I’m told that the neural pathways in our brains, in an effort to streamline the mundane processes of everyday life, operate much like highway construction in a city. To mix a Kantian metaphor, objects we encounter empirically are placed into rational categories (a neural net), and the highways connecting the information strengthen and are made more maneuverable the more they are traveled. So for instance, the neural pathway connecting my empirical encounter with a stove turned on with my rational warning “hot”, is well developed as a matter of self-preservation. And in such cases, the mechanism is very useful. The mechanism can be amplified, however, not to just subconscious value judgments based on self-preservation, but to very conscious value judgments regarding pretty much anything. When this categorizing goes unchecked in regards to our social sphere, for instance, it can be the cause of all sorts of nastiness, prejudice, and detachment.
Needless to say, there are times when this rampant categorizing can get us into trouble, when we must fight against the categories in our brain and force ourselves to look at things with a fresh perspective. To use the language of Paul, this is the business of the “renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2). To use the analogy of David Dark in his book, The Gospel According to America, it is to attempt catch hold of that “rolling stone” which is “always farther along than any person or group who would presume to speak on its behalf” (Dark, 91). It is a call to constantly reexamine our myths; to see what we are easily and thoughtlessly categorizing, and to bring those areas to the light of public and personal examination.
For Dark, the foundational myth which deserves scrutiny is that of the “practically assailable” evil (Dark, 61). Using Mellville’s Moby Dick as that symbolic scape-goat onto which we project all of our most grotesque visages, Dark writes:
“There’s a mad simplicity in Ahab’s war on terror, and we’re all drawn irresistibly toward it as it permeates the herd like a contagion. It would be wonderful if there were no historical deafness involved in saying of the September 11, attacks ‘We’ve never seen this kind of evil before,” or if all human malice were conveniently contained in one man, one nation, one terrorist network or one white whale. But the “face of evil”, for all its best-selling simplicity, doesn’t actually work that way.”
Engaging in the systematic deconstruction of this particular, and entrenched American myth, Dark argues, is not only biblically mandated, but also deeply patriotic (Dark, 63-64). And yet it is admittedly very difficult to start loving your enemy with the McVeys, Oswalds, and Bin-Ladens of the world, especially in the wake of such deafening (and blinding?) violence and destruction. So, it might be prudent to begin our efforts at home, by watching how we deify our political heroes, while demonizing those with whom we disagree.
It should give us pause to think about what our political struggle makes us into every four years. The ultra-competitive, practically two-party system has all but necessitated the dehumanizing myths we tell to and about each other (tending toward both deification and demonization). Shouldn’t our ideal politics, rather than easily categorizing us into a (more or less) arbitrarily systematized grouping of standards, remind us of the complexity of both our humanity and our morality? Isn’t a communal and self-responsible ethic of change, a shared humanization, a shared humility, more likely to produce upward mobility within ourselves, and by extension those in our larger community? What, after all, does our aggrandizing, demonization, and glorification afford us? The only answer can be derision and disappointment; another four years of frantic patchwork reconciliation with a disenfranchised 49 percent, and a humbled civil servant where we were once promised a god.
Our myth of election needs to be restructured. Rather than an occasion for division, our electoral process should be an occasion for humble solidarity, wherein we recognize the complexity of the issues, and the inherent potential for progress within one another. If there is a reason why most Christians polled when asked if abortion is wrong, respond yes, and yet when asked if the procedure should be outlawed respond “no” (and if conversation among my peers is any accurate barometer, we are headed in a similar ideological direction regarding the issue of homosexual civil unions), it is because even the fundamentalist hardliners among us are at long-last beginning to recognize the complexity of our ethics. On the whole, I believe America is ready for a leader who authentically recognizes this complexity within every single well-meaning one of us.
One of the strongest explanations of the hope that Americans see in the “change” being promised by Barrack Obama, is that he might not buy in to the “politics as usual”, that the average American “Joe-the-Plummer” (to quote McCain), or “Waffle-house politician” (to quote David Dark), has grown so completely tired of. How we long for a politician in-progress, who doesn’t have all the answers, but who is competent and non-partisan enough to dialogue and toil with the right people until he can hazard a good-‘ol college try. How we long for someone we can recognize as an actual human being.
Films like “Dave” and “The American President”, “Wag the Dog” and “Man of the Year” belie the American fantasy that one day an actual American, who looks, thinks, talks, and problem solves the way normal people do, can enter the oval office. Perhaps it is hyperbole to equate the two pundits, demoralizing and hacking away at each other in fierce debate, to Luke Sky Walker in his revenge fueled fall to the dark side, becoming (in the footsteps of his father) more machine than man with every hateful swing of his light saber, but at least, like all good hyperbole, it illustrates the point.
Now-a-days, it might be the smartest thing a candidate can do to let himself shine through the polished political veneer a little bit. And if David Dark is right (and I’m convinced he is), questioning that veneer, and the veneer (or grotesque mask) we ourselves place upon others in our “multiple pilgrim species” (Dark, 98), might just be the strongest place our patriotism to America and our patriotism to the Kingdom of God intersect.
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