Through the Prism

After passing through the prism, each refraction contains some pure essence of the light, but only an incomplete part. We will always experience some aspect of reality, of the Truth, but only from our perspectives as they are colored by who and where we are. Others will know a different color and none will see the whole, complete light. These are my musings from my particular refraction.

3.26.2025

The Stories We Tell


I am enthusiastically recommending The Stories Whiteness Tells Itself: Racial Myths and Our American Narratives by David Mura to anyone I think will be interested. Here's my very long review.

An amazingly clear and cogent examination of the perspectives of white American identity--and a deconstruction of them--as communicated in literature, history, and current events. Complex ideas articulated lucidly in a series of essays that complement each other, layer and reinforce the main point with a multitude of examples.

That main point being: the white American perspective, as conveyed in countless implicit background narratives, is blind to race and racism. Willfully so. And rejects minority viewpoints that might say otherwise.

As Mura says in closing the book, the final sentence of the appendix:
The assumed primacy of the white view of reality over the Black view of reality--the basic premise of white epistemology--is what binds the racism of the past to the racism of the present.
Or, as I like to say, with a phrase I have borrowed from Marie Rutkoski in The Winner's Curse,
People in brightly lit places cannot see into the dark.
Rutkowski was describing a literal scene, someone at night in a brightly lit room able to see only their reflection in the window, oblivious to the world outside. Yet it implied a metaphor for privilege. Those who have privilege cannot see the reality of those outside that privilege in the darkness beyond the window--are generally not even aware they are privileged because they don't know that anything exists beyond the window--much less can they grapple with the idea of it. All they know is the brightly lit world they inhabit, and and those who say differently are clearly wrong.

Those on the outside, though, they know all about the world outside in the dark--plus they can see through the window. Their perspective allows them to see both experiences of reality, that on the outside and on the inside. What life is like for the privileged and what life is like for those without privilege. Their perspective provides a fuller, more accurate view of reality. They know more of the world and how it actually works than do those inside their brightly lit privilege. They are the ones who should be most trusted to really understand existence.
The first step to seeing is seeing that there are things you do not see. ― Akwaeke Emezi, Pet
Mura explicates that same idea over and over again in this book. The brightly lit privilege of Whiteness prevents white Americans from seeing that their perspective is not the only one, that there's an entire world of racial experiences outside their own on the other side of the window that whites consider only a mirror. And that Blacks and People of Color on the dark other side of the window have a much clearer understanding of race, racial dynamics, and reality in America than they do.

In many ways this book is a work of literary criticism, examining the racial perspectives captured in pieces of writing. But Mura includes film and other storytelling media besides literature, then puts those stories in dialogue with U.S. history and current events. Chapter titles run along the lines of "Racial Absence and Racial Presence in Jonathan Franzen and ZZ Packer," "The Killing of Philando Castile and the Negation of Black Innocence," "Lincoln Was a Great American, Lincoln Was a Racist," and "Psychotherapy and a New National Narrative." Mura is an academic and his writing definitely has an academic bent, but his thoughts never isolate themselves to an academic tower, as he always moves into everyday, relatable ramifications.

Rarely have I seen racial dynamics articulated so well.

I can see how this book might be a hard one to sell as appealing, but it is powerful, important, and valuable. Most highly recommended.
Blacks cannot help but see whites as hypocrites and morally bankrupt--in light of white establishment and support of this racist society. The issues that white and Black America argue over may change over time--slavery, segregation, police brutality, unequal schools, systemic bias, microaggressions, kneeling NFL players--but what never changes is this: whatever Black Americans say about racial inequality, about the reality of their lives, about discrimination, or about white people, Black truths can never be considered or accepted by the whites of their time as the ultimate truth. Nothing that Black America says can make white people doubt this; white people must be the ultimate arbiters of reality. And this is the essence of white supremacy.
Extensive Excerpts:
We are left with this paradox: white America enacts and refuses to see what it enacts; it purports to believe in equality and refuses to see the ways its actions prove otherwise. That is why white Americans, even white liberals, are so often baffled by Black responses to injustice--by Black rage or by Black distrust or even Black culture as a whole. That is why white characterizations of Philando Castile, Michael Brown (New York Times: "not exactly an angel"), Freddie Gray, Trayvon Martin, or Sandra Bland ultimately cannot provide a context to judge these individuals in light of the experience of Black America. To repeat: white people cannot see Black people because white people cannot let themselves see what they have done to Black people--and thus to see who they, white people, actually are.

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That [in her book Beloved, Toni Morrison] does all this through a literary technique that goes beyond the bounds of social realism, that her Black characters acknowledge and live within a "paranormal" reality that the whites around them do not see or acknowledge is a conscious and in many ways a necessary aesthetic choice. The reality of Black life in American has always been very apparent to Blacks and has been shaped in fundamental ways by the powers of whites and white supremacy--but the white ability to see that reality has always been consciously and unconsciously repressed. What is "paranormal" for whites, what is fictional or nonexistent, what is "ghostly" are the truths Black people know about their lives--and the truths Black people know about white people. What Black people see are the ghosts and hauntings of the past; to whites, these ghosts do not exist; there is nothing to be haunted about.

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In 1991, in the incident that helped ignite the violence in Los Angeles, one of the policemen who beat Rodney King with his baton claimed that King's strength was "Hulk-like." Darren Wilson, the Ferguson, Missouri, policeman who shot the unarmed eighteen-year-old Michael Brown in 2014, claimed he saw a "demon," then added, "When I grabbed him, the only way I can describe it is that I felt like a five-year-old holding onto Hulk Hogan." Implicit in these reactions is an attribution to Black men and boys of inhuman strength and capacity for violence and an inhuman capacity to ignore or feel pain. This is what a psychologist would call "projection," the casting of something inside one's own psyche onto another without recognition that one is doing so.

Obviously, Wilson's implicit bias and racism factored into his shooting of Michael Brown; there was never a possibility of Wilson seeing Brown as a teenager or a "good boy," as young white defendants are so often portrayed in courts by their family-financed lawyer and by judges who let them off with probation or lesser sentences. Every Black person in Ferguson understood that Wilson viewed not just Michael Brown as a "demon" or a "hulk." No, that image--that phantasmagorical projection--characterized the way Wilson viewed all their sons, indeed all the Black residents of Ferguson.

And what are the origins of this phantasmagorical projection but slavery? The slave was a beast, and so are the slave's descendants. White America has concocted this projection, and white America continues to allow this stereotype residence in its psyche.

It is not just within the justice system that these projections affect the ways Blacks are treated in our society. How is the stereotype of inhuman strength and incapacity for pain related to the fact that in emergency rooms Blacks wait longer for pain medication and receive smaller doses than whites *for the same injuries and conditions*? This discrepancy is true even comparing Black children and white children.

In this country, the racial stereotyping of Blacks starts automatically at birth.

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I examine a distinct difference between the way white fiction writers and fiction writers of color introduce their characters. In general, white fiction writers do not identify their white characters as white. If the characters are named, say Bill and Bridget, we are to assume tacitly that those characters are white. In contrast, fictional writers of color often identify their characters by race and/or ethnicity. By implications, white fiction writers assume that Whiteness is the universal--and unremarked or undenoted--default. It is writers of color and their characters of color who are an exception to this rule and this universality. Moreover, this practice of white fiction writers also assumes that they and their white characters do not see their race as essential to their identity. Their characters being white is not a significant factor in their experience or the ways they think about themselves.

