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Fall 2010

Heroism, Cowardice, and the National Tragedy of Hidden Guilt
© Charles D. Hayes

Earlier this year, Scott Morrison’s The Energy Caper got me to thinking about the Vietnam War. In this highly entertaining novel of alternative history, that war never happened. Then, Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg’s emotionally exhausting miniseries The Pacific reawakened my interest in World War II. Together these works have reignited my curiosity about the psychology of war in general.

As a Marine in the early 1960s, I served two 13-month tours on the island of Okinawa. Although I was familiar with Marine Corps history, and the battle of Okinawa in particular, I had little appreciation for the horrific nature of what it had taken to wrest the island from Japanese occupation in 1945. Now I regret not having asked the residents of Okinawa who lived through that war what it was like for them, since everyone in their twenties or older in those days would have had vivid memories of the mêlée.

To delve deeper into these issues, my summer reading this year has included With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa, by E.B. Sledge, Matterhorn by Karl Marlantes, Bare Feet, Iron Will by James G. Zumwalt, War by Sebastian Junger, and The Sorrow of War by Bao Ninh.

Still very much a part of my own memory of the war in Vietnam is the guilt I felt during the Tet Offensive in the winter of 1968. I was a police officer in Dallas, Texas, at the time, having been discharged from a four-year hitch with the Marines in February 1964, about six months before enlistments became automatically extended. I felt guilty because I was missing action that I had trained for. I wrote a letter of resignation to the police department and began the reenlistment process. I was single at the time, but I owned a home and the mortgage payment alone represented nearly a month’s wages in the Marine Corps. So, unable to sell my home and afraid to try to rent it out and be an absentee landlord while serving overseas, I gave up reenlisting and kept my job.

In hindsight, I believe the guilt I felt was due to an unspoken cultural expectation that has always existed and that will continue to exist for as long as we continue to call ourselves Americans. In a nutshell, it is the belief that in a time of war, able-bodied men will come to the aid of their country. No one has to spell this out; young men sense it, indeed cannot escape it. Reflecting on this feeling of responsibility after reading the above list of books and having thought about this subject for many years, I’ve developed a perspective about the psychology of war that I believe reveals a catastrophic mistake in American foreign policy—a mistake because we should know better.

In his Pulitzer Prize-winning The Denial of Death, Ernest Becker takes careful notice of how deeply the need to be a hero is a part of human nature, especially for the males of our species. Becker discusses in depth the need to stand out, to be noticed, to truly matter as an individual. This fundamental need, he suggests, is so much a part of our psyche that if we were to be truly honest with ourselves and admit this reality, it would be “a devastating release of truth.”

Becker says, “To become conscious of what one is doing to earn his feeling of heroism is the main self-analytic problem of life.” And, “This is why human heroics is a blind drivenness that burns people up; in passionate people, a screaming for glory as uncritical and reflexive as the howling of a dog. In the more passive masses of mediocre men it is disguised as they humbly and complainingly follow out the roles that provide for their heroics and try to earn their promotions within the system: wearing the standard uniforms—but allowing themselves to stick out, but ever so little and so safely, with a little ribbon or a red boutonniere, but not with head and shoulders.” This may sound a bit over the top until you take a hard look at the historical record and start to learn about war, not from pundits and politicians, but from the genuine experience of combat veterans.

Today I feel very differently about the Vietnam War than I did in my youth, but my own feelings of guilt during that time give me a unique kind of insight into the psychology of courage and commitment. America has never had a shortage of courageous citizens willing to take up arms and fight to the death for reasons and causes beyond their own understanding. Arlington Cemetery in Virginia serves as proof. But my sense of the decades since the end of World War II is that America has and is experiencing a courage crisis of shameful origin and of tragic consequence.

The authors mentioned above provide vital revelations about war, and when you add to the mix Ernest Becker’s examination of the anxious human need to matter, a stunning insight emerges. The courage crisis, as I see it, began as a deficit of commitment, the reasons for which range from outright cowardice to the narcissistic conceit of exaggerated self-importance. The result has been a continuous roar of bellicose bluster put forth as a smokescreen by individuals whose sole contribution in wartime was, and is, big talk. You see, Becker left something out, something important.

Becker spoke of mediocre individuals who go along grudgingly, often taking the safest path possible to avoid personal injury, but he didn’t dwell on the shirkers who do whatever is necessary to hide in plain sight, escape combat, and then roar loud enough to distract attention from their lack of living up to their own convictions.

Pertinent to this discussion are the following names of politicians, celebrity pundits, clergymen, litigators, Supreme Court Justices, and former vice presidents who all have something in common: Elliott Abrams, Ken Adelman, Roger Ailes, John Ashcroft, Bob Barr, Gary Bauer, Bill Bennett, John Bolton, George W. Bush, Andrew Card, Dick Cheney, Tom DeLay, Jerry Falwell, Steve Forbes, Newt Gingrich, Phil Gramm, Dennis Hastert, Brit Hume, Tim Hutchinson, Trent Lott, Mitch McConnell, Don Nickles, Alan Keyes, Rush Limbaugh, Ted Olson, Bill O’Reilly, Richard Perle, Karl Rove, Antonin Scalia, Michael Savage, Ken Starr, Mark Souder, Clarence Thomas, Dan Quayle, George Will, and Paul Wolfowitz. If you are middle age or older, you may be aware of the significance of this list: These individuals are all saber-rattling hawks, and yet every last one of them avoided combat in Vietnam. Their excuses run the gamut from college deferments to boils on their butt (as was the case with Rush Limbaugh) to simply fearing for their very lives.

From my summer’s reading it’s crystal clear that real warriors—men and women who have been in the thick of prolonged battle—seldom afterwards view war as a viable way to settle differences, any kind of differences. We don’t hear our front-line combat veterans beating war drums and raising hostile rhetoric to hide their shame. To the contrary, most of the men and women who have lived through intense ground war feel shame of a different sort, sometimes that of having survived when others didn’t.

In HBO’s The Pacific, E.B. Sledge, or Sledgehammer as he was called during the war, felt shame seeing the grimace of a dying Japanese soldier he had shot at close range, followed by a sense of embarrassment that such a maudlin sentiment might be an act of betrayal to the members of his own unit. Sledgehammer compared war to a disease or something insane that would forever rid him of the need to appear brave in the eyes of others. War left him with the feeling that his humanity had been degraded; thereafter his distaste for killing would cause him to give up a favored pastime of hunting.

Matterhorn, by Marine combat veteran Karl Marlantes, was the highlight of my summer reading. It is perhaps the best war novel I have ever read. Marlantes brings to the fore the pettiness of personal ambition and the psychological need to be a hero in battle, demonstrating that the consequences of self-serving motives in war lead to death so egregiously outside the bounds of honor that words fail to capture the angst that many readers of the novel are bound to feel. Reading Matterhorn is an emotionally exhausting experience, and even though the book is fiction, it may result in letting some air out of the war- mongering rhetoric so common among people who have never experienced war first-hand.

Bao Ninh, a North Vietnamese soldier and author of the award-winning The Sorrow of War, was one of only 10 survivors of what had been a brigade of 500 men. Although the major thrust of his novel is to focus on the devastating effect that war has on human relationships, Ninh tells of unforgettable, earth-shattering carnage in an area he and his fellow soldiers called the Jungle of Screaming Souls. The sky rained arms, legs, and unrecognizable body parts as artillery shells burst around them, leaving the smell of flesh singed with napalm.

Sebastian Junger spent 15 months embedded with a U.S. Army platoon in eastern Afghanistan. In his account, simply titled War, he chronicles the feel of war in an uncommonly revealing examination of the psychological costs of combat. Junger shows the effects of battle fatigue on the psyches of individuals who, after spending so much time in what can only be described as full-throttle stress, get hooked on adrenalin rushes of the intensity that only war can satisfy. Yet, on another level, they learn to hate the very thing from which they derive purpose. The movie The Hurt Locker offers a clear demonstration of this phenomenon.

I understand, in part, what it’s like to get hooked on adrenalin from my experience as a police officer, so I can readily appreciate how veterans of extreme combat become psychological causalities, regardless of whose side is said to have won a war. Veterans of extreme combat experience a time warp in which the recent past is too painful to remember, while the future is degraded for the simple reason that they may not have one. This leaves an exaggerated present where hyper-vigilance is necessary just to stay alive. After a time, combat becomes vital to keep memories of the recent past in the past and the prospect of no future at bay, even though engaging in combat is a great risk. And thus, it becomes an addictive cycle of needing the very thing one needs to escape.

Ernest Becker also pointed out, as have many others, that we humans can only bear so much reality. Posttraumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, would appear to be an overdose of reality. PTSD is an example of what happens when the security that we assume comes from the sanctuary of our culture is overwritten with a foreboding and unrelenting expectation of chaos, and once the psychological refuge is gone, it’s hard to recover. The tragic result is that the present suicide rate of American service men and women now rivals the number of casualties in actual combat.

In Bare Feet, Iron Will, James G. Zumwalt, a retired Marine infantry officer and son of Elmo R. Zumwalt (Commander Naval Forces Vietnam) writes about the tenacity and self-sacrifice of our former enemy, the North Vietnamese Army and of their legendary resourcefulness. Most Americans have no earthly idea what hardships the North Vietnamese experienced during the war (we dropped more bombs on North Vietnam than were used in the Pacific Theatre during all of World War II), but still they prevailed. Zumwalt’s book reveals something terribly important but missing from an American perspective: to all living Americans, war is something that happens elsewhere. With the exception of Pearl Harbor our collective memory of war on our shores died with the last veterans of the Civil War, which means that those in our midst who are quick to advocate war know little of what they speak.

The crisis of courage America has been experiencing since the war in Vietnam is due in no small part to the bellicose belligerence of individuals whose tough talk is both a conscious and subconscious effort to cover their own loss of face over having ducked out when their conscience told them they should do otherwise. (Although accusing some of these individuals of having a conscience may be too generous, others no doubt thought they were simply too good for war or too important.) If you are too young to be aware of the role that the above list of combat-shirkers has played in setting the tenor and tone of America’s foreign policy, a bit of googling will make it clear. In total, their collective influence is hard to overestimate, and their rhetorical contribution to the build-up to the war in Iraq in particular is more than enough to make the point.

If I felt guilty about not reenlisting during the peak of the Vietnam War, then you have to wonder what gnaws at the individuals who took whatever string-pulling actions were necessary to avoid combat without declaring a political stance against the war. Outspoken protest would have taken courage too. No, these people are courageous only when it comes to risking the lives of others but not their own, and they are still blowing smoke to compensate for their lack of valor.

Here is the psychological kicker: not to participate in a war thought by oneself to be just, is to give up one’s chance to be a hero. The Bill O’Reillys and Rush Limbaughs of the world are doomed to a submissive task like that of Sisyphus, but instead of pushing a boulder uphill they have to shout warrior-like bravado loud enough to drown out the roar of their own self-disgust for not stepping up when it was time to walk their talk. Now, it is their ill-fated ignominy to have to appear tough every time public discourse begins to touch on subjects that reveal weakness—weakness of any kind (recall the term feminazi?) because such discourse has the potential to reveal their hypocrisy in present-day conversation.

