It’s been an awful week out there in the world by most measures.
First, of course, for some of us, there was the heat wave, which begins the list simply because of its striking immediacy. Like most politics, it was regional in scope, but local in impact. Few could ignore it; some died because of it.
In Africa, where eleven million are suffering from famine, Somali militants refused to allow aid to get to the people who need it, demonstrating once again the uselessness of ideology over simple humanity.
Here in the United States, radical conservatives are just fine with the idea of bringing on a new recession by forcing their fiscal ideology on the rest of the country, with impact on the rest of the world. Here, too, ideology has replaced simple humanity. One needs to be reminded that Pragmatism was an American philosophy. Where is Dewey when you need him?
Then, very sadly, in Norway, one of the most peaceful countries, a conservative zealot—why real Christians allow these people to get away with calling themselves Christians I will never know—goes on a killing spree, murdering other Christians to make what he hoped would be an opening statement against the rising population of Islamists in Norway.
Finally, for some perspective, on July 23, the “Writer’s Almanac” (http://www.elabs7.com/functions/message_view.html?mid=1296273&mlid=499&siteid=20130&uid=ecd2852d92) carried this bit of trivia:
On this day in 1929, the Fascist government in Italy banned the use of foreign words. Regional dialects were still so prevalent when Mussolini came into power in 1922 that no more than 12 percent of the population of the unified state spoke straightforward Italian. The regime wanted to promote unity and a strong national identity, so anything that was seen to undermine these things was a cause for concern. French and English words and phrases were particularly popular; where possible, the government required the use of the Italian equivalent, and if one didn't exist, they made the foreign word as Italian as possible. Wine from Bordeaux became known as Barolo; a movie, formerly known as "il film," was now called "la pellicola."
It reminded me of how short the road is from a self-governing kind of freedom to fascism, especially when one compares the 1929 event with the current discussions about immigration here in the U.S., where some want to build a great wall against our neighbors. This short road is where American politics is currently being played out. It is a frightening time for anyone who holds dear the American style of democracy. We are losing the middle—the place where reasonable people can feel comfortable making a few compromises in order to live with their neighbors in a humane environment in which, even if everyone isn’t in harmony, they at least play to the same beat. That beat is the heartbeat of our democracy.
One factor in all this may be the increasing global interconnectness that the Information Revolution has created. Perhaps fear of losing their culture and, in the process, their identity drives people to radical cultural extremes. The challenge we all face is how to keep our local culture—the culture that defines us to ourselves and our families and friends-- alive while we find our way—and come to feel at home—in a new, global culture. We need to find a way to be more open about these questions, of course. But we also need to take great care that, in the process, we do not repeat the cultural suicide that stained the 20th century.
