In the comments below, Major Hoople bemoans the lack of collective action and discipline in Our Thing. It’s a common compliant. Get five of our guys in a room and you’ll get nine different opinions… that everyone in the room is ready to fight everyone else about.
The funny thing is, though, SJWs think the same thing about themselves. No, really, they do. That was one of the things that made faculty meetings such joys, back in my professin’ days — no matter how trivial the issue at hand, the meeting couldn’t move forward until everyone had gotten up on xzyher soapbox and delivered xzheyr standard diatribe. “As a post-structuralist lesbian Maoist furry, I feel that….” The outside observer would see a room full of identical freaks, but the people inside saw a glorious rainbow of diversity. Real diversity. God help us, they really did. They really do. It’s one of the keys to understanding them.
Let me back up. There was a time, my young friends, when “the team player” was an archetype, a cultural touchstone, a role model. Well within living memory, the ability to “go along to get along” was a highly valued trait, and most folks were taught to aspire to it. I grew up in this world, and a lovely one it was, too, since it rested on stable identities.
In that world, you knew yourself to be more than the sum of your parts. Nobody liked going to work, of course, but life in the office was so much easier back then, because nobody worried that he’d be mistaken for his job. Yeah, I’m a Customer Service Representative — it says so right there on my nametag — but that’s not what they’re gonna put on my tombstone. I’m really a husband, a father, a stamp collector, the rhythm guitarist in this really kickass little bar band. All of those are social roles, and life isn’t method acting — you can play the part without being the part.
In fact, “losing ourselves in the part” used to be our big worry. Maybe I am just a customer service rep…? The office, the commute, my neckties all laid out for me at the start of each week… is that really all there is to life? What happens when the long nights start taking their toll — as they must — and I have to give up the bar band? What happens when the kids grow up?
You could see this worry everywhere in our culture, our art. Watch Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Judge Reinhold’s character is wrestling with this type of question, and he’s in high school, fer chrissakes. See what I mean about that movie being made on Mars? Remember that; it’ll be on the final.
There’s a certain type of person, though, who just couldn’t grok those worries, because the very notion of social roles was incomprehensible. We didn’t know about the autism spectrum back then, but that’s what that type of person effectively is: A high-functioning autistic. For the autistic, what’s now is forever. Bob’s nametag says “customer service representative.” Therefore, Bob is a customer service representative, and only a customer service representative, now and forever. Bob the family man, Bob the stamp collector, Bob the bar-band strummer… all those fry the autistic’s circuits. It says “customer service representative,” damn it! The train is fine.
Two sides of the same coin. Normal people were worried that they were becoming their jobs. The autistics couldn’t grasp that anyone could be anything else.
The autistics all went into the ivory tower, which gave us identity politics. “Identity politics” only makes sense to the autistic — that is, to people who can’t process change. Normal people have such a hard time with it because we can’t see the logical connection between, say, being gay and being pro-abortion. I mean, if you’re gay it’s a moot point, right? Nor is there any logical connection between being gay and favoring redistributive economics, or worrying about global warming, or whatever. Maybe you do believe in redistributive economics and are worried about global warming, but those are just individual opinions, right? I’m not obliged to vote Republican because I dig blondes. It’s a non sequitur.
Not to the autistic, it isn’t. They’re told that this — pro-abortion, being “green,” the whole Liberal schmear — just is gayness, and they go with it, because that’s the only way the world makes sense to them. Just how “gay” came to mean all that is above my pay grade, but we all know it’s true. More importantly, we all know they believe it, with all their hearts and souls.
That’s the situation in which we find ourselves, my young friends, here in the Current Year. Most of us would like to be team players, but we have no role models. Because the autistics control the culture, we’ve internalized their worries. If I’m a member of the team, we instinctively feel, then somehow I am the team, and only the team, now and forever. It’s a stark choice: Either I give up my individuality completely to advance the team’s goals, or I take my ball and go home.
But it’s a false choice, kameraden, one that could only be beaten into us by very long, very expensive training — i.e. the American “education” system, K-thru-PhD.
Part II coming soon.Loading Likes...