muttermuttermutter
Oct. 7th, 2004 05:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sigersonHyperbole, exhaustion, crisis. It's a great big essay.
Lately, my sociology readings and my stack of mail seem to have much in common. Many of the mailings and many of the social critics I encounter express an overwhelming consensus: the world is dying. Society collapses. Human rights are eradicated. 1984 and Brave New World are not only already here, they’re about to get much worse. Women are doomed to slavery, minorities to oppression, the poor will feed the rich. The isolation felt today will increase until it consumes the republic and we are little more than cheerful robots or quiet, desperate atoms. The earth overpopulates. The dreams die.
And they also agree on another point: Something must be done. Something must be done now. Now is the crisis point. Now is the turning point. Now, unless we (the US, the UN, the People, Generation X, concerned citizens) take action, the overwhelming flood of (terror, global warming, right-wing repression, secular humanism, bureaucratic homogenization) will eradicate everything good and true on this planet.
I don’t know if these points of consensus are true. I don’t know if they’re true for some cases, false for others. I give more credence to global warming than to bureaucratic homogenization, more to eradication of women’s rights than to secular humanism.
But I have serious trouble trying to confront all these crises, and I’m beginning to wonder if it’s related to the crisis approach itself.
First, I have trouble fully believing in the apocalyptic vision described by some of these texts. That’s a failing of my imagination, not one of the texts. Certainly we are capable, as a nation/species/etc of great harm and great wrong. If I quibble with ‘extinction of all life’ or ‘total repression of all individuality’ or ‘absolute loss of meaningful community’, it’s because I cannot stand total generalizations.
Second, there is an awkward power dynamic set up through much of the public discussion about these issues facing humanity. I.e., the crisis is presented as gigantic, unstable, monolithic, terrible, implacable, insidious and overwhelming. You are a single person, concerned and caring. Go fix it!
Is there any better recipe for instant panic, despair, and—as a result—withdrawal from the issue?
Combine this with the generational pressure—nicely phrased by Dar Williams: “They preach that we should save the world; they pray that we won’t do a better job of it.” Former idealists view themselves as having tried to change the world and failed—regardless of actual intention or actual change. This leads to a worse feeling than “It’s just the way it is, and no one has ever changed it.” Instead, the overwhelming nature of the issues and the fact that people have been struggling with them for decades leads to a feeling of “We tried that. It’s too big to ignore, so how dare you slack—but we already tried to change it, so it’s not fixable. Go do something earnest and useless.”
Last, all these crises have worn me down. It’s been about nine years since I began to pay any attention to world affairs, politics, social issues. But every week—sometimes every day—more if I’m reading sociology—some integral part of society is in imminent danger of destruction, and will crumble into bloody chaos without help. Sometimes the help is monetary; sometimes it’s political; sometimes it’s not specified, but desperately needed nonetheless. Same mailings. Same groups. Same issues. Week after week. Month after month.
What conclusions does this lead to? Perhaps the crisis was not so bad the first time, but now it’s a lot worse. Perhaps it’s a constant struggle just to stay alive. Perhaps there was no crisis then, and there is no crisis now. Perhaps the perspective shifted from then to now.
What concerns me most is the effect of this constant crisis. I think it leads to three things: a feeling of great helplessness and despair; a feeling of cynicism (if the moment to act was nine years ago, how come the apocalypse hasn’t happened yet?); and an inability to change perspective to anything remotely long-term.
Ultimately, I am not likely to pour a lot of effort and time into a cause if I feel that it’s not doing a damn thing. If nothing can be done, if this problem is as huge and insurmountable as it always seems, why should I even begin to fight it? Why not instead try and conserve my small life, my small joys, for just a little while against the inevitable destruction? I despair of ever being able to preserve anything good and true, since it’s going to get trashed by (the religious right, the secular left, the terrorists, the race riots) anyway, so all my pleasures have to be fleeting and without real attachment.
This despair is what burns out non-profit people and activists. All one’s work is dedicated to demonstrating to (donors, the public, the voters, the policymakers) that the issue is gigantic and needs attention RIGHT NOW. A few years of this can come to feel like bailing the Titanic. No wonder people burn out and leave angrier but also apathetic (comparatively).
The cynicism comes when every call to action—no matter how true and strong the need is—becomes one voice in a cacophony. We need your help, or people will starve. Yes, you helped last year, but that was just a minor crisis. This is the Real turning point. No, this time it’s the real crisis point. No, this time. It starts to sound like someone crying Wolf! Wolf!, and it has the same effect, chilling the (public, donors, voters, policymakers) to a callous cynicism.
And the cynicism leads to the third effect. In order to get results, the crisis must be described as even worse than ever before. And the next time, it has to be even worse. Attention must be fought for, and so the cry for change becomes louder and the predictions more dire. So for those (programs, people, churches, environments) that are near the edge but not on it can’t get the same attention, and eventually fall from struggling to survive into dying.
