The technologies that inflicted upon the world the ongoing tragedies in both the Gulf of Mexico and Japan serve a dangerous addiction, an addiction to blind optimism, a habituation of mind that allows us to dwell within provisional comfort zones but renders vast spaces of the world into death realms.
After each catastrophe, there ensues a scramble to contain the damage leveled, as, concurrently, the apologists of the present system explain the anomalous nature of the event.
Yet, this much should be obvious: Attempting to clean up the mess, after it occurs, as oppose to altering the way of life that incurs the damage, is analogous to an addict believing a few days in detox will serve as a solution to his addiction.
In the same way drug dealers are reliant on an addict's unwillingness to reflect on the carnage created in his life, as well as the havoc reaped in the lives of those near him, engendered by his addiction, the small group of hyper-wealthy elites who benefit from the current system rely on collective cognitive dissonance (or, as it has been termed, the fear of fear itself) to dissuade the public at large from peering deeply into the pernicious situation.
One of an addict's biggest obstacles is his optimism i.e., he is convinced he can figure out somehow, someway to use his drug of choice in a less destructive way " and, by reflex, rebels against the deepening sorrow that he must change.
When large, powerful corporations create messes beyond their ability to control the damage wrought by their institutional cupidity, those in charge spare no expense aggressively confronting the problem " that is, of course, by means of public relations blitzes aimed at the general public, while tsunami-sized waves of campaign contributions flood the coffers of elected officials.
Apropos, a school of thought has developed in which framing the perception of a catastrophe supersedes all other considerations. An after-the-fact casuistry, possessed of crackpot optimism similar to the following, is affected: Dated technologies were at fault in that particular mishap, but, not to worry, in the near future, new innovations will safeguard against similar calamities.
Sure thing: The future will be bathed in the benign light of new technological wonders; our dread will be washed away by sparkling clean coal. Magical technological innovations will soon render nuclear power so safe that the only danger to the general public will be posed by the risk of being smothered by its profoundly huggable properties.
Such are the free market capitalist's versions of End Time belief systems, a variation of the type of magical thinking that induces an individual to scan the empty sky, waiting for Jesus to float earthward and redeem the ceaseless folly perpetrated by mankind.
If we are willing to accept being lulled back into our comfort zones by such fantasies (that are as craven as they are preposterous), we might as well wait around for hazmat crews of leprechauns atop flying unicorns to arrive on the scene and clean up the messes that corporate capitalist greed-heads inflict on our increasingly besieged planet.
In a manner similar to how the indefatigable salesmen of the consumer state sell optimism, but, in reality, deliver anomie, the propagandist of the neo--liberal paradigm promise peace and prosperity -- yet their shock troops, comprised of the political and media elite, instead level class warfare at home and perpetual war abroad that renders landscapes blighted and mindscapes shell-shocked.
Among their most pernicious contrivances has been to convince the passengers seated aboard the runaway train of the corporate state that the blur of landscape out the train's windows is caused by their own poor vision and the impending crash will be due to their negative thoughts.
The implicit message imparted is: "If only you would
have thought more optimistically and worked harder, you'd have been one of
life's winners and you would have been cruising above the impending carnage in
your private jet. How sad for you, loser. And, by the way," they lie,
"did you know socialists are manning the controls of the doomed
train?"
While these practitioners of the art of weasel word wizardry insist they sell
hope, in reality, they sell shame.
Growing up in the Deep South, being raised, as we say there -- not brought up,
but raised -- like corn, hogs (or Lazarus or zombies from the grave) and
socialized there, shame is a subject with which I'm well acquainted; it has
taken me a lifetime (and it remains an ongoing process) to sort through and
shake out the shame-based sensibility acquired there.
"If you think that I am dumb, There is another universe of stupidity that
I can show you!" -- comment posted on my FaceBook page when a stubborn,
inconsiderate fact would not yield to his rightist umbrage.
What is the origin of such an outlandish, inadvertently
self-satirizing statement?
Shame (its flip side being Southern pride) arises, descends, converges and
intermingles from manifold influences and multiple traumas: The bizarre-as-a-talking-serpent
concept of sin passed down through Calvinistic belief systems; the legacy of
degradations inflicted from being on the losing (and morally wrong) side of the
Civil War; as well as, the degraded social milieu that circumscribes the lives
and fates of large numbers of the permanent white underclass residing in the
region.
Shame stains Southern sensibilities like red clay on Sunday whites.
A large number of the blustering, willfully ignorant, Southern men that I grew
up around, whether they are khaki clad, country-club smoothies or leather
jacket-donning punk rock belligerents, were twisted inside out, kicked and
stomped insensate by shaming authority figures before they shed their baby
teeth. If one listens closely, one can detect the voice of shame-bearing demons
hissing in their every utterance.
Yet the knowledge of the origin and source of their suffering remains buried
deep within these men. To acknowledge shame (even to oneself) is considered a
tacit admission of having something to be ashamed of i.e., "If you ain't
got nothing to be ashamed of, you miserable peckerwood, then you wouldn't have
no need to feel it."
So, more or less, the line of thinking -- or rather the train
wreck of pathology passing for thought -- goes.
Accordingly, a strong impulse arises to explain it all away -- to claim the
entire episode is a misunderstanding, or to dismiss their feelings as being
trivial, or merely an indulgence of weak-willed, thin-wrist losers, or impugn
the motives of those who find grievance in the situation.
This mode of mind has made multi-millionaires of the dark
magicians of rightwing talk shows, experts at performing emotional sleight of
hand tricks that displace the shame of their listeners on a host of targets.
The cordiality of my fellow Southerners is as facile as it is fragile. In
Southern culture, a great deal of psychic energy goes into distancing oneself
from shame.
Brooding beneath Southern culture's superficial charm and
gentility is the unspoken threat: "Be nice, now." That often
translates to, "ya'll do as I say -- and there won't be any trouble."
More often than not, it is all made personal. Affronts are long remembered and
resentments cultivated, and being confronted with information outside of one's
realm of experience and field of reference is regarded as condescension.
Being made to feel "less than," by insults, real or imagined, can
bring on a noxious cascade of shame and its concomitant host of desperate
evasions and violent displacements to mitigate the feelings of unease
engendered.
This is how it was explained to me on FaceBook recently by a feller named Frank
who was addressing the issue of his loathing of liberal/socialist tyranny:
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