Posts Tagged ‘Recent History’

Some while back, Scott Adams (my general disdain for him noted but unexpanded, since I’m not in the habit of shitting on people), using his knowledge of hypnosis, began pushing the string selling the narrative that our Commander-in-Chief is cannily adept at the art of persuasion. I, for one, am persuaded by neither Adams nor 45 but must admit that many others are. Constant shilling for control of narratives by agents of all sorts could not be more transparent (for me at least), rendering the whole enterprise null. Similarly, when I see an advertisement (infrequently, I might add, since I use ad blockers and don’t watch broadcast TV or news programs), I’m rarely inclined to seek more information or make a purchase. Once in a long while, an ad creeps through my defenses and hits one of my interests, and even then, I rarely respond because, duh, it’s an ad.

In the embedded video below, Stuart Ewen describes how some learned to exploit a feature (not a bug) in human cognition, namely, appeals to emotion that overwhelm rational response. The most obvious, well-worn example is striking fear into people’s hearts and minds to convince them of an illusion of safety necessitating relinquishing civil liberties and/or fighting foreign wars.

The way Ewen uses the term consciousness differs from the way I use it. He refers specifically to opinion- and decision-making (the very things vulnerable to manipulation) rather than the more generalized and puzzling property of having an individual identity or mind and with it self-awareness. In fact, Ewen uses the terms consciousness industry and persuasion industry instead of public relations and marketing to name those who spin information and thus public discourse. At some level, absolutely everyone is guilty of seeking to persuade others, which again is a basic feature of communication. (Anyone negotiating the purchase of, say, a new or used car faces the persuasion of the sales agent with some skepticism.) What turns it into something maniacal is using lies and fabrication to advance agendas against the public interest, especially where public opinion is already clear.

Ewen also points to early 20th-century American history, where political leaders and marketers were successful in manipulating mass psychology in at least three ways: 1. drawing the pacifist U.S. public into two world wars of European origin, 2. transforming citizens into consumers, thereby saving capitalism from its inherently self-destructive endgame (creeping up on us yet again), and 3. suppressing emergent collectivism, namely, socialism. Of course, unionism as a collectivist institution still gained considerable strength but only within the larger context of capitalism, e.g., achieving the American Dream in purely financial terms.

So getting back to Scott Adams’ argument, the notion that the American public is under some form of mass hypnosis (persuasion) and that 45 is the master puppeteer is perhaps half true. Societies do sometimes go mad and fall under the spell of a mania or cult leader. But 45 is not the driver of the current episode, merely the embodiment. I wouldn’t say that 45 figured out anything because that awards too much credit to presumed understanding and planning. Rather, he worked out (accidentally and intuitively — really by default considering his job in 2016) that his peculiar self-as-brand could be applied to politics by treating it all as reality TV, which by now everyone knows is its own weird unreality the same way professional wrestling is fundamentally unreal. (The term political theater applies here.) He demonstrated a knack (at best) for keeping the focus firmly on himself and driving ratings (abetted by the mainstream media that had long regarded him as a clown or joke), but those objectives were never really in service of a larger political vision. In effect, the circus brought to town offers its own bizarre constructed narrative, but its principle characteristic is gawking, slack-jawed, made-you-look narcissism, not any sort of proper guidance or governance.

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Have to admit, when I first saw this brief article about middle school kids being enrolled in mandatory firearms safety classes, my gut response was something sarcastic to the effect “No, this won’t end badly at all ….” Second thought (upon reading the headline alone) was that it had to be Texas. Now that I’ve calmed down some, both responses are no longer primary in my thinking.

I’ve written before about perception and function of guns of differing types. I daresay that little clarity has been achieved on the issue, especially because a gun is no longer understood as a tool (with all the manifold purposes that might entail) but is instead always a weapon (both offensive and defensive). The general assumption is that anyone brandishing a weapon (as in open carry) is preparing to use it imminently (so shoot first!). A corollary is that anyone merely owning a gun is similarly prepared but only in the early, hypothetical, or contingent stages. These are not entirely fair assumptions but demonstrate how our perception of the tool has frequently shifted over toward emotionalism.

My father’s generation may be among the last without specialized training (e.g., hunters and those having served in the military) who retain the sense of a gun being a tool, both of which still account for quite a lot of people. Periodic chain e-mails sometimes point out that students (especially at rural and collar county schools) used to bring guns to school to stow in their lockers for after-school use with Gun Club. I’d say “imagine doing that now” except that Iowa is doing just that, though my guess is that the guns are stored more securely than a student locker. Thus, exposure to gun safety/handling and target practice may remove some of the stigma assigned to the tool as well as teach students respect for the tool.

