I. Our material world
Some have contended that a prominent
aspect of the American character is optimism... the notion that
things will – inevitably, but even faster with a good dose of
motivation, enthusiasm, hard work, and know-how – be better
tomorrow than today, and so on ad infinitum. This is tied, of
course, to the idea of “progress”, which also has an air of
inevitability (as in “you can't stop progress”), continuous
improvement, the triumph of technology, and Utopianism... not to
mention somewhat shop-worn notions like Manifest Destiny. And all of
these ideas are, in turn, based on a certain variety of
Protestantism, sometimes identified in our time as the “prosperity
gospel” -- the idea that material progress is, and should be, a
natural motivator for the righteous, and that prosperity is an
unmistakable sign of merit (with the implication that a lack of
prosperity is a sign of reprobation). (This, by the way, is a
mindset typical of Old Testament times, of Judaism, and even of
Hinduism – and is extremely anti-New Testament.)
I'm not going to claim that this more
materialistic variety of Protestantism has replaced, or shoved aside,
spiritual values in our culture. Rather, I'm going to claim that it
has always been dominant, and has always, from the very beginning,
determined our thinking in diverse areas, such as law, economics,
foreign policy, “social justice”... even aesthetics, not to
mention customs and mores. By contrast, people with a more spiritual
bent – a more ascetic bent, even – have generally been considered
dreamers and fools, and – that most devastating of Americanist
adjectives -- “impractical”. One way to characterize our
history, in fact, is to consider it a perennial struggle between
“pragmatism” -- progress, technology, bourgeois values, etc. --
and things of the spirit. There is no greater sin in our society
than to be “against progress” -- or even to be thought to be.
Then, we are consigned to the outer darkness of Medieval ignorance
and “superstition”, or placed in the company of stagnant Oriental
empires. Since the lot of man is implicitly defined as never having
quite enough “stuff”, anyone who opposes this view is obviously
opposed to human fulfillment, happiness, and self-actualization.
Never mentioned is that, beyond the basic necessities, “stuff”
has a dismal track record when correlated with human contentment.
Why else would we be the most prosperous society on earth, and yet
have the highest percentage of crybabies (from all socio-economic
levels, note)? We have yet to learn that material contentment is not
an absolute; it's more the relationship of expectation to
achievement. It's bad enough to be overly attached to what one
already has; our problem is that we become attached to things we
don't have, and are not likely to ever have. It is a sure formula
for misery and discontentment in the midst of plenty.
But wait -- you might say -- aren't you
constantly describing this as an “ideational” society, in which
ideas, rather than pragmatic considerations, dominate? Yes, this is
true, but if you look into it you'll find that most of our ideas are
based on materialistic values and ultimately have materialistic
goals. In other words, if ideas don't “pay off” in the long run,
they're not worth considering. Never in the entire American corpus
of ideas, notions, memes, or stray thoughts is there any hint that
there might be something more important than material success and
material prosperity – in the long run. The things we identify as
“ideas” or “ideals” are not goals in their own right, but
means to an end – namely more of everything. So yes, we are
ideational in the short term, but materialistic in the long term –
a paradox, I admit, but I think it's accurate.
Let me give some examples. What does
the average American mean by “freedom”? Freedom to think, to
meditate, to philosophize? Hardly. It boils down to being able to
live where you want, have a family (or not), do the kind of work you
want, and keep what you earn, with minimum harassment by your
neighbors or the government. Fair enough; this was what the
colonists wanted, and it was what the early settlers and pioneers
wanted. And it's amazing to see the American public's level of
tolerance of having more and more of these freedoms taken away from
them with each passing day. The regime's argument boils down to this
– we have to take away your freedoms in order to preserve your
freedoms. Which makes about as much sense as having to destroy a
village in order to save it (a favorite bit of absurdity from the
Vietnam era).
And going back to the founding, what
was American “independence”? How was it conceived? Mostly as a
means by which we got to keep our stuff, engage in free trade, and be
self-governing. Nothing wrong with that, as long as we admit it.
