Every now and them something happens that exposes cultural fractures we don’t even suspect exist.
In 1989, Marc Lépine opened fire on female engineering students at the École Polytechnique in Montréal. This was the first of the mass student shootings, years before Columbine and Virginia Tech. His suicide letter claimed his life had been ruined by feminists.
Men were able to distance themselves from his actions by suggesting Lépine, in fact, was not a typical man. Instead, psychologists reassured them Lépine was a disturbed Catholic, or the son of a foreigner who had left him to be raised by his mother, or an abused a child who had failed at previous attempts to learn engineering.
Women could not ignore the 28 dead or injured young women. No matter how rational the psychologists’ explanations, they were frightened for themselves and their daughters.
When couples, even those married for decades, responded differently they couldn’t ignore the fundamental differences that existed between themselves and in society. The shock of the assault could not be excised.
The recent travails of South Carolina’s Republican governor, Mark Sanford, threatened to develop into a similar rift. When he first appeared before the press to confess he had actually fallen in love with another woman, a number of male reporters, including Salon’s Gary Kamiya, were sympathetic. Women, like the Times’ Gail Collins and Maureen Dowd, were more cynical, but noted it was a nice change that he didn’t humiliate his wife by forcing her to be present and didn’t treat the other woman as an object.
We’ve all suffered enough watching the forbearance of Silda Spitzer and Hilary Clinton. We’re tired of Elizabeth Edward’s passive aggression, and may have been just a bit suspicious of Jenny Sanford’s bitter comments during the time her husband was incommunicado.
Then, Sanford spoke to the press again.
Women’s views didn’t change much, but men, especially conservatives, found the personal nature of his comments disturbing. The Republican party has become a pragmatic coalition of religious conservatives and men bent on holding wealth or power who tacitly agreed neither would reveal their abiding interests.
Mark Sanford seemed their perfect spokesman, an educated Episcopalian married to woman who left Lazard Frères for her husband and four sons. But then his refusal to accept stimulus money, invoking South Carolina’s nullification crises, led some to think his lust for power was blinding him to the necessary political compromises. Now his refusal to follow the accepted method for dealing with moral transgression suggested someone who failed to understand his world.
His fellow Republicans in South Carolina, who are primarily concerned with their own reelections and pursuing their agendas in the legislature, began suggesting he was temporarily insane. Larry Grooms said "he is coming unhinged." Larry Martin. believed he’d heard "the ramblings of a troubled man" and "that man needs help."
The deeper problem is a cultural expectation that one not become too serious about anything, that passion is the mark of the unstable. If genuine excitement should arise, it should be channeled into following a sports team. When that wasn’t sufficient in the past century, it could lead to anonymous mob violence. In this century, we’re supposed to have progressed beyond that. Respectable southerners especially do not want to be reminded that cultural outlets may fail.
Many Canadians marriages are not the same after Marc Lépine, and neither will Sanford’s political life. Genuine shocks always do isolate people, no matter how unruffled the surface remains, and only a few outsiders are willing to learn from them. Resorting to using psychologists as gatekeepers of the damned only limits the utility of our tools for coping with crisis.
Notes:
Wikipedia article on the École Polytechnique Massacre provides a good summary.
Barr, Andy and Jonathan Martin. "South Carolina GOP: Mark Sanford Must Go," Politico 1 July 2009, interviews Grooms and Martin.
Collins, Gail. "An Affair to Remember," The New York Times, 1 July 2009.
Dowd, Maureen. "Rules of the Wronged," The New York Times, 30 June 2009.
Kamiya, Gary. "The Strange Nakedness of Mark Sanford," Salon, 25 June 2009.
Showing posts with label Culture Shock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Culture Shock. Show all posts
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Sunday, September 20, 2009
South Carolina - Humphrey Walrond
Humphrey Walrond’s rebellion in Barbados occurred more than 350 years ago. Historians can either dismiss the similarities to today’s more extreme conservative activists or argue similar conditions produce similar responses or that there are direct connections from person to person.
In other words, they confront the classic case confronting anthropologists: coincidence, reinvention or diffusion.
In some ways, the psychological case is the easiest to make.
Humphrey Walrond was the oldest son of a junior branch of a family that established itself in Somerset. His grandfather Humphrey had amassed a fortune in Chancery, bought land in the village of Sea, and opened the local grammar school.