Is an alternative possible? Is it feasible to try and work for positive change without trumpeting the imminent doom of (Western civilization, the family, women’s rights)? To say, The situation is bad. It could be a lot worse, but it’s bad right now. We want it to get better. It’s better now than last year, and worse than two years ago. We want it to get better, and we can do so. To act without despair in the face of a large but not apocalyptic challenge.
I’ve read that such an approach is propaganda; that to speak with moderation is, in effect, to condone the status quo. There’s truth in that. It is also true that a crisis-focused approach also condones the status quo. How? The current state is bad; last year the current state was less bad; we haven’t ignored the problem but instead have focused all our strength to fixing it; therefore, the current state is not as bad as it could be. Therefore, let us celebrate that things aren’t any worse, thanks to your donation.
We cannot ignore such problems. We can’t whistle along, pretending that everything is okay. But to announce that not only are things bad, but earth-shatteringly horrible and apt to destroy the world as we know it any day now, destroys those who work to change it, destroys its credibility, and destroys the public’s willingness to care. Hyperbole kills its cause. (Yes, I am aware of the irony of that last sentence.)
If the end of (society, Christianity, freedom) is upon us, then all we can do is try to hold back the overwhelming tide. Piss in the ocean. Squirt guns and a burning house. If the danger is large but the End is not here, we can try to do more. Fortify before the barbarians arrive, not fling rocks over the walls. Board up the windows before the hurricane hits, not hold up a Wile E. Coyote parasol.
The metaphors are mixed, but the point is this: if we do not believe that we are struggling against the greatest challenge to face humanity, we might have more motivation, be less prone to despair, more willing to celebrate small gains, and more willing to change the status quo.
But the cynic in me says that no one has ever acted until the last moment, and that no one can be counted on to help a cause unless the need is immediate.
I want to be wrong.
Lately, my sociology readings and my stack of mail seem to have much in common. Many of the mailings and many of the social critics I encounter express an overwhelming consensus: the world is dying. Society collapses. Human rights are eradicated. 1984 and Brave New World are not only already here, they’re about to get much worse. Women are doomed to slavery, minorities to oppression, the poor will feed the rich. The isolation felt today will increase until it consumes the republic and we are little more than cheerful robots or quiet, desperate atoms. The earth overpopulates. The dreams die.
And they also agree on another point: Something must be done. Something must be done now. Now is the crisis point. Now is the turning point. Now, unless we (the US, the UN, the People, Generation X, concerned citizens) take action, the overwhelming flood of (terror, global warming, right-wing repression, secular humanism, bureaucratic homogenization) will eradicate everything good and true on this planet.
I don’t know if these points of consensus are true. I don’t know if they’re true for some cases, false for others. I give more credence to global warming than to bureaucratic homogenization, more to eradication of women’s rights than to secular humanism.
But I have serious trouble trying to confront all these crises, and I’m beginning to wonder if it’s related to the crisis approach itself.
First, I have trouble fully believing in the apocalyptic vision described by some of these texts. That’s a failing of my imagination, not one of the texts. Certainly we are capable, as a nation/species/etc of great harm and great wrong. If I quibble with ‘extinction of all life’ or ‘total repression of all individuality’ or ‘absolute loss of meaningful community’, it’s because I cannot stand total generalizations.
Second, there is an awkward power dynamic set up through much of the public discussion about these issues facing humanity. I.e., the crisis is presented as gigantic, unstable, monolithic, terrible, implacable, insidious and overwhelming. You are a single person, concerned and caring. Go fix it!
Is there any better recipe for instant panic, despair, and—as a result—withdrawal from the issue?
Combine this with the generational pressure—nicely phrased by Dar Williams: “They preach that we should save the world; they pray that we won’t do a better job of it.” Former idealists view themselves as having tried to change the world and failed—regardless of actual intention or actual change. This leads to a worse feeling than “It’s just the way it is, and no one has ever changed it.” Instead, the overwhelming nature of the issues and the fact that people have been struggling with them for decades leads to a feeling of “We tried that. It’s too big to ignore, so how dare you slack—but we already tried to change it, so it’s not fixable. Go do something earnest and useless.”
Last, all these crises have worn me down. It’s been about nine years since I began to pay any attention to world affairs, politics, social issues. But every week—sometimes every day—more if I’m reading sociology—some integral part of society is in imminent danger of destruction, and will crumble into bloody chaos without help. Sometimes the help is monetary; sometimes it’s political; sometimes it’s not specified, but desperately needed nonetheless. Same mailings. Same groups. Same issues. Week after week. Month after month.
What conclusions does this lead to? Perhaps the crisis was not so bad the first time, but now it’s a lot worse. Perhaps it’s a constant struggle just to stay alive. Perhaps there was no crisis then, and there is no crisis now. Perhaps the perspective shifted from then to now.
