Posts
I.
This dramatic, distinctly concise epitaph could be the launch pad for a thousand reveries, depending on the nature of your mental trade winds. On this day (our nation-state's glorious birthday), I would like to leave you, dear reader, with just a few reflections. The first three fall into the category of "The Impossibly Ironic (But Inevitable?) Oxymorons of Institutional Aging":
1. That a state conceived by anti-imperial revolutionary fervor could in such a short period of time grow into the largest and most complete global empire the world has ever known, thus becoming the de facto arch nemesis of any contemporary sons of any revolution opposed to the current, global capitalist order (in which 86% of the world's goods are consumed by 20% of the world's population).
2. That a state birthed by an intensely politically engaged populace (e.g. ready to shoot, ready to die, ready to identify themselves primarily with the life or death of their local community) could in 200 years so completely become transformed into a disaffected, disengaged crowd of virtual spectators (e.g. ready to watch the TV, ready to make fun of the President, simultaneously ready to benefit from the perpetuation of the current order).
3. That a state birthed from not only from a radical political revolution but from a very violent political revolution could evolve into a state of people generally in denial about the violence of the world, distant from even the possibility of either killing or dying for their beliefs, taught to instinctively disregard any person or social movement that uses violence to achieve its ends (other than America, of course) as shocking and inherently illegitimate. (To me, this doctrine seems to be an echo of nonviolent strategy, twisted out of shape, co-opted and bent back onto itself to reinforce a detached passivity.)
4. The truly shocking, pervasive association of any disturbance (creative or not, violent or not, just or not, in line with the constitution or not) with the recently invented monolithic meme known as "Terror" (e.g. “Domestic terrorism”--esp. “Eco-Terror”, Human rights activists as terrorists, Peaceable assembly as terrorism; also, see China tear a page out of the American propaganda rule book, referring to the Dalai Lama as a terrorist).
II.
The Organizational Kid is good at finding practical, productive ways to integrate all his energies into the existing order. But he is not very good at getting any larger perspective on the good-ness or evil-ness of the existing order.
Granted, the American kid of my generation is working with some pretty mixed messages. Namely:
“Rebel! Conformists are boring and un-sexy.”
“Conform! Get real. Cynicism and resistance are downers (and futile, to boot).”
The most obvious way to synthesize this contradiction—especially when the second claim holds more ultimate, authoritative weight in society—is to conform with the substance of one's life while preserving one or two symbolic holdouts of cultural rebellion, perhaps in the realm of accessorization or media consumption.
These days I am also learning about another, equally comforting way to resolve such cognitive dissonance: To oscillate back and forth, to weigh endlessly, to “not take a stance." The social pressure to withhold judgment, masquerading as a value for intellectual humility, is in fact a very effective way for cultural conformity to insinuate itself. For example, to harbor a vague sense of disapproval about the Iraq war (“What a messy conflict. I wouldn’t want to hold one of those big guns. Women and children are dying. Plus, I don’t like dusty places.” Or “What are we even over there for?”—the confused question, not the rhetorical one) without real or actual commitment to that disapproval, while enjoying the benefits of imperial dominance every day, is one such remarkable feat of incoherent resolution.
Beyond this, there is of course the social pressure to not act on a defined position even once it has been reached (“Don’t be one of those extremists.”). A moderately acceptable path might perhaps be to teach about your radical position from within the academy. Or blog about it.
But to quote Howard Zinn: You can’t stay neutral on a moving train.
I wish that I could be extricated quicker, more completely, with more objectivity, from the numbing, paralyzing body cast of illusory neutrality.
4 comments:
Excellent post, very well written. I agree with you wholeheartedly on the illusory virtue of the man who withholds judgment on the issue so he can receive the benefits of both positions.
Is it possible, however, that politically, the model for the Christian is conformity rather than rebellion? Romans 13 would seem to suggest so, noting that these rulers are ordained by God and do not "bear the sword in vain."
You might even say that the political ideal upon which the United States were born, that the people have a right to rebel when government doesn't suit them ("When in the course of human events it becomes necessary..."), is not sustainable, because the new government created by the people then has to insulate itself from being toppled by its discontents. There is evidence of the tension in this non-sustainability in our nation's protection of free speech, which allows some protest and revolution within the confines of the social order, but at the same time, as you note, makes so many of our contented citizens just gull-durned uncomfortable.
Thus, looking at the history of America, isn't it possible that the Revolutionaries were the ones in error, and that political stability is to be desired above the coup? But even if, in the abstract, stability is better than coup, that does not mean that the aims of this current empire are to be praised. I may submit to this empire, but that does not mean I won't criticize it.