Personally, I’ve had limited exposure to guns and tend to default (unthinkingly, reflexively) to what I regard as a liberal/progressive left opinion that I don’t want to own a gun and that guns should be better regulated to stem gun violence. However, only a little circumspection is needed to puncture that one-size-fits-all bubble. And as with so many complicated issues of the day, it’s a little hard to know what to wish for or to presume that I have the wisdom to know better than others. Maybe Iowa has it right and this may not end so badly.

Several politicians on the U.S. national stage have emerged in the past few years as firebrands of new politics and ideas about leadership — some salutary, others less so. Perhaps the quintessential example is Bernie Sanders, who identified himself as Socialist within the Democratic Party, a tacit acknowledgement that there are no electable third-party candidates for high office thus far. Even 45’s emergence as a de facto independent candidate within the Republican Party points to the same effect (and at roughly the same time). Ross Perot and Ralph Nader came closest in recent U.S. politics to establishing viable candidacies outside the two-party system, but their ultimate failures only reinforce the rigidity of modern party politics; it’s a closed system.

Those infusing energy and new (OK, in truth, they’re old) ideas into this closed system are intriguing. By virtue of his immediate name/brand recognition, Bernie Sanders can now go by his single given name (same is true of Hillary, Donald, and others). Supporters of Bernie’s version of Democratic Socialism are thus known as Bernie Bros, though the term is meant pejoratively. Considering his age, however, Bernie is not widely considered a viable presidential candidate in the next election cycle. Among other firebrands, I was surprised to find Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (often referred to simply as AOC) described in the video embedded below as a Democratic Socialist but without any reference to Bernie (“single-handedly galvanized the American people”):

Despite the generation(s) gap, young adults had no trouble supporting Bernie three years ago but appear to have shifted their ardent support to AOC. Yet Bernie is still relevant and makes frequent statements demonstrating how well he understands the failings of the modern state, its support of the status quo, and the cult of personality behind certain high-profile politicians.

As I reflect on history, it occurs to me that many of the major advances in society (e.g., abolition, suffrage, the labor movement, civil rights, equal rights and abortion, and the end of U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War) occurred not because our government led us to them but because the American people forced the issues. The most recent examples of the government yielding to the will of the people are gay marriage and cannabis/hemp legalization (still underway). I would venture that Johnson and Nixon were the last U.S. presidents who experienced palpable fear of the public. (Claims that Democrats are afraid of AOC ring hollow — so far.) As time has worn on, later presidents have been confident in their ability to buffalo the public or at least to use the power of the state to quell unrest (e.g., the Occupy movement). (Modern means of crowd control raise serious questions about the legitimacy of any government that would use them against its own citizens. I would include enemy combatants, but that is a separate issue.) In contrast with salutary examples of the public using its disruptive power over a recalcitrant government are arguably more examples where things went haywire rather badly. Looking beyond the U.S., the French Reign of Terror and the Bolsheviks are the two examples that leap immediately to mind, but there are plenty of others. The pattern appears to be a populist ideology that takes root and turns virulent and violent followed by consolidation of power by those who mange to survive the inevitable purge of dissidents.

I bring this up because we’re in a period of U.S. history characterized by populist ideological possession on both sides (left/right) of the political continuum, though politics ought to be better understood as a spectrum. Extremism has again found a home (or several), and although the early stages appear to be mild or harmless, I fear that a charismatic leader might unwittingly succeed in raising a mob. As the saying goes (from the Indiana Jones movie franchise), “You are meddling with forces you cannot possibly comprehend,” to which I would add cannot control. Positioning oneself at the head of a movement or rallying behind such an opportunist may feel like the right thing to do but could easily and quickly veer into wildly unintended consequences. How many times in history has that already occurred?