These are assumptions that few writers of color make about race and their characters--and also about white writers and their white characters. At the same time, white writers often assert that many writers of color substitute politics for art--that we write in ways that are overly concerned with politics.

But this practice of white writers--that is, their avoidance of any question of what Whiteness has meant to their characters' identities and lives--is in itself a political position. It is a position much closer to a conservative take on race than a progressive position on race. Moreover, making whiteness invisible and the universal default leads to instructive differences in the ways white authors envision their work to be evaluated and the ways that work of writers of color are evaluated.

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Whiteness remains invisible so its power can remain invisible, camouflaged, undetectable. At the same time, the invisibility of Whiteness allows whites to ignore what whites have done to create the racial disparities and injustices that exist in our society, just as the invisible bubble of white-defined social reality allows whites to ignore what the actual lives of Black people are like in this country.

In contrast, Blacks understand that the negative stereotypes of their race continue to shape white attitudes and behaviors toward Blacks, in many cases determining the conditions of Black life. Blacks and other people of color understand that their membership in a racial group shapes their encounters with whites. The also understand that whites' resistance to see themselves as white, as members of a racial group, is part of the way individual whites and white America deny the existence of racism, consciously and unconsciously.

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Fiction investigates subjectivity, yes, but Franzen never questions the subjectivity of his white identity or that of his characters. A writer of color understands that they are always in a position where their knowledge is regarded as subjective and open to denial, that she or he always stands in opposition not just to white knowledge but to white knowledge as the objective standard.

The epistemological roots of America's white supremacy are embedded in these contrasting racial approaches and positions in creating fictional characters--even if the white author believes him- or herself to be free of racism. On one level, white characters are supposedly raceless--and thus universal. On another level, their Whiteness is not to be subject to interrogation or examination and requires no explanation or contextualization. The meaning of the character's Whiteness ought to be apparent to any reader, whether the reader is white or not--again it is the universal.

Only the character of color requires categorization, contextualization, explication, and interrogation in terms of race; only the character of color requires the author of color to assume this is necessary; only the character of color is a question or, to use W. E. B. Du Bois's term, a problem. Of course, Franzen is not alone in making these assumption; he shares this epistemological stance with almost all white American authors who present their white characters with no racial designation.

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For America to move to a new story, that story must be able to allow facts that are now kept out of the national narrative, which remain in various ways unconscious in our national psyche. There are a myriad of such facts--from Jefferson's slaves and defense of slavery to Lincoln's racism to the genocide of Native Americans and stealing of their lands to the racial backlash of Reconstruction and the establishment of Jim Crow. A national psyche that ignores these facts will be, to use Kurtz's words, brittle, insecure, fragile, defensive. But it is not Black Americans or Indigenous Americans who cannot accept these facts; it is white America. And it is white America that cannot ask itself: in what ways is present-day America still connected with the slave owner's ontological assumptions about the difference between the White Owner and the Black slave? That is the psychological work white America has yet to undertake in order to tell a true story of our mutual racial past.

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The Civil Rights Act of 1965 was struck down by the Supreme Court in 2013 with Chief Justice John Roberts falsely claiming there was no longer a need for it, that the racism that existed at the time of its passing was a thing of the past. Robert's views were quickly proved wrong by measures all over the South and elsewhere to restrict the voting rights of Black Americans and other people of color, supported by the Trumpian surge in white nationalism and white hate groups.

-----

While whites charge people of color with a clinging to "identity politics," one could argue that it is actually white people who are far more tied to their particular racial identity, that is, to an identity where Whiteness is defined as the majority, the universal default, the center, and source of all validity. That is why more and more whites are freaked out by the possibility of losing the majority, while people of color are long used to such a status. Moreover, most people of color would readily entertain a vision of society where their racial identities actually and truly meant nothing--the so-called Star Trek vision of the future, which is far different from our present society in which racial identity of people of color has a marked effect on their lives and their reality even as they are constantly told that is not the case.

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[If a white individual is to change,] you must entertain the proposition that when it comes to race you do not know what you do not know. . . . 

[I'm excluding a section that brought to my mind The Dunning-Kruger effect occurs when a person’s lack of knowledge and skill in a certain area causes them to overestimate their own competence, followed by . . . ]

When it comes to race, almost all whites are C students who think they are A students. If you have been getting As all your life, it is difficult to realize the true nature of your ignorance, your lack of competence. It is hard to see the reality of that C or D grade, and the fact that you have a long way to go, much longer than you think.
If you can't see race, you can't see racism. Only white people can't see race.


While not a key thought in turns of conveying the contents of the book, I really love this quote that Mura pulled from James Baldwin's Notes of a Native Son:
It began to seem that one would have to hold in the mind forever two ideas which seemed to be in opposition. The first idea was acceptance, the acceptance, totally without rancor, of life as it is, and men as they are; in light of this idea, it goes without saying that injustice is a commonplace. But this did not mean that one could be complacent, for the second idea was of equal power: that one must never, in one's own life, accept these injustices as commonplace but must fight them will all one's strength.
I'm guessing from the way it's presented that Baldwin perhaps moves on from embracing that feeling by book's end, but I've resonated with--and embraced it--for as long as I can remember. You must constantly try to hold the two contradictory feelings of acceptance for things as they are and desire to make things better as equally true and valid.

(For examples, among so many (often more academic) others, see Longing and Tranquility from 2010 or Embrace Contradiction and Paradox from 2009; or for a version of the feeling in a more frustrated moment, the first part of this post from 2023:
There are not two wolves inside me.

No, inside me are two musk oxen butting heads, forever violently ramming into each other in a battle for dominance.

Their heads are built for this clash, so neither will become injured or suffer actual defeat, they'll simply take turns gaining and losing ground without end.

One is characterized by despair. It fights with anxiety and insecurity and frustration. It is misanthropic, sees only the failings of myself and others; sees us as worthless. It wants to be a hermit.

The other is characterized by love. It fights with empathy. It sees beauty and connection and value in everything. It is a feeling of contentment. It wants community.

Both urge acceptance. One wants to accept that everything is awful and there's no point in trying. One wants to accept that everything is sacred and every moment should be one of gratitude. Where they meet there is no acceptance, only the struggle, the constant push and pull toward one or the other.

And so it goes.
end parentheses


While I didn't get as excited about it, I also just read Rising Up: The Power of Narrative in Pursuing Racial Justice by Sonali Kolhatkar that conveys the other side of Mura's coin. My review:

A brief, fervent argument for changing how we talk about race and racism. The first two chapters compare the racial narratives told in mainstream media versus independent media; the middle two look at traditional Hollywood narratives compared to more recent diverse representation; and the final two delve into social media, collective narratives, and personal narratives. While good, this examination was too cursory and surface for my tastes, and I would have preferred a lengthier, deeper, more nuanced consideration of the topic. Nevertheless, this is valuable for its consideration--for the frame it creates for looking at race and the power of underlying, background narratives that we're too often unaware of. For how we can shape perspectives and identities with them.

More than for my review, I mention the book because of a few quotes and narratives I pulled out:
Racist narratives are generally based on stereotypes, while racial justice narratives are based on our complex humanity.

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The work of promoting truthful stories grounded in our humanity is a critical, often ignored tool for achieving racial justice that we all can participate in as individuals.

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How strange it is that to mainstream media outlets, racism--the treatment of human beings as less than human based on their skin color and national origin--is considered an opinion, not an affront to our modern-day understanding of human rights and equality.

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As acclaimed Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie once said, "The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make the one story become the only story."

