Why don't I get it? (Time to regroup)

There are some things on that list that I could care less about. Really. There are lots of spoiled rich kids who have parents with connections that get things handed to them that other either have to work for or will never, ever get, be they degrees or connections or businesses or jobs. That's called luck, no more no less. Some folks are born with silver spoons in their mouths, others with normal flatware, some folks without any eating utensils (or even enough to eat) at all. To my mind, why that is so is more worth thinking about than why some people end up with an inordinate share of the breaks. It's an odd culture that attributes respect to luck, don't you think?

And hey, I have also no trouble with draft dodgers, for example, being one myself, but in light of my situation at that time and place, I had to volunteer for military service in order to avoid going to Vietnam, but unlike Mr. Bush, I was there the whole time, did my tour of duty and have an unblemished record to show for it, for whatever that's worth. I'm not one of those proud, honor-me vets: I didn't want to be there, I didn't particularly enjoy how I got there, so I sucked it up, did what I had to and put it behind me. I don't consider his absences from duty a black mark per sé, but it is a clearly identifiable smudge. It does say something about one's integrity, especially when you consider how you handle it later.

What's more, it doesn't bother me that he was pretty much a failure as a businessman. Oh sure, he was playing in a different league than I ever did, but I never had his connections. If you know the right people, even if you don't quite manage to be successful in running the business, you can always make up for it when you get out. Again, it's also a matter of luck, not just skill, but when you can't do anything else, I suppose you sooner or realize that you can get into politics.

Whether the man was an honorable governor of Texas is for others to decide. I will make no bones about the fact that I find the death penalty reprehensible; always have, and that there's even still a discussion about it in the 21st century simply boggles my mind. As much as I have a problem with the death penalty itself, I have a particular problem with people who wear their religion on their sleeve and advocate it as well. Killing someone on average every nine days is a bit much for me, but, hey, I'm a wimp and I would like to sleep at night. My conscience would have a problem with that, but apparently not everyone does. If there is anything in my feelings about Mr. Bush that we could chalk up as purely personal, then I suppose this is it.

We apparently have very different understandings of what is means to be Christian, and as long as there are Bush-like individuals parading around taking the limelight on that, I'll just stay where I am, in the background, and respectfully decline being included in that particular club.

We should keep in mind, however, that be it how you get to college, whether you acknowledge the breaks Luck offered you, whether you fulfilled your patriotic obligations to your country or how you act while in a public office, there are a good number of people who have sound enough reasons to question whether Bush's actions qualify as honorable. To me, they're secondary. None of us is as consistent in the smaller things in life and I think most of us would agree, it is the big things that matter most. So what about Bush and big things?

Why don't I get it? (Second thoughts)

Now, I know that some of you out there are leaping to political conclusions. I would warn against that. This isn't a political issue, and it's not about anyone's policies. It's all about what people do and what effect those actions have on others.

To summarize from last time: the vet gets a bye; there is at least one honorable guy in the picture. The question is: is the caption justified? Well, it turns out we know a bit more about W. than we know about the vet. And what is it that we know?

In no particular prioritized order, we know that he

• was born into a family whose source of wealth is, at a minimum, questionable (in terms of honor)
• grew up as a spoiled rich kid whose parents had money and connections
• got an Ivy-League education on the basis of legacy, not merit
• managed to get into the premier business school in the country, even though he only had his Ivy-League's gentleman's C to his credit
• was a draft dodger
• has undocumented time during his National Guard Service
• unsuccessfully ran more than one business
• was anything but an outstanding governor of Texas before getting to the White House
• was declared the winner in the 2000 election, even though all the votes were never counted; that is, under questionable circumstances
• was president of the United States when the most horrendous attack since the Civil War was carried out on American soil
• blatantly lied to the American people -- and to the world -- about the situation in Iraq
• waged an illegal war of aggression against a sovereign nation
• authorized the use of torture by the US military and its contractors
• set up the closest thing to a concentration camp the US has ever had in a legal no-man's land in Cuba
• is directly responsible for the deaths of about 4,000 GIs and close to 1,000,000 Iraqis, most of whom were civilians, and
• got nothing but good press from the US media the entire time he was in office.

