Fools Among Us

Three Fools of Carnival, Pieter Bruegel the Elder

Keith Humphreys has a devilishly funny piece up about a terrible old colleague of his who never seemed to learn to be much of a good person and, regrettably, died a fool.  Pompous and rude, cruel and vain, he apparently took to wearing a toupe late in life, even as his trophy wife mocked him in her affairs with younger men.  For whatever reason, his words brought out in me some cathartic schadenfreude from my own recent tribulations.

   Instead of defining career success in absolute terms, Omphalus had an entirely relative view. Being smart and successful wasn’t enough. Rather, he felt the need to be smarter and more successful than everyone else, and to meet that standard forever. This transformed each generation’s arrival in his field from a source of stimulation to a terrifying threat. Where some saw new colleagues and new ideas, he perceived only a wave of potential usurpers. As he grew older and his powers began to wane, his fear of losing what he considered his eternal throne only intensified....

   Did he die happy? Perhaps he did. His self-delusions may have been strong enough to resist the evidence of his senses, present every time he put his fake hair on his hoary head in the mirror, overheard the increasingly derisive whispers of his colleagues, and saw his young wife wince at his withered body’s efforts at physical affection.

   What I do know though, as mid-life begins to recede in my rear view mirror, is that I do not want to emulate the many Dr. Omphalus’ I have known, whether they are inwardly happy or not. Partly it is because I regard their selfishness as inherently immoral, but I am equally influenced by my desire to have my physical aging be matched with progress in wisdom and maturity beyond what I possessed as an adolescent.

Always wanting to see the best in people (maybe worrying too much that they won't see the best in me), I’ve always had a blindspot for men such as this. I mean, surely I’ve known them, but I’ve always underestimated the extent to which they walk among us, seemingly successfully and capably despite what seem devastating character flaws.

I was just fired by one a few days ago.

Well, as a teacher, I was not “elected” for rehire. I’ve thought long and hard about what it was that he thought I lacked, after numerous observations and reviews, trying my best to divine just what exactly it was that he was looking for, I finally failed to measure up. Sure, I have my weaknesses, and much of the problem may lie in pedagogical or philosophical differences. But in the end it may just be that he is a small man with a chip on his shoulder, and who wants to take it out on the world (in this case, the untenured teacher who has no leverage other than the support of students and staff).

He’s the type of guy who never smiles, wears sunglasses indoors, walks around with his palms backwards (ala G.W.), and spends 10 minutes of every staff meeting regaling his audience with rock-climbing stories. I have no data on the actual size of his penis. It could be quite long. But metaphorically, these are the guys with such fragile egos, so ravaged by narcissism, that one can only assume their life is spent in perpetual unconscious agony over the fortitude of their member.

Sometimes life can feel like nothing but a string of painful reminders. These men (and women) walk among us like moral aliens, in so much as we’ll always fail to understand the root of their dysfunction, try as we might. And every once in a while you get cornered by one, outmaneuvered and run off the road.

Here’s to getting back up.

The Bores

We’ve all been there: patiently sitting across from someone who seems to possess a limitless capacity to answer with confidence every question that arises.  Never pausing more than a few moments to collect their thoughts, producing endless convictions like a magician with a bottomless magic hat, they spontaneously extemporize and theorize with almost zero trepidation or self-reflection.  Like the classic SNL parody commercial, they have turned their ass into a professor.

Bores come in different forms.  The most morally benign form is the Humbly Bumbling Bore.  They make no pretense of special wisdom or authority, yet lack neither any sense of what might be interesting to their audience, nor the ability to stop flapping their lips.  These individuals will spend five minutes explaining in exquisite detail the most insufferably dull aspects of their lives.  And lest you bother yourself with attempting to provide commentary of your own, be warned that “getting a word in edgewise” is a phrase designed with these folks in mind.  Should you succeed, odds are your offering will be briefly acknowledged and then moved on from, like a quick piss at a rest stop before heading back onto the road to nowhere.

A more rare form is the Bore On High.  Like quiet wise men of yore, these types sit silently until the conversation calls for their input, which they obligingly proffer in dry and authoritative tones.  For the most part, there is an air of cool skepticism to their manner, as if by some bothersome twist of fate, their chariot-driver lost his way and they were mistakenly driven to a frivolous engagement.  Yet these individuals are rare, presumably spending more of their time scaling ever more lofty and aery heights than we could possibly be privy to.

Alas, the form we are all too familiar with is the industrial-strength Pedantic Bore, known colloquially as the Blowhard.   Mouth more often open than closed, forever spewing forth an ultimately monotonous and clichéd mass-production of predictable and neatly packaged commentary, these types regularly enter into conversation and immediately proceed to dominate its direction and tenor.  Their contributions so resolute, so confidant and final, or at least so mundane and uninteresting  (say, irrelevant details such as street names or car manufacturers), other participants are generally caught speechless, previous avenues of deliberation and nuanced consideration suddenly cauterized. 