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Not only is shifting the narrative an increasingly critical part of racial justice organizing, it is central to changing the nation's collective consciousness in the long term. "More and more institutions working to eliminate oppressive systems and build inclusive ones are coming to understand that stories and storytelling are the backbone of an inclusive society. . . . How they're told defines whose lives are valued and whose are not, and that narrative power shapes all other types of power, such as social power, economic power, and political power."
I liked that last quote so much I found the article it's from for full context. A bit more:

More and more institutions working to eliminate oppressive systems and build inclusive ones are coming to understand that stories and storytelling are the backbone of an inclusive society, and how they’re told defines whose lives are valued and whose are not, and that narrative power shapes all other types of power, such as social power, economic power, and political power. And so the growth of this field is instrumental in defending democracy and building genuinely inclusive societies over time, and it’s been the critical efforts of communicators and organizers, whether they call themselves that or not, whose work is rooted in understanding and centering the challenges, and experiences, and insight, and wisdom, and stories, and knowledge of everyday people who are experiencing domination and exclusion, that have changed the hearts and minds of people that have set political agendas, and that have transformed culture to create a more equitable society. . . . 

We believe that our job is to be a conduit for grassroots communicators, to disseminate radical frameworks for strategic communications into more mainstream and academic spaces, and to train people up in narrative power strategies that democratize our field, that put people closest to oppression at the center of our efforts, as opposed to marketing or marketing strategies, which in many ways are antithetical to true freedom and liberation.

We believe what sets us apart is that we don’t sacrifice principles or ethics for strategy, but that the most important role that we can play is to build narrative power for social movements.
And the same for the Chimamanda Adichie quote, which comes from an excellent TED Talk.

So that is how to create a single story, show a people as one thing, as only one thing, over and over again, and that is what they become. . . . 

Power is the ability not just to tell the story of another person, but to make it the definitive story of that person. . . . 

The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story. . . . 

I've always felt that it is impossible to engage properly with a place or a person without engaging with all of the stories of that place and that person. The consequence of the single story is this: It robs people of dignity. It makes our recognition of our equal humanity difficult. It emphasizes how we are different rather than how we are similar. . . . 

Stories matter. Many stories matter. Stories have been used to dispossess and to malign, but stories can also be used to empower and to humanize. Stories can break the dignity of a people, but stories can also repair that broken dignity. . . . 

When we reject the single story, when we realize that there is never a single story about any place, we regain a kind of paradise.
That reminds me of a quote from Rachel Hartman's book In the Serpent's Wake that I like so much that I've made it into a tiny scroll that I carry everywhere with me on my hat.
The world was too vast to fit into just one mind; it needed millions of them to consider itself from every possible angle.

The difficulty with minds is that each perceives itself as a separate thing, alone. And so the minds spin stories to bridge the gaps between them, like a spider's web. There are a million stores, and yet they are all one.
Stories matter. Many stories matter. Millions, from every perspective.


This is wisdom to live by:
If you want to understand someone, figure out the narrative they tell themselves about themself.

If you want to change your behavior, change your narrative. If you want to change someone else’s behavior, offer them a more compelling narrative they can tell themselves.

I've been trying to find a good way at my place of work lately to communicate to administration and upper management that a recent organizational change we've made to our staffing structure has struggled to find staff support because it has lacked a compelling narrative. A good story has values, purpose, and humanity in it. A good story makes the listener want to be part of it.

I also just wrote an article for our staff intranet about an event I helped host. Because it was cool, I believe in it, and it's something that should be shared; but also as a way to demonstrate, I hope, how to tell a compelling story about our work.
Building Connected Communities with American Public Square

We take pride that libraries are institutions at the center of our community that welcome all.

Everyone is accepted here, regardless of age, race, background, income, or belief.* The library has no requirement for admission or use, no cost, no qualifying criteria. The library is a free public place for everyone. On any given day, you’ll see a wide range of patrons using our spaces at the same time for a wide range of purposes:
  • Parents with toddlers here to play
  • Entrepreneurs learning how to start a business
  • Genealogy researchers discovering their ancestry
  • Language learning classes
  • Grandparents checking out movies to watch with their grandchildren
  • Young teens checking out video games
  • Those afflicted with Alzheimer’s gathering with instruments to create the music of their youth.
  • High schoolers working on school projects.
  • The homeless in need of a safe place to exist.
The list goes on.

It's not every day, though, that you see those last two patron groups mentioned—high schoolers working on school projects and the homeless in need of a safe place to exist—using the library together, in the same room, talking to each other as part of the same event.


On February 27, [my library location] hosted an event by American Public Square that brought students from eight metro-area high schools together to continue their school-year-long exploration into the topic of homelessness. We have a long-standing relationship with APS, a local organization that brings people together to build stronger, more connected communities. We champion the ideals of a civil society—where citizens engage respectfully, collaborate on shared challenges, and pursue their aspirations with purpose. The previous Civic Engagement focus area leader brought a new request to our team: to host an APS Civics Education Initiative day. From the APS website:
At the High School level, we offer a custom-created learning series called “Reimagine the Square,” taught in the Fall at participating schools across the Kansas City community. What students learn in the Fall semester is then applied to a project-based learning (PBL) experience in the Spring semester, which gives all participating students the opportunity to work together to build their own APS style program.
The APS educators asked that we help them coordinate a day for the students to focus on homelessness in [our] County. In addition to gathering the program’s 80+ students, they . . . 
  • arranged to have Leah Wankum as the keynote speaker. Wankum is the deputy editor of [our local newspaper], regularly has articles picked up by KCUR and other local news sources, and has been covering the topic of homelessness in [our] County since 2019;
  • brought in Bill Mattox, Senior Direction of The J. Stanley Marshall Center for Education Freedom of The James Madison Institute, to close the day with a presentation on “Counter Speech” and the protest tactics of the Civil Rights movement;
  • and invited [our] Regional Librarians to give short presentations on [our library's] resources available for researching homelessness and on our experiences serving homeless patrons in [our] County.

The highlight of the event was Leah Wankum’s arranging for Barb McEver to make an appearance during the middle of the day. Barb is the founder and director of Project 1020, [our] County’s only homeless shelter—who would normally have been asleep at that time since Project 1020 operates from 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 a.m. during cold weather months. Leah and Barb had a dialogue about the history of the shelter, its growth, and the ongoing local need for further growth. [Degolar] followed to talk about how [his library building] is the daytime home for many of the Project 1020 clients, about the training that [our] building staff have had to become better able to serve homeless patrons, about our own relationship with Barb, and about some of our experiences with homeless patrons. Then, Leah and Barb brought in five current Project 1020 clients to give a panel presentation to the students. They took turns responding to questions like, “Do people treat you differently when they find out you are homeless?” and “What do you need to be able to move on from this phase of your life?”

The students started the day thinking of homelessness as a research topic; they ended the day thinking of the homeless as people with names, faces, and stories.

The homeless patrons ended the day feeling more seen, heard, and understood, like they had been given a forum in a world that largely wants them out of sight and out of mind.

Library staff built new bonds with local media, and APS was impressed with our space and hosting and wants to plan more with us as soon as able.

It was a powerful exercise in building a more connected community for everyone involved.

---

*See, for instance: Administrative Regulations Manual Policy 10-20-10, Library Bill of Rights: “5. A person’s right to use a library should not be denied or abridged because of origin, age, background or views.”

