experiments IRL

Progressive social policies, proposed and realized, are always described as experimental treatments.

The default setting for governance and social life, as it is described, is one of no regulation, no intervention, non-existent spillover effects and externalities, not a single public good worth investing in. An empty space of individual bodies that do not collide but simply move through space around each other, seamlessly, gliding.

But what about norms? Primary institutions? What about social psychology? Is it really the modus operandi of humans, or any living thing, for that matter, to exist as individuals?

I would think not.

As bizarre packets of biology that need one another to reproduce, we are inherently social. We interact, at minimum, to conceive, and as societies have become more complex, to survive. I might be a loner, but I, my identity would not exist, the concept of identity would not exist were it not in relation to another. (Sorry, Rousseau.) I would not exist or have made it to the age of 28 without the relationship of my biological parents, and subsequently, without the attention of my family and other significant persons I have encountered along the way. Even those of us who flaunt the titles of misanthrope, introvert, independent -- not the same, by any means, but all engaging sentiments of individuality or aversion to others -- these descriptors would mean nothing without a body of social beings to which to relate ourselves, from which to distance ourselves.

So perhaps it is the conservative rationalism, the abstinence from intervention, the revering of solitude and isolation, the romanticization of absence and empty space where a society once stood, perhaps it is all this that is unnatural, perhaps this, this is the experiment.

the search for a hero, i.e. the U.S. presidential election

We've been here before, this search for a hero. 

It's what we did in the 2008 election, and it's why so many of us who voted for President Barack Obama, while loving him and appreciating his work in so many ways also felt, at times, disappointed. 

We hope for heroes. 

We vote for the man who built a city, the woman who shook the world, the immigrant who defied the damning forces of poverty, the veteran who saw hell and made it back somehow. 

Perhaps this makes sense. It is true, after all, that the President of the United States holds significant power and influence over policy and change in both American and global societies. One of my friends, from another country, told me that the feeling that some of us feel now, this sensation of a force changing hands and a feeling of helplessness, it is a feeling that is familiar to him - one that comes every four years as he watches American voters campaign and go to the polls, awaiting the aftermath, the fallout, the unintended consequences, the unspoken agendas. 

But, perhaps it doesn't make sense. Perhaps it is naive, these expectations that a single person will be the catalyst and see-through-er of the fixing of everything. In addition to demanding that our aspiring political leaders demonstrate their capacity to eat a fucking hot dog and hold a baby without accidentally hurling it into the woods, perhaps we should also recognize their humanity.

We support these people who believe themselves to be up to the task of fulfilling these impossible requirements of perfection, infinite energy, unfailing health, steadfast and unwavering decisiveness, complete control over emotions, and the ability to account for every single person's lived experience in their perfect words, without error. We support them to the end - defending and explaining away their errors and blaring alarms when their opponents falter. For these are our heroes.

It's the narrative of the individual. The romanticized lone pioneer riding into the sunset, building a town and an industrial empire with the clothes on their back and the single tool in their hand. The visionary and demagogue that might be able to move a nation to action...but with theirself at the helm.

How beautiful it would be if we could afford to believe in heroes, those who will swoop into that city on the swamp, into the underfunded and decrepit school buildings, to the children literally starving for something to help them be safe, healthy, and resourced enough to live their lives, to the borders to heal and save the refugees and divided families. But the last time I checked, we weren't voting for omniscient dictators, all-powerful invisible hands, or gods. Do we have any role in the making of our country, our society anymore or have we left it all to the money, to the de facto rules, and to the formal institutions that we are eager to condemn? Is there room for participatory reform? Room for change and improvement? Room for growth and enlightenment?

Certainly, it is reasonable to demand the best of these candidates; after all, they are hoping to lead our country and should be held to high standards. It's nonetheless both fascinating and disheartening that we masses of impassioned, active citizens and voters end up using this energy to put a single person on a pedestal (and shout down those who disagree) and then suddenly lose that fire when it comes time for us to invest in our communities; speak up to discourage sexism, hate, xenophobia, ableism, violence, racism, classism on the micro level; and participate in midterm and local elections. I include myself in this and hope I can do better moving forward. It's a tricky thing, this flawed and optimistic experiment in democracy -- a system intended to share responsibilities, burdens, and benefits -- particularly because we are trying to implement it in a culture that reveres the autonomous, independent, and self-interested individual. 

It would be nice to be able to believe in a hero, someone who will swoop into that city on the swamp and leave it on higher ground. But wouldn't it also be nice to be able to believe in ourselves?