world will be limited to your knowledge of the route to the head shop and the best place in the park to sleep it off without a cop banging his nightstick on the soles of your shoes. You will be able to reduce your world to the size of your own skin by a simple act of renunciation. God didn’t create cities and countries and social contracts; he just made people. Two people with built-in ways of pleasuring each other. That they went on from there and wove this whole web of interdependence and “you are your brother’s keeper” nonsense was strictly their idea. Go back to the beginning. It’s just you and those tasty animals and fruits. You’re here for only a brief moment, so make the most of it. That guy who just passed out in the next booth will wake up in the morning on his own without your help. You ask nothing from society except to be left in peace; it therefore has no right to ask anything from you.

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Only of course it’s not quite that simple. You are dependent on the efforts of others to make your freedom possible. You take for granted that the sidewalk you use to get to the head shop will be there, and swept, and not buckled up by tree roots to trip you. You take for granted that if you nevertheless happen to fall there will be a cop or a sanitation worker or a fireman to pick you up and an ambulance to bring you to the ER. You rely on school teachers and Sunday school teachers to explain to incipient criminals that robbing people sleeping on park benches is both morally questionable and illegal, and unlikely to be very profitable. Your security is in the hands of the do-gooders, and their existence is due to the mutual aid society that you can’t “drop out” of altogether no matter how much you wish you could.

So where does that leave you ethically? Do you really have a right to deny your dependence just because you want to? I would say perhaps yes, provided you fully renounce sociaty’s help. Do it like Simeon Stylites, who spent 37 years removed from the world on his 4×4 wooden platform, never making any demands on the community whatsoever (although where did he get the wood, and who brought him water and a change of underwear?). No mutual dependence, no mutual obligation, no head shop, no cops, no ER. Is that what McLuhan and Leary had in mind? Hardly, or they would have headed for the north woods instead of Height-Ashbury or academia. Instead, they preached tipping the balance so that society got the burden of caring for you and you got none for caring for society. They called it dropping out; I call it narcissism.

So where does that leave us? Somewhere on the spectrum between freedom and slavery, being a monk or a politician, lies a point of compromise for each of us, according to our individual readings of the word “responsibility”. Oh, yes, a monk, if he is a conscientious one, is not a drop-out; he concerns himself with everyone, to the exclusion of himself. We may be inclined to pooh-pooh the practical results (or not), but his prayers are for all of us. Just as the efforts of the honest politician should be for the benefit of everyone. Excluding the monk on the grounds that one has personally perhaps no belief in the efficacy of religion — calling him an ineffectual drop-out from the world — is not accurate. According to his lights, he prays for all mankind. If he finds a drunk on the sidewalk he will intervene to help, not pass on with the sign of the cross and a “tut-tut”. This is more likely to be the act of the politician, who will be tempted to first check his pocket to see whether he can afford to pay for the taxi to take the passed-out guy to the hospital, while the passed-out guy gasps in his last breath. Even as an atheist I have greater sympathy for the monk.

But the politician is also acknowledging his obligation to others, just like the social worker or the doctor, although in my observation of the species I would be more inclined to ascribe humanitarian instincts to the social worker or the doctor. Or to the taxi driver who is willing to stop and help and perhaps even to decline the fare. If our LSD tripper wants to be able to find head shops in his city, he must accept the fact that a certain amount of civic involvement is the price. He needs to at least keep an eye on the crooked developer who would like a tax abatement from his friend the crooked city councilman who can help him finance the construction of the building with a last-minute amendment to a spending bill providing for a nice progressive-sounding allocation for nursing education.

These may strike you as sort of grubby and unscholarly examples. I agree. A more pressing one might be our duty, confronted with millions of pieces of indestructible plastic garbage inundating uninhabited islands on the South Pacific, to take some steps to protect our grandchildren and great grandchildren from the rapaciousness of the makers of the clamshell containers from your fast-food take-out restaurant. Or those who would despoil natural wonders that took geologic ages to form by bull-dozing the tops of the mountains and dumping the overfill into the valleys to clog the once pure rivers in a search for more coal with which to pollute the air we all have to breathe. Those things are worth considering, and if along with them come the head shop and a few bongs, then that’s part of the price. But it won’t work unless we all once in a while acknowledge our common humanity and our need to take care of our tiny blue home. The monk may, in our opinion, be ineffectual, but at least he’s trying. On the other hand, who knows?

Leary and McLuhan, in their formulation, got it wrong. “Wake up, tune in, pitch in” is more like it. One more raspberry seed flushed away.

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