Also: Administrative Regulations Manual Policy 20-15-10, Access Policy Statement: “No Discrimination . . . Libraries and library staff are responsible for providing equal access to library materials and services for all library users.”
It only just went live so I haven't yet had a chance to receive feedback from colleagues, but when I submitted it for publication my manager replied: "This is a fantastic article that highlights what I believe is the ultimate superpower of libraries: bringing people together who might otherwise never find themselves sharing a space." That makes me feel I succeeded at least a little.


To move on to more national-level current events, this is an important story to tell in response to the current administration's work to scrub any mention of so-called "DEI" from government sources.


So much science and history has disappeared lately, anything involving anyone who is not white, straight, and in support of the white supremacy narrative.

Very few are telling the story that the motive behind the effort is fear.

When it comes down to it, Donald Trump has just one move.

Fear.

"It's the emotion at the heart of Trump and the GOP," Dr. George Lakoff has explained. "Fear of immigrants. Fear of people of color. Fear of equality for women and LGBT people. Fear of religions other than Christianity. Fear of non-existent conspiracies. Fear of the media. Fear of social progress." . . . 

"Brain imaging studies have even shown that the fear center of the brain, the amygdala, is actually larger in conservatives than in liberals," wrote John Bargh, a professor of social psychology at Yale University and a hero of Dr. Lakoff. "And many other laboratory studies have found that when adult liberals experienced physical threat, their political and social attitudes became more conservative (temporarily, of course)."

Fear makes people more conservative . . . 

His fear mongering, the media's compulsive need to share it, and even the urge to reshare the horrible things he says to stoke our amygdalas thinking we're turning people off to Trump are actually creating conservatives. . . . 

By recognizing fear as the tool being used against us, we can deliberately activate its antidote. . . . 

"They were asked to close their eyes and richly imagine being visited by a genie who granted them a superpower. For half of our participants, this superpower was to be able to fly, under one's own power. For the other half, it was to be completely physically safe, invulnerable to any harm.

"If they had just imagined being able to fly, their responses to the social attitude survey showed the usual clear difference between Republicans and Democrats — the former endorsed more conservative positions on social issues and were also more resistant to social change in general.

"But if they had instead just imagined being completely physically safe, the Republicans became significantly more liberal — their positions on social attitudes were much more like the Democratic respondents. And on the issue of social change in general, the Republicans' attitudes were now indistinguishable from the Democrats. Imagining being completely safe from physical harm had done what no experiment had done before — it had turned conservatives into liberals."

Science demonstrates that feeling safe makes people more tolerant, progressive, and liberal. . . . 

We have to fight fear itself – and we do this by creating safety together. . . . 

The power and safety in numbers . . . 

Political scientist Erica Chenoweth studied over 300 uprisings across history and found something remarkable: When just 3.5% of the population actively joins a movement, her research showed, change often becomes inevitable.

That's the good news. The bad news is that we're nowhere near that number in America yet. . . . 

So here's the empowering truth: We get to save America. We have the power. We have the strength. We have the numbers.

Trump has never had the majority of this country behind him. He has no genuine overwhelming support for his ideas because all his backing comes from fear, not inspiration or agreement. Americans overwhelmingly reject what he and Musk are doing to our government.

We know a mass movement can and will save this country. The only question is when. The answer seems clear. We will begin to win when Americans feel safe enough to reject Trump's only move.

Together, we create that safety.
Together, we can tell a different story.


Here's a helpful perspective for overcoming fear.

The deepest lie we tell ourselves is that we should be afraid. . . . 

We live in perpetual fear despite being the safest people in history, by and large. This causes what I call the “anxiety spiral.” Due to the negativity bias, our attention preferentially goes to things that make us anxious. We pay more and more attention to things like the media or online algorithms. [These, in turn], feed back to us what gets the most attention, and it’s usually anxiety. 

You’ve got the brain doing it on one level, and you’ve got society doing it on a much bigger level. The result is the entire population spiraling into anxiety and not being able to get out. . . . 

We live in an increasingly unnatural world for our evolutionary being and our physiology. We’re robbed of the things that would calm us and hyper-exposed to things that we would never have heard about without telecommunications. . . . 

It’s one thing to feel an emotional impulse and say, “Oh, I had an irrational thought that the economy would collapse. I’ve got no proof of it, so I will put that away.” But we don’t tend to recognize irrational fears as irrational. We read them as the real environment: “In the room with me right now, there is a predator called ‘the economy will collapse.’”

We are such brilliant verbal creatures who are highly sensitive to fear. We are storytellers. Anything that makes us afraid that does not come from an event in the room, but from a mental depiction of that thought, I would call anxiety. . . . 

The part of us that’s anxious is like a small, frightened animal. That kind, internal self-talk is something that you can force yourself to do, even if you don’t feel it. You can’t force yourself to feel calm or compassionate, but you can get yourself to do kind behaviors. . . . 

If you follow what calms your anxiety, you will go toward sensations like compassion and connection. At that point, you will find enormous joy in healing things that hurt and magnifying things that help. You will find joy in something that affects others positively. I’ve never worked with a client — and this is after thousands of clients — who found that their purpose in life did not help other people. That just seems to be built into our biology. . . . 

The fact is that we’re far more motivated by things like love, fascination, and delight than we are by fear.
Stories can make you afraid; stories can make you compassionate and connected. Pay attention to your stories.


A brief word from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. Well, not actually a brief word; one of the longer "concepts." The latter part of its essay.

The Bittersweet Awareness That All Things Must End

 . . . There’s a certain kinship there, shared by all things. The stars and the tombstones, the family dog and the honeybees. A comfort to think that we are all united in our impermanence. Because if even the mountains have lifetimes, and our own galaxy will one day be no more, then there’s no solid definition of what permanence even means. Eternity, infinity, forever: these are nonsense words, poetical abstractions, useful only to spice up mathematicians’ thought experiments. The finiteness of reality takes it out of the hands of the gods and gives us control. Without an objective yardstick to establish what eternity looks like, it’s up to us to define what timeframe we view as normal, and calibrate our own understanding of what fleeting and lasting really mean.

You can take a summer afternoon playing yard games with your family and make it last for years. Spend an eternity sitting by the fire with your loved ones, or tell a bedtime story to your kids that they’ll remember for eons. Grow a garden, and revel in its sweetness for a little while, before it all withers away, buried in snow and ash. Drop by to visit with friends, chatting about nothing particularly important. Call your parents. Go out and look at the stars while they’re still visible. Doodle away in the margins, and make art for its own sake, even though you know it won’t last more than a few thousand years. You can sit in a chair listening to music, while music still exists; you can curl up and read a good book while the language is still alive, while the words still have meaning.

The meaning of things isn’t an emergent property of how long they last. We are the ones who define them for ourselves, if only for our own satisfaction. It is an honor reserved for mortals; we just have to have the courage to do it. To decide for ourselves which fleeting, precious, interminable moments we’ll carry with us right to the end. Maybe to the mountains, they won’t amount to all that much. But to the honeybees, it’s more than enough.

To the honeybees, summer never ends. They live for a few months at most, barely long enough to feel the seasons change. They have no need to remind each other to put themselves out there, gathering their rosebuds while they may. You can hear them buzzing deep in their hives, trading bits of sweetness they’ve gathered out in the world. How easily they pass the nectar back and forth between their bodies, freely mixing it all together as if none of it made a difference, knowing they’ll never live long enough to taste it all.

And yet, their honey is the one thing that never expires, that never loses its sweetness. Maybe that buzzing sound is just another way of saying, We are here.
Find the kinship in impermanence and make its story your own.