There is nothing in that list that is not documentable, so we needn't argue about its factuality. At any rate, the discussion is about what that list means.

Next time, I want to take a closer look at it to figure that out.

Why don't I get it? (First thoughts)

Not long ago, I was chastised -- again -- for being negative, for making other people feel like they were stupid, for not being interesting. I know, it's an odd combination, but I didn't make it up. I was on the receiving end. I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I was aggravating others by telling them that what they thought was wrong. And all the while, I thought I was merely emphasizing that sometimes it does us all good to reflect on what we think. Sometimes, it just doesn't make sense to others.

Case in point: recently I saw a picture someone posted on Facebook (where else?) that just struck me as all kinds of wrong, and I didn't say anything, but I have no idea what is going on in the head of the person who posted it. I've tried, but I just don't get it. It was a picture of former President George W. Bush jogging with a guy with an artificial leg. The small print said that he (W.) had promised to work out with a vet, so I'm guessing that's who the other guy was. The big-print caption said "Honorable Men". I don't get it. Maybe it's the planet I'm from, because I'm beginning to suspect that I may not be from this one.

I don't know the vet. I'm going to give the phototaker the benefit of the doubt that the guy actually was a vet and lost his leg, I'm going to assume, in one of those needless, unnecessary wars that America is so dead-set on waging. Maybe he is an honorable person. I would like to think that his intentions in signing up for the military and maybe even pursuing a career there was motivated by some sense of duty and that he thought he could do something good by taking a post in our so-called first line of defense.

Anyone even in moderate touch with reality, however, knows that war is literally hell and more people are damaged by it than are killed in it. Too many otherwise upright, honest and honorable human beings are put into situations that are simply degrading, dishonest and horrific. When people are forced through that, when they do what they have to do to survive, does it tarnish their honor? I don't know, but judging by the number of vets who come back with PTSD, I'm guessing it does something to them that doesn't make them personally feel so honorable anymore. I think we need to do something about that, starting with not putting people in the position to get so screwed up in the first place, but when we do, I think we also have the responsibility to help these folks get back on their feet again. Unfortunately, I don't see that happening.

So, the vet gets a bye. I'm not here to project my own sentiments onto the poor guy. I feel bad that he had to lose a leg, to be sure. I'm glad to see that he is apparently trying to overcome the tragedy. I want to believe that his heart was and is in the right place, and that perhaps he even believes that he can set an example for others. I've got no qualms, no problem with any of that.

In short, I'm willing to concede, at this point, that there is (very likely) an honorable man in the picture.

But what about the other guy?

I know that this is going to be terribly unpopular with some people, but I would at least like the opportunity to explain why I'm having some doubts ... but that will have to wait for next time.

Coming up for air

So what?

For as long as I tutored strategy and business studies, that was my favorite question: so what? Student after student, graduate or undergraduate -- it didn't matter -- would parrot off what they thought I wanted to hear, when necessary quoting the course material or one of our many auxiliary supporting texts, regurgitating precisely and conscientiously what they had read and taken in. And I was the jerk who asked, "So what?"

The first time it happens you get looks, I can assure you: everything from what's-that-supposed-to-mean to where-do-you-get-off-embarrassing-me-like-that. Oh, I know, I can be a politically incorrect, insensitive clod (or so I've been told), but in a situation like that, what choice did I really have? Repeating what someone else had said (written) was apparently good enough for their understanding of "learning", but it didn't even scratch the surface of mine. Now that I'm no longer in a classroom, even occasionally, I sometimes find myself wondering if my questioning ever did any real good. I just don't know. One of the "problems" with being a teacher -- at any level, in any subject, the world over -- is that you never (or rarely) get to see what becomes of your charges. You do your part, or so you believe, and hope for the best.

