(I forgot to mention this in the clip above, but here is the tweet that originally set me thinking about this.)
I think the trend towards fatalism in American art is problematic. Our stories about politics and entertainment are very dark.
— GothamGirlBlue (@GothamGirlBlue) July 2, 2017
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I was thinking today about some of the great thinkers in history, and how the vast majority of the great minds had so little access to information compared to the average person in the present day.
It’s sort of sad when you think about it. Take any great thinker from history, and then think about the logistics required for him or her to get the level of education they received. They had to go to school, study, get books from libraries–if they were available at all. If you were reading and you found a word you didn’t know, you had to go find a dictionary and hope you could find it in there. Not to mention that the mundane day-to-day tasks also took longer and were more difficult. And yet, there were people thinking deep philosophical thoughts, inventing new technologies, writing great books, founding nations, etc. etc.
Compare them to me: I have almost instantaneous access to all the recorded knowledge in human history via the internet, I can have it translated instantly if need be, and I can do it while sitting at my desk. On paper, I should probably be more well-educated and accomplished than the entire population of the world in the 1600s. But I’m not. If somebody from past times came to the present, they’d be appalled by how little I’d done with the wealth of resources I have.
Suppose John Locke had been able to access the internet. He probably would have invented the perfect system of government in 10 minutes, if he kept up his past rate of productivity. How many times over could the great economic minds have solved the U.S. economic crisis in the time I spent watching cat videos?
I feel like an under-achiever, I guess is what I’m saying.
There are two definitions of the word “cynic“. There is the modern definition, which says a cynic is someone who believes people are motivated by selfishness, and tends to assign impure motives to everyone. And then there is the classic Greek definition that a cynic is someone who rejects all else in the pursuit of virtue.
It’s ironic that the latter definition means “idealist”, which is the opposite meaning of the former definition. Language is funny.
But I was thinking that some cynics–in the modern sense–are really disillusioned idealists. I have a friend who is like this. This person is someone who wants people and institutions to live up to ideals, but is too smart to willfully be blind to the fact that they don’t. So, they are cynical about them because they are so disappointed they are not trying to reach the ideal.
Not all “modern” cynics are like this. Some of them never even consider the possibility of things living up to the ideal–they just expect everything to be motivated by self-interest. To these cynics, the concept of an ideal is absurd–there are no ideals; just fables people make up to sugarcoat their true motives.
These are two different personality types; even though both could be considered “cynics”. I am not claiming credit for realizing this–it’s probably something I heard somewhere a long time ago and can’t recall the source. But it occurred to me the other day while thinking about my friend, and it seemed the kind if thing we could have an interesting blog discussion about. So, I ask you readers: does this seem like an accurate description of people you know?
“I can’t run, can’t hide, can’t get away.
It must be my destiny.
The same thing happens to me every day.
Bad Karma comin’ after me…”
–Warren Zevon, “Bad Karma” 1987
Do you ever get the idea that your life runs in cycles? By that I mean, do you get the feeling you live predictable cycles of good times and bad? My blogger friend Thingy and I have discussed this possibility before on her blog. (Sorry I can’t find the post to link to Thingy–I couldn’t remember the title.)
It’s roughly a five-year cycle for me, as near as I can tell, and I’m approaching a downswing. So I guess this is a roundabout of way of saying there could be light posting here for the next month or so. I’ll try to post at least once per weekend, but I can’t be sure. Don’t worry though; past history indicates things will improve after that.
I’ve written recently about books by Upton Sinclair and John Steinbeck—these books, especially the former, were very much in the school of “populist” socialism. Indeed, the big reason for the existence of socialism was the treatment of impoverished workers after the industrial revolution, It was driven by humanitarian and charitable impulses.
But then, you have the other sort of socialism, the one advocated by people like Oscar Wilde, who saw socialism as a way of establishing an intellectual aristocracy—people would be afforded comfortable livings from redistribution of wealth, and so have time for intellectual pursuits. Now, admittedly Wilde saw this as a universal scheme, with the labor to be done by machines. But then you had people like H.P. Lovecraft, who would probably want the division of labor to be based on racial lines, in keeping with their usual prejudices. And people like George Bernard Shaw, who were a bit of both.
Socialism was very much in vogue among intellectuals in the late 1800s and early 1900s, but there were (at least) two distinct kinds of socialist thought: the populists, “help the workingman” socialism and the “socialism is the new aristocracy”, elitist socialism.