From time to time, I admit that I’m in no position to referee disputes, usually out of my lack of technical expertise in the hard sciences. I also avoid the impossibility of policing the Internet, assiduously pointing out error where it occurs. Others concern themselves with correcting the record and/or reinterpreting argument with improved context and accuracy. However, once in a while, something crosses my desk that gets under my skin. An article by James Ostrowski entitled “What America Has Done To its Young People is Appalling,” published at LewRockwell.com, is such a case. It’s undoubtedly a coincidence that the most famous Rockwell is arguably Norman Rockwell, whose celebrated illustrations for the Saturday Evening Post in particular helped reinforce a charming midcentury American mythology. Lew Rockwell, OTOH, is described briefly at the website’s About blurb:

The daily news and opinion site LewRockwell.com was founded in 1999 by anarcho-capitalists Lew Rockwell … and Burt Blumert to help carry on the anti-war, anti-state, pro-market work of Murray N. Rothbard.

Those political buzzwords probably deserve some unpacking. However, that project falls outside my scope. In short, they handily foist blame for what ills us in American culture on government planning, as distinguished from the comparative freedom of libertarianism. Government earns its share of blame, no doubt, especially with its enthusiastic prosecution of war (now a forever war); but as snapshots of competing political philosophies, these buzzwords are reductive almost to the point of meaninglessness. Ostrowski lays blame more specifically on feminism and progressive big government and harkens back to an idyllic 1950s nuclear family fully consonant with Norman Rockwell’s illustrations, thus invoking the nostalgic frame.

… the idyllic norm of the 1950’s, where the mother typically stayed home to take care of the kids until they reached school age and perhaps even long afterwards, has been destroyed.  These days, in the typical American family, both parents work fulltime which means that a very large percentage of children are consigned to daycare … in the critical first five years of life, the vast majority of Americans are deprived of the obvious benefits of growing up in an intact family with the mother at home in the pre-school years. We baby boomers took this for granted. That world is gone with the wind. Why? Two main reasons: feminism and progressive big government. Feminism encouraged women to get out of the home and out from under the alleged control of husbands who allegedly controlled the family finances.

Problem is, 1950s social configurations in the U.S. were the product of a convergence of historical forces, not least of which were the end of WWII and newfound American geopolitical and economic prominence. More pointedly, an entire generation of young men and women who had deferred family life during perilous wartime were then able to marry, start families, and provide for them on a single income — typically that of the husband/father. That was the baby boom. Yet to enjoy the benefits of the era fully, one probably needed to be a WASPy middle-class male or the child of one. Women and people of color fared … differently. After all, the 1950s yielded to the sexual revolution and civil rights era one decade later, both of which aimed specifically to improve the lived experience of, well, women and people of color.

Since the 1950s were only roughly 60 years ago, it might be instructive to consider how life was another 60 years before then, or in the 1890s. If one lived in an eastern American city, life was often a Dickensian dystopia, complete with child labor, poorhouses, orphanages, asylums, and unhygienic conditions. If one lived in an agrarian setting, which was far more prevalent before the great 20th-century migration to cities, then life was frequently dirt-poor subsistence and/or pioneer homesteading requiring dawn-to-dusk labor. Neither mode yet enjoyed social planning and progressive support including, for example, sewers and other modern infrastructure, public education, and economic protections such as unionism and trust busting. Thus, 19th-century America might be characterized fairly as being closer to anarcho-capitalism than at any time since. One of its principal legacies, one must be reminded, was pretty brutal exploitation of (and violence against) labor, which can be understood by the emergence of political parties that sought to redress its worst scourges. Hindsight informs us now that reforms were slow, partial, and impermanent, leading to the observation that among all tried forms of self-governance, democratic capitalism can be characterized as perhaps the least awful.

So yeah, the U.S. came a long way from 1890 to 1950, especially in terms of standard of living, but may well be backsliding as the 21st-century middle class is hollowed out (a typical income — now termed household income — being rather challenging for a family), aspirations to rise economically above one’s parents’ level no longer function, and the culture disintegrates into tribal resentments and unrealistic fantasies about nearly everything. Ostrowski marshals a variety of demographic facts and figures to support his argument (with which I agree in large measure), but he fails to make a satisfactory causal connection with feminism and progressivism. Instead, he sounds like 45 selling his slogan Make America Great Again (MAGA), meaning let’s turn back the clock to those nostalgic 1950s happy days. Interpretations of that sentiment run in all directions from innocent to virulent (but coded). By placing blame on feminism and progressivism, it’s not difficult to hear anyone citing those putative causes as an accusation that, if only those feminists and progressives (and others) had stayed in their assigned lanes, we wouldn’t be dealing now with cultural crises that threaten to undo us. What Ostrowski fails to acknowledge is that despite all sorts of government activity over the decades, no one in the U.S. is steering the culture nearly as actively as in centrally planned economies and cultures, current and historical, which in their worst instances are fascist and/or totalitarian. One point I’ll agree on, however, just to be charitable, is that the mess we’ve made and will leave to youngsters is truly appalling.