The point is that most of the complaints against George III in the
Declaration of Independence were material issues. It's not as if he
engaged in religious oppression or spiritual intimidation of some
sort – that was left up to the individual colonies, which did
engage in such activities from time to time, as we know. But that
problem was solved – wasn't it? -- with the First Amendment, which
set up a “wall of separation between church and state”.
Actually, it did no such thing. All it said was that Congress –
i.e. the federal government – “shall make no law respecting an
establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof”.
In theory, the states still had that right – and it was exercised,
in various ways subtle and not-so-subtle, for a long time afterward.
The point is that the founding
documents, and the Founding Fathers, are relatively silent when it
comes to spiritual matters, and when they do speak, it's typically
with the tolerance born of secular humanism, if not outright
skepticism, agnosticism, or atheism. In practice, of course, the
United States turns out to be a much more religious country than the
founders may have intended – but again, if you dig down you'll find
that religious values are nearly always subordinated to material
ones, frequently under the guise of patriotism or nationalism. In
other words, let's achieve the material Utopia first, then we can
worry about spiritual matters – except that the material Utopia
never comes, so we never get around to what should be our highest
priority. In our time, this means that we have to be “practical”,
and use tools like progressive taxation, welfare, affirmative action,
social policy, and industrial policy to achieve “fairness”
(equality of outcomes), because if we don't take care of this first,
then all of our spiritual activities are a sham and a sign of
hypocrisy. (And once we achieve Utopia, we won't need religion
anyway – so it's a “catch-22”.) And again, this is based on a
certain reading of the Old Testament, and a distorted reading of the
New Testament, by people all across the Protestant spectrum who are,
in fact, our national leaders when it comes to “ideas”. From
what other source, for example, do our notions of the American Empire
derive? By what other set of standards do we look upon the rest of
the world as our plantation, and crack the whip and dole out severe
punishment whenever necessary? And what I say is that our
pseudo-religious ideas are actually the most noble basis for this
attitude, compared to the more common motives of greed, raw power,
and downright sadism. The fact remains, however, that a Third-World
citizen blown to pieces by an unmanned drone doesn't care a whole lot
whether the person pushing the button was an idealist or not; he's
just as dead either way.
This is, in fact, the point at which
American “pragmatism” tends to jump the rails. Given that we're
“in it for the long haul”, our ideas get in the way of success in
both the short and long haul... and this is because they're
delusional, muddled, and unsustainable, even as they are
materialistic at base. I am always willing to admit that our ideas –
our founding principles – sustained us as a civilization for a
decent period of time, and lent themselves to an impressive level of
prosperity and material well-being. But that's precisely the point.
We did not become prosperous because of some mysterious causal
relationship between our ideals and the material; it was always about
the material, and very little else. It might almost be said that we
were the first totally materialistic culture in history – and the
most successful, compared to the many varieties of socialism that
followed. What religion we had, and what little we still have, can
be seen as an overlay – an aspect of our culture that thrived in
spite of our materialistic base (or because of a lurking suspicion
that our materialism was misguided).
Think of it this way. The
“church-state” issue should be called a “spiritual-material”
issue, and our typically American “ideas” are all on the side of
the state, or the material... even if they are occasionally presented
in pseudo-religious guise. And I include in the “material”
category things like environmentalism, which though seemingly
idealistic is basically materialism of a different sort. And
needless to say, all varieties of socialism boil down to pure
materialism in one form or another – as do most versions of
“fairness” and “social justice”. (When's the last time you
heard a social reformer or “agent of change” express concern
about the spiritual welfare or spiritual needs of the
underprivileged? I imagine Dorothy Day was about the last one who
did so consistently.)
I might add that worshiping the
Creation without worshiping the Creator is foolish and heretical.
How many environmentalists are churchgoers? But is religion
anti-environment? It is if you only take the Protestant “robber
barons” as a model. But any good Catholic will agree that proper
Christian stewardship should include respect for the created order,
which includes the environment and issues like sustainability. It
was actually the Protestants who invented the War on Nature -- as
part of the Industrial Revolution, but it reflected a deeper (and
heretical) world view.
II.