At the risk of lawyers (as I said, I'm enthusiastically recommending The Stories Whiteness Tells Itself: Racial Myths and Our American Narratives by David Mura to anyone I think will be interested), this post has an appendix.
















Click for larger/zoomable versions of the images. It helpfully deconstructs a powerful story as effectively as anything I know.


The world is too vast
to fit into
just one mind

It needs millions of them
to consider itself
from every possible angle

The difficulty with minds
is that each perceives itself
as a separate thing
alone

And so the minds
spin stories
to bridge the gaps
between them
Like a spider's web

There are a million stories
and yet they are all one


3.14.2025

We Are All Necromancers


I've never been one for keeping a diary or journal. This blog is as close as I've come, and it usually captures what I'm learning or pondering much more than happenings in my life, and without any regularity or pattern. Still, people are always giving me journals as gratitude or participation swag or the like and I've developed a small collection of empty books waiting to be filled. Then I had the thought to put a leather, rustic journal on my Amazon wish list since it seemed like something a wizard would carry, and someone gave it to me this past Christmas. It's so nice, I felt I couldn't leave it ignored and empty, collecting dust. While my perfect self would fill it with poetry, cryptic and arcane musings, and other spell-like words, I'm not that creative (yet?). But I have managed to pull it out a couple of times to record actual thoughts--to do actual journaling.

The more recent occurrence was a couple of weeks ago during an early break from winter when the weather was beautiful on the weekend. I put the journal into a satchel and carried it with me on a walk on a rural trail. At my furthest point, I sat down on a bench and wrote. After describing my location, environment, and state of mind, I captured the thoughts that follow this image.


 . . . This morning I was reading the book A Stranger in Olondria by Sofia Samatar. I've read and thoroughly enjoyed some of her more recent books.* This was her debut, from about ten years ago. I am not quite a third of the way through and intrigued to see what happens next in the tale--which is a recent turn; the writing has wonderfully detailed world building, with dense, lush descriptions. I prefer more psychology and focus on character, so it's been a fascinating yet slow read for me so far.

The book's subtitle: Being the Complete Memoirs of the Mystic, Jevick of Tyom. Ah, now that intrigues me; and we just turned into the beginnings of his mystical experiences.

Normally I would wait to finish a book before articulating thoughts about it, but earlier I was rereading the descriptive blurb on the back cover. The final sentence: "An ordeal that Challenges his understanding of art and life, home and exile, and the limits of that seductive necromancy, reading." The book has not yet used the word "necromancy," so I don't know if it will or if that is something that only appears in this summary. In case it does, I want to capture my thoughts now before they impact me. (I hope it does because I want to know more; I just want to express my ideas, too.)

I'm not sure why, but my eleven-year-old son's fantasies of power have for the past few years involved becoming a necromancer. A wizard of necromancy, the magic of bringing the dead back to life. It isn't because anyone close has died and he wants them back; it's because he wants to command an undead army. I guess he considers living beings too willful and thinks it's better to have mindless minions completely under his control.

"That seductive necromancy, reading." Whoa. That's a thought. Reading is the act of practicing the magic of bringing the dead back to life. Not just visiting the dead or conversing with them, but reanimating them and giving them new life. In you. Through you.

We are all necromancers, then.

And what does that make the act of writing? What kind of magic is that, the spell that preserves you for others to revive?

And what does that make me as a Librarian. Not quite a necromancy instructor, as that would be reading teachers. More of a curator of necromancy, a sponsor and advocate and patron. A champion of necromancy.

I've enjoyed calling myself a story pusher and lore curator for many years, but this is something entirely new.

Am I a priest of necromancy? A necromantic cleric? Paladin?

This will require rumination. For now: a champion of necromancy, sitting in the semi-wild borderlands, crafting the first half of a magic spell that practitioners later can visit to bring me in this moment back to life.

-



I've since finished reading it, A Stranger in Olondria: Being the Complete Memoirs of the Mystic, Jevick of Tyom by Sofia Samatar. Reading as necromancy is never boldly, explicitly stated as such, but the idea of preserving the dead in writing and books is certainly at the heart of the story. Here's what I wrote for my review:
A remarkable book. It has some of the deepest and richest world-building I've encountered, and Samatar describes her world in deep, rich, lush language. In many ways, I might even go so far as to say the setting is the main character, the cultures and stories and beliefs of the people, the sights and sounds and dwellings and landscapes, more than any individual. It is poetic and immersive and, in its own way, subtle.

Jevick is the son of a wealthy merchant from an island country, unusually educated in the language of the nation they trade with thanks to a private tutor. He is a romantic, a scholar, in love with books and stories and learning. The first time Jevick travels abroad, leading the annual expedition after his father dies, he is more interested in experiencing Olondria than conducting his trade. Then he becomes haunted--quite literally--by a ghost. Which, in the land's ruling religion, makes him a saint, which makes him illegal since saints have been outlawed. And before he knows what's happening, Jevick is at the center of political manipulations and maneuverings between Olondria's two religions that are vying for power--when all he really wants is to find a way to rid himself of the torturous haunting. His quest ends up leading him across the continent, reluctantly drawn into events as a means to accomplishing his goal, and possibly discovering love, heartache, and sorrow along the way.

I hope that description comes across as enticing and exciting, as I'm hoping to do the book justice. Because, unfortunately, for all that I appreciate and respect the writing and love all of the story's elements, I often found myself a bit bored with reading it. The descriptions were too much, the loving detail with which every location and experience was described was not my preferred type of book. I like something with more psychological and philosophical drama, more character focus. No fault of the book, I just didn't have the right kind of chemistry with it to fall in love. Nonetheless, it is worthy of many stars and I'm glad I read it.
And here is the full description from the back cover I was looking at; also shared on Samatar's website:
Jevick, the pepper merchant’s son, has been raised on stories of Olondria, a distant land where books are as common as they are rare in his home. When his father dies and Jevick takes his place on the yearly selling trip to Olondria, Jevick’s life is as close to perfect as he can imagine. But just as he revels in Olondria’s Rabelaisian Feast of Birds, he is pulled drastically off course and becomes haunted by the ghost of an illiterate young girl.

In desperation, Jevick seeks the aid of Olondrian priests and quickly becomes a pawn in the struggle between the empire’s two most powerful cults. Yet even as the country simmers on the cusp of war, he must face his ghost and learn her story before he has any chance of becoming free: an ordeal that challenges his understanding of art and life, home and exile, and the limits of that seductive necromancy, reading.
So, yes, I might just have to change my title from "Librarian" to "Champion of Necromancy."

That seductive necromancy, reading. Every time we read, we resurrect the dead--or, at least, the past. Reading is bringing another time and place and people back to life. Reading is necromancy.

Just as you, reading this, are practicing necromancy yourself.


A quick aside, a recent anecdote from our younger son, age nine: He was telling me about this penguin he made at school. " . . . and he's carrying buckets of blood and you can tell from his eyes that he's seen some things . . . "


On the topic of writing about myself, something that might have been forgettable had it not led to the exchange below. Not long ago I reshared this meme on Facebook.


The responses:
C3@, except when you're E4$.

C1$ (oooh, maybe this is the real secret code those Alt Ntl Parks folks keep posting. 🤣)

D5!

My first thoughts exactly.

C5$

A5$
It led to this interesting chat dialogue with a work colleague.
Them: Inquiring minds want to know: how would you self-identify on the chart you posted on FB?

Me: That's tricky. I have a general sense how I see myself and how I hope to come across, but feel clueless as to how that translates into reality for others and what vibe they actually experience from me.

Me: And, as with picking favorites, I can't seem to pick just one. I like aspects of everything.