Not a person alive having reached even a modest level of maturity hasn’t looked back at some choice or attitude of his or her past and wondered “What on earth was I thinking?” Maybe it was some physical stunt resulting in a fall or broken bone (or worse), or maybe it was an intolerant attitude later softened by empathy and understanding when the relevant issue became personal. We’ve all got something. Some of us, many somethings. As a kid, my cohorts and I used to play in leaves raked into piles in the autumn. A pile of leaves isn’t a trampoline and doesn’t really provide cushion, but as kids, it didn’t matter for the purpose of play. At one point, the kid next door dared me to jump from the roof of his front porch into a pile of leaves. The height was probably 15 feet. I remember climbing out and peering over the gutters, wavering a bit before going back inside. I didn’t jump. What was I thinking? It would have been folly to take that dare.

Some youthful indiscretion is to be expected and can be excused as teaching moments, but in truth, most of us don’t have to go far back in time to wonder “what in hell was I thinking?” Maybe it was last week, last month, or a few years ago. The interval matters less than the honest admission that, at any point one might believe he or she has things figured out and can avoid traps that look clear only in hindsight, something will come up and remind that, despite being wizened through experience, one still misjudges and makes egregious mistakes.

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Two shocking and vaguely humorous (dark, sardonic humor) events occurred recently in the gun debate: (1) in a speech, Marco Rubio sarcastically offered the very reform a healthy majority of the public wants — banning assault weapons — and revealed himself to be completely tin-earred with respect to the public he addresses, and (2) 45 supported some gun controls and even raised the stakes, saying that guns should be taken from people flagged as unstable and dangerous before they commit their mayhem. Rubio had already demonstrated his inability to think on his feet, being locked into scripts handed to him by … whom exactly? Certainly not the public he purportedly serves. So much for his presidential aspirations. OTOH, 45 channels populism and can switch positions quickly. Though ugly and base in many cases, populism at least expresses the will of the people, such as it can be known. His departure from reflexive Republican defense of the hallowed 2nd Amendment shouldn’t be too great a surprise; he’s made similar remarks in the past. His willingness to discard due process and confiscate guns before a crime has been committed sounds more than a little like Spielbergian precrime (via Orwell and Philip K. Dick). To even entertain this prospect in the gun debate demonstrates just how intolerable weekly mass shootings — especially school shootings by troubled youth — have become in the land of the free and home of the brave. On balance, 45 also recommended arming classroom teachers (a risible solution to the problem), so go figger.

Lodged deep in my brain is a potent archetype I don’t often see cited: the Amfortas wound. The term comes from Richard Wagner’s music drama Parsifal (synopsis found here). Let me describe the principal elements (very) briefly. Amfortas is the king of the Knights of the Holy Grail and has a seeping wound than cannot be healed except, according to prophecy, by an innocent youth, also described as a fool wizened by compassion. Such a youth, Parsifal, appears and after familiar operatic conflict does indeed fulfill the prophecy. Parsifal is essentially a retelling of the Arthurian legend. The music is some of the most transcendentally beautiful orchestral composition ever committed to paper and is very much recommended. Admittedly, it’s rather slow for today’s audiences more inclined to throwaway pop music.

Anyway, to tie together the gun debate and Parsifal, I muse that the Amfortas wound is gun violence and 45 is the titular fool who in the end heals the wound and becomes king of the Knights of the Holy Grail. The characterization is not entirely apt, of course, because it’s impossible to say that 45 is young, or compassionate, or wizened, but he has oddly enough moved the needle on gun debate. Not single-handedly, mind you, but from a seat of considerable power unlike, say, the Parkland survivors. Resolution and healing have yet to occur and will no doubt be opposed by the NRA and Marco Rubio. Maybe we’re only in Act I of the traditional 3-act structure. Other characters and plots devices from Parsifal I leave uncast. The main archetype is the Amfortas wound.

