OPINION

PHILIP MARTIN: We have met the enemy

We can be curious. We can ask questions. We can find things out.

We can talk to other people and weigh their words. We can look at old photographs and microfiched newspaper stories. We can't be certain, but we can look through the record. We can follow the money. We can determine the possibilities. We can develop a narrative. We can theorize.

We can confabulate. We can become paranoid. We can erect a mythology of victimization. We can pity ourselves and hate the other tribes. We can surround ourselves with comforting opinions. We can isolate ourselves from any challenge.

We can ignore what is obvious.

We can reason together. We can begin by crediting other arguments with nuance. We can agree that every case is different, and that sometimes more than one thing might be true. We can admit we might be wrong, that we are capable of misapprehension. We can be fooled. We have been fooled. We will be fooled again.

We can be alert to human fraility. We can listen to those who challenge our received notions and first principles. We can change our minds.

We have some intellectual wherewithal. We have access to great works of art and literature. We have the opportunity to educate ourselves. We have the means to know more than we do.

We have to want to be better before we can become better.

We have the capacity to rationalize. We can choose what we want to believe. We can apply whatever criteria we want. We can default to superstition and prejudice and tell ourselves that our reasons are as good as anybody else's anyway. We don't have to really believe in anything.

We can pick a side, as easy as a football team, and suspend all judgments in exchange for the delicious charge of little victories. We can learn to love the drama and the pomp, while we make believe these battles are about more than pressing the advantages of the most fortunate people in the world.

We can accept their premise when they tell us we are being persecuted. We can feel satisfied with knowing what we think we know. We can trust our betters to take care of us. We can be proud of our heritage. We can hate, if we want to.

We can have no say in where we are born, what color or what sex or what place in society our parents hold. We start from where we start from, with a particular set of advantages and disadvantages that have nothing to do with what we might or might not deserve. We are not ennobled or disgraced by the circumstances of our birth.

We may be blind to whatever larger scheme may exist. We are small and unimportant relative to the vastness of the cosmos. We may be lit from within by something that feels like purpose, some deep dwelling spirit that drives us to connect with other creatures. We may be disspirited by the noise and clamor, by the ruthlessness of others of our kind. We might feel alone. We might be alone.

We are not helpless. We are not without options. We are free to imagine a different sort of world. We are still allowed to think our own thoughts, to, if we want, nullify logical verdicts. We are free to wander freely in our minds, to wool gather and to wonder.

We might be immortal. We might stand for something larger than ourselves. We might one day have to answer for our pettiness and our pride. We might be saved. We might be hurled into some abyss.

We might be just the flash and hum inside some silicon engine, simulations meant to amuse the gods that run us. We might be shut down one day.

We have made a world where bullies thrive and bombs go off in supermarkets. We can cage children and refuse refuge to men and women fleeing murderous criminals. We can tell ourselves it's right to put our kind first and to ask every person seeking sanctuary: What's in it for us?

We can see weakness in kindness and mercilessness as a virtue. We can snarl and snark and take nothing seriously but our own creature comforts. We can impose our will on those weaker than ourselves. We can argue that it's just the natural Darwinian order of things.

We can sacrifice for our children. We can step into the line of fire to try to save others. We can be heroes.

We can carry toy weapons to plant on the body. We can cook the books.

We can laugh at the suffering of others; we can insult the injured. We can post memes to social media. We can argue with strangers. We can mock. We can be untruthful. We don't have to care. We can do it for the lulz.

We can pray. We can invent worlds and offer them as prayers. We can laugh and make music and draw pictures. We can be still and solemn and plumb the silence. We can believe in the evidence of things not seen.

We can still feel the warmth of the sun on our faces. We can allow for the intercession of joy. We can be happy, despite it all.

We can grumble. We can seethe. We can concoct dark plots. We can buy into the unwholesome fantasies of others.

We can buy weapons. We can go underground. We can stockpile canned goods and jugs of water.

We can pretend to be whoever we want to be. We are not who we pretend to be.

We are not our words.

We are what we are when we are most afraid. We are what we are when we feel our cruelty is most justified. We are what we are when we feel safest, when we believe no one is watching. We are what we are when we are tempted to despair.

We are only what we do. We can do things.

We can be curious.

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Philip Martin is a columnist and critic for the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at [email protected] and read his blog at blooddirtandangels.com.

Editorial on 10/09/2018

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