“The number of people who question [the official explanation of 9/11]
is growing,” Mike Berger of 911Truth.org, a leading 9/11 conspiracy Web
site, told Cybercast News Service. “The issue is that there has not
been mainstream media coverage of any of the anomalies, the omissions,
the lies regarding what we know.”
“The mainstream media have basically tried to dismiss anybody who raises questions,” he said.
I agree completely with both Roberts and Berger both about “coverage” and about “dismissal,” and I’ve tried to show
why
I agree — especially about “dismissal” — in essays analyzing recurrent
examples of propaganda, fraud, cover-up, and deceit in, say,
Amy Goodman, papers like
The New York Times, Matthew Rothschild of
Progressive Magazine, columnists such as
Frank Rich, editors like
Alexander Cockburn of Counterpunch, and even the despicable, conscienceless, and quisling
Popular Mechanics.
And yet, however monolithic, culpable, complicit, and traitorous the
media and those working inside the media may be, our present
vulnerability under the regime —
including the possibility that we won’t be able to escape the regime’s
worst and
most murderous ofplans for us — are the result of distant sources and deep origins that reach far beyond
only the media and its workers.
The media may be the
cause, but what that cause has
resulted in is a disease that now infects us all. And this is a disease that we’ve
got to rid ourselves of
if
we ever hope to resist, let alone defeat, the Bushiscti regime and
restore the republic that’s already been lost to us in all but name.
This disease is one that has to do with
seeing. It’s one that has to do with the
mind. But, most basically of all, it’s a disease that has to do with
language, a disease that has
corrupted language to the point where it can no longer
help us but can only make us impotent and empty and thereby
harm us.
Unless we can change this situation, we’re doomed.
Just take a moment to consider: It’s a simple truth that people can’t
think if they don’t have language as a logical and coherent tool to
think
with
— any more than they can drive ten-penny spikes into oak slabs without
a hammer or its equivalent as the tool that makes it possible. I’ll
grant at once that
some high geniuses can
think without
a language that’s necessarily a verbal one in the familiar sense. I’ve
got no wish to rule out, say, mathematicians, composers, painters and
others who may not need “words” as they’re familiarly “spoken” in order
to do their own kind of thinking. Such cases, however, invaluable as
they may be, are in the infinitesimal minority.
Most people need words.
Most people need language.
And one of the most terrible, crippling, and paralyzing things about America today is not
only that language itself has been made simultaneously toxic and impotent — toxic, that is, when it’s used
against us, yet impotent when we make any effort use it
for ourselves. That’s a situation already
more than bad enough. But worse is that Americans — being so
thoroughly uneducated, de-educated, and anti-educated —
don’t even know that it’s happened.
What patients can be cured who don’t even know they’re sick? And here’s an even more despairing question: What patients
can cure themselves if they don’t even know they’re sick?
And that’s the situation we face in the U.S. today. Nobody
else is going to save us,
that much is for sure. Our so-called
leaders aren’t going to save us.
Congress isn’t going to save us. The
Bushiscti aren’t going to save us — but are hell-bent, instead, on destroying us.
So if anyone is going to save us, it’s got to be
ourselves. We’re the ones who’ve got to get a grip on our language again, have got to detoxify it, have got to make it
real again, make it
potent, make it again into an instrument that we can
use for ends that are
good.
Can it be done? I fear not but pray so. I’m afraid that it’s a little
bit like asking a physician-surgeon to save you from peritonitis by
taking out your inflamed and near-bursting appendix. Sounds reasonable
and fine, except that
this physician-surgeon is so senile, so afflicted by Alzheimer’s, that he can’ remember what a peritoneum
is, or what or where an
appendix is, or, god knows, even what a
scalpel is.
Little help from him. And that’s the way it is now with Americans. They’re so deeply undone through undergoing so much
non- and
anti- and
de-education that they no longer know the least thing about language, are even in the least way
conscious of language, know what it is, what it’s
for, how to
use it, or how, in turn, it’s
used.
After all, like almost anything else that’s very, very powerful,
language can both nurture and destroy. The sun, for example — as all
who know Euripides’
Medea are well aware — can give birth,
warmth, food, generation, and life itself, but, on the other hand, it
can also, like gunpowder, whiskey, or atomic energy, if you don’t know
how to use it or know what it
is, turn against you and not just not
help you, but destroy you so thoroughly that not the faintest outline, shape, or remnant of what you once were will remain.
And that’s what we, as a republic, are facing now.
Ditto for all those who know The Bacchae of Euripides.
2
Paul Craig Roberts’ concise, plain, understated sentence — “Today
academic freedom has disappeared just like the independent media” —
implies even more bad news than it actually, and correctly, declares.