When I look out into the world, though, when I read what our so-called leaders have to say, what are so-called media folks have to present, what so-called educated people spout out, I'm not so sure. Really. What good is science, if you can simply ignore it? What good is discussion or debate if it's simply one opinion versus another? What good is reflection if personal preferences and values are all that's necessary? What good is learning, exploration, discovery, or research if so-called answers are little more than what the loudest speaker happens to think at a given moment in time? When I turn on the TV (which I assiduously avoid, succumbing only when absolutely necessary), when I log into Facebook (more and more reluctantly), or when I simply browse the Web (and don't ask, because I don't know why I do that to myself), I find more and more expression, but fewer and fewer statements. A lot of folks are talking, but too few are saying anything; and those who do have something to say, are being ignored, not listened-to, and even belittled by other who are simply loud, often obnoxious, and simply in-your-face.

A friend of mine recently got on my case for being so negative, for being arrogant enough to point out that what a lot of folks think are worthwhile thoughts are, in reality and at bottom, bullshit. Aside from my innate cynicism, why is any opinion as good as any other, why is one belief as good as any other, why are facts and time-tested explanations simply waved aside simply because someone just doesn't believe something? To be honest, it simply boggles my mind ... or what little of my mind that I have left.

Someone needs to explain to me why things such as climate change, pollution, and alternative energy; the explanatory strength of physical laws and evolutionary theory; the minimum wage and workers' rights and safety; hunger; poverty; income inequality; wealth maldistribution; and any number of topics are not just not talked about, but why we're still mulling over whether they are issues are not. The jury is in. They are issues that need to be resolved; they are facts that need to be acknowledged; they are bases of discussion beneath which no discussion is possible.

And it too often seems that no discussion is possible. So, who am I really talking to?

A slight digression to nowhere

One of my favorite writers is Erich Fromm, not necessarily because of his style, but because of his insight. A supposed-to-be rabbi who decided instead to become a Freudian analyst ended up becoming one of the most perceptive and prolific social psychologist of the 20th century. He was a man who not only loved people, he was concerned very intensely with their mental health and well-being. Like most "prophets" he was certainly more ignored than accepted, but that does nothing to diminish his relevance. Recently, I stumbled across a typical example of his insight that got me thinking. In a discussion of "alienation", he wrote

In the alienated form of pleasure nothing happens within me; I have consumed this or that; nothing is changed within myself, and all that is left are memories of what I have done. One of the most striking examples for this kind of pleasure consumption is the taking of snapshots, which has become one of the most significant leisure activities. The Kodak slogan, "You press the button, we do the rest," which since 1889 has helped so much to popularize photography all over the world, is symbolic. It is one of the earliest appeals to push-button power-feeling; you do nothing, you do not have to know anything, everything is done for you: all you have to do is to press the button. Indeed, the taking of snapshots has become one of the most significant expressions of alienated visual perception, of sheer consumption. The "tourist" with his camera is an outstanding symbol of an alienated relationship to the world. Being constantly occupied with taking pictures, actually he does not see anything at all, except through the intermediary of the camera. The cameras sees for him, and the outcome of his "pleasure" trip is a collection of snapshots, which are the substitute for an experience which he could have had, but did not have. (p137)

In my humble estimation, he hit the nail on the head, then; and I wonder what he'd have to say about selfies today. Whereas once we allowed the gadget to do our seeing of the world for us, all we see now, it seems ... and this through an intermediary ... is ourselves.

Is this because we think too much of ourselves, or is it perhaps because we have lost ourselves completely?

Reference
Fromm, Erich (1955) The Sane Society, Holt, New York

Same difference

If there is anything I love about this life and this world, it's the diversity. Really. It can't be colorful enough, diverse enough, multi-culti enough for me.

Here we are, all of us, on one small planet, somewhere in the middle of a rather small solar system, somewhere at the edge of a galaxy, in the endless vastness of space. The universe is huge and we've got pea brains. How is that supposed to work? Still, those pea brains produce enough whatever to allow us to go to the moon, cure some diseases, think about weird stuff, and also pollute the planet, destroy the atmosphere and bring ourselves to the brink of destruction. Tell me why that is, in and of itself, not worth contemplating?