Davis, thanks for your response. I appreciate your perspective on this matter, since it seems to fall pretty far outside the general consensus of people I am regularly engaged with in political conversation.
You suggest the possibility that "political stability is to be desired above the coup."
I respect the ideological intensity (and simplicity?) of your (and your father's, if I am correct) radically authority-based version of Christianity. But I would find this position hard to defend biblically. Romans 13 is of course the cornerstone passage for such a claim, but the counterpoint of course is the fact that Paul was pretty far from a good Roman Senator, or even your dutiful, Pax Romana-invested citizen. No, Paul wrote these words from a Roman prison cell, on the road to his eventual execution by the state authority.
Secondly, I find that Jesus' ministry is chock full of intentional disturbances and explicit condemnations of various kinds of social stability, which have become ossified, unjust and counter-productive to their intended purposes. Indeed, this theme falls in line with the restless tradition of prophetic critique. And the criticized institutions apparently understand this clearly, likely as they are to silence or execute sources of critique.
Of course, the gospels are also clearly not about a rejection of all authority: Anyone reading the gospels with something resembling fair-mindedness can't ignore the fact that Jesus ministry is equally full of authority claims and language about power, taken up as well as conferred.
And this is what leads me to think about human institutions and movements (political or otherwise) using the metaphor of aging--all living organisms are inherently bound to a life cycle that involves both the explosive, optimistic, early "building" phase as well as the inevitable contradictions and deconstruction of meaning that is the death of any organization. Political revolutions, violent or otherwise, would seem to play an integral part of this turnover, characterized as they are by a youthful, even naive idealism and irreverence towards the status quo. But anyone who puts all their eggs in the authority basket would tend to privilege the later stages of institutional development and try to dismiss, judge, or just forget about the awkward early stages of whatever institution they're defending.
Granted, I have a deep desire to seek clear, definitive statements of truth in which to understand the world around me, so I am unhappy with the impotent "mildness" of conclusion that results from the very "balanced" claim that neither submission to authority nor the rejection of authority is ultimately the more real imperative of God.
Good points.
One of the problems with my view, that I acknowledge, is knowing that since civic authority is conferred by God, the victorious revolutionary inherits (even if illegitimately) the same authority of the government he toppled. This puts the Christian, who is supposed to submit to THE government, in an awkward position. For instance, if I was alive in 1774, I probably wouldn't have joined the American Revolution. But after the Treaty of Paris, I would have to whole-heartedly submit to the American government. The space in between would be troubling trying to figure out which sovereign I was to honor.
To address a couple other things you said, I agree that Paul wasn't the ideal Roman citizen, at least not by Roman standards. But the things that got him put in prison were only the things that he had to do because God commanded it--in such instances, the Word of God trumps the decree of the state. Paul was imprisoned for preaching the gospel, but even then (per the instruction in 1 Peter) he accepted his punishment, recognizing the state's legitimate authority. Every time he was before a Roman tribunal (wicked, wicked nation that it was), he was deferential but unashamed of the gospel.
Similarly, Christ understood civic authority in that He submitted to it by allowing Himself to be crucified, after the decree of Pilate. Also, when you look at the things Christ criticizes, most of them are social customs, rather than civic laws. The most prominent thing He had to say about Rome was "Render unto Caesar...." Criticism is all well and good (and you will find me quite critical of my government, but perhaps not of the same things you critique), but it should come within the context of submitting to civic authorities.
Christians should participate in civil disobedience rather than be revolutionaries--why overturn the authority God has placed there? As I mentioned above, this teaching is clear in 1 Peter. But even in participating in civil disobedience, the Christian should only refuse to obey the law where it commands that which is forbidden by God or where it forbids that which He commands. For example, the fact that America allows abortion does not justify bombing courthouses or clinics.
Thoughts?
I think the emphasis on submission to civil authority is more than just awkward during exchanges of power.
There's a deeper problem, which seems to be rooted in a refusal to acknowledge the role you and I have been given in the shaping of the form, nature and distribution of power itself, a role which has been dictated to us by the political program of the last several hundred years of western civilization.
Consequently, isn't it your duty as a loyal subject to the living tradition of American civil authority to voice dissent (if necessary, breaking the law a la civil disobedience), to actively resist the interests of power-consolidation with an ever-more-egalitarian democratic agenda, and to protect the form of market anarchy known as capitalism, among other things?
Or at the very least, isn't it your duty to cast a vote in November (that most insulting of gestures to the divinely-appointed feudal lords of history, gazing down from their myriad heavenly thrones), thereby taking up your personal role in determining the particulars of God's political sovereignty in this country?
Post a Comment