The
reason that academic freedom has disappeared, after all, is that
the language to justify and defend it has also disappeared.
And the reason for that prior disappearance is that the system of
education that once existed — however imperfectly — to preserve it is
now in a state of almost total failure. Meanwhile,
other systems of education, whose several purposes include the elimination and
forgetting of that language, prosper beyond all imagining.
The “anti-schools,” as you might call them, include very nearly the
entirety of the mass media (including movies, ads, images, marketing
methods, the works). They include the mercenary, death-embracing
hallways of the corporatocracy
most assuredly. And — here may be a surprise for some — they include most of academia itself,
certainly
in its so-called “higher” reaches. Far and away the best, soundest, and
most humane education in the United States today takes place in
kindergarten and pre-school, with a fall-off gradually occurring up to
grade six or so. High school is worse yet, college dismal and dangerous
(see
A Nation Gone Blind), while graduate work in the
humanities offers education just about as pernicious as any coming from
the mass media and corporatocracy themselves (ditto
A Nation Gone Blind).
Higher academia, after all, like the corporatocracy itself, is now made
up of very, very few people — and those few rapidly disappearing — who
were born earlier than my own birth year of 1941. What this means is
that soon
no one
in corporate work or in academia today will have lived any part of his
or her life outside the atmosphere and reach of the contemporary mass
media. None of them, as a result, will any longer have a personal
memory of what I call in
A Nation Gone Blind the “old” America, which I date as having existed in 1947 and before. Here’s a passage from the first age of the book:
I have become grateful for the fact that I was born in 1941, since
if I had come onto the scene even, say, five or six years later, I
would have missed one of the most important experiences of my life,
which was being privileged to get a meaningful impression, at first
hand, of what I and many others now think of, rightly, as the “old”
America.
That is, I was born just early enough that I was able to see,
hear, smell, feel, taste, and walk around in the “first” America, the
real one, as opposed to the one we’re left with now: the mass media
America, the corporation America, the television America — the empty
America.
I doubt very much, if it weren’t for the indescribably powerful
influence of the mass media as we know it, that we would now be
watching the United States — under the putative governance of the
Bush-Cheney regime — being systematically dismantled as a republic and
rebuilt as a police state at home and as a crushing military empire
abroad. Without the mass media as we’ve known it now for sixty years,
the chances of so enormous, ruinous, cataclysmic — and
successful — committings of crime, murder, treason, rape, law-breaking, invasion, and pillage as the Bush regime is
already guilty of — well, without the help of the mass media, I doubt that such a thing would have happened, would have been
capable of happening,
certainly not on so vast a scale.
Call me naïve, but I still think that bad education as opposed to good
is what’s gotten us into the deep and malicious hell we’re now in. As
for the word “naïve,” I’m pretty sure that the
brilliant and energetic John Hanks would most likely use it on me, since the implied answer to his rhetorical question (which follows), at least for me, is
yes:
Is it true [he asks] that liberals are starry-eyed idealists that think
a better class of humans can be produced in classrooms?
Let me clarify. I would answer “yes” to the “classrooms” and “better
class of humans” parts of the question. At the same time, I’d give a
resounding “no” to the “starry-eyed idealists” part.
Here’s why.
Forty centuries of history (western history, to be more precise) show with a near absolute clarity that
nobody is going to get
anywhere
in the bringing about of a “better class of humans” until such a person
first tosses onto the permanent junk heap the “idealist” notion
altogether and turns to the “holistic.”
That said, allow me to turn to the “classrooms” part of the question,
the part that’s about “education.” With idealism having been thrown
far, far away out through the window, I won’t just
give my answer, but I’ll
shout out that,
yes, education matters; that,
yes, education can and does make people better; and that,
yes, education alone is the thing that can save us (or
could
have saved us) from the collapse and fraud and deceit and murder and
brigandage and rape and crime and sadism and greed and pandering and
torture and death that we see now everywhere “round us and under us,
[and] over us” in our poor, hideous, dying world.
I’ll shout all that out. I’ll do it from the rooftops.
But
only after it’s absolutely clear to everyone that the education I’m talking about
is the right kind.
That is to say, it can’t be a fraud or a fake, and it can’t be any of
the myriad sorts of pernicious and ruinous “lying-projects” that pass
for “education.”
No. It’s absolutely got to be the real thing and nothing else, nothing less, nothing other.