In all of my musings, of course, I keep coming back to one point: even though we're all so different -- actually unique as individuals -- there is so much about us that is still the same: our feelings, our sorrows, joy, pain, desires, wishes, hopes, and aspirations. We'd all, it appears, like to live a decent life (whatever that means) and not have to worry as much as we do about as many things as we do. I get the feeling that we'd all just like to know that our children are doing OK, that they are healthy and (at least sometimes) happy, that they have enough to eat and, when the situation calls for it, can celebrate and be happy about births and marriages and birthdays and whatever else is reason for joy.

OK, I'll admit it, I haven't been everywhere. But, wherever I've been, this is what I have seen and felt that people want. From all the TV shows, documentaries and travelogues that I have read, I get the impression that this is what most people want. I'm beginning to think -- though admittedly all evidence is not yet in -- that this is somehow a feature of the human condition. I really don't know what the difference is between me, a Wall Street banker, a worker in a German factory, a French civil servant, a peasant in China or an Aborigine in Australia. Oh, our circumstances are very, very different, but how we all feel about the world around us ... well, I can't really see how different it is. We feel the same joy and pain, we suffer from the same diseases ... where is the fundamental, existential difference? I just don't see it.

On the outside, we're very different: our hair, eyes, skin, stature, build ... you name it ... are very, very different. On the inside, our intelligence, our attitude, our self-understanding, our face-to-the-world ... if you know what I mean ... are very different as well. But deep down ... and I mean really deep down, at the core of our being, at that space-time that defines us as being "human" ... well, I'm not sure there's all that much difference at all. I haven't been able to locate that difference, but I've sought far and wide. I've tried to find it in every person I have ever met. But, as it turns out, the more I look, the more I find out that in the most important, essential and deepest ways, there just isn't a lot of difference between Mike and Jane and Michele and Rolf and Dimitry and Joanna, and Jose and Qiang and Kwame and ... well, you get the point.

It takes a while before you realize that we're really not all that different from one another. And it takes a little longer to realize that we're all more alike that different. But once you do, I can assure you, the world becomes a simpler place, and as a result, it becomes a better, more livable place as well.

Now back to our regularly scheduled program

The world goes on, regardless of our involvement. The path it takes in its "going", well, we do have something of a say in that.

It would appear that over the past couple of posts, I've digressed, gotten off the beaten path, if you will, taken an unexpected turn (and you'll note that all of these phrases are, yes, metaphors), but that's not the case at all. Truth be told, I've simply continued with what I was saying, but tried to relate it to the real world in which (at least) most of us believe we find ourselves. If we only knew. Yes, if we only really knew where and when we are.

Let's face it, we haven't quite got this consciousness thing figured out yet. The materialists can't explain it, the metaphysicians are probably too enthusiastic about it. We only know what we know and that is what we experience, but somehow we suspect that that's not all there is. Even the most dyed-in-the-wool materialist knows that there is more in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in any of our philosophies (with apologies to William). Yes, my dear friend (or occasional reader, I can't know ... though it doesn't make a difference), we are a strange species. And that, more or less, is what the past few posts (and probably most of my posts) have been about.

We have trouble -- and by "we", I mean all of us -- with uncertainty. Our lives are full of it, but we wish they weren't. We'd love to know what is what, to not have to worry about every little thing, and to be able to get up every morning and face the day with renewed vigor and confidence. Of course, we're in a very privileged and exalted position: we don't have to worry about where our next drink of clean water comes from or our next bowl of rice, or if the radicals are going to show up with blood-lust and machetes, or if we have to sign up for Obamacare or not. No, we don't handle uncertainty very well, but just when was the world certain at all.

There is something that unites us all. It doesn't matter if you're a dirt farmer in deepest Africa, or a day laborer in China, or an executive on Wall Street, or a production worker at the Daimler plant in Stuttgart. What we all have in common is that we have absolutely, positively, definitely no idea why we're here.

Oh, we're here all right. We get up every morning. We go about our business. We do what we have to do, whatever it may be, but in the end, at night, before we go to sleep, we all have that moment when we ask ourselves, just what the hell am I doing here? Where did I come from? Why am I? The true believer asks him/herself this, as does the atheist, the agnostic, the materialist, and the forlorn and forgotten.