These people are amped up to talk war at the drop of a hat, and when they get together they frequently appear to try to up the ante of their daring. In late July 2010, for example, in a speech at an American Enterprise event, former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich advocated attacking Iran and North Korea to follow through on former President Bush’s Axis of Evil declaration. So, the real tragedy is not their lack of war-time contribution, but rather their perpetual bluster, because eagerness for war reveals a dark human weakness: war fever is contagious. War is a bonding mechanism like no other. It takes an extraordinary amount of courage and character to show restraint as nationalistic enthusiasm for war escalates into a frenzy of misguided patriotism.

A greater misfortune, however, is the fact that the general public does not see through war-mongering bluster for what it is: a desperate effort to distract attention and move the subject along while catching a metaphorical ride with war-talk on the heroism of people with whom they are unfit to be associated. Worse still, is the existentially heartbreaking thought that a psychological camouflage for the spinelessness of the chicken-hawks is the actual reason our troops are in Iraq today: to hide the shame of this splinter group of hypocrites eager for others to voluntarily sacrifice themselves in battle so that they may appear today as super-patriots instead of cowards.

The underlying psychological motivation of the hunt for “weapons of mass destruction” in Iraq was for all practical purposes an exercise of exhibiting pseudo-patriotism. The effort was most strongly championed by those with a need to turn the spotlight away from their own cowardice and to share in the heroism of real service men and women, as if their belated bravado would be of equal worth.

I believe the Iraq War will someday be considered one of the biggest blunders in the history of American foreign policy. That our combat troops have left Iraq is a hopeful step, but the economic and foreign policy fallout from our actions will take decades to unravel. Moreover, the iron will of the North Vietnamese is a lesson for Afghanistan because any culture capable of demonstrating a strong sense of honor will likely never submit to a forceful occupation in their homeland. They will resist longer than we are prepared to persist simply because they are home while our troops rotate. The French learned this in Vietnam, as did some of us Americans, while many others obviously did not. The Russians learned the futility of occupation in Afghanistan while we looked on, and yet, despite all of our historical experience, we have shown little signs of understanding the psychology of war.

In an epigraph at the beginning of War, Sebastian Junger quotes Lord Moran in The Anatomy of Courage, where he writes, “By cowardice I do not mean fear. Cowardice ... is a label we reserve for something a man does. What passes through his mind is his own affair.”

Oh, if only it were true, for surely what passes through their mouths has weighed on their minds.


Archive


September University: Summoning Passion for an Unfinished Life is available from Amazon. Click on the title.

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Charles' forthcoming book Existential Aspirations: Reflections of a Self-Taught Philosopher is available at Amazon, the release date is September 1st 2010. 

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Existential Aspirations



Deliver Us from Ignorance: Freedom’s Higher Meaning
© Charles D. Hayes

First, the bad news: Throughout history a succession of serious philosophers have reminded us that life is a dead-end journey in which everything good is fleeting. A trajectory of entropy ensures that the elation we experience in life is really an illusion, and that time will ultimately cure us of this fantasy. It’s pessimistic and sad but technically irrefutable. We are all going to die—sooner than most of us would like to admit—and someday, without fail, everything we have created will perish without a trace.

Existential psychology reveals that many of us use the concept of freedom as a distraction from the dread of oblivion. This preoccupation is so wrapped up with our sense of identity that parsing the two can be difficult. The good news is that if we can simply come to grips with the bad news without blaming others for our existential anxiety, then facing this poignant certainty can add direction and greater meaning to our lives.

Think of it this way: Near the center of human concern is a black hole of negativity, and the inevitability of nonexistence is at its core. Only through awareness, existential honesty, and good will can we keep this insatiable force from draining away our humanity. As we age, the black hole’s gravity pulls us ever nearer, while the most fearful among us tend to react by trying to change the subject or lashing out at others.

Physicists tell us that the most omnipresent material in the universe is something we can’t even see: dark matter. We don’t even know what it does, although there’s a possibility that it holds everything together. In society, we also have something that functions as a universal backdrop. Society’s dark matter is an emotional background of angst and aspiration. It’s both ill will and good will. We can’t see it, but we all know it’s there; it’s everywhere. Anxiety and aspiration are like matter and antimatter. The anxiety emits cultural bias, a strain of attitude, that forms a milieu of invisible but projected contempt and prejudice which is felt as stigma by those targeted. The aspiration is the force of creativity found in science and the arts and spurred on by kindness, civility, and appeals for justice and equality.

Societal dark matter ranges from the noble aspirations of the humanities to malignancies of genocidal hatred—it can bring us together or tear us apart. Considering what research in psychology has revealed about human behavior, we should be willing to allow for the possibility that society’s dark-matter angst is, to some extent, misspent anxiety—a rejoinder against life’s brevity. Better to align with the aspirational forces, in hopeful efforts not only to make the best of the time we have, but also to be grateful for having had the opportunity.

The certitude of impending death has a psychologically distressing effect on us, both consciously and subconsciously. Unfortunately, the angst that naturally follows can lead to war. Too many lives are cut short because we lack understanding about freedom’s association with our sense of identity.

What is your definition of freedom? If a person is free to go anywhere, for any reason, at any time, but can’t earn enough money to rise above abject poverty, is that person really free? In underdeveloped countries, are people who live in trash heaps free? After all, as is often said in America, anyone has the right to sleep under a bridge, the rich included, although the rich seldom take advantage of the opportunity. If people can’t quit their low-paying jobs for fear of losing their health insurance, are they free? What about individuals who are so inhibited by what others might think of them they never do anything they really want to do, but instead restrict their life choices to only those acts that they believe will gain them social approval? Are such people really free? How about the groups with which we identify—have you ever considered how they might influence our idea of freedom?

There is a mountain of research to support the notion that our respective cultures serve as psychological safe havens, sheltering us from existential angst and anxiety. As soon as we come to realize that our parents are not omnipotent and cannot save us from the inevitability of nonexistence, we begin to invest our psychological good will in our culture and especially the groups we associate with. Geography shapes our views by shaping our language, evidence the differences in geographical dialect. We seem to know intuitively that the groups we associate with will serve both as distractions and shelters from the distress that is sure to come from facing life’s chaotic complexities.

The inevitability of oblivion can’t be changed, so the mistaken but seemingly most comforting thing to do about it is to change the subject. Counterintuitive as it seems, however, confronting death has been shown to greatly enhance one’s appreciation for life. Nevertheless, even if we know this, we invest so much of ourselves in our culture that it becomes a big part of our identity. We are temporary, whereas our culture can go on for centuries. Consequently, we can become so wrapped up in our factional uniqueness that when our group identity is threatened, we take the threat personally.

For us to die as individuals is one thing, but it’s quite another for our kind to cease to exist. This existential sensibility is often expressed as threats to one’s freedom, but more often than not, it’s not about freedom at all—it’s about otherness masquerading as an obstacle to freedom. It’s almost as if the very fact of another’s existence keeps one from being free to be oneself. Think, for example, of all of the instances of homophobic individuals we’ve heard complaining about having homosexuality “in their face,” so to speak. The experience is frightening to them because overt otherness is related to change; psychologically, otherness turns out to be death’s cousin.

Moreover, the presence of what seem to be extreme cultural differences presupposes the possibility that one’s beliefs, customs, and most cherished ideals could be wrong. For most of us, this possibility is consciously disturbing, but for some, it’s subconsciously terrifying. The prospect of reaching adulthood, especially the fall and winter of life, and discovering suddenly that one’s foundational assumptions about the world are egregiously in error may be one of the most psychologically threatening things that can happen to a person. For someone who harbors deep emotional fears about the certitude of nonexistence, such a discovery could mean having to admit that one’s whole life amounts to little more than a mistake. The common reaction is to dig in and stand one’s ideological ground.

Our metaphor that blood is thicker than water is a truism, but many other kinds of associations can also trump our moral ideas about right and wrong. It’s not uncommon that we forgive our group members for most of their transgressions and hold those of our enemies against them for eternity. Any group who perceives their identity is under attack experiences feelings of being marginalized (and marginalization is metaphorically akin to death by degree), whether they are young, old, male, female, black, white, liberal, conservative, or any other defining distinction. If one’s sense of identity is diminished in any way, the effect is a subtle reminder of demise.

My point is profoundly important but seldom acknowledged publicly: at the heart of human anxiety about the essence of freedom is the reality that we can never be free of the thing we fear most—death. Clinging to beliefs and to one’s group identity may offer temporary solace, but ultimately it is not a satisfying refuge. On the contrary, it exacerbates fear while it spawns contempt as a defensive reflex. Further, the psychological conflict resulting from a diverse range of opinions and feelings about religious faith within our culture ratchets up group animosity to the level where it becomes commonplace for individuals to give voice to expressions of hatred in public; rage masks real fears, and contempt serves as a bonding mechanism for intensifying group affiliation.

Today’s Tea Partiers are a conspicuous assemblage incurring serious existential angst over their tenuous grip on their sense of identity. A New York Times poll recently suggested that those who self-identify as Tea Partiers earn more than most people do on average and that they are better educated. I can believe the former but not the latter. Better educated by what standard and by whose measurement? Mind you, this was a poll, so I wouldn’t expect people unaware of their ignorance to do anything other than exaggerate their level of education. Tea Partiers are anxious about their sense of identity and their economic security, and they have good reason for worry about the second point.

The purposeful middle class enabled by progressive tax policies both before and immediately after World War II has been eviscerated by special interests and by the Republican Party in particular. Whereas a half-century ago almost any “white” adult male could get a full-time job and earn enough money to support a family, today even an advanced technical education guarantees neither employment nor a living wage. Many white- and blue- collar communities have been ravaged by home foreclosures, unemployment, and factory shutdowns, while crime is rampant and fear-mongering politicians increasingly point to others as the cause of this misfortune.

Illegal immigrants catch the brunt of this dark-matter animosity, while the fearful among us ignore the prosperity we enjoy from their back-breaking efforts in America’s farms, factories, and fields, performing jobs shunned by the general public. Hispanic immigrants are only the latest to garner such attention. Throughout American history there has never been a shortage of out-groups to absorb contempt-driven wrath for their overt otherness; they pose an existential threat in the minds of the general populace. In Arizona, for example, the crime rate has dropped appreciably in recent years, while the fearful unease of the middle class has escalated into a kind of paranoia, proportionately out of touch with the current reality. In the meantime, the political power to be gained by politicians in fanning the flames of public sentiment is so great that there is little chance for achieving a reasonable solution to the problem of illegal immigration.

Lots of people are deeply worried because the president of the United States is of mixed race. He’s perceived by many as being a foreigner. He’s not of their group, and he speaks constantly of change. Even the fact that he is an eloquent speaker is used as evidence that he is not a regular guy, but is instead an elitist and a liberal to boot. People who can’t relate to him consider his presidency illegitimate, and hence the incessant complaints by those who have come to be known as birthers.

