Results tagged “multicultural understanding” from LTG Blog

White Dread

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Watching the McCain-Palin rallies is a little scary. No, it’s a lot scary. The intensity of their rage at Obama is obviously fueled by the awareness that their world view on free markets and anti-government intervention is as dead as Lehman Bros., while their assumed beliefs in the inherent exceptionalism of the American way of life—our economy is safe, so everyone who wants to work can and will; we win all wars, so people in the world can trust us; every person with a job is “middle class,” so we’re just one lucky step away from being like the rich—have gone up in the smoke of a bad debt, bad militarism, and very, very bad 401(k)s.

When people have cherished beliefs, to be confronted with the stark reality that you may have been sold not only a bill of goods but down the river is psychologically devastating. What we’re seeing at those rallies is how not just anger but the outcome of massive cognitive dissonance: if I let go of all that I have believed, I lose my identity; if I hold on to what I believe, I may lose my life. Trapped between these two poles, people adapt to this unbearable tension by becoming even more extreme in one belief or the other. Every teenager goes through this as they begin to distinguish the simple truths of their childhood with their dawning awareness that the world is more complex (and inevitably more hypocritical) than they realized as children. We can go through this as adults, too: a divorce can challenge one’s beliefs about love and trust; beliefs in fairness may be tested in similar ways at work. Lucky for the world, the extreme behaviors of teens and adults in various moments of mid-life crisis get acted out pretty much away from the center stage of national life.

A big-eared Black guy, wearing Muslim robes, fist pumping his hot-looking mama complete with ‘Fro wig and matching designer machine gun. Oh, my. Whole lotta’ shaking’ goin’ on out there; every hue a finger can have being pointed this way and that. Maybe the fingers are pointing the wrong way.

I remember my first exposure to satire back at Fitch High School in Groton, Conn. I was a sophomore then, newly full of hormones and covered with zits, a quaking mass of biological confusion trying to pass for cool. My English teacher that year was Johnny Kelly, a skinny, short guy with a sweet smile who’d won something called the Boston Marathon a couple of years earlier. He taught from a huge “Reader of English Literature” we were all supposed to be reading from. The early stuff from Cotton Mather was as dry as week-old hay; the only thing bearable about Samuel Pepys was his name, which scored him 100 points over Thomas Hardy and those other dead English guys, all of whom wrote like they were on laudanum, whatever that was.

Thank God for Jonathon Swift! I remember turning to his essay “A Modest Proposal,” written at the height of the Irish potato famine, assuming it to be as dreadful as chapters from Hardy’s books about wheat fields. As I still read texts as literal facts strung together, some done terribly (Hardy), some much better (Mickey Spillane), my eyes popped when I got to his recommendation that Irish parents sell their kids to be eaten as tasty, rich morsels for aristocrats. Come again? To be eaten? With a fork? How could anybody mean that…