Oh, you can -- from your privileged position of so-called knowledge in alleged developed Western society -- think that you know. But, late at night, when the lights are out, when all is dark and quiet, you know that you simply have no idea why you are.

The wonder, the mystery, of life is that we just don't know. The comfort, the surety, of life is that we suspect (rightfully) that no other human being on this planet knows either. We're simply all in it together.

Aren't we so proud of ourselves

Today's a special day, of sorts. No, it's not a holiday, and in these parts nobody is celebrating, I can assure you. For better or for worse, most younger folks don't even know that it is a day worth remembering. No, it's not National Fluffy Bunny Day nor some celebrity's birthday, it's what was once known in the US as VE Day (that is, Victory in Europe Day). It was on this day, 69 years ago that Nazi Germany surrendered to the Allies ending World War II in Europe. (It's good to remember when wars are ended. It's too bad that they have to start in the first place.)

As with most commemorations of this sort, it's all done for the wrong reasons. We like to celebrate victories (if that's what they are) even if these victories are pyrrhic (and if you don't know what I just said, look it up). Don't get me wrong, it's good that the Nazis were stopped. What I'm troubled by is that we didn't stop them before they got started.

We love to blame the Germans. Really. The Nazis, the Holocaust ... their militarism in the First World War ... yes, there are lots of reasons to look down on them. Sure, we have a bit of a problem with the fact that they are now successful (in relative terms), build great cars, love the environment and solar energy and nature, but when push comes to shove, we can always pull out the "Nazi" card. We certainly don't want anybody getting uppity.

To be perfectly honest, I'd have less of a problem with all of this, if we non-Germans weren't so holier-than-thou about it all. Really. Many, many Americans loved Hitler and sympathized with the Nazis. Even today, as recent events have shown, anti-Semitism and hatred of the Jews is still a motivating force; the Bush family got wealthy catering to the Nazis banking-wise; the world tolerated them right up until the war; how many people even today would welcome a strong leader (Führer) to take charge and protect them from their own freedom? In the center of it all, of course, are the Jews, but who among us knows the difference between the ethnic group, the adherents to a particular religion, and the State of Israel, three very different, very distinct entities? No, we'd rather lump and stomp. It's all so much easier that way.

Yes, we like to think that "it couldn't happen here", that what happened in Nazi Germany was a "German thing". Unfortunately, it's not, it was a human thing. People who are downtrodden look for strong leaders. People who feel betrayed, look for a savior. People who feel they have nothing left to lose look to someone else to get them out of their misery. And, the easiest way to do that, of course, is to appeal to humanity's most base instincts: I have got to be better than somebody (anybody) else.

It was not a flaw in the German culture or character that allowed Hitler to come to power. The very same overarching, being-suppressed-but-feeling-superior, isolated and lonely feeling is more than present in Americans today. When someone can demonstrate to me the difference between "We're #1" and the Master Race, between "My country right or wrong" and "Deutschland über alles", between the imperialism the US demonstrates to the world and that which the Nazis failed to achieve ... well, then, I suppose, I'll think about this all a bit differently. Until then, however, I'll just note the day with a sense of bitter-sweet humor.

It can happen anywhere ... and some places more probably than others. And the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Hey, it's just a figure of speech

Yeah, that's what we'd like to think, but that's not the way it is.

The theory that describes this close relationship between speech and thought is called the "Whorfian Hypothesis", after the cultural-linguist Benjamin Whorf who first proposed it. Like anything else in academia, it isn't uncontested, but even if it isn't precisely accurate, it is generally a good description of how things are. Anyone who has ever learned a foreign language knows there are certain ideas or notions or concepts or, well, just simply words that are untranslatable. These folks also know that there are somethings, that even if they are similar in meaning are said in very different ways.

For example, the Germans have a word (one of my favorites, by the way), hinterfragen which is untranslatable. Literally it mean "to question behind" (fragen = to question; hinter = behind). What is means is to be critical about something, to question the assumptions upon which a statement is made, to try to get to the bottom of the matter, to find out what is really going on. On the other hand, we English-speakers can be "cool as a cucumber", and I can assure you that calmness and cucumbers are not two ideas that the everyday German would bring together like that.