What concerns me most is the effect of this constant crisis. I think it leads to three things: a feeling of great helplessness and despair; a feeling of cynicism (if the moment to act was nine years ago, how come the apocalypse hasn’t happened yet?); and an inability to change perspective to anything remotely long-term.
Ultimately, I am not likely to pour a lot of effort and time into a cause if I feel that it’s not doing a damn thing. If nothing can be done, if this problem is as huge and insurmountable as it always seems, why should I even begin to fight it? Why not instead try and conserve my small life, my small joys, for just a little while against the inevitable destruction? I despair of ever being able to preserve anything good and true, since it’s going to get trashed by (the religious right, the secular left, the terrorists, the race riots) anyway, so all my pleasures have to be fleeting and without real attachment.
This despair is what burns out non-profit people and activists. All one’s work is dedicated to demonstrating to (donors, the public, the voters, the policymakers) that the issue is gigantic and needs attention RIGHT NOW. A few years of this can come to feel like bailing the Titanic. No wonder people burn out and leave angrier but also apathetic (comparatively).
The cynicism comes when every call to action—no matter how true and strong the need is—becomes one voice in a cacophony. We need your help, or people will starve. Yes, you helped last year, but that was just a minor crisis. This is the Real turning point. No, this time it’s the real crisis point. No, this time. It starts to sound like someone crying Wolf! Wolf!, and it has the same effect, chilling the (public, donors, voters, policymakers) to a callous cynicism.
And the cynicism leads to the third effect. In order to get results, the crisis must be described as even worse than ever before. And the next time, it has to be even worse. Attention must be fought for, and so the cry for change becomes louder and the predictions more dire. So for those (programs, people, churches, environments) that are near the edge but not on it can’t get the same attention, and eventually fall from struggling to survive into dying.
Is an alternative possible? Is it feasible to try and work for positive change without trumpeting the imminent doom of (Western civilization, the family, women’s rights)? To say, The situation is bad. It could be a lot worse, but it’s bad right now. We want it to get better. It’s better now than last year, and worse than two years ago. We want it to get better, and we can do so. To act without despair in the face of a large but not apocalyptic challenge.
I’ve read that such an approach is propaganda; that to speak with moderation is, in effect, to condone the status quo. There’s truth in that. It is also true that a crisis-focused approach also condones the status quo. How? The current state is bad; last year the current state was less bad; we haven’t ignored the problem but instead have focused all our strength to fixing it; therefore, the current state is not as bad as it could be. Therefore, let us celebrate that things aren’t any worse, thanks to your donation.
We cannot ignore such problems. We can’t whistle along, pretending that everything is okay. But to announce that not only are things bad, but earth-shatteringly horrible and apt to destroy the world as we know it any day now, destroys those who work to change it, destroys its credibility, and destroys the public’s willingness to care. Hyperbole kills its cause. (Yes, I am aware of the irony of that last sentence.)
If the end of (society, Christianity, freedom) is upon us, then all we can do is try to hold back the overwhelming tide. Piss in the ocean. Squirt guns and a burning house. If the danger is large but the End is not here, we can try to do more. Fortify before the barbarians arrive, not fling rocks over the walls. Board up the windows before the hurricane hits, not hold up a Wile E. Coyote parasol.
The metaphors are mixed, but the point is this: if we do not believe that we are struggling against the greatest challenge to face humanity, we might have more motivation, be less prone to despair, more willing to celebrate small gains, and more willing to change the status quo.
But the cynic in me says that no one has ever acted until the last moment, and that no one can be counted on to help a cause unless the need is immediate.
I want to be wrong.
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no subject
Date: 2004-10-08 07:12 am (UTC)As a former professional do-gooder, I can relate to a lot of what you said about passion, hyperbole, apathy, and cynicism. I need to run now, but maybe later I'll post a cynical and un-politically correct little essay on professional do-gooders - at some point, people who wreak their livelihoods from solving the world's crises have a self-sustaining need to have there continue to be crises, and if they solve one problem they can't hang back onto their laurels - they have to speed onto the next. Think about professional feminists, for instance, and how those of the Western ilk relate to their sisters in the rest of the world - talking to women who need water rights and education about their need for orgasms and sharing the housework equally with men and by the way why are you wearing that stupid veil, don't you know you are oppressed?
I can prescribe two solutions to the creeping despair. 1) Read Mark Helprin's Winter's Tale. It's a beautiful book and it will cheer you up and make you feel like things are possible.
2) Check out http://www.witness.org. They market for help by sharing their successes. They get video cameras and training into the hands of those who want to document human rights abuses, and then they help the activitsts use the footage to create change- public awareness, legal documentation, accountability. They don't say "Help us, or these horrible things will continue and it will be all your fault you lazy git." They say "Look what we did with this simple thing - a $500 camera and some training - now people are being brought to justice and people are making a difference in their countries." I love them and will probably end up working for them someday in some capacity.
Peace.