When civil war broke out in England, Walrond was 43 with ten children. He showed no particular inclination to serve either side, but later told Parliament he had done what he could to protect his roundhead neighbors from the depredations of the royalists who dominated the countryside.
In 1645 he fell foul of both sides when the nature of the war changed. Parliament had wearied of protracted warfare that depended on local militias, and established the New Model Army as a professional force, an action akin to Lincoln’s when he elevated Grant, Sherman and Sheridan in our civil war. The first forays under Thomas Fairfax were in Walrond’s area.
As Fairfax neared, the royalist hounded Walrond from his home. He fled to the nearest fortified town, Bridgewater, which Fairfax soon made his first example of Parliamentary resolve by laying siege to the castle and lobbing fire bombs that destroyed much of the town.
Walrond was among the fifty gentlemen taken prisoner when the town was defeated, sent to Gatehouse, and stripped of his property. His oldest son, George, lost as arm sometime fighting for the royalists. When his petitions to Parliament were refused, he sold his property and moved to Barbados.
The town’s local historian, James Street, observed the "Col. Walrond, across the Atlantic, was (as we have said) a strangely different character" than he had been in Sea."
He used every method of the roundheads - legislative maneuvers, war, sequestration of estates, purification of all but the most loyal - to destroy representatives of the men he felt had wrongly punished him. He borrowed the oaths of the Stuarts, but was more an inversion of the men he felt had destroyed him than he was a royalist.
His ally in Barbados, Francis Willoughby underwent the same psychological transformation. During the war, he fought for Parliament, but in 1647, after Charles I had been defeated, he supported Parliament in its disputes with the New Model Army. When the army took London, he was jailed for six months, then fled to Holland to support Charles I.
Once Willoughby took control in Barbados from Walrond, he appeased the moderate royalists, who wished to remain isolated from England’s wars. However, when the banished landowners continued to sponsor partisan accounts of Walrond’s activities, Darnell Davis says Willoughby confused the personal with the political and redirected his anger from the Commonwealth toward anyone who disagreed with him.
As the blockade continued, he nursed his grievance, and wrote his wife "since they began so deeply with me, as to take away all at one clap, and without any cause given on my part, I am resolved not to sit down a loser and be content to see thee, my children, and self ruined."
With no sense of the realities of a plantation economy that had always depended on trade for most of its food, he believed they "can neither starve us with cold, nor famish us with hunger" and so told her "If ever they get the Island, it shall cost them more than it is worth before they have it." It was this indifference to ruin that led moderate royalists to abandon his cause.
The two men, both sons who had inherited to follow the lines of their caste, were shocked when their reflexive responses not only weren’t adequate, but judged wrong when circumstances changed in unexpected ways. They reacted a bit like war prisoners today who internalize some of the attributes of their tormenters at the same time they lose any sense of causality in the outside world.
When Charles II was made king in 1660, Willoughby returned to Barbados, with Walrond as his assistant. By the end of the year, Walrond had displaced him and began prosecuting Thomas Modyford for treason, unmindful of the fact the moderate royalist was related to the man who helped engineer the restoration of the Stuarts, George Monck.
Walrond was expelled again in 1662, and a year later charged with trading with Spain in violation of the Navigation Laws his behavior in Barbados had prompted Parliament to introduce. During his previous exile from Barbados, he had offered his services to Spain, which then was putting down rebellions in Catalonia and Portugal. He angered everyone in England, but managed to leave his son George the most necessary inheritance of a royalist, a title, albeit the Spanish Marquis of Vallado, and debt.
Willoughby never returned to civilian life, but died in battle with the Dutch in 1666.
Notes:
Davis, Nicholas Darnell. The Cavaliers & Roundheads of Barbados, 1650-1652, 1887, quotes Willoughby’s letter.
Street, James. The Mynster of the Ile, Or, the Story of the Ancient Parish of Ilminster, 1904.
In other words, they confront the classic case confronting anthropologists: coincidence, reinvention or diffusion.
In some ways, the psychological case is the easiest to make.
Humphrey Walrond was the oldest son of a junior branch of a family that established itself in Somerset. His grandfather Humphrey had amassed a fortune in Chancery, bought land in the village of Sea, and opened the local grammar school.