Them: Fair. Did any responses surprise you?

Me: I think I'd rule out A & B. 1 & 2. %
Me: I'd probably put myself largely C (gryphon) with hints of D (goblin ) and E (unknowable).
Me: In descending order 3 - 5 - 4.

Them: Interesting--I briefly considered A and 1 for you, but decided that explaining that "by dragon, I mean 'hoards things' and by 'things' I mean 'experiences and knowledge'" and "by enchanted sword, I mean 'tool with which to solve problems'" felt like WAY too much for a fun FB chart. lol

Me: I don't think I'm intoxicating enough to be ! (ale). I'd like to think I offer the wisdom of tea ($), the comfort of mutton pie (@), and the support of elven bread (#).

Me: Yeah, that's the problem, they can all be interpreted in different ways. Dragon could also mean lazy and destructive.
Me: So I'm surprised to see anyone picked the sword for me because I don't see myself as violent or warlike, but it's hard to know what they meant by it.
Me: I like your response, because it captures layers/dimensions. My normal unassuming self and things you might find at a deeper level.

Them: There's a certain amount of paladin-ness built into a sword, I think, or knight-in-shining-armor vibes that I think are...well, not NOT appropriate, though maybe not immediately surface obvious. Please see the story about the people forming a shield wall, etc

Me: I'm flattered by how many chose $, because I definitely strive for wisdom.

Me: Er - Dragon could mean greedy (not lazy) and destructive.

Them: My dude, you have got to find a response other than "flattered", because that suggests a certain amount of disagreement/disbelief when people say nice things about you, all of which have, from what I can tell, proven to be 100% accurate

Them: And I dunno, I'm sure there are some lazy dragons out there

Me: Yeah, but my first two thoughts are covetous hoarders of wealth and wrathful burninators. Then I might get to magical and charming and tricksy, but the others are primary.
Me: Smaug and all . . . 

Them: Oh sure, but I think there's an argument to be made that once one reaches a certain level of wealth hoard, then one tends to become pretty lazy
Them: Could go out and scour the countryside, or could set up this nice adventurer attractor and let them to come to me and then loot their corpses

Me: And I always have to overcome initial disbelief when people see/say nice things about me.

Them: As I tell my friends all the time, you're cool AF and you're just going to have to find some way to be ok with that. 


Them: "If the person feels he or she is intelligent and capable and has a strong internal locus of control, then that anxiousness gets turned inward and also has an internal focus--I have the ability to impact those around me and my surroundings, so if anything is amiss then I am most likely the cause.  And something is always amiss, so I am always at fault.  The only state that could allow me to stop worrying is complete perfection.  It's almost narcissistic, having such grand expectations of oneself in this way, that if I am not perfect then I am wrong."
Them: Wow, man, pretty rude to publish parts of my diary without even telling me

Me: Q: Where can I find an INTJ?
A: We INTJs are über-introverts, so we prefer asynchronous and semi-anonymous forms of communication. We get most of our socialization through internet forums and Usenet newsgroups. Look for us there.


Them: Q: Why does my INTJ just start nodding and smiling after we’ve been talking for a couple of minutes?
A:

Them: Today I learned that I can in fact stifle a guffaw

Them: And fun fact, I'm INFJ, so that extremely feels like it explains some things regarding key differences between us. lol

Me: I find this entire document is scarily accurate for my instinctive tendencies, though I have worked hard to become a kinder, gentler version of INTJ.

Them: Me: You are awesome and should love yourself!
[Degolar]: Nah.
Me: Butbutbut here, let me enumerate the cool things about you!
[Degolar]: (munches on a snack and thinks about trees)
So, even though I started it, I think people are too multidimensional and layered for a single answer; but, if I was forced to pick a response for myself right now (and the answer might be different later), I would assign myself: C3$ - Gryphon, Apothecary Satchel, Tea of Wisdom.

That same colleague also recently reshared Resistance Is Contagious when I posted it on Facebook, with the following introduction:


Though quiet and externally nonchalant, I'm definitely not accustomed to considering myself "extremely cool." I, uh, was flattered.



The post I shared with my colleague in the dialogue above, There Are Two Types of People in the World, makes reference to being the type of person who likely qualifies as "highly sensitive," so it seems appropriate that this just popped up in my feed the other day.

What I discovered after many years of studying this innate survival strategy is that high sensitivity means, above all, thinking deeply about everything. Which makes someone like me, well, thoughtful, creative and inclined more than most to both science and spirituality. Having nearly automatic empathy – almost too much sometimes – we cry easily. We notice subtleties: birds, flowers, the lighting in a room, and if someone has rearranged the furniture.

With all that going on in a sensitive person’s brain, we are easily overstimulated. . . . 

About 30 per cent of people have this trait of high sensitivity – and because it is a survival strategy to observe before acting, it’s a trait seen in many. We’ve all met an especially sensitive cat, dog or horse. But there are sensitive birds, fish and fruit flies too. . . . 

The trait of high sensitivity is always seen only in a significant minority because there is no advantage to any individual if all of them notice and consider details about food patches (or anything else) equally. For that reason alone, there will also be many individuals low in sensitivity, enjoying the advantages of saving energy by not paying particular attention to stimuli.

In humans, this innate survival strategy involves noticing and adapting to details in the environment, especially the social environment. Those with this trait are carefully observing and processing what they take in, consciously or not, and maximising what they have learned. This kind of deep processing can be difficult to observe. The sensitive individual, child or adult, is simply watching and thinking while going about life, not appearing different from others. Just processing more. One can imagine that, when an adaptive behaviour is decided on based on this processing, the change may be gradual, or it might occur suddenly, before others make the same move – perhaps taking a shortcut, changing one’s diet, or buying something on sale before others have noticed the reduced price.

While information for HSPs is all over the internet, the trait is still not very well understood. One reason is the central fact that depth of processing, which is largely invisible, is the key to all the rest. Another confounding element is differential susceptibility: because HSPs are tirelessly processing their experiences, they are affected more positively than others in good environments, especially in childhood, and more negatively affected than others in bad environments. Therefore there are quite a few HSPs suffering from anxiety, depression and shyness due to difficult childhoods, and they are more visible than HSPs with good-enough childhoods.

The good news is that highly sensitive people are more positively affected than others by interventions. The bad news is that stress is also more damaging to HSPs, and more likely to be correlated with physical illnesses. After decades of studies finding more illnesses in HSPs, a crucial study concluded that stress was the underlying reason for these illnesses, not simply having the trait. The HSPs I sometimes call ‘high functioning’ may not even be aware of their trait or, if they have learned about it, have found the suggestions useful and moved on. They are mostly invisible, except for their creativity, deep thinking and empathy for others. They are not angels but, having enjoyed a good upbringing, are often very nice people.

HSPs are difficult to identify for at least three other reasons. Sensitive men are not noticed because the cultural stereotype of sensitivity in the West is that it is feminine and somewhat of a weakness. . . . 

Another violation of the stereotype of a sensitive person is that many are extraverts. . . . 

About half of HSPs have another innate trait: seeking novelty and high sensation. They are easily bored and love new things. . . . 

In brief, if you want to be sure you are dealing with a highly sensitive person, watch for signs of depth of processing. For example, their ideas are usually well thought-out. If they suggest where to go for a hike, they have probably considered the time of day, the aspect of shade and sun, the wind, and the distance from other hikers, among other pertinent details. They may prefer not to give an opinion, however. In a committee, for example, or a family, their opinion may differ from the majority, and the HSP may stay silent, wanting to avoid conflict or people being tired of the HSP usually being right.