Shattered dreams
With that introduction, let's examine,
for a moment, how political ideas fail. Sometimes a perfectly good
idea comes along, but it's met with such overwhelming resistance that
it hardly stands a chance. Thus, the fate of the pillars of Catholic
social teaching, distributism and subsidiarity. They came along (in
“modern” form) at the same time socialism (as a generic idea) was
waxing triumphant – namely in the early part of the 20th
Century. They were countercultural, in that they seemed to call for
a return to the land and to “the simple life” at a time when the
city was considered the highest expression of human achievement (this
was way before the fall of the city in America, most notoriously
exemplified by Detroit).
Another possibility is that an idea,
whether good or bad, is simply proposed in the wrong place and at the
wrong time. It is not so much countercultural as it defies all
political, economic, and social trends at the time. Conservatism,
for example, was hopelessly countercultural in this country from the
New Deal through the 1970s... libertarianism is countercultural
now... and communism is also countercultural now, except for a few
wretched holdouts in foreign governments and in academia.
There are also ideas that have merit,
but their implementation is fatally flawed. Just about every Third
World pesthole has something that passes for a constitution (unless
they have sharia), and there's an even chance that their constitution
is modeled after ours – but corruption, ignorance, and tribalism
tend to trump the ideals of the dedicated few who dared to put pen to
paper hoping the outcome would resemble the U.S.
But given that there are plenty of
examples of the above cases, the most common reason that political
ideas fail is simply that they are bad ideas. In one way or another,
they defy what anyone with common sense knows about human nature,
either individually or in groups. They may also fly in the face of
Natural Law, which can be thought of as a subset of human nature...
or they may attempt to defy, or overcome, economic realities or even
physical laws. Or – they may be based on ill-conceived
philosophical or moral premises – in other words, they have
built-in fatal flaws, which may take many generations to manifest
themselves; this is what I believe has happened in the present case
of the U.S. We've been operating, since the founding, on what one
might call “philosophical steroids”, but, just as with steroids,
the time has now come when the price has to be paid.
Now, please notice that I'm not talking
about whether a given set of ideas is humane, compassionate, or
“fair” per se. Plenty of systems that – according to our,
ahem, enlightened way of thinking about things – would be
considered anything but humane, compassionate, or fair have shown
considerable robustness and durability... probably because they were
at least realistic in some significant respects (consider, for
example, the Machiavellian concept of governing – or that
represented by Hobbes' Leviathan – or even by fascism). An extreme
on the humanistic side would be pacifism – but how is a pacifistic
society to survive in a world where most other societies are warlike?
And as to radical democracy, it seems to work quite well in small
towns in New England, but as a model for a national government?
There you quickly wind up with the absurdity of “people's
republics” which are ruled by anything but the people – or with
what we have, which I'll call “ceremonial democracy”, i.e. a
thinly-disguised oligarchy.
The point is that what works works –
at least for a time. Even anarchy – of the East African variety,
say – works for a time, especially when it represents a regression
to tribalism, or even gang rule. Our “inner cities” all have
informal governments where the formal, official governments have
failed; there is a perverse kind of order, even if it's not to
everyone's taste. And do I have to even mention the informal but
highly-effective social “systems” that characterize public
schools and prisons?
So yes, it is a part of human nature to
organize into groups, gangs, cliques, etc. for mutual support and
protection – and it's part of human nature for these entities to
enter into conflict with one another. There are gangs, combines,
trusts, cabals at all levels – in this society as in all others.
In many cases they may fill in, and be effective, where official or
nominal governments fail. And even when they are idea-based (think
of the “radical Islamists” fighting it out across the Arab world)
there is a tendency for things to boil down to practical matters in
the long run. One could almost say that ideas become more dangerous
as their span of influence widens. A small communal village may be
ruled by some ideas that others would find far-out and wacky – but
if they work for that village, then they work, and whose business is
it to try and interfere? On the other hand, when equally far-out and
wacky ideas take over an entire country, or empire (as was the case
in the Third Reich) they become a danger to themselves and others.
And this, by the way, is one of the best arguments for subsidiarity –
to confine governmental functions to the lowest possible/practical
level, in order to serve not only the immediate needs of the people
but also their long-term welfare, and to protect them from the
ravages of foreign, alien, or oppressive “ideas”. (Notice how
many bad ideas are actually imported from the point of origin to the
place where people wind up being victims – communism from Germany
to Russia, and then to China, and then to Korea and Vietnam, for
example.)