When civil war broke out in England, Walrond was 43 with ten children. He showed no particular inclination to serve either side, but later told Parliament he had done what he could to protect his roundhead neighbors from the depredations of the royalists who dominated the countryside.
In 1645 he fell foul of both sides when the nature of the war changed. Parliament had wearied of protracted warfare that depended on local militias, and established the New Model Army as a professional force, an action akin to Lincoln’s when he elevated Grant, Sherman and Sheridan in our civil war. The first forays under Thomas Fairfax were in Walrond’s area.
As Fairfax neared, the royalist hounded Walrond from his home. He fled to the nearest fortified town, Bridgewater, which Fairfax soon made his first example of Parliamentary resolve by laying siege to the castle and lobbing fire bombs that destroyed much of the town.
Walrond was among the fifty gentlemen taken prisoner when the town was defeated, sent to Gatehouse, and stripped of his property. His oldest son, George, lost as arm sometime fighting for the royalists. When his petitions to Parliament were refused, he sold his property and moved to Barbados.
The town’s local historian, James Street, observed the "Col. Walrond, across the Atlantic, was (as we have said) a strangely different character" than he had been in Sea."
He used every method of the roundheads - legislative maneuvers, war, sequestration of estates, purification of all but the most loyal - to destroy representatives of the men he felt had wrongly punished him. He borrowed the oaths of the Stuarts, but was more an inversion of the men he felt had destroyed him than he was a royalist.
His ally in Barbados, Francis Willoughby underwent the same psychological transformation. During the war, he fought for Parliament, but in 1647, after Charles I had been defeated, he supported Parliament in its disputes with the New Model Army. When the army took London, he was jailed for six months, then fled to Holland to support Charles I.
Once Willoughby took control in Barbados from Walrond, he appeased the moderate royalists, who wished to remain isolated from England’s wars. However, when the banished landowners continued to sponsor partisan accounts of Walrond’s activities, Darnell Davis says Willoughby confused the personal with the political and redirected his anger from the Commonwealth toward anyone who disagreed with him.
As the blockade continued, he nursed his grievance, and wrote his wife "since they began so deeply with me, as to take away all at one clap, and without any cause given on my part, I am resolved not to sit down a loser and be content to see thee, my children, and self ruined."
With no sense of the realities of a plantation economy that had always depended on trade for most of its food, he believed they "can neither starve us with cold, nor famish us with hunger" and so told her "If ever they get the Island, it shall cost them more than it is worth before they have it." It was this indifference to ruin that led moderate royalists to abandon his cause.
The two men, both sons who had inherited to follow the lines of their caste, were shocked when their reflexive responses not only weren’t adequate, but judged wrong when circumstances changed in unexpected ways. They reacted a bit like war prisoners today who internalize some of the attributes of their tormenters at the same time they lose any sense of causality in the outside world.
When Charles II was made king in 1660, Willoughby returned to Barbados, with Walrond as his assistant. By the end of the year, Walrond had displaced him and began prosecuting Thomas Modyford for treason, unmindful of the fact the moderate royalist was related to the man who helped engineer the restoration of the Stuarts, George Monck.
Walrond was expelled again in 1662, and a year later charged with trading with Spain in violation of the Navigation Laws his behavior in Barbados had prompted Parliament to introduce. During his previous exile from Barbados, he had offered his services to Spain, which then was putting down rebellions in Catalonia and Portugal. He angered everyone in England, but managed to leave his son George the most necessary inheritance of a royalist, a title, albeit the Spanish Marquis of Vallado, and debt.
Willoughby never returned to civilian life, but died in battle with the Dutch in 1666.
Notes:
Davis, Nicholas Darnell. The Cavaliers & Roundheads of Barbados, 1650-1652, 1887, quotes Willoughby’s letter.
Street, James. The Mynster of the Ile, Or, the Story of the Ancient Parish of Ilminster, 1904.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
George Romeny and Robert MacNamara
General Motors has entered a new phase, and Detroit pundits are wondering how old veterans of the wars like Fritz Henderson and Bob Lutz can change its hidebound culture. When I recall the recent obituaries for two former automotive company heads, George Romney and Robert MacNamara, I realize the cultural problems have been there since World War II and are more characteristic of institutions in general than GM in particular.