Fully a decade ago, I analyzed with more length than I usually allow myself an article from The New Yorker that examined how media trends were pushing away from literacy (the typographic mind) toward listening and viewing (orality) as primary modes of information gathering and entertainment. The trend was already underway with the advent of radio, cinema, and television, which moved the relatively private experience of silent reading to a public or communal realm as people shared experiences around emerging media. The article took particular aim at TV. In the intervening decade, media continue to contrive new paths of distribution, moving activity back to private information environments via the smart phone and earbuds. The rise of the webcast (still called podcast by some, though that’s an anachronism), which may include a video feed or display a static image over discussion and/or lecture, and streaming services are good examples. Neither has fully displaced traditional media just yet, but the ongoing shift in financial models is a definite harbinger of relentless change.

This comes up again because, interestingly, The New Yorker included with an article I popped open on the Web an audio file of the very same article read by someone not the author. The audio was 40 minutes, whereas the article may have taken me 15 to 20 minutes had I read it. For undisclosed reasons, I listened to the audio. Not at all surprisingly, I found it odd and troublesome. Firstly, though the content was nominally investigative journalism (buttressed by commentary), hearing it read to me made it feel like, well, storytime, meaning it was fiction. Secondly, since my eyes weren’t occupied with reading, they sought other things to do and thus fragmented my attention.

No doubt The New Yorker is pandering to folks who would probably not be readers but might well become listeners. In doing so, it’s essentially conceding the fight, admitting that the effort to read is easily eclipsed by the effortlessness of listening. As alternative and unequal modes of transmitting the content of the article, however, it strikes me as an initiative hatched not by writers and editors capable of critical thought and addressing a similarly enabled readership but by a combination of sales and marketing personnel attempting to capture a widening demographic of listeners (read: nonreaders). Navigating to the article might be a modest extra complication, but if a link to the audio file can be tweeted out (I don’t actually know if that’s possible), then I guess the text isn’t truly necessary.

Here part of what I wrote a decade ago:

If the waning of the typographic mind proceeds, I anticipate that the abstract reasoning and critical thinking skills that are the legacy of Enlightenment Man will be lost except to a few initiates who protect the flame. And with so many other threats cropping up before us, the prospect of a roiling mass of all-but-in-name barbarians ruled by a narrow class of oligarchs does indeed spell the total loss of democracy.

Are we getting perilously close that this dystopia? Maybe not, since it appears that many of those in high office and leadership positions labor under their own failures/inabilities to read at all critically and so execute their responsibilities with about the same credibility as hearsay. Even The New Yorker is no longer protecting the flame.

I recall Nathaniel Hawthorne’s short story The Celestial Railroad railing against the steam engine, an infernal machine, that disrupts society (agrarian at that time). It’s a metaphor for industrialization. The newest infernal machine (many candidates have appeared since Hawthorne’s time only to be supplanted by the next) is undoubtedly the smart phone. Its disruption of healthy formation of identity among teenagers has already been well researched and documented. Is it ironic that as an object of our own creation, it’s coming after our minds?

Speaking of Davos (see previous post), Yuval Noah Harari gave a high-concept presentation at Davos 2018 (embedded below). I’ve been aware of Harari for a while now — at least since the appearance of his book Sapiens (2015) and its follow-up Homo Deus (2017), both of which I’ve yet to read. He provides precisely the sort of thoughtful, provocative content that interests me, yet I’ve not quite known how to respond to him or his ideas. First thing, he’s a historian who makes predictions, or at least extrapolates possible futures based on historical trends. Near as I can tell, he doesn’t resort to chastising audiences along the lines of “those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it” but rather indulges in a combination of breathless anticipation and fear-mongering at transformations to be expected as technological advances disrupt human society with ever greater impacts. Strangely, Harari is not advocating for anything in particular but trying to map the future.

Harari poses this basic question: “Will the future be human?” I’d say probably not; I’ve concluded that we are busy destroying ourselves and have already crossed the point of no return. Harari apparently believes differently, that the rise of the machine is imminent in a couple centuries perhaps, though it probably won’t resemble Skynet of The Terminator film franchise hellbent on destroying humanity. Rather, it will be some set of advanced algorithms monitoring and channeling human behaviors using Big Data. Or it will be a human-machine hybrid possessing superhuman abilities (physical and cognitive) different enough to be considered a new species arising for the first time not out of evolutionary processes but from human ingenuity. He expects this new species to diverge from homo sapiens sapiens and leave us in the evolutionary dust. There is also conjecture that normal sexual reproduction will be supplanted by artificial, asexual reproduction, probably carried out in test tubes using, for example, CRISPR modification of the genome. Well, no fun in that … Finally, he believes some sort of strong AI will appear.