III. It's our party and we'll die if
we want to
It would be simplistic to claim that
all bad ideas wind up being fatal in the same way, and according to
the same timetable. Some cultures, even though they publicly and
officially embrace certain ideas, have a kind of resistance to those
ideas penetrating beyond a certain point. When I was in China –
admittedly on a guided whirlwind tour – I was impressed not so much
by the things that had changed since, say, the days of the emperors,
but by the things that had not changed, in terms of attitudes,
habits, cultural traditions, aesthetics, etc. It seems that, under
Maoism, Chinese culture went underground, in a sense, only to revive
and reassert itself under more lenient and prosperous conditions. I
guess Mao only thought that he was stamping out every vestige of an
ancient empire, and we can all be thankful that he was wrong. I
imagine the same is true in Russia, where much of the traditional
Russian culture and the “Russian spirit” had to be suppressed for
the duration of the Soviet empire.
Can something of the sort be said for
this country? The problem is that we are a new country and a new
culture, in the overall scheme of things – and the bulk of our
history is dominated by the American Experiment and the American
Empire (the latter growing out of the former in what seems to be an
inevitable manner). To put it another way, there is, as far as I
know, very little in the way of colonial, or pre-founding, traditions
or customs available for revival, or worth the trouble to do so –
so we are left to fall back on someone's version of “the real
America” or the way things were “when this country was the
undisputed hope and light of the world”, or some such thing – and
take your pick as to when that might have been. I've discussed this
before – do we go back to Jacksonian democracy, or the Gilded Age,
or Progressivism, or Wilsonism, or the New Deal, or the postwar boom,
or... what? To each his own, when it comes to nostalgia. The
problem is that each age, each era, contained within itself the seeds
of what was to come. The cultural revolution of the 1960s had its
origin in the 1950s... Progressivism had its origin in the Industrial
Revolution... capitalism gave birth to the New Deal... and so on.
And in each case there was plenty of zeal to bring down, destroy, and
grind into fine power that which had come before – and yet we see
plenty of remnants and echoes of each preceding age in the present.
The present day is not history yet, but it soon will be – and it
will become another layer added to the deep landfill of ideas and
experiences that we have been building for 230-odd years.
The next question is, do empires
inevitably have to decline and fall? (And make no mistake, America
is an empire, not just a single country.) Well... all the ones we
know about did, so what makes us think we're the exception? And
again, the causes vary greatly, but a common element is that empires
eventually run out of ideas – i.e. effective ones. And that sets
off a chain of events – no ideas, no motivation, no energy, no
self-confidence, no morality, no resistance to being overrun or
replaced. An empire that is not growing is dying; stagnation is just
death in disguise. Now... if we accept this cyclic phenomenon as
inevitable – as “natural” in a way – does it mean that
empires are always a bad thing, and that the human race should get
over this fixation with conquering the world? Just sit around a
billion campfires with dogs curled up at our feet and roasting small
rodents on a stick? But this too would be unnatural. Man is, by
nature, Man the Builder... and there is no use trying to squelch this
most basic, and (at least on occasion) productive instinct. What is
needed is not radical simplicity or “back to nature”, but a
re-direction – again, sustainability should be the key concept.
And if we're consistent about sustainability, it will mean that the
empires that do arise will be more benign and less wasteful than the
ones we have known – and who knows, they might last longer as a
result. But even if they don't, the process will hopefully be less
traumatic than what we typically see in history.
It may even be foolish to talk about
“good” vs. “bad” empires, because they all leave us with a
legacy of some sort. They all “add value”, perhaps unwittingly.
The most we can do is arrange them along a scale according to which
ones we admire... which ones left the most in the way of artifacts
and contributions to human knowledge... which ones are more
interesting or aesthetically appealing... and so on. As with foreign
countries, we don't have to sit in judgment 24-7. And, like it or
not, empires are the cornerstones of history, with wars and battles
as the building blocks. Again, human nature.