A significant number of people who call themselves Tea Partiers may earn above-average incomes and they may be technically literate in their career fields, but they are egregiously ignorant of the knowledge that serves as our aspirational guide toward civilization and helps us to mitigate our worst instincts. Tea Partiers see their way of life as coming apart at the seams, and they are desperate to simplify their predicament by finding someone to blame. They claim to want to put things right again and thus regain their freedom or “take back our country,” as they often describe it. This freedom, however, is not so much to do as they please as to not be reminded of their existential fears by the overt presence of othernesss. Tea Party pronouncements of what must be done to set the ship of state afloat show utter disregard for the conditions that find us run aground in deficit spending. They tout remedies that bear no relation to a realistic approach for solving our current problems without throwing the country into a severe economic depression worse than the 1930s.

Listen closely as Sarah Palin stands before a crowd and asks, “Do you love your freedom?” and it’s easy to discern that it’s not freedom but identity she’s talking about. Freedom, as Timothy Ferris explains in The Science of Liberty, is a product of liberalism. He says, “Liberalism is inherently nonpartisan: It means freedom for all, or it means nothing at all. It maintains that everyone benefits from everyone’s freedom, and that all are diminished whenever one individual or group is not free.” But this is not how Palin characterizes freedom. Practically everything she has to say about the subject is couched in dogmatic terms. Her rhetoric is all us and them, and liberalism—or the freedom to do other than her group advocates— is precisely what she decries. Railing against mandatory health insurance is not about the freedom to go without coverage; it’s about a surplus of social contempt aimed at people who are thought not to deserve health care because of their beliefs and moral shortcomings.

America is suffering an anemic economy, high unemployment, underemployment, skyrocketing debt, the threat of fanatical terrorists, and the effects of global warming, and yet, our undoing is more likely to come from ignorance or perhaps, more specifically, from a sad misunderstanding about the essence of personal identity and how our existential fears get tangled up with the notion of freedom. In other words, we may self-destruct because of spite. We are drowning in misinformation, and the shrillness of Palin’s voice serves as a metaphor for an identity-based politics that is blind to reasoned negotiation in favor of an in-group ethos that says, “If you are not one of us, then it doesn’t matter what you do, or what you say, because we are right by nature of who we are.”

One can’t reason with Palin supporters because they believe themselves to be locked into an emotional battle of good and evil, and those who do not belong to their group have no legitimate platform from which to present an argument. If you belong to Palin’s constituency you can say or do anything with impunity, as she so often demonstrates. If you don’t belong, however, then you can do nothing right, regardless of the circumstances or the nature of your argument or contribution.

There is no way to say this with decorum: Tea Party politics, to a significant degree, are driven by ignorance dressed up as patriotism and nonsense about preserving the Constitution. At the same time, as I’ve already said, it’s not as if the Tea Party’s arguments have no validity. There are clearly a lot of things to be upset about. But the current shrill rhetoric of public ire is being orchestrated by political ideologues and media pundits, who depend on public outrage for audience share—a situation that’s antithetical to the sound judgment needed to sustain democracy.

Tea Party mania is not about freedom, it’s about not being able to relate to the president personally. Barack Obama’s presidency is thought to be illegitimate, just as George W. Bush’s presidency was by people who could not relate to him. And all one has to do to affirm this assertion is let the majority of Tea Partiers explain themselves and prove for certain that they suffer from a MRSA-like form of ignorance. There is nothing new in the problems they complain about. The previous Bush administration brought us to the very edge of the economic abyss, and the Tea activists have been way late in paying attention and speaking up. But not for their inattention to the matters they are now up in arms about, we wouldn’t be in such a mess. By and large, the Tea Party movement to take the country back is not about freedom or the Constitution; it’s about identity and the existential angst that comes with the territory of human mortality.

Only a quarter of our population is college educated. Of this quarter, many are well educated in the technical discipline of their chosen career field, but they are fundamentally uninformed of the many aspects of the humanities that function to keep us above the fray of political pettiness and moral collapse. We don’t rely on the humanities for our personal sense of morality; that’s something science reveals may be inborn and partly due to our upbringing. But in a broader sense, the humanities keep our nation’s “eyes on the prize,” so to speak, and help us resolve complex moral issues. The humanities represent a guide to a just society as expressed aspirationally in the Declaration of Independence, our Constitution, and the Bill of Rights. When contempt born of petty politics becomes the dominant consciousness of the day, we desperately need the wisdom of the ages, and we need to keep our eyes and our thoughts on those things that appeal to our better nature. In other words, we need the guidance of the wisest among us, both living and dead.

In my forthcoming book, Existential Aspirations: Reflections of a Self-Taught Philosopher, I propose that what we need desperately as a culture is an existential education. The humanities cannot be considered elective educational subjects unless we set out to be inhuman. This is not, however, just an American problem. In advocating a Socratic method of education in Not for Profit: Why Democracy Needs the Humanities, Martha Nussbaum writes, “Democracies all over the world are undervaluing, and consequently neglecting, skills that we all badly need to keep democracies vital, respectful, and accountable.” Indeed, how do we do this if we can’t even be realistic about the source of our own existential anxieties?

A noteworthy number of our citizens have always maintained an anti-intellectual life stance, disparaging the need to learn more about very things that make our lives possible. My own father, when he was alive, would have stomped off cursing under his breath at the mere mention of the word intellect or intellectual in any sentence, no matter how it was used. I grew up under a veil of ignorance as part of a southern anti-intellectual culture, and I know firsthand how psychologically debilitating it can be. But these days, in light of what recent research in psychology and neurology reveals about our political behavior, ranting about one’s political opposition as being the incarnation of evil is like trying to pursue vacuum-tube computing in the age of digital formatting. That so little is known by the public at large about issues so crucial to understanding human relations is disappointing beyond expression.

In an earlier essay about Tea Party political angst, I quoted Shankar Vedantam in his fascinating book, The Hidden Brain, where he argues that beneath human consciousness resides an “unconscious bias” whose job is to enable us to “leap to conclusions.” This may well be the understatement of the decade. How else can we explain the fact that so many of our citizens argue passionately about subjects they clearly know nothing about? Worse, how can a person attend four years of college and escape an education, as Palin clearly demonstrates? She is not inhibited by her lack of knowledge; to the contrary, she is driven by it, proud of it even. As the saying goes, “the fewer the facts, the stronger the opinion.” But where does the arrogance come from that causes people to rant about subjects that they have knowledge of only through hearsay, Internet gossip, and Rush Limbaugh dittos? What causes systemically oppressed people to associate their economically downward trajectory with a lack of freedom instead of the sleight-of-hand, special-interest-lobby manipulation that is likely the cause?

We don’t need extensive formal education to tell us that things are not as they appear. We experience this daily. Most everything we take the time to look into turns out to surprise us. And yet, there are hundreds, thousands, even millions of sign-carrying protestors who, when asked a few questions, will reveal that they clearly do not understand the complexity of the issue they are protesting about. Worse still, they will repeatedly and without fail bite at the stick instead of the hand that holds it. They will point fingers at people even more economically marginalized than themselves as being the problem for their plight instead of at the people with string-pulling power over the economy.

We do know that hatred feeds off its own misspent surplus of angst, which is itself fueled by ignorance. But how is it possible to continue living this way when there is so much evidence demonstrating how destructive it is to invest hate- filled emotion into political conflict, call it democracy, and then argue incessantly about things without seriously studying them? Why do we scramble to run a democracy fueled mostly by contempt instead of our higher aspirations?

For some levity, I picked up Idiot America by Charles P. Pierce and Deer Hunting with Jesus by Joe Bageant. The books are both humorous and serious about the malignant nature of ignorance. Pierce says the rise of idiot America amounts to a war on expertise and claims America is the best country in the world for crackpots and public cranks, in part because our country was founded on untested ideas. No argument from me. But I would point out, as many others have, that it takes a lot more effort and ingenuity to maintain a democracy than to start one, and we are coming up short on intellectual effort to do so. Pierce says, “Anything can be true if someone says it loudly enough,” and that it’s common for people to infer that fervent belief is proof of truth. Sarah Palin is an archetype of this phenomenon.

Pierce argues that the terrorist acts of September 11 have acted as an accelerant for public lunacy, from the X—Files to the “torture porn” by Kiefer Sutherland’s character on television’s 24 series. He reminds us that America “was founded by people who considered self-government no less a science than botany.” And yet, these days we find placard-wielding Tea Partiers who can’t name the three branches of government, who don’t know that Medicare is a government program, and who think President Obama is going to take away their guns and put a stop to sport fishing in America.

The hilarity of Joe Bageant’s Deer Hunting with Jesus is offset by its deeper message about the utterly debilitating, destructive nature of ignorance. Bageant’s book is centered on his hometown of Winchester, Virginia, a place he characterizes as fast becoming the bedrock of a permanent underclass. He tells us that our country is three-quarters working class but that most of us are conditioned not to think of ourselves as such. With a flair for making the issue of class ring out, Bageant writes, “If your high-school-dropout daddy busted his ass for small bucks and never read a book and your mama was a waitress, chances are you are not going to grow up to be president of the United States, regardless of what your teacher told you.” From here he gets into the mud and the blood and the beer and the sheer hopelessness of so many uneducated but well-meaning people locked into a merciless feedback loop of lashing out about the wrong things for the wrong reasons. A self-described lefty agitator, Bageant was writing about the angst that fuels Tea Party sentiment long before there was a Tea Party. He identifies the time-worn but dependable tools of the political right: propaganda, ignorance, fear, and emotion as a substitute for thought.

If you really want to understand our current knowledge deficit, I highly recommend Susan Jacoby’s book, The Age of American Unreason. Jacoby puts our predicament in historical perspective. She characterizes the early nineteenth-century lyceum movement through the early 1960s as a culture of aspiration. But today, Jacoby points out, we increasingly find ourselves in a culture ill with a “mutant strain of intertwined ignorance, anti-rationalism and anti-intellectualism” where un-mindfulness is promoted by politicians and media executives who depend upon non-thinking voters and vacuous sound bites.

In his essay “Compensation,” Ralph Waldo Emerson reminds us that, contrary to popular belief, we do experience justice in this world—and not the next—through the simple rules of cause and effect. “Every sweet hath its sour,” he says, and elsewhere, “All infractions of love and equity in our social relations are speedily punished. They are punished by fear.” Finally, “A man cannot speak but he judges himself.” Carry around nonsensical signs that ring of hatred if you must, but first try hard to figure out what they really mean and what you are really afraid of. If you don’t, the injury will be to yourself.

In their book The Spirit Level: Why Greater Equality Makes Societies Stronger, Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett offer thirty years of well-documented research removing all doubt that growing inequality leads to contempt on steroids. In other words, inequality results in an exponential increase in the range of angst in our cultural dark matter. They write, “The problems in rich countries are not caused by the society not being rich enough (or even by being too rich) but by the scale of material differences between people within each society being too big. What matters is where we stand in relation to others in our own society.” To which I will add that a failure to understand how our unconscious fears lead us to disdain otherness is an existential booby trap and an emotional cul-de-sac that often results in social catastrophe.