If you’d like illustration, begin by reading Homer, Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. Then you could read Plato and watch him demolish the prospering and vigorous world of holism portrayed in the epics and the tragedies in order to replace it with the repugnant and life-negating (death-desiring) imaginary dichotomies that comprise the philosophic disaster we know as idealism. Then watch the Christians carry on the big mess, Des Cartes make doubly sure it remains alive and kicking (after the Renaissance’s noble effort to kill it forever), and existentialism at last fight grandly against it one last time: Until the Age of Simplification (read A Nation Gone Blind to find out what that is) discontinues education altogether, so that down the Memory Hole goes the very notion that 1) philosophy either exists or matters, and that 2) it can conceivably have anything to do with the nurturing or improvement of life in human societies.
3
Now, I know it’s up to me to explain what I consider this “real thing” to
be, especially after claiming such importance for it. The trouble is, though, that that’s a big part of what
A Nation Gone Blind
does, and I’m sure readers will understand my not wanting to do again
here what I’ve already done there. So, instead of defining
good education, I’ll quote a passage that describes a
bad
kind — specifically, the kind the mass media has provided for the past
sixty years or so. Then I’ll take a look at some other places than the
media — Princeton University, for example, and, for another,
“victimology studies” — that
also appear to be providing that
same bad kind, thereby doing their bit, like those other traitorous
exemplars of propaganda, fraud, and deceit I mentioned earlier — Amy
Goodman, Frank Rich, et alii — to help hasten and assure the republic’s
regression from free state to police state and from world guardian to
world psychopathic rapist.
A bit of history first. At the end of World War II a huge and
historical opportunity was missed, lost, or thrown away. It can easily
be argued that the U.S. at that time breathed free, stood on the high
ground of right victory, and — this isn’t stretching believability, no
matter how many may call it naïve — could have overseen the formation
and nurturing of a world era unlike any known before. That era
could
have brought into existence a global balance of powers and a
conscientious husbanding of global resources that would make it a
period of undeniable historical significance. But, as we know all too
well, nothing of the sort came about. In fact, one of the worst periods
in all of human history came about instead.
Nineteen forty-seven can be thought of as an especially significant
year by merit of having been filled with the magic of unsought
blessings
and simultaneously cursed with the cruel promise of their certain betrayal. The year
could
have been famous as the first in long period of global peace. Instead,
infamous 1947 marks the exact moment when the United States set out
knowingly, deliberately, and calculatingly on a course not of peace but
of unending and purposefully self-aggrandizing war.
That is to say, 1947 saw passage of
the National Security Act of
that year, an act that brought about the creation of the National
Security Council and transformed the old OSS into the new CIA. Why was
it done? There are some who will argue down to this very day that the
National Security Act was a patently necessary and entirely reasonable
response to a dire and pressing international threat, primarily from an
aggressive Soviet Union. Others will argue exactly the opposite: That
there
was no such threat, that the Soviet Union had been
brought to its knees by the long and costly campaign to defeat the
Nazis and by its final tally of almost 24,000,000 war dead (13.4% of
its population — as compared to the 0.32% of
its population
lost by the U.S.). Seen from this latter point of view, the U.S.
decision to turn away from peace and toward war was taken as almost
wholly cynical, a decision based on greed, self-interest, and a desire
for economic — corporate — growth of the same intensity and degree as
the war-economy in the second half of the 1940s had brought into
existence and had in those years maintained.
For those who lean to or who hold the second view — as I do — the
matter boiled down simply to this single, awful, desolating, ruinous
truth: That the world war had proven itself
so profitable for
so many corporate interests in
so
many areas of production and supply and finance — that the leaders and
groups of leaders in those industrial and manufacturing and corporate
areas
wanted the war to go on forever because only in that way they could go on making more and more money than ever —
forever.
No one I know puts the matter more succinctly — or bitterly — than Gore Vidal in his short book
Perpetual War for Perpetual Peace. You can also read the relevant passage — the one below — by going to
this site.
There, you’ll find the author of the site, B. John Zavrel, explaining
that the quotation comes from a chapter that was “actually a letter
(written for
Vanity Fair before the November 7, 2000 presidential election) to the new President-Elect.”
Vidal:
“. . .fifty years ago, Harry Truman replaced the old republic with a
national-security state whose sole purpose is to wage perpetual wars,
hot, cold, and tepid. Exact date of replacement? February 27, 1947.