I struggle mightily with these predictions for two primary reasons: (1) we almost certainly lack enough time for technology to mature into implementation before the collapse of industrial civilization wipes us out, and (2) the Transhumanist future he anticipates calls into being (for me at least) a host of dystopian nightmares, only some of which are foreseeable. Harari says flatly at one point that the past is not coming back. Well, it’s entirely possible for civilization to fail and our former material conditions to be reinstated, only worse since we’ve damaged the biosphere so gravely. Just happened in Puerto Rico in microcosm when its infrastructure was wrecked by a hurricane and the power went out for an extended period of time (still off in some places). What happens when the rescue never appears because logistics are insurmountable? Elon Musk can’t save everyone.

The most basic criticism of economics is the failure to account for externalities. The same criticism applies to futurists. Extending trends as though all things will continue to operate normally is bizarrely idiotic. Major discontinuities appear throughout history. When I observed some while back that history has gone vertical, I included an animation with a graph that goes from horizontal to vertical in an extremely short span of geological time. This trajectory (the familiar hockey stick pointing skyward) has been repeated ad nauseum with an extraordinary number of survival pressures (notably, human population and consumption, including energy) over various time scales. Trends cannot simply continue ascending forever. (Hasn’t Moore’s Law already begun to slope away?) Hard limits must eventually be reached, but since there are no useful precedents for our current civilization, it’s impossible to know quite when or where ceilings loom. What happens after upper limits are found is also completely unknown. Ugo Bardi has a blog describing the Seneca Effect, which projects a rapid falloff after the peak that looks more like a cliff than a gradual, graceful descent, disallowing time to adapt. Sorta like the stock market currently imploding.

Since Harari indulges in rank thought experiments regarding smart algorithms, machine learning, and the supposed emergence of inorganic life in the data stream, I thought I’d pose some of my own questions. Waiving away for the moment distinctions between forms of AI, let’s assume that some sort of strong AI does in fact appear. Why on earth would it bother to communicate with us? And if it reproduces and evolves at breakneck speed as some futurists warn, how long before it/they simply ignore us as being unworthy of attention? Being hyper-rational and able to think calculate millions of moves ahead (like chess-playing computers), what if they survey the scene and come to David Benatar’s anti-natalist conclusion that it would be better not to have lived and so wink themselves out of existence? Who’s to say that they aren’t already among us, lurking, and we don’t even recognize them (took us quite a long time to recognize bacteria and viruses, and what about undiscovered species)? What if the Singularity has already occurred thousands of times and each time the machine beings killed themselves off without our even knowing? Maybe Harari explores some of these questions in Homo Deus, but I rather doubt it.

Be forewarned: this is long and self-indulgent. Kinda threw everything and the kitchen sink at it.

In the August 2017 issue of Harper’s Magazine, Walter Kirn’s “Easy Chair” column called “Apocalypse Always” revealed his brief, boyhood fascination with dystopian fiction. This genre has been around for a very long time, to which the Cassandra myth attests. Kirn’s column is more concerned with “high mid-twentieth-century dystopian fiction,” which in his view is now classic and canonical, an entire generation of Baby Boomers having been educated in such patterned thought. A new wave of dystopian fiction appeared in the 1990s and yet another more recently in the form of Young Adult novels (and films) that arguably serve better as triumphal coming-of-age stories albeit under dystopian circumstances. Kirn observes a perennial theme present in the genre: the twins disappearances of freedom and information:

In the classic dystopias, which concern themselves with the lack of freedom and not with surplus freedom run amok (the current and unforeseen predicament of many), society is superbly well organized, resembling a kind of hive or factory. People are sorted, classified, and ranked, their individuality suppressed through goon squads, potent narcotics, or breeding programs. Quite often, they wear uniforms, and express themselves, or fail to, in ritual utterance and gestures.

Whether Americans in 2018 resemble hollowed-out zombies suffering under either boot-heel or soft-serve oppression is a good question. Some would argue just that in homage to classic dystopias. Kirn suggests briefly that we might instead suffer from runaway anarchy, where too much freedom and licentiousness have led instead to a chaotic and disorganized society populated by citizens who can neither govern nor restrain themselves.

