Saturday, July 16, 2005
(9:31 AM) | Brad:
Too Late for Friday Confession
One of my recurring thoughts lately is about the interplay of knowledge, proximity and apathy. For instance, when I was living in Scotland, friends can attest that I was forever talking about US foreign and domestic policy. I was the one-stop shop of American politics in my department. And oh was I passionate! Since returning, something has happened. It seems a little too easy to blame the election in November. But somehow, I've become slightly less knowledgeable, and noticeably more apathetic. 'Apathy', I guess, is putting it strongly, since compared to most people I'm still regarded as a radical Leftist without a bomb to explode. But it is noticeable enough for a few people to remark: 'You're just not as angry as you used to be.'I suspect it is because my knowledge is different. I left America after 9/11, and only ever returned for a couple of weeks here and there over the course of three years. So, I did not directly experience the surge of jingoistic patriotism; nor the anthrax fears; nor the rise of Kelly Clarkson as a force of nature. I knew of it only but in an abstract way -- in the same sense that I hear War & Peace is a novel worth reading. Now that I'm back, and the prospects of my returning to Scotland this year as a post-doctoral fellow have all but vanished, I'm faced with the reality that I have knowledge AND proximity ... and the terrible temptation to be completely apathetic about it all.
'But, Brad, apathy is a decision. It's not a consequence.' Such has been the sound advice I've heard on a couple of occasions by tolerant friends. And they're right. Which is why apathy remains but a temptation, and thus something I resist. I'm not, for example, tempted to speak badly about people I really dislike, or even to lie to my wife about why such and such web site is in the IE history. I'm perfectly happy to do either of those, typically in the same conversation. No resistance at all, and thus no temptation. Apathy, though, the bastard of knowledge and proximity, is a danger I wish to resist.
Obviously, I'm not talking about ignorant apathy, those who consciously avoid new knowledge and do not participate in anything communal beyond an occasional neighborhood yard sale, and really question the moral constitution of those who seek out knowledge and community. I'm talking about those who know their shit. Who, for instance, are active members of political parties or churches, and see, on a microcosmic level, the potential for change and vitality; and yet, because of this knowledge and this proximity, you not only know but experience the abject poverty, the near impossibility of such change, any such vitality or life, ever possibly happening. This would seem, too, the ultimate danger for 'reformers', those who stay in institutions, or countries, in hopes of changing them.
Of course, I know there are practical and philosophical responses to this danger. I know about Deleuze, and intensity, and blar blar blar. And yet, I confess, when the temptation is strongest, typically on Saturdays, I just don't care.