These really are two very different aims, and it’s odd that people with these aims should have found common cause. But one of the things people didn’t realize—at least until the 1930s and ‘40s, at great cost—was that “socialism” was really a very flexible concept; which could be used in service of all sorts of ideologies.
I have no point here. Just musing.
Say “hullo” to Oswald Spengler,
The philosopher of doom.
Step out of your offices
And listen to his prophecies
And you’ll be overcome with gloom.
Say “hullo” to Oswald Spengler,
Sit with him and drink some wine.
Listen to him quoting Goethe
As you look out on the Erde,
And watch the West decline.
Say “hullo” to Oswald Spengler,
World’s first Prussian Socialist;
He called for interactions
Between these sep’rate factions,
And alas, he got just what he wished!
Say “good-bye” to Oswald Spengler;
He’s a rather Gloomy Gus.
I don’t like him, nor need you,
And I think it’s also true
He would not think much of us.
My mention of Ayn Rand in my post about The Jungle and Patrick Prescott’s comment about it set me thinking: what if Ayn Rand’s efforts to ridicule socialism went further than anyone realized? What if the style of her books, with their interminable preaching and sprawling, momentum-killing speeches detailing various points of philosophy and economics, were meant as a deliberate counterpoint to socialist novels that did the same thing?
Look at some of the covers of Rand’s books, especially this edition of Atlas Shrugged, and notice how much it looks like Soviet propaganda art. The structure and marketing of these books was ironically basing itself off of socialism’s propaganda.
Even Rand’s “fan club” called itself “the Collective”–again, a joke, since they were a collective of radical individualists. They were always mocking socialist ideas and terms, so why not in the very style of the books themselves? And, most interesting of all, what if the increasingly totalitarian bent of “The Collective” was just an elaborate satire on how socialism itself went from being a theory-based social movement to a fanatical, quasi-religious cult based on the worship of idols like Marx and Lenin.
Maybe Rand was pretending to be as much of a zealot as the collectivists she hated. Maybe she was the Sacha Baron Cohen of her time, deliberately playing a certain role to reveal something about her audience. Like Orwell’s Animal Farm, she was showing how the principles of an idealistic revolution give way to less rational behavior in the end.
A guy I know once told me that he thought Star Trek: The Original Series was a “fascist” TV show. I asked him to elaborate, and he listed me some reasons:
I didn’t buy it then and I don’t buy it now, but it’s a fascinating argument. Of course, I made some counterpoints:
Naturally, I think my argument stands up better. However, my friend’s idea is still kind of interesting. After all, despite that “peace and understanding” stuff, the Federation did find itself at war with those swarthy foreigners, the Klingons, awfully frequently. (I think it’s significant that they changed this for The Next Generation.)
What was the deal with the Federation? Were they just a bunch of nice guys, or was something more sinister at work? Does upholding the virtues of tolerance, inclusiveness and diversity except for the primitive and brutal “Others” still get you into the Tolerant Liberal Club, or does it put you in the Conquering Empire with Good P.R. Club?
Somewhere—I can’t find the exact quote, sorry—the radical libertarian Albert Jay Nock wrote that the people who opposed fascism and also supported a “league of nations” seemed to be saying that a drop of something was deadly poison, but a gallon of it was a miracle elixir. What, Nock’s thinking went, was one-world government, a “league of nations”, if not authoritarian nationalism writ large?
Of course, Nock was wrong, at least in the case of the Earth. For if there were a “one-world government” modeled on the United States, with each country being functionally equivalent to a State, it would have no “Other” to make into its enemy. It would not, as far as I can see, have the ultimate hallmark of a fascist nation: the racial or at a heritage-based class system. This does not at all mean a one world government is a good thing, but it is not fascist.
But in Star Trek the Federation did not encompass all known sentient life in the universe, although it did seem that its doors were open to all who would join. There were other systems of government and life-forms. The Federation was just trying to… triumph over them. Fascism!
There is an old quote I’ve seen attributed, probably incorrectly, to Huey Long: “When Fascism comes to America, it will be called anti-Fascism!” I suppose you could say that is what the Federation has done, since they are committed to freedom and tolerance… and will destroy anyone who isn’t.
The new Star Trek movie Into Darkness especially seemed to accentuate the fascistic element of the series. The grey uniforms the cadets at Starfleet wear (especially the hats), and the warmongering admiral make it seem like it’s on its way to being the Evil Empire.