Place: The White House Cabinet Room. Cast: Truman, Undersecretary of
State Dean Acheson, a handful of congressional leaders. Republican
senator Arthur Vandenberg told Truman that he could have his
militarized economy only IF he first “scared the hell out of the
American people” that the Russians were coming. Truman obliged. The
perpetual war began. Representative government of, by, and for the
people is now a faded memory. Only corporate America enjoys
representation by the Congress and presidents that it pays for in an
arrangement where no one is entirely accountable because those who have
bought the government also own the media. Now, with the revolt of the
Praetorian Guard at the Pentagon, we are entering a new and dangerous
phase. Although we regularly stigmatize other societies as rogue
states, we ourselves have become the largest rogue state of all. We
honor no treaties. We spurn international courts. We strike
unilaterally wherever we choose. We give orders to the United Nations
but do not pay our dues... we bomb, invade, subvert other states.
Although We the People of the United States are the sole source of
legitimate authority in this land, we are no longer represented in
Congress Assembled. Our Congress has been hijacked by corporate America
and its enforcer, the imperial military machine... ”
Euripides, The Bacchae, trans. Paul Roche (from the Fifth Choral Ode, preceding line 1329).
Anyone who may really think I reveal myself as not only naïve but also mad as a hatter (an idealistic hatter, I might add) by saying such things as I do here about what could have happened in 1947 might take a look at these absolutely wrenching passages about Eisenhower and the way he was shanghaied by the corporate pressure-men near the same time we’re talking about. The passages are from The Tragedy of American Diplomacy, by the late, towering historian, William Appleman Williams (from his timely Chapter 8, “The Terrifying Momentum Toward Disaster”).
“I am now of all humors that have showed themselves humors since the old days of Goodman Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve o’clock at midnight.” Henry IV, pt. 1 (II, iv, 89-91).
4
And so, thanks in good part to Gore Vidal, we can now take in at a
single glance the whole sweep of time from February 27, 1947, on down
“to the pupil age of this present twelve o’clock at midnight,” if I may
borrow a few of Prince Hal’s words. When
he spoke them, he was at the very top of his spirits. Our own “midnight” is far less appropriate to revelry, far
more appropriate to sorrow, fear, horror, and despair.
A way back, we were talking about education and language. Education first.
I promised a passage from
A Nation Gone Blind
that would describe the truly prospering form of education that came
into existence near 1947 and has continued ever since in its growth,
reach, and ever-increasing technical sophistication. This is, of
course, the nation’s single most prominent and influential “school,” an
institution that provides the “education”
most formative on and
of the population in general than any other, bar none, not even
churches, families, or faiths. We’re talking about the mass media, of
course, from television’s first snowy, flickering black-and-white
images in the corners of living rooms (preceded at dawn and followed at
midnight by “test patterns”) on through today’s cell phones, i pods,
MTV, the whole ball of wax.
And here’s a passage (from chapter two, “The Death of Literary Thinking
in America: How It Happened and What It Means”) describing what this
“school” teaches and how it goes about doing so:
The corporate state, with its policing and proselytizing arm, the
mass media, wants, in all citizens, to create and maintain passivity,
lack of individual thought, and as low a consciousness as possible of
the nature, meaning, and full potential of the individual self. And if
this is so, how can it be, how can it conceivably have happened, that
the bringing into being and the nurturing of those very same
deleterious qualities and characteristics — rather than their
desperately-needed and deeply undervalued opposites — could have become
the routine business even of the intellectual, academic, and artistic
classes in the nation?
The passage actually takes up two subjects. The first is the subject of
what this omni-pervasive educational institution
teaches. And
what it teaches is passivity, simplification, the removal of individual perception
up at least one level of abstraction above actual reality, and therefore as much as possible the
non-consciousness insofar as possible “of the nature, meaning, and full potential of the individual self.”
And the second subject is the sheer and all but incredible
success of this “educational” institution. So
unbelievably
successful is it that not only has it had its effect and made it mark
on the general mass of the population, but it has done the same with
“the intellectual, academic, and artistic classes in the nation.” And
there comes trouble.
There comes the
huge significance of the counting up of years, of the simple recognition that people born any time after, just say, 1947, are now
at least sixty years old and have lived their
entire lives, from earliest formative years on up, sitting dawn-to-dawn and
every single day in the classroom chairs of
that educational institution, the one that patently
beggars the powers of “real” school, of parents, of home, of church, of peers, to compete with it in any
significant way whatsoever.
The result? Well, that’s what
A Nation Gone Blind
is about, which is why it has the title that it does. Right here and
now, however, I’m interested in looking more specifically at the
overwhelming and pernicious result of this massive, monstrous,
six-decade-long educational success on three things: First, on language
itself and
consciousness of language; second and
almost
simultaneously, its influence on education, especially higher
education; and, third, an obvious product of the first two, its
influence on making Americans
freeze instead of
act or even
react
as they watch a radical and unelected junta abominate 230 years’ worth
of their nation’s history, discredit or destroy the
freedom-guaranteeing legacies of that two-and-a-third centuries’
history, turn freedom into tyranny, innocence into guilt, peace into
war, lies into truth, and citizens into subjects.