Socrates declared that “the unexamined life is not worth living.” I have always thought he overstated the case. But if he had made an equal argument about the need for exploring the fears born of our mortality, then there would be no objection from me. Had he done so, he might have saved countless numbers of people from an early death by enabling them to come to terms with their own existential angst, instead of attempting to take it out on others. Of course, Socrates was disadvantaged. He knew the human race is heavily populated with fools, but he didn’t know that our bicameral minds, with their split-brain architecture, enable us to park our fears in one hemisphere with only a vague awareness of it in the other. This arrangement sets us up with a pattern-matching capability to make inferences that will allow us to mask our real concerns by focusing on small problems as substitutes for big ones, and the process haunts us with smoldering anxiety.

In the final analysis, the notion of freedom will always be tainted by the reality that there are some fears that we can never fully free ourselves of, and that we need desperately to learn to live without avoiding our fears through the seductiveness of distraction, diversion, and targeted blame. Emerson said, “All things are moral.” He also reminds us that no view of life is valid if it omits life’s harshness. Indeed, in spite of centuries of avoiding the subject of mortality, embracing it head-on is a shortcut to experiencing freedom as an aspiration of authenticity and an acknowledgment that genuine freedom is experienced in a life free of the angst of ignorance and the bias and pettiness of contempt. By all means let’s get on with a Tea Party political discussion, but first put down your nonsensical signs and do your homework.

Having spent my formative years in the grip of a regional ideological illusion, I can relate to George Bernard Shaw’s illuminating line from Caesar and Cleopatra, “Pardon him, Theodotus: he is a barbarian, and thinks that the customs of his tribe and island are the laws of nature.” It takes a sustained intellectual effort to get beyond the self-justifying parochial worldviews we internalize growing up. But until we do, we can make no claims on having understood the concept of freedom or the psychological fears that, without our awareness, can serve as little more than a refuge of ignorance and as bastions of contempt.

The subject of freedom deserves serious study in its own right, but for starters it should not be confused with the notion of identity and as an escape from the existential reality that is part and parcel of being mortal. So, I suspect that if Shaw were here nowadays to hear Sarah Palin ask an audience if they love their freedom, he would say, “Pardon her, Theodotus, for she is from Wasilla.” But then, what can I say? So am I.


 September University: Summoning Passion for an Unfinished Life is available from Amazon at discount. Click on the title.

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Charles' forthcoming book Existential Aspirations: Reflections of a Self-Taught Philosopher is available for pre-order at Amazon, the release date is September 1st 2010. 

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Existential Aspirations


Coffee Time: Reason, Bigotry, and Tea Party Angst
© Charles D. Hayes

Remember the movie Cool Hand Luke, where the prison warden tells Paul Newman and his fellow prisoners, “What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate”? Well, I’m going to go out on a politically incorrect limb and argue that when it comes to the Tea Party movement, what we have here is a failure to keep up with current knowledge about human behavior—especially when it comes to politics. It’s time to introduce some fresh, strong coffee where tea is being served.

During the past two decades, a groundswell of research in psychology and neuroscience has begun to turn our long-held views about human character on their head. In 1999, in a groundbreaking book titled Philosophy in the Flesh, George Lakoff and Mark Johnson put it like this: “We’re not who we thought we were. What we do is not what we thought we were doing.” But if that’s the case, then who are we? Keep this question in mind as you read.

Unfortunately the aggregate of innovative research has yet to become conventional wisdom, but it is rapidly approaching a critical mass that, in my view, will someday result in a paradigm shift in the way we think about human character and the whole concept of virtue and morality. Lakoff and Johnson explain that reason is not a disembodied experience as it seems, but is instead shaped by the body. For a telling example, a University of Amsterdam study revealed that people are apt to lean forward when thinking about the future and lean backward when thinking about the past. Reason, as Lakoff and Johnson make clear, is largely an unconscious function that arises from bodily experience. It is not at all dispassionate, but is instead emotionally engaged; it does not use a literal methodology of discerning truth but rather relies on metaphor.

We understand one thing from having understood another, imprecisely, so to speak. It turns out that emotion is an essential ingredient of reasoning. For an analogy, consider that a two-cycle chainsaw engine requires a precise mixture of both oil and gasoline to operate. Similarly, humans require a precise mixture of reason and emotion to function well, and yet we depend upon, and in fact routinely operate with, wildly different mixture ratios of the kind that could ruin a good chainsaw.       

Since the period known as the Enlightenment, we Homo sapiens have, for the most part, imagined ourselves to be reasonable, rational creatures, who assess situations analytically, think computationally, and act pragmatically. Moreover, we were taught to believe that our character as individuals is like a container of virtues whose integrity depends on those virtues being used consistently. This is how most of us were raised to think of ourselves and others. Current research, however, shows that when we actually examine the way we behave, this view is nonsense. We are far more influenced by emotions than we ever imagined possible, and we often mistake strong emotion for reason simply because it feels so right and so urgent that we do so. It turns out that the consistency of our penchant for virtuous behavior depends far more on the context of the circumstances at hand than any other consideration.

In Experiments in Ethics, for example, philosopher Kwame Anthony Appiah writes about how seminary students who were told they were running late were much less likely to stop and aid someone in actual need of a Good Samaritan. He cites experiments where individuals are more likely to get change for a dollar from strangers if they ask for it standing outside of a bakery with fragrant aromas. People who dropped papers outside a phone booth were more likely to get help picking them up if the person in a position to help had just found a coin left by someone in the coin slot. Elsewhere I’ve read studies showing that judges in criminal court will impose stricter sentences if they are in some way reminded of their own impending death while they are deliberating; they are more likely to be persuaded to go with the majority if they are on a panel of judges. Recent research at Yale suggests that the temperature of our coffee can influence our estimations about the personal warmth of individuals. Studies at Stanford University, meanwhile, show that African Americans with stereotypically darker than average skin color are more than twice as likely to receive the death penalty in capital murder cases.   

During the past decade we’ve seen too many examples of this kind of behavioral experiment to list. Some seem silly, but the lessons are both simple and profound: change the context, gender, or race of the individuals involved, and you can expect changes in behavior that defy our ideals about possessing and applying virtue and unbiased judgment. It’s disturbing that changes in context can be so banal and still be relevant. Knowing that when circumstances are contrived and slightly altered our behavior is largely predictable is at best disappointing. The evidence suggests that we are much more reflexive than reflective when it comes to morality, and this in turn means that most of the discussions we have about human character are unproductive. In other words, we have been arguing for generations about a subject we haven’t understood well enough to discuss intelligently.   

Likewise, we have been taught to deplore bias, unaware that it’s a survival mechanism. Without our propensity for bias, our species would very likely have perished long ago. We need to understand how bias works to have any hope of addressing it rationally. In America these days, we find it disturbing when little boys and girls of any race are given pictures of black faces and white faces and subsequently show a preference for the white faces, associating them with more positive attributes than the black faces. Yes, this is disturbing, but it is also extremely instructive. What brain science reveals is that our pattern-matching brains are ever on the alert for pegging reality for the sake of our continued well-being.

We are equipped with an unconscious cerebral feature that acts sort of like our personal accountant; it’s a reality checker, so to speak. The accountant takes in lots of information, everything really, and keeps a hard tally, albeit one that exists in large part beneath consciousness. This part of our gray matter is what Shankar Vedantam describes in his fascinating book The Hidden Brain, as an “unconscious bias” whose job is to enable us to “leap to conclusions.” If most of the people one sees on television are white, and most of the people in power are white too, then the accountant knows that this is the case. She takes in everything, but she keeps quiet about it, until a situation arises that requires an intuitive nudge. It’s her job to look out for us. Her conscious counterpart is politically biased left or right, to be sure, and her take on realty is dependent upon a complex set of spatially entangled metaphors that Lakoff and Johnson describe brilliantly. But it’s also her job to see that we are not surprised by situations that will find us unable to act in accordance with the way things actually are, instead of as we wish the world to be. Thus, the underlying urge to conform sometimes overpowers what we consciously understand is the right thing to do.

Not only does our accountant notice the big things that occur around us, she also is hypervigilant for the subtle looks and expressions that betray what others are really feeling but are not saying. She senses the bias in others with astounding perceptual ability, but she usually keeps what she learns to herself. She’ll speak to us of it only when she thinks it’s necessary, not in words, but in intuitive feelings or in dispositional nudges that tend to feel very much like common sense. The evidence that we are so heavily influenced by many things we’re unaware of is everywhere, says Vedantam, and society pays an enormous price for our inattention to matters of such great importance.  

The deep diligence of personal accountants at large in a society that’s far out of kilter in terms of economic inequality is why affirmative action is still necessary to bring about levels of equity that do not reflect advantages for one race over another. Until the reality of bias negatively affecting African Americans and other minorities ceases to exist, something has to be done to keep the unconscious accountant from forcing the reality of conditions into alignment with the way she perceives they are supposed to be. She’s not mad at anybody; she’s just doing her job in accordance with her wiring. She will act when she thinks she needs to by metaphorically kicking a decision maker under the table, steering someone toward the resume of the white applicant, for example, without letting on to the person’s conscious mind that that is indeed what is happening. She is so good at this sort of thing that we will rarely ever need to consciously acknowledge the piece of data, no matter how flimsy or insignificant it might be, that she brings to our mind to provide a convincing rationale for showing racial preference. Vedantam says, “The hidden brain is insidious not because it whacks us on the back of the head but because it places the tiniest of fingers on our inner scales.”

In spite of the fact that this unconscious but consistent discrimination is statistically provable beyond doubt, it’s very nearly impossible to get the people doing the discriminating to believe that they are, indeed, guilty of it. No real malice is necessarily involved in this kind of discrimination. Declarations that one is unbiased are more often than not sincerely felt, but they come from people generally unaware that they have an unconscious accountant working 24/7 on their behalf. That’s how our brains help to ensure our survival; it’s the software that comes with the hardware of experience, programmed through thousands of generations when the times were often met by plague and scarcity, and when differences represented the cutoff point for dividing bounty. For millennia, differences raised suspicion, and our still-active but primitive detection apparatus is expert at discerning them.

There is much discussion about celebrating our differences, but I will argue that most of our subconscious accountants don’t buy it, even when we think that we do, especially when resources of any kind become scarce or hard to come by. As notable differences increase exponentially, our hostilities escalate over the possibility of having to share our largesse with those who we are inclined to suspect don’t deserve it because they are not in our group. And while we may not consciously seem to care much about these kinds of issues, our accountants, under the right conditions, are prepared to make a big fuss about it through skyrocketing anxiety, especially if we are goaded by members of our own group to fear that we are not getting our share of whatever it is that is to be had.    

Up to now I have been addressing the issue of racial bias as an unconscious artifact, as something that Americans are trying to get beyond. But there is another aspect of bias in which the “tiniest of fingers on our inner scales” won’t apply. This is consciousness: the flip side of the unconscious mind and what we generally refer to as conviction. When strong conviction takes the place of reason, it can easily turn politics into hatred. To be effective and just, political discourse requires affection for and an adherence to the better argument, but when the engagement is emotionally driven, it defaults easily into baseless assertions and goes downhill from there.