The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the average blogger to correlate all his links. We live on a placid island of ignorance, in the midst of black seas of Wikis, and it was not meant that we should check the references. The Wiki editors, each biased in their own direction, have hitherto harmed us little. But someday, the linking together of barely-associated articles will open up such terrifying vistas of the internet–and of our own frightful pagerank therein–that we will either go mad from the revelation, or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of icanhascheezburger.com (Many apologies, Howard–MM.)
It all started with this post from Thingy–I realized I had never found out the origin of the common phrase “it was a dark and stormy night. So, I followed the link and it turns out, it was from this guy Edward Bulwer-Lytton. He was a prolific writer who also coined the phrase “the pen is mightier than the sword”.
So, I decided to read some of his books. Being a fan of horror, I chose to start off with The Haunted and the Haunters: or, The House and the Brain. It starts off as a fairly generic ghost story, but the end has some very interesting bits of philosophizing. Not a great work, but an enjoyable read, all in all.
He also wrote a book called Vril, the Power of the Coming Race. I tried to read it, but it was pretty dull. The plot did remind me a little of Arthur Machen’s later work The Novel of the Black Seal, which influenced Lovecraft greatly. But apparently, Vril inspired something of a “cult following”, and by that I mean that people actually thought it was true. The book is about a super-race that lives underground and has a powerful substance “Vril”, which allows them to do all sorts of amazing things. Some, notably the theosophists, believed that “Vril” existed.
Which is curious to me, because I know basically three things about theosophists:
I only saw this symbol the other day, when I was reading about the lyrics to the They Might Be Giants song “I Palindrome I”, which includes the lyric “I am a snake head eating the head on the opposite side”. The technical word for this is Ouroboros. That word is also whence the name of the character Borous in the Fallout: New Vegas add-on Old World Blues is derived.
“Hold up, Mysterious Man,” cries the bemused reader. “What the Devil is the point of all this free-association?” Well, I’ll tell you: there was some philosopher I was reading about many months ago who had some sort of reasoning system of free-association, “correlating contents” and looking for subtle inter-connectivities in Nature. It was really interesting, but in recent days I have searched Wikipedia with considerable diligence, but I can’t find his page. I think his first name might have been Charles, but that’s all I can remember. Any information you can furnish me with as to who the guy was would be appreciated.
It’s become the style lately to call the Republicans “Social Darwinists”, just as it has for some time been the style for Republicans to call Democrats “socialists”. I’ve often said in responding to the Republican charge that, by their definitions, virtually everyone is a socialist. And I have to say, from what I read, by any definition, everyone is a “Social Darwinist”.
“Social Darwinism” means using the idea of “survival of the fittest to justify social policies which make no distinction between those able to support themselves and those unable to support themselves”, according to Wikipedia. Whenever I hear it, I think of Mandalore in KotOR II saying “the purpose of the weak is to feed the strong”. That’s what it boils down to: “Go Team Strong! Crush the Weak!”
The thing is, “the Strong” and “the Weak” are rather nebulous concepts. I mean, people are strong in some areas and weak in others.
For instance, here is a list of the most athletic Presidents ever. I bet Rob Gronkowski is a better athlete than any of those guys. Compared to him, they’re weak athletically. Yet, Rob Gronkowski will never be the Commander in Chief of the World’s most powerful military. And that’s because he is probably one of the weakest people in the world when it comes to politicking. Bill Gates can’t bench as much as Ryan Kennelly, and yet he has done alright for himself in the world. Who is “weak” and who is “strong” depends on the situation.
“Survival of the fittest” is practically tautological: “Who survives?” “The fittest!” “How do we know they’re the fittest?” “They survive!” (Before anyone gets excited, note that this does not disprove Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, much as some of my religious friends wish it did.)
In the broadest sense, “Social Darwinism” could be said to just mean “the world needs more good people and less bad people”. Everyone agrees with that. The difficulty comes in defining “good” and “‘bad”.
Ayn Rand, as we well know, chose to define good people as “people who had earned a lot of money by selling stuff in the free-market”, and bad people as “people who produce nothing and take government money”. So, the Randian worldview, somebody on welfare is “bad”, but a billionaire author is “good”. I have chosen these examples because I have in mind one person who was both: J.K. Rowling. And she would not have been able to be a billionaire author had she not taken government assistance. This is one of the biggest problems with the Randian worldview.
The Republicans are not “Social Darwinists” as much as they are “Defenders of People with Lots of Money”. Paul Ryan may have repudiated Rand the other day, but let’s face it; he’s just saying that so people don’t start saying he’s an atheist.