My inclination at times like this is to turn to an example. As everyone
knows who genuinely understands the virulence and enormity of the
disease that’s destroying us (and that’s
not being stopped), just reading the newspaper can be a crushingly dismal and hope-destroying experience. Take
The New York Times of
Tuesday, September 19, 2006 — for an example that I’ve kept in my files
— and turn, again for example, to page B3. There, you’ll find a
headline saying that “Princeton Plans Expansion Of Black Studies
Program.” Under that headline you’ll see a photo of the familiar and
famous Cornel West, the scholar who, after having been
“disrespected” by
Harvard’s president,
Lawrence Summers, put on a nationally publicized hissy-fit, snatched up
his marbles and toys, and stomped off to Princeton. There, it would
seem, he was warmly welcomed by that university’s president,
Shirley M. Tilghman.
The reporter of the
Times piece, Karen W. Arenson, wrote this lead paragraph:
Princeton University, one of the leading universities in black studies,
yesterday announced an expansion in its program, including at least a
doubling in the number of faculty members, the introduction of a major
for undergraduates and the creation of a new center for teaching and
research on race in America.
Now, readers of
A Nation Gone Blind will be aware that the news contained in this paragraph is, to me, not
good news. After all, the third chapter of the book (“Consumerism, Victimology, and the Disappearance of the Meaningful Self”)
argues unequivocally and very closely
against “victimology studies,” the very thing that Princeton University, a year or so ago, was so happy about
expanding.
Everyone is aware of these programs of study and aware of how
thoroughly they’ve been adopted into the college and university
curriculum — Women’s Studies, Black Studies, Ethnic Studies, Gender
Studies, Asian Studies, and so on. But the omnipresence of these
programs is the
last logical reason to approve of them. “It is one thing to study history and gain knowledge,” says
A Nation Gone Blind:
to insist upon the importance of that knowledge and use it in every
possible way to preclude the recurrence of suffering, injustice,
cruelty, pain — these are not only understandable pursuits but right
ones. Victimology, though doesn’t do this. Victimology is fatally
confused, if only because it argues simultaneously that suffering is
bad and that suffering has meaning — that it is meaningful
to suffer and that that meaning can and should be studied. This is an
impossible situation, since it argues that suffering must be ended, yet
at the same time that suffering must not be ended, since then, if it were, there would be nothing to study.
The “victim,” in other words, must remain victim in order to remain
meaningful. This fact makes it impossible to escape the conclusion that
victims’ studies programs are based on a deep, even vicious, and
certainly corrupting hypocrisy.
These are strong words — but they’re words also that consist of a strong
logical argument. And in the Age of Simplification, as I call it —
our age — a strong logical argument is usually the
last thing wanted. After all, that kind of argument is
intended to result in actions based on logical thought. And the more
that sort of thing happens, the more there’ll be people in many a calling —
certainly
in academic callings — who will less likely be allowed to go on
enjoying their essentially non-logical — “feeling-based” or
“politically-based” — sinecures.
Again, anyone who’s read
A Nation Gone Blind
knows how seriously the book takes matters of these kinds. Salient
among its concerns is the now-commonplace establishment of victims’
studies, a troubling thing specifically because such programs
invariably fail to be built on
intellectual foundations. Consequently, they are also incapable of being
defended on intellectual grounds:
In order to maintain an intellectual position that was untenable and could not
be maintained, the victimologists weighted things away from thought and
toward feeling, a position where logic could not make its customary
demands. In order to maintain a moral and ethical position that was
untenable and could not be maintained, the victimologists gave
up the last vestige of the true, authentic, irreducible, free self and
replaced it with the group, or with the tribe, then took
refuge in the idea of “the people” who make up that group or tribe. By
this time, thinking had ended, since the self was gone, while feeling,
instinct, and an un-intellectual sense of the just and righteous gained
prestige through being identified not with a single individual and
accountable human mind, but with the democratically enshrined concept
of a “people.”
Brothers joined brothers, sisters joined sisters, and the programs were
here to stay — built on sand, inward-looking, self-involved, not really
political, not really intellectual, not really ambitious for reform,
not really honest. And so academia began its fiddling — and is fiddling
still — while the Age of Simplification helps see to it that America
burn.
Using as examples essays of a number of writers, among them Almaz Abinader, Julia Alvarez, Sven Birkerts, Robert Olen Butler, Richard Ford, and Naomi Shihab Nye.
To the Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf. The lines come from the brilliant and moving section VII of the “Time Passes” chapter of Woolf’s great novel.
