By Albert Samaha
By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
Since hundreds of thousands if not millions of our fellow citizens think that what people like Ann Coulter, Bill O'Reilly, and Bill Maher say is perspicuous and persuasive, is it not plausible to suggest that the most meaningful political alliance in this country is between the rich and the chronically stupid? Rule by a powerful, privileged class of the wealthy and their dependents we clearly have, and we already have a name for it: oligarchy. But what about the rule of the stupid? Sot-archy? Perhaps our hybrid form of governance should be called "sotoligarchy."
Sounds about right to me.
This I know is a harsh thesis, even if it is not an uncommon one. Conservatives and liberals alike have been hurling the epithet "stupid" at each other like a baloney sandwich in a grade school food fight. So, I'll try to add nuance to my use of the term. First, I do not mean to imply that the "rich" are not also at times "stupid" (although the frequency and degree of their recent political and economic victories make me think their stupidity may be strategic and finally shrewd). Second, I do not mean to suggest that the rest of us (the not-rich) are what William Burroughs called "terminal fools." Michael Moore argues, in Stupid White Men, that Americans can't be stupid because he's heard them analyze baseball statistics. Unfortunately, the sad but clear implication of Moore's comment is that in all other areas of cognitive life we are stupid, or at least act as if we were stupid. Let us then qualify our thesis and say that by "stupid" we mean not "organically stupid" but functionally stupid in the political sphere.
We can be even more generous. Somewhere in that ocean of acute perception that we know as Marcel Proust's In Search of Lost Time, Proust makes the following observation. He says that the most common thing about humans is not common sense but human kindness. Unhappily, he goes on, our natural disposition to kindness is always defeated by self-interest.
This is something that has been observed time and again about Americans. We're a nice people, a generous people, a kind people. And yet the policies of our government are cruel and nakedly self-interested. In 1976 I was teaching composition at the University of Iowa when an exiled member of the administration of Salvador Allende asked if he could speak to my class about what had happened in Chile with the CIA-sponsored overthrow of Allende's government and the murder of thousands of students and leftists. He said to my class, "You know, traveling in your country, a person cannot help but be impressed by your kindness. But you do not understand how cruel your government is. You do not understand what you do to the rest of the world when you elect these 'representatives.' "
Or, the obvious example of the moment: We have nothing against Muslims in the abstract. We have no reason to be unkind to them. But since they happen to be sitting on a huge proportion of the world's oil resources we feel obliged to choose death and worse for them routinely. Our desire to be kind is routinely overwhelmed by our government's desire to act in what it perceives to be the self-interest (the gravely intoned "national interest") of the people it represents. Our kindness ends up expressed as violence.
Proust himself was always generous, or kind, before all else. But his native generosity became the acid of social criticism when his unflinching, unapologetic regard fell upon the cruelty of self-interest. He considered cruelty more than anything else just maddeningly, puzzlingly, infinitely stupid. The stupidity of class arrogance. The stupidity of anti-Semitism. The stupidity of homophobia. Time and again, he discovered the self-interested desire to be an aristocrat, to have wealth, or simply to get laid at the root of the most unspeakable cruelty. For the infinitely gentle Marcel Proust, deliberate unkindness, especially when motivated by self-interest, hurt him and angered him more than anything else he could name.
But I think we need to add something to Proust's intelligent observation. We need to add the further irony that we are wrong to think that cruelty functions in our self-interest. Cruelty does not work. In both the short and long run, cruel efforts to maintain self-interest have the consequence of making us conspire against ourselves. By acting cruelly in our self-interest we actually become conspirators in our own defeat.
You might call this the law of political karmic return. The CIA calls it blowback and figures it into the cost of doing business. I think it is more insidious than that. We conspire against ourselves in all sorts of ways, most of which are so familiar that they seem almost like common sense. The root problem is that all of our decisions go into a rational machinery, a social calculus of "benefit." Thus, the infamous "cost-benefit analysis." So we think, "If I clear-cut this forest I can sell the timber and plant soybeans for export to China, a very profitable move. But if I cut down the forest we may not have air to breathe or a stable climate in the future. Animals will be deprived of habitat. Species may go extinct. Oh, fuck it, why should my forest be responsible for the future when it can be profitable now?"