Conviction and expectation frequently switch roles, fueling and warping judgment by upping the ante of sentiment, and overriding one’s ability to reason. Moreover, if the conviction is powerful enough, it’s likely that the conscious and unconscious minds will be united in agreement; hatred relies on both. Not many years ago, for example, there existed a cultural bias so ubiquitous and so powerful that most homosexuals were homophobic. What does this tell us? Our culturally learned expectations can be so dominant in influencing us that, in effect, we see what we expect to see, taste what we expect to taste, and feel what we expect to feel. In his book How We Decide, Jonah Lehrer explains that this sense of anticipation is what drives the placebo effect. Further still, it’s what turns abused children into child abusers. 

I grew up in Oklahoma and Texas during the 1940s and ’50s, a time when my metaphor of unconscious accountants appears pathetically naive. Make no mistake, there are still deep pockets in the United States where overt racism is alive and well and where there need be no pretentiousness about whether bias is conscious or subconscious. Moreover, as Michelle Alexander’s research shows in her book The New Jim Crow, many of our claims about overcoming racism are more apparent than real because correctional department statistics tell us otherwise.

Fortunately, though, many of us have set our unconscious accounts straight about racial injustice and lingering inequality. I know from personal experience that this is possible with hard work and rigorous thought, but it’s nearly impossible without serious introspection and a bold look at the reality of the way we act, not how we think we act, with regard to perceptions of otherness. In other words, we must remain alert. Vedantam puts it this way: “If the conscious mind is the pilot and the hidden brain is the autopilot on a plane, the pilot can always overrule the autopilot, except when the pilot is not paying attention.”   

Now, the fact that we have noble theories, expectations, and aspirations about human character is not a bad thing. In fact, more than being an admirable trait, it’s also something we must aim to achieve with greater success in the future. But, unless and until we fully understand the theories about how our actual behavior does or does not square with what we say, we have little chance of living up to our ideals. We need to recognize how changes in context affect our decision-making processes. We need to fully understand and appreciate the differences between reasoning and relating.

When we relate to another person, we achieve a bond of association that may in the future be considered more important than any other issue that tries to get in the way. In the context of disagreements about political matters, I use the term relating to describe how those engaged in the argument deflect opposing ideas from others by aligning with the views of their own respective group as a distraction. Reasoning, a more rational faculty, is computational but also something we feel viscerally. Reasoning can quickly turn into a posture of relating, however, when our hot-button emotions are triggered. When this happens, we shift from thinking with our critical reasoning abilities to an overwhelming experience of feeling wherein our group identity stands in for our reasoning processes, and a flood of emotion acts as a protector or defender of our identity. This cripples our ability to negotiate political differences objectively because it so often occurs without our awareness and it keeps us from listening to any views except our own. Simply put, embodied reason, because it is embodied, can, when push comes to shove, morph into relating, and if we are not hyperaware of this tendency, we cannot guard against it.

The premise of reasoning versus relating is easier to understand when you realize that there is also a physical component to relating. Think back to the last time you were in a group meeting and you noticed people sitting around the table mimicking one another’s body language. Reasoning and relating would seem to be two extremes of one process that can turn instantly into becoming one or the other with the swiftness of an on/off switch. 

We need to fully realize how our inherent tendencies for tribal relating are exacerbated by our idealized aspirations for democracy, because sharing power through reasoned mediation goes against the grain of our behavioral inclinations. These conflicting forces are further complicated by the fact that very successful celebrities, ministers, and politicians have the kind of charisma that inspires relating over reasoning; they are continuously stirring the pot of public opinion, often simply to gain their own personal advantage.   

Relating in and of itself is not something to avoid. This is, after all, in large part, the biological software that enables us to bond and form family and kin-like associations. The dangerous aspect of relating, however, is when it becomes a complete substitute for thought. Unfortunately, this happens easily and often, and when it does, it robs democracy of the very reasoning ability democracy requires to sustain itself. Democracy depends upon accepting the better argument; it cannot be sustained when driven by baseless assertions and accusations, or it will ultimately lead to fascism. Further, the phenomenon of relating explains why there are so many people among us who think themselves exempt from the rules that the rest of us are required to follow; they become accustomed to being related to instead of being held accountable for their shortcomings. The result is arrogance. The fact that Ronald Reagan was often referred to as the Teflon president was precisely because so many people identified with him.

Relating instead of reasoning is something neuroscience shows that we do when we encounter hot-button political issues and the discussion gets out of hand emotionally. Reasoning speaks for itself only if we realize how fragile it can be and how easily it can turn into relating. But when we relate, in effect, we deflect arguments counter to our own or ignore them altogether with a flood of emotion that feels exactly like reason because it is so powerful. Then we offer a passionate emotional response that is more of a reaction than an argument. When we relate to others politically, it’s not a stretch to say that we experience both a conscious and often deeply subconscious connection to them; it’s as though we view them as literally being one of us or, in the primeval sense, in our tribe. It’s as if our internal but unconscious accountants agree about the nature of reality. We’re bias buddies, so to speak.

When both religion and politics are shared among individuals, the connection deepens even further. Brain scans reveal that we humans relate to the idea of God precisely as we would to another individual, which has profound implications for society at large that beg further psychological exploration. Thus, relating is a very complex issue, but it is not so complicated that we can’t benefit from a better understanding of our predispositions for human relations. Say what you will about my brother, he is still my brother. The same kind of connected affiliation applies to members of the groups with which we identify, usually, but not always, to a lesser degree of attachment than with a sibling or family member. In any case, relating is relating is relating.  

Perhaps it’s partly because I live in Wasilla, Alaska, and partly because I’ve been an advocate for vigorous self-education for more than two decades, that I cringe with embarrassment when Sarah Palin spews forth Tea Party rhetoric in a public forum. But I understand why the people who relate to her don’t care about the accuracy, coherence, or the veracity of her claims. She is, after all, perceived as one of them, which is why her supporters are often oblivious to the validity of criticism of her. Their connection is instinctive; their subconscious accountants are soul mates, although I suspect their accountants frequently break through and communicate directly to their conscious awareness because strong feelings of righteousness have a way of forcing to the surface notions of superiority over others. The racist attitude of many Tea Partiers is readily apparent. Palin’s particular position on this or that issue doesn’t matter much, however, because the people who relate to her expect that in any given circumstance she will act as they would act.

When relating takes precedent over reasoning, democracy loses out to tribalism, and fundamentalism of any flavor is a clear declaration of the latter. Further, since charismatic individuals learn quickly that their constituents will not hold them accountable because of the relating factor, many of them self-destruct as they take their feeling of exemption from personal responsibility too seriously. Examples abound. 

Coffee, anyone?

Both liberals and conservatives choose relating over reasoning at times, but research shows that conservatives place much more value on in-group loyalty than liberals do. There is plenty of research data to back up this assertion; one doesn’t have to resort to anecdotal evidence of flag waving and lapel pens, although it’s hard not to notice such behavior. The Tea activists show special concern for fiscal responsibility, national security, personal freedom, and upholding the Constitution. These are valid concerns. But the party is nine years late. Hypocrisy is best served cold. Where was the outrage when the GOP ballooned the national debt into the stratosphere (taking pork while railing against it), when it advocated attacking a foreign country under false pretenses, violated the Constitution both in spirit and the letter of the law, and posed the biggest threat to the individual freedom of American citizens in a century? Where was the outrage when the Bush Administration let Wall Street lobbyists write the legislation that deregulated the world of high finance, effectively privatizing profits and socializing risk? Where was the outrage about the breach in national security that Ron Suskind writes about in The One Percent Doctrine, when in August of 2001, a CIA briefer flew to Texas to warn George W. Bush personally about a possible al-Qaeda attack on America, only to be told by a flippant Bush, “All right. You’ve covered your ass, now.” Too bad Bush didn’t cover ours, but he didn’t have to cover his own because the Tea Partiers of the future related to him as one of them.

Inherent in the ethos of over-relating is the ratcheting up of nationalism, which often manifests in a willingness to take up arms against someone—anyone convenient. Iraq turned out to be convenient for Bush because it let him show loyalty to his constituents and up the ante of bravado set by his own father, who took Saddam Hussein on but didn’t take him out.

Now, after one year of Obama’s presidency, the spending his administration has done in an attempt to get us out of this mess is said by the Tea Partiers to be the road to ruin and the end of freedom. It’s time for these folks to reach for a strong cup of java. Lots of us across the liberal-conservative span of politics don’t approve of the way the bailouts were handled, but we can understand the urgency to act and the danger of not doing so. Most of the people who would become Tea Partiers, however, gave Bush a pass on everything that is now all of a sudden DEFCON 1 important because they identified with him. Now that a political party is in power that they can’t relate to, the blame for the whole mess of the previous eight years is president Obama’s by default and with a vengeance. Sorry, but a generous serving of fresh roast is called for here.

I can identify with the Tea Partiers in a way that I suspect most of you reading this piece can’t. Three decades ago (before I began my own serious efforts of becoming self-educated), I would very likely have been a Tea Partier myself. I can still recall what it was like to reach adulthood without enough knowledge to think independently and overcome the bigotry and racism ubiquitous in the communities I grew up in. This is why I know firsthand that Tea Partiers represent the epitome of relating instead of reasoning. Watching and listening to most of them, I can see from their inability to articulate their concerns that they rarely do their homework, as I rarely did in those days, and that much of their anger stems from their incapacity to cope with lives far more complex than their education has prepared them to deal with. For critical thought they substitute what they hear from sources that confirm their worst fears. Right-wing radio-talk show hosts make a good living—an easy living—because it takes little effort to attract a following by scaring people with notions of otherness, when so many people are already fearful because of economic stress. So, it’s not surprising to hear the Tea Partiers described as the “mad as hell” people who are “not going to take it anymore.”

It has been widely reported by media pollsters that the majority of Tea Partiers think their taxes went up during the first year of the Obama Administration, when in reality, for 95 percent of Americans, taxes were lowered. A frequent observation is that Tea Partiers react negatively when their beliefs are threatened, but it’s more accurate to suggest that their angst occurs when they fear their identity is at risk. Their beliefs, after all, are interchangeable with their sense of identity—that’s the essence of relating. There are indeed some knowledgeable individuals in this group who do adhere to their ideological principles. But, for the most part, the Tea Partiers represent what might best be characterized as an anti-intellectual movement made up of people with too little knowledge of the issues that bedevil them to have any sense of objectivity about what they are angry about. It is far easier to substitute anger for knowledge, and there is also much to be angry about, regardless of which political party is in power. In a very real sense, our worldviews are like investments: the more stock we have in them, the more defensive we become of them when they are threatened. And when worldviews rest on baseless foundations, there is little choice but to substitute anger for articulation.

In his book Going to Extremes, Cass R. Sunstein argues that extremists can be very rational, but if they lack the knowledge necessary to have a rational discussion, and if what they do know is wrong, then their emotions will distort the issues at hand beyond redemption. And thus, in such circumstances the ill-informed rely on one another to validate what they think they already know while their group enthusiasm intensifies their self-induced angst.      