5
Now, if black studies (as, it’s clear enough, it is in
my view) is really a
bad thing, why would it be written up in the newspaper as a
good thing while, at the identical same time,
actual
goodthings are happening that don’t even get mentioned? More on this in
a moment, since we’ve got to consider another question first.
Now let’s assume, for the moment, that black studies
really is a bad thing (for a full argument for that position, go to the third chapter of
A Nation Gone Blind). Further,
still assuming that it’s a bad thing, let’s assume also — just for the moment — that
you, the reader, and not Shirley M. Tilghman, are the president of Princeton University. It’s obvious that you’ve got to say
something about the university’s new expansion of black studies. But
what? Still assuming that you consider black studies a
bad thing —
what would you do?
Well, you
could say that the expansion of black studies is therefore
also not good but
bad
— though if you did do that, the next morning you’d find the wheels
turning in the elaborate though unrelenting process that brings about
the firing of one president and the hiring of a new one.
Luckily for you, though (that is, assuming that you
really did want to remain president), there remain other choices. One choice is, of course, that you could
lie. That is, even if you thought black studies was a
bad thing, you could
say
it was a good thing. But who wants to lie? Liars are awful, and lies
themselves are destructive both of personality and of society.
Now let’s change the terms of the situation and imagine that you
haven’t read
A Nation Gone Blind and that you
do
think (or think you think) that black studies is a good thing. If such
really were the case, the entire matter would be easy. That is, you
could tell the truth. You could say that you
did think black studies was a good thing, then say
why you think so, and then you could laud the expansion of black studies at Princeton, and your praise would be
logically related
to what you’d said from the start. In this case, not even concerning
ourselves with the question of who’s right and who’s wrong, there would
at least actually be some
content, some
personality, some
felt purpose in the speaker’s words.
All right, now let’s switch back to the way things actually are. We know perfectly well that you the
reader aren’t the president of Princeton University. And we know that the
real president is Shirley M. Tilghman.
Now that we know a bit about some of the options open to someone in the
president’s position — to tell the truth, to lie, or to
change either one
self
and/or the truth — let’s look and see how Shirley M. Tilghmanherself
handled the situation. Watch closely. Here’s Karen Arenson’s second
paragraph:
Shirley M. Tilghman, Princeton’s president, said in a telephone
interview yesterday that she hoped the effort would help the university
contribute greater insights to issues like the nature of racial
identity and help train a “new generation of leaders to solve problems
that have persisted too long.”
Uh, oh. Do you see the choice she made? I’ll give you the news
article’s third paragraph. After that, there’ll be no option for us but
to declare that whatever is,
is. Then we’ll be able — maybe — to find out which choice — if it
was a choice — Shirley M. Tilghman made. The paragraph consists of a quote:
“Of all the challenges that confront America, none is more profound
than the struggle to achieve racial equality and understand the impact
of race on the life and institutions of the United States,” she said.
I wish I could cast this part of our discussion in the form of a quiz
or a poll, so that readers could write in saying what they think
happened: Whether they think Tilghman made a choice or didn’t make one,
and, if she did make one, which one it was. I may sound like a broken
record, but, again, people who have read
A Nation Gone Blind are
likely to be ahead of those who haven’t. The reason is that the book
dedicates a lot of its energies to analyzing exactly the kind of thing
given us here by President Tilghman.
And what
is that? Well, there’s no question that what
we’re seeing is a form of lying, though it’s probably impossible to
tell whether it’s
intentional lying or
unintentional.
The difference between the two is of huge importance in a good number
of ways — but the truth about the distinction lies hidden within the
heart and mind of Shirley M. Tilghman. Or the truth of it
may lie there. In any case, it’s invisible to us.
Three things we
can tell, however, are these: First, that Tilghman’s words
are lies (though we can’t say whether they’re intentional or not); second, that these lies come in the form of what we can call
code;
and, third, corollary to the first and second things, we can define the
words as lies by merit of their implicit claim to be saying
something while in fact they are saying
nothing.
The president's words are a bit like those of someone who claims to be
saying to another, “I love you,” while in actuality the words being
whispered into the waiting beloved’s ear are “tile, air horn, cat
litter.”
Let’s analyze, in other words, the emptiness, deadness, vacuity — and
therefore the plain and clear deceitfulness, since they’re claiming to
say something while in fact saying
nothing — of Tilghman’s words.