Another way you can spot an HSP, of course, is their need for downtime and recovery after they have been overstimulated – or when they feel they will soon become so if they do not stop. If they are ‘high functioning’, having grown up in an environment where they felt respected, they may have their downtime planned into their lives seamlessly. When they have had enough, they learn to say: ‘That isn’t going to work for me’ without further explanation. Having clear boundaries like this is a necessity for HSPs. In a sense they are born with thin boundaries, letting in more than others, including the feelings of others, and thus they are inevitably aware of others’ needs.
It reminds me of an article I shared all the way back in 2009 about being "high-reactive" and having an "anxious mind," Are You High-Reactive?

It resonates.


Speaking of work chats and necromancy, we digitally post a weekly question and colleagues can answer if inclined as a way to know each other better. Last week I asked the question What have you lost? I contributed the first response since I was worried people wouldn't know how to respond, plus a few others along the way (subtly indicated below with bold emphasis).
What have you lost?

I have lost my youth
I have lost my temper
I have lost some weight (and gained some back and lost some . . . )
I have lost some inhibitions
I have lost a wife
I have lost my parents
I have lost my loneliness
I have not lost hope
I have lost a good number of bad habits and unhealthy behaviors

I lost the book on vacation.
I lost the book on a plane.
I lost the book in a swimming pool.
I lost the book and found it again…
But it was wet, so I threw it away.

I have lost this antique woven wall hanging during my move to KC. I'm still upset about it and think of it often. 

I have lost my ability to just lie down on any ol' piece of furniture, curl up, and fall asleep quickly then sleep through the night and get up in the morning without anything hurting.

I have lost my sense of smell.

From Of Things Gone Astray. . . This is a book about people--none of whom realize it--who have lost themselves. Their routines have become habits of action without thought, and they've lost track of who they once aspired to be and to what might give their lives more meaning. They don't realize they themselves are lost, but they are all confronted, at the start of their stories, with the loss of something else, something unexpected and unrealistic. . . . 





I Lost My Marbles (in a SpongeBob gif)

For a period of my life, I lost the belief that I could fall asleep sober. When I found it, I lost the belief that I could fall asleep hungry. I have been finding it again recently.

I could've sworn that I once had a d100 (100-sided die). In the process of looking for it, I found a weighted d6 that (almost) always lands on 6. All is balanced, I suppose... except that d6. 


I have moved, and I've kept on movin'
Proved the points that I needed provin'
I Lost the friends that I needed losin'
Found others on the way
I've kissed the girls and left them crying
Stolen dreams, yes there's no denying
I've traveled hard sometimes with conscience flyin'
Somewhere in the wind


By Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
I shared the trail guide joke, but not the final poem.


Some might think to be worried about young ones wanting to be necromancers and making jokes like "he's seen some things," but I don't because they don't have any trouble distinguishing between reality and fantasy, blurring the line between real and pretend. And because our culture is inundated with dark thoughts and worries about catastrophe. These are children who practice intruder drills at school to be prepared for mass shooters--along with fire drills, tornado drills, and bomb threat drills. Previous generations have practiced nuclear war drills. Children who have sincerely asked if the world as they know it will still exist when they're older or if global warming will have wiped everyone out. Angst is ubiquitous. Doom is everywhere.

Things like this are constantly in my feed:



Fifteen years ago I wrote a post titled Eschatological Tranquility.


That same year I also shared the review I wrote today for Lemony Snicket's book Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid, which included . . . 


 . . . it's the title of the climactic twelfth (of thirteen, of course) chapter that captures what he's all about: "An Overall Feeling of Doom that One Cannot Ever Escape No Matter What One Does."


An overall feeling of doom that one cannot ever escape no matter what one does. Feelings of doom are inescapable. It is a personal feeling and it permeates our culture. I came across the phrase "apocalyptic angst" in the introduction to a book I just read and immediately had new words for an old sensation. Apocalyptic Angst. Omnipresent, pervasive, always and everywhere.

That book is Everything Must Go: Stories We Tell About the End of the World by Dorian Lynskey. It's an insightful, fascinating, and engaging look that sense of apocalyptic angst that pervades human cultures. Because humans are highly prone to chronocentrism, a belief that the current moment in time is more significant than any other, a bias towards the present as unique, special, and momentous, we are highly prone to feeling the dangers we face are uniquely significant and dangerous. It always feels like the end of the world is just around the corner. In a convergence of history, science, and culture, this book looks at the all the popular stories that have captured, reflected, and encouraged that feeling over time.

Though he delves a bit into earlier times and other places, most of the book focuses on the past few centuries--through to the present--in Europe and the U.S. He explores books, plays, movies, music, news, and more, mostly science fiction, and their relationships with the science of their day. There's a comfort in seeing how wrong so many people have been for so long about the immediacy of disaster; it's a wonderful exercise in perspective. Though there remains a sense of dread about the fact that even if the fears of the past have yet to come to pass, they remain among the ever accumulating list of potential possibilities.

The table of contents gives a good overview of the topics considered.
Introduction: Apocalypse All the Time
Prologue: God

Part One: The Last Man
1. Darkness
2. The Last Man

Part Two: Impact
3. Falling Starts
4. Doomsday Rocks

Part Three: The Bomb
5. Dreaming the Bomb
6. Destroyer of Worlds
7. Deliverance or Doom
8. The Doomsday Machine
9. Winter

Part Four: Machines
10. Robots
11. Computers
12. Artificial Intelligence

Part Five: Collapse
13. Catastrophe
14. Survival

Part Six: Pandemic
15. Pestilence
16. Contagion
17. Zombies

Part Seven: Climate
18. Too Hot
19. Too Many People
20. Too Cold
21. Too Late

Epilogue: The Last Day
And a few short excerpts.
There is always enough misery and mayhem in the world to support a claim that it is the end of days, if that is what you wish to see.

-----

One could read Revelation as the original conspiracy theory, in which secret knowledge is revealed to the righteous few who are wise enough to decipher it and the forces of good finally defeat the villainous cartel that is responsible for all the evil in the world.

-----

The first end-of-the-world novel was a pandemic novel: Mary Shelley's The Last Man.

-----

The first person to destroy the world in a manner that seemed, at the time, to be scientifically plausible was Edgar Allen Poe. The murder weapon was a comet.

-----

Much of what we call post-apocalyptic fiction is more accurately described as post-catastrophic. The world has not ended, but a world has, creating a blank slate on which the survivors can write whatever they like: anarchy, tyranny, utopia. Whatever the killer blow might be, bomb, plague or quake, is of secondary interest to the civilizational collapse that it produces.

-----

Are we--have we been--worrying about the right things? Have our fears made the world better or worse? Which warnings are essential to our future and which lead us to battle phantoms? Centuries of predictions reveal that there is no sure way of knowing which fears to prioritize even if you factor in every bias and listen to the majority of scientists--even if you are a scientist. Sneering at the expired dread of previous generations is no aid to making the correct calculations now.

-----

You have to train yourself to say that things are not as bad as they seem and the worst will not happen. The goal is not complacency but sanity--freedom from unjustified dread.
While far from delightful reading, it is nevertheless a wonderful book.



A few longer excerpts:
We are not inclined to appreciate the bad things that have not happened to us--the conflicts and famines avoided, the diseases prevented, the lives saved--nor to measure our anxieties against the ordeals of the past.