Automobile companies have always grappled with the tension between creative engineers who design and produce new models and bureaucrats responsible for ensuring their creativity doesn’t lead to bankruptcy. Romney was the one who foresaw the market for small, inexpensive cars when American Motors introduced the Rambler in 1955.
On July 23, 1967, when the Detroit riots erupted, he was governor of Michigan with aspirations to be president. When it took the president, Lyndon Johnson, a day to find a way to send the military to the city without forcing the state to declare a state of insurrection, Romney suspected politics was more important than legality or civil welfare.
That experience with the failure of an institution to react to a serious crisis probably contributed to his growing concerns with the war in Viet Nam. Five weeks later, on August 31, he told a Detroit television interviewer that, when he had visited the war zone in 1965, the generals had misled him, and admitted he no longer accepted the necessity for fighting communism in southeastern Asia.
His political career was over. Those who believed in the war attacked him as personally unfit because he said he’d been brainwashed. Those who opposed the war attacked him for placing the realization of cultural failure beyond his normal experience by ridiculing him for his pipeline to God.
MacNamara rose through the bureaucratic side of Ford where he was always the brilliant implementer of other people’s ideas. Tex Thornton’s the one who told Ford’s grandson, Henry II, he needed to modernize the organization in 1945. MacNamara’s immediate predecessor, Arjay Miller, is the one who went on to spread the gospel of modern management at Stanford after he was fired by Ford.
MacNamara considers his biggest achievement at Ford to have been opposing the Edsel from conception, and finally killing it in 1959. When he realized he was headed for the same kinds of confrontations that led to Miller’s dismissal, he put his resume in the mail and moved on to the defense department.
MacNamara probably understood less about the dynamics of the military than he did the way engineers operate, but he also believed all he needed to do was apply the administrative procedures he’d been taught. Like the engineers at Ford, the generals would handle the rest.
When he began to doubt the success of the efforts in Viet Nam and realized in November of 1967 that he couldn’t influence Johnson he didn’t risk a public confession like Romney. Instead, he put his resume in the mail and moved on to the World Bank.
Again, he saw his job as applying the procedures of others, in this case those of the Chicago School of Economics. When he was judged by the consequences of his actions for the poor of South America, he dismissed his critics as uninformed, and continued the policies prudence and his peers told him were correct.
It’s their lives after Viet Nam that reveal how each man responds to events that threaten all a culture gives him, his world view and self-esteem. Romney became head of HUD during the period Detroit was razed after the riots. He probably didn’t develop the policies that left blocks of vacant land and forced people to move from the city, precipitating more white flight. Still, when you drive through the areas that were once Detroit’s most vital Black neighborhoods, it looks like he permitted revenge by again not questioning the reports of others. He then retired to devote his time to the Mormon church.
MacNamara spent his later years trying to justify his actions in Viet Nam, never, ever recognizing there was any possible link between his actions and the lives of people in Asia or South America. He admitted he couldn’t discern the moral difference between burning people in Tokyo in World War II, and killing them in Viet Nam in the 1960's, not to condemn both, but to justify them.
The difference between the men, I think, is that Romney was comfortable around the creative people at American Motors, while MacNamara was suspicious at Ford. When Romney realized everything he’d been taught was leading to catastrophe, he had the courage to speak out, as a creative person might. When he was punished, he retreated to the familiar. MacNamara always look for the best way to minimize the disaster for himself as a careerist would and never ventured beyond the familiar.
It wasn’t simply that one was altruistic and the other narcissistic. More fundamentally, Romney had the ability to occasionally see familiar things anew. He may have initially been embittered by the reactions of others, but he had enough confidence to know he could find a new life. MacNamara may have been bright, but he never was able to distance himself enough to fully understand the depth of the cultural challenges he faced, and so died genuinely puzzled why he was still so reviled when his intentions had been so culturally accepted
The fundamental difference between the two that determined who could change and who could not was that the one had more imagination, more comfort with creativity than the other, and ultimately less fear of the consequences of crisis, confrontation and change.
Automobile companies have always grappled with the tension between creative engineers who design and produce new models and bureaucrats responsible for ensuring their creativity doesn’t lead to bankruptcy. Romney was the one who foresaw the market for small, inexpensive cars when American Motors introduced the Rambler in 1955.