Just
look at these words and phrases: “help the university
contribute”; “greater insights”; “issues”; “the nature of racial
identity”; “new generation”; “leaders”; “problems”; “persisted too
long.” These words are
code because, as the first chapter of
A Nation Gone Blind demonstrates and discusses at length, because
1)
they mean nothing whatsoever in and of themselves. The words possess no
correlatives in the real or observable world, suggesting that, as she
spoke them, Tilghman was not
looking at anything concrete nor did she have in her
mind a memory or image of anything concrete. She and all others who use language the way
she
uses language — a grotesque and frightening thing to realize — have
been such successful students in the great Wurlitzer of the
never-pausing school of media that, through endless practice and
imitation, they’ve mastered “the removal of individual perception
up at least one level of abstraction above actual reality”;
2)
since the words have no meaning, Tilghman was therefore aiming them —
how could it be any other way? — at listeners about whom her assumption
was that they already thought of the words in a pre-determined way, a
way that, again, depended at all upon a connection
between those
words and any object or thing physically observed —
or remembered — in or from the physical world;
3)
so that, consequently, since nothing whatsoever was said, a corollary can be formed to the effect that
nothing whatsoever was said that consisted of or was a result either of thinking or of thought;
4)
a fact in turn reveals the truth that, in light of the
absence of thought, the only thing that could possibly have been present in Tilghman was a vague, general, probably very familiar set of
feelings and attitudes that were
5)
sent out by her to an audience
presumed already to share those feelings and attitudes
and
themselves to hold and value the same contentment with non-thinking and
the same contentment with non-thought as were demonstrated by Tilghman
herself.
And so — what happened?
Well,
here’s what happened:
Nothing was said by anyone to anyone.
Nothing was identified, defined, or
thought by anyone. Therefore,
no thinking and
no ideas could possibly have been communicated
by anyone
to anyone else.
Please pause and consider for a moment the importance and enormity
of what we’re talking about. What we’re talking about, what we’re
seeing
demonstrated, is the utter and total and absolute
inanity
of the code-driven non-think that substitutes for actual thinking,
actual thought, among the greatest figureheads in advanced research and
pedagogy, among those who stand at the pinnacles of American higher
education in the early 21
st century.
Does
anyone want to go to college? Does
anyone want to pay great amounts of money to attend
“Indoctrinate U”? If any people still do want to, let them remember that
these
are the words that in reality ought to be inscribed, in this our Age of
Simplification, over the gates of all our great American colleges and
universities:
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw...
Here’s some of what you’ll find out when you listen closely to people, however eminent — like Shirley Tilghman or Cornel West — who think they’re thinking, or who think they’re talking about “significant topics.” Just click here and start reading.
6
It’s time to recall Paul Craig Roberts’ comment from some time back:
“Today,” he said, “academic freedom has disappeared just like the
independent media. No one but powerful organized interest groups has a
voice.”
In Tilghman and West, indeed, we’re seeing exactly those “organized
interest groups” in action — and yet we must go a step farther even
than Paul Craig Roberts did.
These interest groups are even
more pernicious than the ones Roberts was talking about, the kind indicated by his reference to the
Norman Finkelstein case and “Censorship at Harvard.” It’s perfectly true that the
Larry Summers vs. Cornel West incident (without which we’d never even have
had
the Shirley Tilghman incident) does demonstrate “organized interest
groups” at work. And it’s also perfectly true that, insofar as such
groups gain leverage in academia
without first laying intellectual foundations to justify that leverage, they, de facto, constitute
and demonstrate instances of the disappearance of academic freedom. If I were to advocate the establishment of a
White Studies Center at Princeton, I’d be dismissed out of hand — although not if I were to advocate the establishment of a
Women’s Studies Center. These are matters not of academic freedom or of intellectual contest, but of
“idiot games... [as if] the universe were battling and tumbling, in brute confusion and wanton lust... ”
But there’s worse news still. And that worse news is that this collapse of academic freedom is in actuality a collapse into
academic emptiness. And, worse still, the emptiness was created
first. And then, after the emptiness was
ready, academics, freedom and all, collapsed
into it.
This is what’s
so important about language and about what’s
happened to it
over the sixty-years’ worth of indoctrination and simplification that
its everyday users have undergone for their whole lives, users from the
lowest halls of Walmart on up to the ivied halls of academe and beyond.
Even the most intellectual of Americans have stopped being able to see
for themselves, very possibly able to see at
all. It’s not just a matter of nit-picking when, in the first chapter of
A Nation Gone Blind,
I analyze the work of fifteen American writers and find their average
grade to be “D.” The reason for that shocking and egregious failure?