-----

[Of R.U.R. (Rossum's Universal Robots), the 1921 play that introduced the world to the term "robot" and imagined those machines ultimately replacing humanity:]

Capek felt that literal-minded critics missed the ambivalence of his play. In an article for The Saturday Review, he explained that both the utopian Domin and the sceptical Alquist are right, to an extent, as is every other character: 'I think it is possible . . . that a human truth is opposed to another truth no less human, ideal against ideal, positive worth against positive worth no less positive, instead of the struggle being, as we are so often told it is, one between exalted truth and vile selfish error.'

-----

Alan Dundes, a professor of anthropology and folklore, diagnosed [the survivalist mindset] as a distinctly American phenomenon: 'Americans have a strong undercurrent of rugged individualism, or vigilantism even. Americans take to the hills to fend off the nuclear holocaust with a shotgun and a supply of food.' In Oregon, sociology professor Richard G. Mitchell Jr began studying survivalists for a book. Over the next two decades, he found that some were murderous, paranoid racists and some merely eccentric hobbyists, but all were storytellers. Feeling themselves powerless to shape society as it was--hi-tech, bureaucratic, increasingly incomprehensible--they engaged in a form of speculative fiction in which they could be reborn as warriors, entrepreneurs and builders of a new world. This escape fantasy offered the alienated a sense of community and purpose. 'Life is transformed, idealized, simplified,' Mitchell wrote. 'Imaginary sides are drawn, rules set, action consequent and lasting. The complex modern world of competing ideas and alternative life stratagems distils to a few simple principles, the right tools, and a will to work . . . See the meaning that fill their lives as they ready for the end of the world, as they go dancing toward Armageddon.' Survivalists rarely agree on exactly how that might happen. Mitchell found that 'environmental catastrophe, economic collapse, seditious insurrection, widespread civil strife, internecine race war, thermonuclear holocaust, invasions from within, abroad or above, and other calamities' were all options.

-----

C.S. Lewis argued in 1955 that this might be the paramount virtue of eschatological fiction:
Work of this kind gives expression to thoughts and emotions which I think it good that we should sometimes entertain. It is sobering and cathartic to remember, now and then, our collective smallness, our apparent isolation, the apparent indifference of nature, the slow biological, geological, and astronomical processes which may, in the long run, make many of our hopes (possibly some of our fears) ridiculous. If memento mori is sauce for the individual, I do not know why the species should be spared the taste of it.
I particularly appreciate these, each in its own way.


A related thought from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.

longing for the clarity of disaster

For a million years, we’ve watched the sky and huddled in fear. Feeling the thunder rumble deep in our chests, peering up at the storm clouds gathering on the horizon like an army preparing to invade. Even if you try filling the room with TV weather warnings to give yourself a sense of control, you can still taste the chaos hanging in the air.

And yet, somewhere deep down, you find yourself rooting for the storm, hoping for the worst. As if a part of you is tired of waiting, wondering when the world will fall apart—by lot, by fate, by the will of the gods. Almost daring them to grant your wish. But really, you can wish all you want, because life is a game of chance. And each passing day is another flip of the coin.

You can’t help but take this life for granted. Your eyes gradually adjust to the color of the walls, and your ears tune out the chatter. And while your brain goes numb trying to shake off your complacency, your heart can’t sit still, and your gut is hungry for chaos. Itching to get struck by lightning, plunge over a waterfall, or survive a plane crash. Hoping the trauma will somehow change you, leaving you hardened, stripped down, with clear eyes and a clear mission, forced to choose the one thing worth saving while everything else burns to ash, or send one final message to the people you love the most. Longing to watch society break down one pillar after the next, so you can find out what’s truly important, and let everything else fall away.

The apocalypse is one of the oldest fantasies we have. But it’s not about skipping to the end of the story. It’s a longing for revelation, a revealing of what we already know but cannot see—that none of this is guaranteed, and there’s no such thing as “ordinary life.” That our civilization is just an agreement, one that could be revoked at any time. That beneath our rules and quarrels, we’re stuck together on a wide-open planet where anything can happen, which leaves us no choice but to survive, to build a shelter, and find each other in the storm. Knowing that every passing day is very nearly miraculous, a cascading series of accidents that just happens to fall our way.

Eventually, the storm will pass, the skies will clear, and we’ll pick up our lives just where we left them, no more urgently than before. We’ll soak in the sunshine as if none of it mattered, forgetting the sense of fellowship we once found in the shelter.

That’s alright. It’s just life—it’s not the end of the world.

In Ancient Greek mythology, Lachesis is the middle of the three Fates, the one who decides how much time is to be allotted to each of us, measuring out the thread of life with her rod. Pronounced “lahk-uh-siz-uhm.”
The apocalypse is one of the oldest fantasies we have. But it’s not about skipping to the end of the story. It’s a longing for revelation, a revealing of what we already know but cannot see—that none of this is guaranteed, and there’s no such thing as “ordinary life.”


It seems appropriate now to repeat a bit of content from An Ambiguous Sense of Simultaneous Comfort and Unease, a post from just over a year ago:

The other day, just as that storm was starting, I wrote about the book The Mysteries by Bill Watterson and John Kascht:

I'm watching the world transform today. Watching a snowstorm through the windows, everything changing from browns and blacks and greys to white. Watching the power of the weather, of nature. And I'm reminded by these cosmic forces how small and weak I am in comparison.

Humans have forgotten this feeling, The Mysteries implies. Once upon a time, we were defined by an ever-present anxiety about our limitations, our finitude, our powerlessness. The world was big and scary and mysterious. Now, we believe we understand and control everything. Nothing is unknown; nothing need be feared. But we must remember just how many mysteries still lie--and always will--outside our understanding, and adjust our orientation toward the world before it's too late.

Storytellers told of the Mysteries' bizarre and terrifying powers.
Artists depicted the people's many sufferings.

The sense of humility that comes from watching a snowstorm. The Mysteries evokes this feeling with its words and images. Powerfully. The universe is an awe-inspiring spectacle, far too mysterious to ever fully grasp, and we are but tiny specks in its vastness. And, if we're clever, we can pair our anxiety with awe and wonder.

That became my review.


Finally, a poem.

JeFF Stumpo

of course, as a poet, I’m supposed to think
words matter, am supposed to note
the irony in the Pentagon algorithmically removing
references to diversity from its websites
and accidentally pulling photos
of the Enola Gay, famous
for dropping the atomic bomb on Hiroshima
and not, to be clear,
fucking another B-29 in the ass
like a humpback whale,
like the first two humpback whales ever photographed
having sex only for it to turn out
they’re both male,
and the scientists, sometimes quoted
in a news article and sometimes not,
trying to emphasize that they don’t know why,
that the whales may be gay,
or it may be that one is injured,
or it may be that this is what whales do
in the 70% of Earth most of us know next to nothing about
because it is so watery and so deep,
the point being that we can’t ask the whales
what’s up with the buttfuckery,
which is distinct from the buttfuckery of the Pentagon,
which is metaphorical, and,
if I’m being honest, bordering on homophobic
as a term even in a poem admonishing them
for silencing the word “gay,”
realizing I am not being a very good whale ally,
whale here being a metaphor
for a trans state legislator in Montana
speaking so eloquently against an anti-drag bill
that the body politic flips,
a cis straight mother reaching across the aisle,
a couple dozen Republicans changing their votes to no,
a reminder that maybe they just needed to see
that there is so much ocean out there
and it is not just a place we cross
on the way to drop a bomb,
that we should be placing our heads in the water
more often, listening for strange-to-us song
In response to current events and the latest news.