See, it's tempting, at times, to
interpret the declining stage of an empire as evidence not just of
the process described above, but of an almost conscious
self-destruction, as if there is some “altruistic gene” embedded
in empires that, for the good of the human race in general, causes
them to destroy themselves before things go too far. And we can see
this self-destructiveness – quite clearly, in many cases – when
we consider various empires in decline, including our own. To put it
more bluntly, is America committing suicide (economic, diplomatic,
moral) for the good of the rest of the world? And are our leaders
aiding and abetting this process, whether they realize it or not? I
doubt if this could be called an agenda item, but it does seem like
such an inevitable process that one is almost tempted to think of it
as another instance of Natural Law. When things get to a certain
point, “something makes us” start fouling our own nest, and being
ever more blind and stupid about things – things like the national
debt, the environment, social policy, foreign policy, education,
health, and so on. Our politicians, of course, lead the way in the
“blind and stupid” department... but the people willingly follow.
The Greeks used to talk about “hubris”, and how it was
inevitably punished by the gods; maybe they were onto something. You
would think, for example, that with greater power would come greater
wisdom in the use of that power... but the opposite seems to be the
case. The “bully of the town” was never known for his wisdom or
insight... and neither is “the superpower”, whatever it might be
(Rome, the British Empire, us, etc.). Or maybe the notion that
“power corrupts” is more than a statement about material
corruption; maybe it also has to do with morals and even sanity.
Heaven knows, the bulk of what comes out of Washington these days
seems to be the work of madmen – not that they are obvious lunatics
(except for a few) but that there is a disconnect between their
everyday normalcy and what they produce in the way of laws, policies,
regulations, governmental organizations, etc. It is almost like a
disease or a curse – call it the curse of empire. And the worst
thing is that it blinds them to the welfare of the citizenry –
those they supposedly represent. But the citizens are, by and large,
afflicted with their own forms of blindness, and so it goes. The few
who sober up, and have the scales fall from their eyes, are appalled
– but good luck getting anyone to listen. (In the country of the
blind, the one-eyed man is thrown into prison.) It is a seductive
madness, because it assures us that everything is OK and that
everything is under control (which is true, but not in the way people
think). And because it is seductive, it is clung to and defended
with a ferocity that used to be reserved for things of real value –
like race, tribe, land, tradition, faith, and family. This is the
point at which the world of ideas becomes the world of delusion –
but since we still live in the real world as well, all sorts of
conflicts arise; we become “mentally ill” as a society. (“Mental
illness” for an individual, you may have noticed, is all about
conflict and the attempt to escape from conflict; it is the same with
societies.)
IV. “Save us, or we perish!”
No one expects us to go gentle into
that good night, any more than any other empire did. But certain
pathologies arise, such as the desire to be rescued through some sort
of deus ex machina. And thus the obsessive interest in aliens, space
travelers, time travelers, and “the possibility of life on other
planets” -- anything that might offer to save us from our folly.
What are those radio broadcasts directed toward deep space but a cry
for help – not just an offer of the hand of friendship. The
religious will pray for material salvation when they should be
praying for spiritual strength to endure whatever comes. And then we
look to all sorts of false gods, both old and new – the government
first and foremost, but also “equality”, Mother Earth,
technology, and (ironically) an even bigger and better American
Empire. We look for materialistic solutions to what are basically
moral problems – not realizing that it should be the other way
around.
And if none of this works out, we are
perfectly willing to pack it in, as witness the plethora of global
catastrophe movies and TV shows – which represent wishful thinking
on some level. Yep, things didn't work out, so let's just bag it, or
“pull it”, in the immortal words of Larry Silverstein. There is
a longing for a cataclysm... a cleansing... or, for the
apocalyptically-inclined, a chastisement. It is a realization that
our sins have brought the Creation low, and that we have been very
bad stewards. But in another sense it's a desire to escape – to,
once again, avoid accountability and having to face up to our follies
and await judgment. Suicide on death row, or cheating the hangman –
one last gesture of defiance. But that's human nature too, and it's
not too late to recognize it as such and start trying to do the right
thing, even if it's only as isolated individuals. We can't stop the
Empire, but we can preserve our integrity.