The
central reason is that so many of them are unable to think, see, or feel by and for them
selves. Instead, they’re able to “think” only by
beginning the process from a point that’s “
at least
one level of abstraction above actual reality.” Instead of writing
about human beings they’ve known, for example, or about ideas that
they have had or gained through experience, they write about abstractions like “race, class, gender, and ethnic identity” and they
imagine
all along that they’re actually writing from the first, initial,
fundamental level of observed reality when, truly, they’re doing no
such thing at all.
Instead of
seeing for themselves, they’re
receiving
from sources already prepared, already simplified, already categorized,
narrowed, and, most important of all, already moved up — yes, that’s
right —
at least one level of abstraction above actual reality.
Try it and see for yourself. Start listening to people who are
putatively thinking about the standard-issue “subjects” and “topics”
that they passively and unquestioningly accept, over and over and over,
as if they were “real” or “true” or “relevant” to something or other,
when in actuality they’re nothing more than stock notions and prefab,
fake “concepts.”
If Americans weren’t already so badly damaged both intellectually and emotionally — hadn’t been
so extremely simplified and been made
so
extraordinarily passive — the war in Iraq could and would never have
gotten off the ground. Not for a minute. The whole project was far too
absurd and laughable, a thing built far too inanely on a transparent
foundation of lies, falsehoods, deceptions, hissy fits, childish
“outings,” and frat-boy-worthy vindictive accusations
ever to
have survived more than a very, very short career by merit of
possessing a worthiness as nothing more than a public laughing stock
before dying away altogether.
But we’re a nation gone blind. The American population
really has been damaged that badly, badly enough that not even after six whole years can people see —
for themselves and by themselves — the simple, obvious, overwhelmingly evidenced truth that 9/11 was pulled off
by our own country
for the very purpose of cashing in on precisely and exactly the
inability of Americans to see for themselves that we’ve been talking
about. And what do we
get at a time like this? What do we get
when we’re under greater oppression and threat from a “foreign” power —
a power that’s internal and yet that’s set upon destroying the American
Constitution and thus America — than we’ve been at any time since the
years preceding 1776?
You know what we get. We get pap. We get inertia. We get boilerplate.
For intellectual leadership we get the likes of Shirley Tilghman and
Cornel West. For political leadership we get the likes of Nancy Pelosi,
who lies like a rug because she knows that Americans won’t
do anything about it, or the likes of John Kerry, who can’t even
see —
can’t see for himself, can’t see it for what it is — the
tasering and arresting by rogue police
of a student in broad daylight and in a public place for doing nothing
whatsoever except asking a factual question about Skull and Bones.
Watch that video of Andrew Meyer being tased as neither John Kerry nor
the audience does a thing and ask yourself
who is not seeing and
what they’re not seeing and
why they’re not seeing it and therefore
why they’re doing nothing.
Americans can no longer see reality for themselves, and therefore they can’t and won’t
believe
it even when it’s stuck right in front of their blinded eyes. This
statement — the one I just made — is no longer metaphoric, but now it’s
real. With the destruction of language and the raising of it up
at least one notch above the empirical real; from
that destruction follows the destruction of
thought and its replacement by
pseudo-thought; and from
those two processes of destruction there can only emerge a people
frozen, a people of no self-reliance whatsoever, a people numbed and confused into stasis and doubt
by their own inability to tell the unreal from the real.
How did it happen? How
could it have happened?
Dr. Johnson remarked that
“Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel,” and I’m convinced that
we
can say with equal certitude that abstraction, boilerplate, and cliché
are both the sign and the destiny of the non-thinker. Having lost the
language
to do it with, Americans
can no longer think, and because they can no longer
think they can no longer
see, and
certainly they’ve lost the power once given them by the language that’s theirs no longer,
the
power to explain objectively and accurately what it is that they
actually see and therefore be able to respond to it as reason and
ethics would normally direct.
It may be that we’re lost, but I know now — I didn’t always — that the loss came
before
George W. Bush. The loss is an emptiness, already there, and he — and
all the banal evil and fierce destructiveness he represents — simply
fell into it.
I also know that if we can’t regain our language, can’t regain our
access to it and the traditional uses we were once able to make of it —
I know that if we can’t do those things, then we truly
are doomed. It may be true already. Without language, we can’t speak. And if we can’t speak, how can we possibly save ourselves?
Here’s the last sentence from the Paul Craig Roberts essay we started
with, “Conservatism Isn’t What It Used to Be”:
In America today, speaking your mind in the media or in academia is a
thing of the past. A country that has no voices independent of powerful
interests is a country in which freedom is dead.
In computer programming, it used to be said routinely, “garbage in,
garbage out.” Why in the name of all things holy should we ever have
imagined that the case would have been any different with regard to
human beings?
— Eric Larsen
— September 25, 2007