The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of a mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.
This is a line from Wilhelm Stekel quoted in The Catcher in the Rye. I wish I had held on to it, but when I was a freshman in college, I recall reacting fiercely to this in an essay. I recall feeling at the time like it robbed me of something essential, something having to do with the right to go out in a blaze of glory if I chose. Forty has a hard time of remembering twenty, so I can’t explain, let alone justify, that feeling; but I do remember that it was strong, and it was visceral.
I am reminded of that feeling when I’ve been reading online the reaction of some people to the notion that, particularly in the wake of the shooting of Gabrielle Giffords they should abstain from gun and violence laden metaphors in their political rhetoric.
Now, before anyone gets the vapors at the suggestion that violent rhetoric is connected to this incident of violence, I will stipulate that I know nothing of the motives of the shooter, and I will further stipulate that her political opponents called only for metaphorical violence and not real violence. When Sarah Palin used crosshair imagery and “targeted” Congresswoman Gifford, she did not have a particular desire for actual bullets to be used. And when teapartiers talk about “Second Amendment solutions,” they are just being blowhards. And when they talked about political opponents being traitors, dictators and agents of tyranny, they were just talking out of their asses.
My personal suspicion is that this shooting does not happen in an environment where political debates are fact based, policy oriented, and lacking in violent rhetoric. But, again, I can’t prove this. Demonizing your opponent as an intolerable Other is more emotionally potent than boring old debates about the relatively modest distinctions between mainstream politicians. But, I also think it’s dangerous. Creating a narrative in which the very soul of a country beset by evil is at stake is probably useful in motivating your supporters; but it also tends to give license to other, potentially darker, political fantasies.
Giving up these narratives is emotionally difficult. When you suggest that people give up spinning those fantastic narratives and abstain from violent metaphors in political rhetoric, I’ve seen a very strong reaction in some quarters, as if you’re asking them to castrate themselves. As if such rhetoric is so vital to self esteem (or, I suppose political viability) that it’s worth the attendant risks. There is vehement denial that there is even the potential for attendant risks. It’s absolutely fair that, for example, Palin and her supporters should react strongly to the suggestion that her rhetorical crosshairs had anything whatsoever to do with the subsequent literal crosshairs. There isn’t any proof. But, there’s something more. You didn’t see the meticulous concern for factual accuracy when allegations about Obama’s “death panels” were the talk of the day.
There is visceral, emotional attachment to violent rhetoric and these political narratives invoking battles between Good and Evil that reminds me of whatever it was that so offended me as a young man by the suggestion that a mature man should be more concerned about living humbly than dying nobly. It’s probably time for us and our political discourse to grow up. However, I doubt there are many votes in that, and, again, it’s emotionally difficult; so pigs will undoubtedly start flying before that happens.
This incident, as well as (more locally), the overturned conviction of grandmother-stabbing Gary Galloway based on insanity concerns (pdf) and, I’m sure, plenty of other incidents; should really be leading to a discussion of how we handle mental illness in our society. But, that won’t happen either. Dealing with mental illness is complicated, expensive, and, again, interferes with a cherished narrative. In this case, the narrative is that we all rise and fall pretty much solely through exercise of our individual will. Recognition of mental illness seriously muddies the waters of our perception of free will and, consequently, issues pertaining to personal control, blame, and even our relationship to good and evil.
I had a legal writing teacher who was warning us about how tough it was to be vigilant when proofreading things we had written. “The brain is a wonderful thing, it just wants you to be happy.” In doing so, the brain creates blind spots to issues that might make you unhappy. In legal writing, that can make you glaze over weaknesses in your arguments. I think the same applies when cherished myths have an uncomfortable relationship to reality.