On July 23, 1967, when the Detroit riots erupted, he was governor of Michigan with aspirations to be president. When it took the president, Lyndon Johnson, a day to find a way to send the military to the city without forcing the state to declare a state of insurrection, Romney suspected politics was more important than legality or civil welfare.
That experience with the failure of an institution to react to a serious crisis probably contributed to his growing concerns with the war in Viet Nam. Five weeks later, on August 31, he told a Detroit television interviewer that, when he had visited the war zone in 1965, the generals had misled him, and admitted he no longer accepted the necessity for fighting communism in southeastern Asia.
His political career was over. Those who believed in the war attacked him as personally unfit because he said he’d been brainwashed. Those who opposed the war attacked him for placing the realization of cultural failure beyond his normal experience by ridiculing him for his pipeline to God.
MacNamara rose through the bureaucratic side of Ford where he was always the brilliant implementer of other people’s ideas. Tex Thornton’s the one who told Ford’s grandson, Henry II, he needed to modernize the organization in 1945. MacNamara’s immediate predecessor, Arjay Miller, is the one who went on to spread the gospel of modern management at Stanford after he was fired by Ford.
MacNamara considers his biggest achievement at Ford to have been opposing the Edsel from conception, and finally killing it in 1959. When he realized he was headed for the same kinds of confrontations that led to Miller’s dismissal, he put his resume in the mail and moved on to the defense department.
MacNamara probably understood less about the dynamics of the military than he did the way engineers operate, but he also believed all he needed to do was apply the administrative procedures he’d been taught. Like the engineers at Ford, the generals would handle the rest.
When he began to doubt the success of the efforts in Viet Nam and realized in November of 1967 that he couldn’t influence Johnson he didn’t risk a public confession like Romney. Instead, he put his resume in the mail and moved on to the World Bank.
Again, he saw his job as applying the procedures of others, in this case those of the Chicago School of Economics. When he was judged by the consequences of his actions for the poor of South America, he dismissed his critics as uninformed, and continued the policies prudence and his peers told him were correct.
It’s their lives after Viet Nam that reveal how each man responds to events that threaten all a culture gives him, his world view and self-esteem. Romney became head of HUD during the period Detroit was razed after the riots. He probably didn’t develop the policies that left blocks of vacant land and forced people to move from the city, precipitating more white flight. Still, when you drive through the areas that were once Detroit’s most vital Black neighborhoods, it looks like he permitted revenge by again not questioning the reports of others. He then retired to devote his time to the Mormon church.
MacNamara spent his later years trying to justify his actions in Viet Nam, never, ever recognizing there was any possible link between his actions and the lives of people in Asia or South America. He admitted he couldn’t discern the moral difference between burning people in Tokyo in World War II, and killing them in Viet Nam in the 1960's, not to condemn both, but to justify them.
The difference between the men, I think, is that Romney was comfortable around the creative people at American Motors, while MacNamara was suspicious at Ford. When Romney realized everything he’d been taught was leading to catastrophe, he had the courage to speak out, as a creative person might. When he was punished, he retreated to the familiar. MacNamara always look for the best way to minimize the disaster for himself as a careerist would and never ventured beyond the familiar.
It wasn’t simply that one was altruistic and the other narcissistic. More fundamentally, Romney had the ability to occasionally see familiar things anew. He may have initially been embittered by the reactions of others, but he had enough confidence to know he could find a new life. MacNamara may have been bright, but he never was able to distance himself enough to fully understand the depth of the cultural challenges he faced, and so died genuinely puzzled why he was still so reviled when his intentions had been so culturally accepted
The fundamental difference between the two that determined who could change and who could not was that the one had more imagination, more comfort with creativity than the other, and ultimately less fear of the consequences of crisis, confrontation and change.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Michael Jackson
The deaths of Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson provoke shared moments of cultural shock. We abandoned television for more intimate, interactive media like the internet and Twitter for news updates. Such collective moments of unmediated emotion beg us to ask why.
Superficially the two men were similar. Both were uniquely gifted synthesizers of swirling cultural currents in music, and each expanded the language of the acceptable in popular forms.