The point is that both of these notions: the questioning and the self-assuredness are being expressed in metaphorical terms. There is no "space" behind questions any more than cucumbers can be calm and self-composed. Again, these are metaphors that help us express what we want to say.

And this is the point: there are many more instances of these kinds of things in all languages than there are instances of literally saying what you mean. "Hinterfrager (those who tend to "question behind") are called doubting Thomases; "smart cookies" know a lot; almost universally we all "go through Hell" when things are bad and find ourselves "in Heaven" (sometimes numbered, e.g., 7th) when things go well. The more you look, the more you dig into the language -- any language -- the more figurative (for metaphors are but one figure of speech) it becomes. Language is, at heart, figurative, not literal.

So why do I care? Well, if how we speak reflects how we view the world, and if how we view the world is reflected in how we act, then an increasing number of commercial, business-related, impersonal metaphors would indicate that we are becoming more commercial, business-related and impersonal in our thinking. If our thinking becomes more commercial, business-related and impersonal, then it is only a matter of (very little) time until our actions become commercial, business-related and impersonal. That's not good for us as people, because, well, human beings are deep down neither commercial, nor business-bound nor impersonal. Human beings are in trouble when there are no other human beings around. Robinson Crusoe didn't lose it because Friday showed up. John Donne told us clearly that no (hu)man is an island unto himself. And this is why, in the end, prolonged solitary confinement is rightfully considered torture.

What we say matters, and how we say it matters even more. Listen to yourself. How are you engaging the world? What vocabulary, phraseology, and which figures of speech dominate your own communication with the world?

I can assure you that whoever is (truly) listening already knows.

The "bottom line"

... that ain't.

Language has always fascinated me. Oh, sure, it is amazing to learn another one and get a true, inside look at the ways of thinking of different language community and culture, but it is also breathtakingly wondrous to take a step back and look at one's own language with fresh eyes.

The title today is an everyday, common, often-used phrase, to be sure. "The bottom line": what it all really comes down to, the heart of the matter, whatever it is that makes the difference; the bottom line.

While we English-speakers all immediately understand it, a lot of us really don't know where the phrase comes from. This one comes right out of business. The phrase is a simple, direct reference to the balance sheet: you look at what you took in, you look at what you had to spend to get it, and what's left over is profit, it's the last thing on the balance sheet, it's the bottom line.

Now, for those of you not schooled in the intricacies of business theory, this is what is generally known as "net profit". Profit is -- and most people don't know this -- just like temperature: it's of one bolt of cloth; it may be positive and it may be negative, and so it is with profit as well. (Negative profit is generally referred to a "loss", but that's another story.) Yes, the bottom line in the actual, real, factual, calculated what's-left-over-after-all-is-said-and-done; it's, well, the bottom line.

Of course, none of this is particularly special, is it. After all, it's just a phrase, we all use it, and now, we all know where it come from, but so what? To me, we now come to the interesting part. This is a phrase from business, commerce, from the economic sphere. It doesn't have to do with people, emotions, personalities, feelings, justice, correctness, morality, or any other of those fuzzy, hard-to-identify-and-agree-on notions folks are always throwing around. No, the bottom line is the razor-sharp, intricately calculated what-it-is. We take a cold, impersonal, calculated concept, and apply it willy-nilly to just about any situation we can think of. We use it in our daily affairs, in our marriages, our relationships to kin, with our friends, enemies, partners and competitors. We're not really talking about "profit", we use it to mean what is, in the end, important enough to take special note of. This way of using words (for those of you who were asleep in English (or any other native-language) class, is what we call a metaphor: we use a word to mean something other than what it actually means because it makes the point better than whatever other word we were thinking of using.

What I find so interesting about this is that we -- especially in the English-speaking world -- are using an increasing number of such metaphors (that is, those coming from the business, commerce, economic sphere) in our everyday speech. We've not only commercialized our society, we're doing it to our language as well. This is not a comforting development.

While all language use is, ultimately, metaphorical, it might be a good idea to take stock of where we're getting our metaphors from. There's a too-close relationship between how we think, how we speak, and how we act.