The quality of any democracy is completely dependent upon the education of its citizenry, and most of the Tea Partiers have little to offer us but their rage. Moreover, to the degree that this group is goaded and financed by special interest organizations to act out their umbrage, this movement amounts to orchestrated ignorance reminiscent of the Swift Boaters in the 2004 election. That we let this happen shames us all because these people I’m calling Tea Partiers are our mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, and neighbors. These are the people that in wartime we share foxholes with, without an iota of concern about their politics.

Conservative New York Times columnist David Brooks recently likened the political-right Tea Party movement to the activism of the left in the ’60s. Sorry, but a movement to stop a needless war is not on a parallel with angst orchestrated by fear mongers. Brooks can be an astute observer, but he often over-relates. In a later column called “The Emotion of Reform,” Brooks says there is something morally impressive about the passion of Democrats for health reform, but then he finds it interesting, if not somewhat puzzling, that they do not have similar zeal for aiding small business or addressing the deficit. I’m not surprised that he’s taken aback, but I do find it disappointing. Healthcare is, after all, for many people a life and death issue. And yet, practically every Sunday morning, on shows like This Week and Meet the Press, television pundits, who obviously don’t have problems with their own ability to afford medical insurance, fault the Obama administration for not focusing exclusively on creating jobs. Of course, this is all well and good, unless the absence of affordable healthcare means you can’t continue to live.

The ease with which the privileged use a stiff upper lip to dismiss millions of people without medical insurance coverage is breathtaking. Former Reagan speechwriter Peggy Noonan frequently gushes about this problem as if it’s a trivial issue. She keeps making the point that the only thing the Obama administration should be concerned with is the economy. That she can write so eloquently about American ideals and yet be so dismissive of the plight of all the citizens without health insurance is morally stupefying. There are good reasons for people to be passionate about healthcare. It’s an issue one can relate to and reason about at the same time without worrying about being irrelevant or inappropriate. Passion and reason can go together—that’s how human beings arrived at the notion of justice to begin with. But let’s not let reality corrupt the view. The past decade is worth another look.

In 2001, terrorists attacked the World Trade Center, killing nearly 3,000 Americans, and we began a $3 trillion- dollar war effort with no real end in sight. The Bush tax cuts that followed added another trillion dollars to the deficit. Then in 2007, greedy, incompetent, and criminally negligent capitalists dropped a couple more trillion in the subprime fiasco. Add that up and then consider that, according to Reuters, every month more than 3,000 Americans die quietly for a lack of affordable medical insurance. Yet when our citizens ask for help, the GOP responds by whining that we can’t afford it. Such a rejoinder is despicable, ethically indefensible, and egregiously un-American to anyone with the common decency to think it through.

In one respect, however, conservatives do have a lot to boast about. With the aid of talk radio in particular, they have accomplished the greatest single political feat in the past century. It’s more than a feat, it’s a coup worthy of great honors for effectiveness, and it simply amounts to this: they’ve turned economically marginal citizens into government haters, goading them into being vehemently against their only real means of protecting themselves from the abuses of a plutocracy. This is political jujitsu, disguising an opponent’s strength, not only as a weakness but as something to be despised. It’s relating dressed up as reason, but without foundation.

How is it possible to hate the very thing that your life depends on—that which our service men and women have fought and died for—and to still act as if democracy is something apart from and anathema to government? America was founded upon the idea that our rule is of, by, and for the people, that the size of our government is less important than its effectiveness, that to be effective it requires actively engaged citizens who will hold government to account with more intellectual vigor than spurious contempt. Henry David Thoreau was for small government, but he was more about better government through superior citizenship than he was an enemy of the system that made America possible. The cry for small government has become a mindless mantra by the same people who advocate vociferously for the world’s largest military, without noting the inherent oxymoronic contradiction in that objective and notwithstanding the fact that the military-industrial complex has become the tail that wags the dog.

Government bureaucracy is annoying precisely because of the gap of political agreement about what government is supposed to do. But government has no lock on bureaucracy, and it’s easier to hold government accountable than private corporations. Without a means of democratic intervention on their behalf, individuals up against the power of corporations and their legions of lobbyists are powerless. If you find this hard to believe, ask anyone whose health insurance has been canceled for arbitrary reasons when they needed it most.

Scaring vulnerable people is easy, as the GOP’s recent PowerPoint presentation in Florida demonstrates: make your constituents fearful of what you fear, and you won’t have to deal with it. Make the public fearful of President Obama, with posters portraying him as the Joker and a socialist, and there is no need for the GOP’s chief financial contributors to worry about forthcoming legislation reforming Wall Street. Scare the public sufficiently, and the connected rich can rest easy. Thus, the Tea Partiers bite the stick, instead of the hand that holds it.   

We have some of the finest universities and research facilities in the world, with legions of dedicated scientists and independent scholars striving to make better sense of human behavior. The authors cited in this essay are clear examples. And yet, with all of this compelling data coupled with the telecommunication technology of wizards, there is still no mechanism in place to bring this knowledge to the forefront of our political establishment. Would that we could use this knowledge to further our political interests as a nation dependent upon adopting the better argument, the better plan, regardless of who presents it, and stifle the childish behavior we witness daily in both houses of Congress.

When we invent a better machine, we build it and make it available to anyone who can put it to use. But when we accumulate a mountain of data based upon volumes of research that sheds new light on our human frailties and how our minds really operate, we have to be completely overwhelmed and practically drowned by it in order to take it seriously and put it to wide use. Or, as the line from Cool Hand Luke might go, “What we have here is a failure to educate.” Thus we stumble along, relating more often than reasoning.          

If one political party can abandon reasoning in favor of relating and can effectively demonize the other in the eyes of their constituents, then rational argument is not even deemed necessary to resolve their differences; relating is the only thing required. All they have to do, for example, is to refer to the others as liberals, which will be taken as enough said and which lets them off the hook for further thinking. This is politically convenient; it saves appreciable time in examining arguments, because all one has to do to dismiss an argument about any subject is to consider the source.

Moreover, when relating is enmeshed deeply in intellectual political ideology, the result can move the unconscious accountants operating among conservative Supreme Court justices. This is what happened with the Bush v. Gore ruling in 2000, and in the Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission campaign finance decision of January 2010, which freed corporations to spend unlimited funds in political campaigns under the pretense of free speech. The justices appointed by George W. Bush thereby became the very thing they said they would never be: judicial activists. Don’t just take my word for this; put on a pot of Folgers and compare the actions these Supreme Court justices took with what they are on the record as having said in their confirmation hearings. Relating is relating, and activism is activism, period.  

There are two apparent ways to overcome our propensity for relating and return to objective efforts to help restore the kind of democracy that offers a well-reasoned future. Unfortunately, the first usually occurs when we are threatened by a common enemy, as in all-out war. The second is far more desirable but decidedly harder to achieve because it requires flooding our unconscious accountants with thoughtfulness about the realities of human behavior. It calls for us to come together as citizens who care more about the future than we do about who is right or wrong, or about whose methodology we use to get there. It requires politicians who care more about the country’s future than their own political careers: the late William Proxmire comes to mind as an example. To achieve this kind of reasoning, we have to put relating aside, along with the detectable and deplorable hypocrisy that comes with justifying our primitive inclinations, and opt for the better argument.

If our current economic situation seems hopeless, consider this: In a recent Newsweek article titled “Defusing the Debt Bomb,” Fareed Zakaria argues that if we were to follow the example of more than 100 other countries and adopt a value-added or national sales tax of 25 percent, as others have done without slowing their economic growth, we could balance the federal budget, pay for healthcare, cut the top tax rate to 25 percent, and eliminate the income tax for all households earning less than $100,000 per year, which means it would happen for 90 percent of us. The only thing standing in the way of putting the American economy back on track to prosperity is a lack of political backbone on the part of our representatives to demonstrate a willingness to act like adults, stop with the scare tactics, and put the people’s interest above their own.     

Liberals and conservatives are, generally speaking, decent people; neither side is the incarnation of evil, as is so often argued by the other, even though it is not undemocratic to call either side out for being wrong about something when they are wide of the mark. Stated in the simplest terms, the fundamental divide occurs where each side thinks the other is concerned about the wrong issues and in the wrong hierarchal order of importance. The friction from this partition creates a surplus of disrespect that festers as contempt. At the deepest level, it is driven and fueled by what I characterize in September University as an existential triad: fear of death, fear of the other, and a lack of curiosity. These three issues are so interrelated that it’s often difficult to tell which one of them is at the heart of our angst, but they make great weapons for political strategists who know how to use them.

Nothing we learn is going to fully close the ideological divide between liberals and conservatives. But the time both sides waste relating instead of reasoning, especially in our two houses of Congress, does our system of government a great disservice. How to settle our differences and put them in perspective brings us back to the question posed at the beginning of this piece: Who are we, ill-informed consumers or serious Citizens?

My own life experience tells me that we can learn to override our inner accountants and that we should engage in political dialog with opponents only when all sides can agree to yield to the better argument. We are capable of becoming mindful about how situational context influences our decisions in ways that run contrary to our idealized notions of who we are, what we stand for, and how we expect ourselves to behave, regardless of the variance in circumstances we encounter. If we’re aware of our tendency to make fickle, circumstance-dependent decisions, we can apply an override here as well. With concentrated effort, we can reason our way through difficult issues with our opposition, instead of siding with our group identity and tuning the others out. If we cannot accomplish this, we waste our time and our opportunities for goodwill with mindless banter that does little more than up the ante of public anxiety.

I began writing this essay long before I became aware of the Coffee Party Movement now being organized, but having read about their goals and aspirations, I am encouraged. My own scholarship began many years ago when my work schedule allowed me enough time for serious study. In a short period of time, the exploration became its own reward. And, as I hope this piece shows, the most psychologically liberating discoveries to be found often lie beyond the emotional angst of popular culture. Now that a healthcare reform bill has passed, Tea Party and Coffee Party aspirations could represent an opportunity to lower the rhetoric, do our homework, and passionately reason our way to a better future.

So, what will it be for you: tea time or a coffee klatch?


Celebrity Ego versus Democracy
(c) Charles D. Hayes

Regardless of our personal politics, a close reading of American history suggests that we need both liberals and conservatives to make democracy work. Moving too far politically in either direction is a recipe for getting the kind of government that neither liberals nor conservatives would want. What's not healthy for democracy is a populace that swallows whole the opinions and convictions of prominent personalities who maintain their status by inciting divisiveness. Democracy suffers when its citizens vote with their emotions instead of critical thought.   

To my mind, anyone who finds the lives of celebrities more interesting than their own life has serious issues to resolve; their education is in remission. Of course, a casual interest in anyone whose life appears glamorous or in some way interesting or unique is natural to human curiosity. But to get one's daily dose of reality and political philosophy from a celebrity--especially when that celebrity stems from an ability to balkanize a radio or television audience, regardless of whether the politics is left, right, or middle--is intellectually debilitating. Stated more simply, to decide what is important, what is true, and what one should be thinking about based upon the opinion of someone whose livelihood depends upon their media ratings is a recipe for high blood pressure and dysfunctional government. 