Both reached a point where they could do no more without alienating some of their fans. I’ve seen artists as diverse as Harry Belefonte and the Osborne Brothers who try variations on songs they’ve been forced to repeat for years greeted with disapproval by audiences who’ve so internalized their music that deviation could not be tolerated.
Yet, audiences want to see more, want to see something different, and so each could only evolve as performers. The Elvis of Vegas and the Jackson of the tin soldier suits are not the artists we were drawn to, but the products of our demands for new sensations within the confines of the claustrophobically familiar.
We can’t imagine either of them married watching their children play soccer. The hyper-sexuality of the one and the ultra-androgyny of the other could not be domesticated. Our perceptions built cages they couldn’t leave without risking our wrath.
We cut off creative individuals, used to working hard, from either pursing innovation in music or seeking normal domestic lives. To evoke F. Scott Fitzgerald, what possible second act did we permit them?
In the past, religion would have provided a model. But that avenue was closed to these two. Both were raised in strong evangelizing traditions, the Assembly of God and Jehovah’s Witnesses, and already had influenced more people everywhere in the world than any conventional missionary. Presley was perhaps luckier because he could maintain his ties to his past through gospel music.
The secular alternative pioneered by Ezra Cornell to devote one’s second life to philanthropy has been attacked by conservative politicians angered by the social changes supported by the Rockefeller and Ford Foundations. Both instead used late songs instead like "In the Ghetto" and "We Are the World" to do things aggressively outspoken critics would not otherwise permit.
We put them at the pinnacle of our success pyramid with no place to go. All we allowed was what we could imagine, the excesses of materialism. When they die and we see the consequences, we’re shocked because the emptiness we discover is the emptiness of our closed culture which has no options.
By chance, Presley died when we were struggling with economic problems under Jimmy Carter which we denied by following a less talented performer who could metamorphose into a politician. Jackson died in our current recession caused by the very kinds of excesses we condemned him to live.
What we intuit in their deaths is the failure of our shared world view to function when it is most needed. They become transformed into the canaries of our cultural crises that none of us can escape.
Superficially the two men were similar. Both were uniquely gifted synthesizers of swirling cultural currents in music, and each expanded the language of the acceptable in popular forms.
Both reached a point where they could do no more without alienating some of their fans. I’ve seen artists as diverse as Harry Belefonte and the Osborne Brothers who try variations on songs they’ve been forced to repeat for years greeted with disapproval by audiences who’ve so internalized their music that deviation could not be tolerated.
Yet, audiences want to see more, want to see something different, and so each could only evolve as performers. The Elvis of Vegas and the Jackson of the tin soldier suits are not the artists we were drawn to, but the products of our demands for new sensations within the confines of the claustrophobically familiar.
We can’t imagine either of them married watching their children play soccer. The hyper-sexuality of the one and the ultra-androgyny of the other could not be domesticated. Our perceptions built cages they couldn’t leave without risking our wrath.
We cut off creative individuals, used to working hard, from either pursing innovation in music or seeking normal domestic lives. To evoke F. Scott Fitzgerald, what possible second act did we permit them?
In the past, religion would have provided a model. But that avenue was closed to these two. Both were raised in strong evangelizing traditions, the Assembly of God and Jehovah’s Witnesses, and already had influenced more people everywhere in the world than any conventional missionary. Presley was perhaps luckier because he could maintain his ties to his past through gospel music.
The secular alternative pioneered by Ezra Cornell to devote one’s second life to philanthropy has been attacked by conservative politicians angered by the social changes supported by the Rockefeller and Ford Foundations. Both instead used late songs instead like "In the Ghetto" and "We Are the World" to do things aggressively outspoken critics would not otherwise permit.
We put them at the pinnacle of our success pyramid with no place to go. All we allowed was what we could imagine, the excesses of materialism. When they die and we see the consequences, we’re shocked because the emptiness we discover is the emptiness of our closed culture which has no options.
By chance, Presley died when we were struggling with economic problems under Jimmy Carter which we denied by following a less talented performer who could metamorphose into a politician. Jackson died in our current recession caused by the very kinds of excesses we condemned him to live.
What we intuit in their deaths is the failure of our shared world view to function when it is most needed. They become transformed into the canaries of our cultural crises that none of us can escape.
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