At this point either one of two things will happen: participants will scan their brains for some new bit of intrigue from which to build new avenues of discussion, any of which the pedant will seek to capitalize once again.  Or, if unhindered, he will simply take advantage of the lull he created in the conversation and insinuate himself even further into the now expired subject, providing more and more details about himself and his own experiences in the matter, usually repeating his original comments at least once or twice in the process.  At this point, any slightest acknowledgement of his verbal tenure, any utterance that might possibly be interpreted as tacit approval of his holding court, only serves to encourage his kingly procession.

I have briefly searched but have not found examples of descriptions of bores among ancient texts, but I have no doubt that the personality type extends thousands of years back in time.  People must have always been boring.  I would imagine that as we evolved the capacity for complex communication, a tendency inevitably developed, especially among the less socially-astute, towards indiscriminacy of expression.  In fact, I would not be surprised to learn that there are chimps out there right now, describing their chimp thoughts in chimp ways, boring even their own fellow chimps. 

Or maybe not.  Maybe chimps aren’t polite enough for such silliness.  Maybe they simply turn and flee when they see a serial offender approach.  Or maybe they tolerate him for a short while, then give him a good box about the ear.  I imagine this would go a good length towards inhibiting such social behavior in general.  Of course, in the interest of group cohesion and maintenance of positive relationships, sacrifices have to be made.  We all must tolerate one another to a degree.  I suppose it is within this space that bores learn – or, to be more precise, never learn that such self-involved behavior is at best annoying, at worst highly corrosive to social progress.

Just think of how much good, positive, productive human interaction has been wasted at the hands  - at the mouths – of bores.  If one makes a reasonable assumption that the average American spends a minimum of 10 minutes of each week being actively prevented by a bore from engaging in otherwise socially productive behavior as learning something new about themselves or the world, or being on time for a meeting, we’re talking about 8.5 hours a year - over a lifetime, nearly two years!  Two years of excruciatingly frustrating, almost nauseating and soul-crushing boredom. 

So maybe this is a reminder to us all to find some way of fighting back.  Whether making more of a hasty exit, or taking a firm and explicit stand, let us remember the words of John Updike:

“A healthy male adult bore consumes each year one and a half times his own weight in other people's patience.”

Woe is us…

Sarah Palin & Al Qaeda

I've been thinking about the trap so many liberals fall into with conservative ideologues. Basically, we're suckers. Our political enterprise is one of exploration. This is why academia & journalism, two pillars of civilization, are fundamentally liberal. Professors don't get to throw up their hands and say (as the modern conservative might), "There, all finished! We've got it pretty well figured out." Journalists don't get to simply report events that unfold, like automatons.

Liberalism is about genuine relativity - that all ideas are relative to one's perspective. It is corrosive to tradition and entrenched powers. But it is what it means to be a conscious human. It is an extension of the basic existential project: to reflect upon the world and find it's truth and meaning. This requires a certain amount of annihilation of self. Our model of the world is only as good as the model we are able to create. By this fact, everything then must be approached with a certain humility. When we engage the world, we must always allow for the fact that we do not have all the answers. There is no common sense for us. Skepticism begins with oneself, and then extends outward.

Yet none of this means that there is no Truth. It only means that we sometimes have a very hesitant relationship with it. Which causes problems when it comes to taking a stand for things. We may think we know what is true - but that could always change. When faced with fundamental injustice, dishonesty & illogic, we often struggle to rise above our hesitant stance and take the leap of faith that is declaration and certitude.

This isn't a problem for conservatives. Men are men. Women are women. God is god. Right is right. Love it or leave it. Real Americans. This is a fundamentalist mentality. Debates are not had in order to learn, they are to be won. - the model is perfect. It is one of obedience and authority. The model must not be questioned, because that is a slippery slope. Questions simply lead to more questions. There is a point where the questions just need to stop. The tap must be turned off and the sooner, the closer to the source, the less chance of contamination.

This is not communication. This is a fight. The same sort of mentality drives men to believe that infidels are expendable. It fits perfectly with the concept of God, because what could be more perfect, more authoritative, more true and worthy? What is more, every God comes with a special book! You don't even need to think for yourself. It's all right there in black and white. Just follow along. No stopping to critically reflect, unless as a way to more perfectly correct oneself in line with the Right way.

So do we argue with Al Qaeda? Of course not. And not only because they'd likely kill us. But because there is no point! Arguing requires an honest effort on both sides to try and understand each other. But these people do not want to understand us. How could they, when they don't even want to understand themselves?

Sarah Palin is not Al Qaeda. Glenn Beck is not Al Qaeda. (Although some of their follows I do sometimes worry...). But their thinking shares many commonalities. It arises out of an utter lack of self-reflection. At first principles, its core assumption is of inerrancy - an obedience to the tautological premise of an idea being so demonstrably true that it must not be questioned. A zeitgeist of such folk is now coalescing, almost in the way natural disaster builds to a critical mass that becomes self-sustaining. As a movement, what matters is not the legitimacy of its claims, but the size of its mass. The lack of tolerance for deviation is fascinating.

I'm not sure how to deal with these people. But engagement on the issues likely isn't an option. And to the degree that it is, success will come not from the strength of argument, but from the ability of the individual to reclaim some vestige of dialogue within their self. That process of self-reflection must be reacquired before any outsider can hope to have any impact.