In The Rapture of Maturity, I compared our relationship with knowledge metaphorically with celestial bodies in space, and I warned against getting too close to ideological black holes. At the time, I wasn't imagining such figurative entities to be right-wing talk-radio or television hosts, but you've only to search your AM and FM radio dial or visit the Fox channel to confirm that they do indeed fit the description. And you don't have to listen to these ideologues for very long to discern that they are not the patriotic advocates of truth that they claim to be.

 Mind you, I am not in favor of silencing vitriolic media. Both radio and television represent an opportunity to engage citizens in public policy, and our very way of life depends upon free speech. The current state of talk media, however, is that of a celebrity culture made popular and driven by aggressive efforts to instill a fear of the other in the general public--a fear that is often steeped in subtle but discernable racial bigotry. Moreover, the constant ratcheting up of the intensity of rage of and by the far-right since the election of Barack Obama as president is demonstrable beyond doubt, with the clear objective being to otherize and thus alienate every aspect of his presidency.  

 Talk radio is currently dominated by fear mongers. Instead of striving for truth, they thrive on contempt, thinly disguised hatred, and ridicule, undermining the plausibility that they have ever sought genuine solutions to real problems of any kind. Of course, they promote themselves as paragons of both virtue and reason, but these pundits are emotional zealots for whom civility is a threat to their egocentric celebrity and their livelihood. Social harmony is anathema to their popularity, and without the ability to use fear of the other to foment hatred, many of these individuals would be hard pressed to find and keep a real job. Some bore only a checkered work history before they discovered their talent for making the public fearful and loathing of their neighbors. Those of us old enough to recall the hysteria of the McCarthy era in the 1950s know firsthand what happens when fear reaches the paranoia level.

Psychologists have long pointed out that self- absorption destroys one's capacity for empathy, so it's not surprising that these purveyors of broadcast rage focus almost entirely on stirring up fearful emotions. Their continuous tirade of contempt and fear-based distrust is dispensed with so much angst and vindictiveness; it forecloses on the notion that democracy is even possible. In short, orchestrated rage poisons the well of good intentions because a culture with so much animosity becomes devoid of compassion, and without a modicum of goodwill, a democratic state is difficult to keep alive.

In his book The Geopolitics of Emotion: How Cultures of Fear, Humiliation, and Hope are Reshaping the World, Dominique Moisi examines the emotional state of the world. His methodology of applying the three conditions in his subtitle is also a useful way to examine America. He says, "Deliberate humiliation without hope is destructive, and too much fear, too much humiliation, and not enough hope constitute the most dangerous of all possible social combinations, the one that leads to the greatest instability and tension." And yet, day after day on the public airways celebrity pundits promote fear and foster a sick kind of vindictive optimism in anticipation of finding some way to humiliate those whom they identify as the other. If they were really trying to solve practical problems with constructive solutions, they could and would offer hope with practical alternatives, but instead they use venom to increase their ratings, and the polarization is democratically destructive. Moisi points out that an absence of hope leads to despair and a thirst for revenge. The more that despair is expressed as a public sentiment, the more an ethos of decay seems real and underway, and the more America loses its "natural appeal to the world" as a hallmark of liberty and faith in the future.

 The state of public discourse in this country has deteriorated to such a degree that few public discussions ever go much further than the echo chambers in which they originate. A significant number our citizens behave as if they no longer believe in democracy at all. For example, a democratic state is simply untenable if one holds with the ideology that the government represents not us, but them, ignoring the "we the people" premise upon which the whole of our government's very existence is based.

So what are thoughtful people to do? Aside from simply ignoring purveyors of ignorance and the hatred they disseminate, there are positive steps we can take to renew our aspirations and hopes for the future. The first is to do our homework and to engage others about subjects only when we know for certain what we are talking about. Second, we needn't stop with our own views but seek to fully understand contrary opinions. We can try to empathize with those whose stake in what's at hand is different than ours. We can also study Jonathan Haidt's Moral Foundation Theory, which is based on five moral pillars--harm/care, fairness/reciprocity, in-group/loyalty, authority/respect and purity/sanctity--and strive to appreciate the fact that there is value to be found in the complete range of both liberal and conservative perspectives. We can take Haidt's pledge for civility and look at the Charter for Compassion web site at http://charterforcompassion.org/ and join. Next, we can seek out people who hold differing views but who care more about solving problems than about who is right or wrong. In this context, we can agree to aggressively search for and opt for the better argument.

Finally, in a novel approach, we can tune in to divisive talk radio at times and use the above strategy to pose reasonable questions to the hosts; ask them why they can't apply their efforts to solving practical problems instead of promulgating fear. Write to their sponsors and ask them to tell the celebrities they are supporting to dial down the rhetoric. Nothing that reasonable people do is likely to stop the vitriol, but if enough sensible people can make evenhanded requests and comments, it will help reveal the pettiness with which these dogmatists have chosen to make a living at the expense of our democratic ideals. Maybe a few of the fans will stop listening and start thinking for themselves.          


The Dynamics of Disingenuous Dialog
(c) Charles D. Hayes

It's often said that the quality of a democracy depends upon the knowledge of its citizens. If this is true, perhaps the reverse is also true that wisdom demands democracy. But many years of intensive self-education have shown me that wisdom is hard won. No matter how much a person studies, or where or how they are educated, or how many degrees they acquire, each of us has at best only an inkling view of objective reality--a view compounded by a bias of expectation and political predisposition. In other words, we see what we expect to see, and our respective cultures fill us with partiality so effectively that, more often than not, we live unaware of our biases. Only when we can recognize our lack of objectivity and attempt to transcend it can we begin to approach becoming wise.  

We perceive what's going on around us through lenses of culturally induced metaphor, color-coded for group connection. Further, it's an irrefutable part of our nature as human beings that we often attempt to compensate for our lack of knowledge with arrogance and overt expressions of ethnicity or nationalism. Science offers clear evidence that, in matters sophisticated enough to require serious study, most of us are wrong in our snap-judgment perceptions of what is and isn't true. It's doubtful that we could even agree on how real objectivity might be determined. Lenses of reality may be an understatement. Think about it. We are limited by our individual perception, our personal experience, our age, occupation, geographical location, and too many other narrow, restrictive circumstances to list, in a world so complex as to defy all efforts to fully comprehend it.   

A careful reading of sociology and anthropology reveals that in societies throughout the world, a broad range of differences in political orientation can be found among groups of people. In short, liberals and conservatives are well represented everywhere large groups of people exist. Moreover, human history demonstrates beyond doubt that both liberals and conservatives are necessary for the common good and that veering too far in either direction is a recipe for ruin. From the beginning of civilization, the arguments between liberals and conservatives have been remarkably similar. The same issues arise repeatedly, with new names and a change in context: Left/Right, liberal/conservative, Democrat/Republican, blue state/red state, public/private, nurturing parent/strict father. The divide goes on and on. In academic terms, the divide is often characterized as an absolutist-versus-contextualist orientation.   

Now, if this were not enough to make matters difficult for democracy, psychologists are increasingly finding evidence that there is a strong genetic component for our political outlook. While there is little agreement on the amount of influence of genetic or environmental factors, there seems to be a growing consensus that genetics do indeed play a role in our politics, just as they influence our personality. The left/right range of political differences among individuals varies from mild to extreme. At the extreme end, individuals on the far left and the far right view the world through such a sharply different prism that simple communication with them can be difficult at best. Negotiating differences at this level to be effective is painstaking slow; very small items of contention have to be settled, to the point of defining the words used, in order to proceed with any confidence that both parties are even talking about the same thing. Our sense of identity is so important and so central to our concept of self that the far left could never accept the legitimacy of George W. Bush as president of the United States and the far right feels the same way about Barack Obama. This is why supporters of either president can seem oblivious to the man's faults or mistakes and why arguing with them armed with facts is useless. 

I've said many times that things are rarely ever as they appear. As a case in point, the prevailing view since the Enlightenment has been that we humans are primarily rational creatures, but this assumption missed the mark by a wide margin. Our emotions often dominate and override our ability to reason. We are social and tribal beings. We are relational creatures. That's what we do. We relate. And this makes it more accurate to say that politically we live and breathe the politics of identity in a much more literal way than this expression is commonly used. Simply put: We intuitively choose sides based upon our conscious and unconscious perceptions of identity, and we relate positively to people who we assume are a lot like us. We relate positively to our own kind to such degree that whenever we are with our respective groups, we are likely to up the ante of our political rhetoric in order to further coalesce as a group. 

For these reasons, democracy is one of the most difficult of all forms of government to establish and maintain; it runs contrary to the instinctual tribal ways in which we relate to one another. With this in mind, you can see why most of the informal political dialog we engage in with those whose views contradict ours is not only a waste of time, it's also harmful. Indeed, the power that relating imposes on our opinions was proved to me in the course of writing this essay. Listening to the radio, I heard someone I greatly admire say that he had changed his mind about an issue that previously both he and I agreed on. Suddenly the counterargument seemed more plausible. 

To be clear, I'm making two weighty claims: First, that truly objective knowledge independent of our identity is very hard to come by. Second, that when it comes to politics, most of the time we don't let data or facts get in the way of what we are willing to accept as truth. We accept what we do as truth because of our identity, and when we discuss issues with those with whom we differ politically, we rarely do anything but reaffirm our convictions with an even stronger resolve. In other words, we consider ourselves to be in the right based upon who we are and not on circumstances or the validity of the argument at hand. This is why a political candidate can say things that her opposition thinks is outrageous and bizarre and her supporters will think she is right-on.   

Enter GOP political pollster Frank Luntz, whom I find irritating, delusional, and disingenuous, but often correct in his political prognostications. In his book Words That Matter, Luntz claims to favor straightforward communication with straightforward language. He says comprehension is his aim, and yet what he does, in effect, is to obliterate any chance for comprehension by pushing emotional hot buttons with such force that reason and logic will not be a factor in a person's decision-making process. Luntz often fails to see that the things he claims to value are the very things his work helps to denigrate. That he does what he does with deceitful techniques doesn't seem to bother him at all. Reading between the lines, it appears that Luntz would abhor a society that proactively produced a generation of Paris Hiltons living extravagantly off of old money, even while he blurs the political realties of estate taxes by reframing the issue as a death tax. This is not the path to comprehension, but it does enable a lifestyle of leisure for more generations made wealthy by their parents--and grandparents--money.  

Luntz also reports some sad truths about the state of education in America. He tells us that only 27 percent of adults past age 25 are college educated and that only a very few of those who are college educated have what could be called a liberal education. If a democracy is dependent upon the aggregate knowledge of its citizens, this is a seriously disappointing number. Democracy depends upon--no demands--cannot and will not exist without advanced literacy. Liberally educated citizens are the only means of sustaining a democracy, because rational autonomy and independence of mind are vital prerequisites. What I see as necessary for sustaining a democracy is an existential education. Such an education might well compare to a liberal education that works as intended, enabling individuals to cope with the uncertainty of living in a hostile universe without the need to trade one's integrity for what appears to be a fleeting semblance of security.  