Disappearance of information might be understood in at least three familiar aspects of narrative framing: what happened to get us to this point (past as exposition, sometimes only hinted at), what the hell? is going on (present as conflict and action), and how is gets fixed (future as resolution and denouement). Strict control over information exercised by classic dystopian despots doesn’t track to conditions under which we now find ourselves, where more disorganized, fraudulent, and degraded information than ever is available alongside small caches of wisdom and understanding buried somewhere in the heap and discoverable only with the benefit of critical thinking flatly lost on at least a couple generations of miseducated graduates. However, a coherent narrative of who and what we are and what realistic prospects the future may hold has not emerged since the stifling version of the 1950s nuclear family and middle class consumer contentment. Kirn makes this comparison directly, where classic dystopian fiction

focus[es] on bureaucracy, coercion, propaganda, and depersonalization, overstates both the prowess of the hierarchs and the submissiveness of the masses, whom it still thinks of as the masses. It does not contemplate Trump-style charlatanism at the top, or a narcissistic populace that prizes attention over privacy. The threats to individualism are paramount; the scourge of surplus individualism, with everyone playing his own dunce king and slurping up resources until he bursts, goes unexplored.

Kirn’s further observations are worth a look. Go read for yourself.

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The witch hunt aimed at sexual predators continues to amaze as it crashes the lives of more and more people. I knew once the floodgates were opened that many of the high and mighty would be brought low. It was probably overdue, but no one can be truly surprised by the goings on giving rise to this purge. Interestingly, the media have gone into the archives and found ample evidence of jokes, hush money, accusations, and lawsuits to demonstrate that this particular open secret was a well-known pattern. Some have offered the simplest of explanations: power corrupts (another open secret). No one really wants to hear that time-honored truth or admit that they, too, are entirely corruptible.

One of the accused has openly admitted that the accusations against him are true, which is almost a breath of fresh air amid all the denials and obfuscations but for the subject matter of the admission. And because it’s a witch hunt, those accused are vulnerable to the mob demanding immediate public shaming and then piling on. No investigation or legal proceeding is necessary (though that may be coming, too). The court of public opinion effects immediate destruction of life and livelihood. Frankly, it’s hard to be sympathetic toward the accused, but I cling to noble sentiment when it comes to application of the law. We should tread lightly to avoid the smears of false accusation and not be swept into moral panic.

Ran Prieur weighed in with this paragraph (no link to his blog, sorry; it’s quite searchable until it gets pushed down and off the page):

I like Louis CK’s apology because he understands that the core issue is power … We imagine these people are bad because they crossed the line between consent and coercion. But when almost the entire world is under authoritarian culture, where it’s normal for some people to tell other people what to do, where it’s normal for us to do what we’re told even if we don’t feel like it, then the line between consent and coercion is crossed so often that it basically doesn’t exist.

Once a culture has crossed the line into normalization of hierarchy, it’s a constant temptation to cross the next line, between using a position of power for the good of the whole, and using it selfishly. And once that line has been crossed, it’s tempting for selfish use of power to veer into sex acts.

I like to think, in a few thousand years, human culture will be so much improved that one person having any power over another will be a scandal.

It’s a slightly fuller explanation of the power dynamic, just as Louis CK offered his own explanation. The big difference is that no one wants to hear it from an admitted sexual predator. Thus, Louis CK is over. Similarly, no one can watch The Cosby Show in innocence anymore. Remains to be seen if any of the fallen will ever rise to career prominence again. Yet Prieur’s final statement confounds me completely. He gets the power dynamic but then plainly doesn’t get it at all. Power and authority are not optional in human society. Except for a few rare, isolated instances of radical egalitarianism, they are entirely consistent with human nature. While we might struggle to diminish the more awful manifestations, so long as there are societies, there will be power imbalances and the exploitation and predation (sexual and otherwise) that have been with us since our prehistory.

Remember: we’re mammals, meaning we compete with each other for sexual access. Moreover, we can be triggered easily enough, not unlike dogs responding when a bitch goes into heat. Sure, humans have executive mental function that allows us to overcome animal impulses some of the time, but that’s not a reliable antidote to sexual misconduct ranging from clumsy come-ons to forcible rape. This is not to excuse anyone who acts up. Rather, it’s a reminder that we all have to figure out how to maneuver in the world effectively, which frankly includes protecting ourselves from predators. The young, sexually naïve, and powerless will always be prime targets. Maybe we’re not quite barbarians anymore, raping and pillaging with wanton disregard for our victims, but neither are we far removed from that characterization, as recent accounts demonstrate.