This brings me to relational differences that I've observed among educated and uneducated individuals. I've seen countless instances where working-class parents have sent their offspring to college with the desperate goal of getting an education, only to be appalled by the results. They wanted their children to get an education but did not expect it to change them in such a way that they would no longer be able to relate to them as one of us. And yet, if education did not change them in some significant way, one has to ask why it would have been worthwhile. 

We have a multitude of political lines of demarcation separating us into respective social groups in America, but nothing is more pronounced than the knowledge gap. I'm not talking about formal education per se here, but the thoughtful pursuit of the humanities by people whose desire to know and to learn takes them far beyond their restricted worldview. Knowledge is what counts--not where it is obtained. Educated people and uneducated people do not have enough in common to carry on a viable conversation, let alone agree politically about anything of importance, simply because the way they view the world is so dramatically different. 

This contrast is most easily observable in what we call the heartland: in middle, rural America. Although this is clearly a politically incorrect observation, I will argue that people with limited education are irrefutably more fearful of change and uncertainty than those who are liberally educated, period. In Hollowing Out the Middle: The Rural Brain Drain and What It Means for America, Patrick J. Carr and Maria J. Kefalas profile small towns where there exists a tradition of encouraging the most promising high school students to go on to college and find careers in big city metropolises. They identify these young people as achievers, others who stay put as stayers, those who leave for economic reasons or from boredom as seekers, and those who come back after a time as returners. It stands to reason that when it's an established practice to purposely urge the best and brightest to leave their home communities, eventually there have to be consequences. Among populations made up primarily of less educated and less adventurous people--people who are fearful of change and uncertainty, is it difficult to imagine that influencing these individuals with political scare tactics would be an easy thing to do? And if rural America is bombarded by right-wing radio hosts who push emotional hot buttons daily while making listeners fearful about issues that they clearly do not understand, is it hard to imagine the result being the town hall meetings of boisterous citizens fearful of socialized medicine that we witnessed in the fall of 2009?     

In his book Denialism: How Irrational Thinking Hinders Scientific Progress, Harms the Planet, and Threatens Our Lives, science writer Michael Specter argues that denialism occurs when we turn away from reality. Specter says this is not a left-versus-right issue, but has more to do with getting a grip on a kind of reality that we can understand. Indeed, the kind we can relate to. I agree. But I believe there is something more at play here than denialism. This realm cuts to the quick of the issue of misrelating, although it clearly is something describable as a turning away. It represents the depths of human anxiety, where our reasoning capability is easily overridden and flooded with sentiment. This gap is the epitome of disingenuousness because it's where our cultural biases fester and our sense of loyalty to our own kind is strengthened. The result can be a caldron of misspent emotions and inarticulate feelings, where angst and apprehension intensify with enough force to redirect contrary facts and keep them at bay. 

One can't dwell in this emotionally unstable abyss for too long without wanting to retaliate in order to rid oneself of the kind of otherness that appears to represent a primordial threat to one's very existence. Or so it seems to our Stone Age hard-wiring. As a consequence, our engagement with those we regard as others can easily become overly emotional. Thus, we misrelate, upping the ante of our discontent as we alienate the other and increase our loyalty to our own group in the process. In this manner, disingenuous dialog can become ritualistic and, because of the accompanying endorphin rush, addictive. If we are not very careful, it can negatively shape our lives by tilting us toward despair and predisposing us to be forever fearful of change and uncertainty as well as those whose very existence brings these subjects to mind.  

We are an inherently scareable species. It is a sad irony that humans have achieved the technological acumen to simulate magic and yet we are still plagued with an ancient psychological default tendency for prejudice that is easily aroused when we become anxious and is therefore easily put to use by those who know the political formula. Members of Germany's Third Reich used to joke among themselves about how easy it was to scare people into doing practically anything, seemingly of their own free will.   

Most of us who are fortunate enough to live and prosper in a developed nation owe our good fortune to the way things are. That our nation could and should be better than it is, and more just, rests with our responsibility as citizens. Indeed, if we adhere to founding principals, and if a form of our government becomes destructive, it is both our right and responsibility to abolish it. Injustice and the contempt that makes it possible is most often the result of the greed of special-interest groups. The lobbied purchase of politicians is antithetical to democracy and is thus a practice thoughtful citizens should eliminate. Until we get big money out of campaign politics, the interests of ordinary citizens will continue to lose ground to the profit motives of corporations, period. 

Justice in a democracy is about accountability, and so is citizenship. This is why disingenuous dialog is harmful. As long as we engage in tit-for-tat nonsense, the worse things get. Exchanging Internet emails with like-minded citizens about the inanities of our political opposition may momentarily make us feel superior, but it does not serve our better interests; it accomplishes nothing except to widen the divide and keep us from resolving serious problems with serious solutions.  

We must constantly remain aware that reasoning is much harder to do than relating, and that if we are not very careful, we will relate emotionally by default through an archaic coping system without realizing that's what we are doing. This fearful response may have served us well on the prehistoric plains of the Savannah, but it is a threat to contemporary civilization in a world so diverse that we can never fully comprehend its complexity. Reasoning with those with whom we disagree politically by striving for the better argument, as democracy requires, is possible, but it's exceptionally hard work. It calls for an extraordinarily hypervigilant commitment on the part of participants, who have to care more about solving problems than about who is right or wrong. In other words, it requires Citizens with a capital C.  

So let's try to navigate this terrain using a more reasonable approach for a moment, and see if this discussion begins to make better sense. Surely liberals whose lives have been saved by modern miracle drugs don't think all big pharmaceutical companies are bastions of pure evil. And presumably those who drive cars and fly frequently in aircraft don't think that oil companies are totally without merit. At the same time, can't anyone with a modicum of reason suppose that if the average automobile emits over five metric tons of carbon dioxide and other trace chemicals a year, the aggregate number of vehicles on the planet must have some measurable effect on the environment? Surely conservatives who rail against government inefficiency don't think that everyone in the government is incompetent. To my mind, the very notion of competence brings forth the mental image of a postal clerk named Michael in my hometown, whose professional demeanor, job knowledge, enthusiasm, and cordial sense of humor are traits the folks waiting in line marvel at. Our armed services are products of government, and even though they are the most socialistic aspect of our society, most of us seem to think they do an outstanding job. How can the citizens in a country they imagine to be the envy of the world, precisely because it was founded upon the notion that "we the people" are the government, hate the very thing that makes their lives possible?  

Unfortunately, America's greatest strength is, at times, a debilitating weakness. The diversity from which we derive so much creativity and innovation also yields a surplus of contempt for a vast range of differences that can't be reconciled without a great deal of deliberative effort or a common cause like the coming together during 9/11 or all-out world war. It seems a hard-wired aspect of our nature that a tipping point exists for the degree of difference that we can accept without becoming irrational. The greater the differences appear between ourselves and those we view as others, the more we seem to become obsessed with notions of equity and the more fearful we are of not getting our fair share of whatever largesse is at hand. One has only to watch a pride of lions feed on a small meal to appreciate how the world of nature predisposes the living to stay alive.  

There should, however, be no mystery about where most of the fearful and biased contempt we experience in America originates. It's born of political orchestration based upon many years of practiced manipulation and the use of tried and true tactics that work nearly every time because most of us simply don't get it. Washington lobbyists have practically made a science of tweaking with our emotions, and we find it hard to accept that we are so easily fooled by appeals to our worst instincts. The exploitation stems from the greed of powerful interest groups and the lobbyists they hire to create a diversion. Distraction works like a charm, especially on uneducated people--people unaware of the duties and responsibilities required of citizens to make a democracy work, people who don't recognize the need to get involved and learn about issues instead of standing on the sidelines and parroting the government-is-evil mantra encouraged and egged on by the beneficiaries of the distraction.  

No doubt Frank Luntz coined the term death tax to help his wealthy GOP patrons defeat legislation that would affect the party in general. His motive was not to benefit the Paris Hiltons of the world, nor was it based on a firm belief that it was the right thing to do. When we choose sides, the money to win an election obscures many of the issues at hand. Thus, if greed and contempt can keep participants misrelating, then no one seems to notice that engaging in disingenuous dialog is the best kind of diversion. The conversation looks and feels like democracy, even though it accomplishes little but further alienation. Luntz is a campaign consultant and a living, breathing example that cash trumps both conscience and democracy. We should ask those who equate money with free speech whether they really believe that the rich should simply rule by decree. Such a solution would save a lot of time and effort by eliminating the need to raise campaign money or to hold elections.   

When the subject is an ideological issue, such as abortion, affirmative action, civil rights, feminism, homosexual marriage, healthcare, global warming, capitalism, socialism, organic food, virus immunization, or vegetarianism, millions of people are unable to discuss it rationally because the mere mention of it causes them to become overly defensive. Consciously or subconsciously they deflect incoming data and tune out anything and everything that they would prefer not to hear. Because our tendency for misrelating instead of reasoning is so pervasive, more often than not, the congressional action we get concerning the above subjects is not based on the better argument, or the moral high ground, but instead upon whose lobbyists can best orchestrate disdain or distraction and therefore stifle any opportunity for settling these issues rationally and equitably. The resulting so-called bipartisan legislation is often shameful deal making that has nothing whatsoever to do with the issue being addressed. To call this process democratic compromise may be technically correct, but it is also to misperceive the rational dynamics of democracy based upon achieving the better argument and thus the most appropriate solution. It amounts to overlooking the overt manipulation at hand and the fact that reason has been overridden with deceptive emotional prodding.  

Of course, an overly emotional and irrational discourse among our legislators and the general public is nothing new, and to imagine that we were once a nation reliant on nothing but objective reason would be to totally misunderstand our heritage. American history is rife with raging emotional vitriol by politicians at every level of government, who have sometimes resorted to physical altercation. But to continue to misrelate and to suffer egregious manipulation by moneyed interests, knowing what we know today about the psychology of how we interact with others, is equivalent to having physicians bleed patients, regardless of the nature of their illness, just as they did for decades before anyone knew any better.      

Whether we call it disingenuous dialog, denialism, childishness, or misrelating, is less important than stopping this behavior by doing our homework as citizens. We need more dialog between opposing points of view, not less, but it needs to be civil, constructive and purposeful. We must recognize that a government based upon reason requires reasonable people and that it is the responsibility of each of us as a citizen to see that our own level of understanding and comprehension is up to the task of attaining, sustaining, and protecting democracy. With effort, our default biases can be parked in neutral, our hot buttons can be deactivated, and, if we are wise, we can be more assertive and thoughtful than those who would push them. Serious debate in search of the better argument is a noble enterprise and one we should resurrect as if the future depends on it.

Charles' latest book, September University: Summoning Passion for an Unfinished Life is available from Amazon, click on the title

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The essay Atlas Wept: Exposing the Absurdity of Ayn Rand's Ideology of Objectivism and Death Panels in Perspective have been rewritten and will be included in Existential Aspirations: Reflections of a Self-Taught Philosopher, by Charles D. Hayes soon to be published by Autodidactic Press.


Charles' latest book, September University: Summoning Passion for an Unfinished Life
is
available from Amazon at discount. Click on the title.

Click here to Pre-order from Borders Books

Click here to Pre-order from Barnes&Noble at a 32 percent discount


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