Tribes
This is actually a comment I was about to make on my last post, but it grew too long and too important to be just a comment. It was in response to Bill Whittle's "Tribes" on the same site as the article from my last post. Here it is:
One last comment from me on this post, as my justification for not just starting a new post will have run out...and this one's for Dad.
I have now read "Tribes" as well, and at the risk of soliciting your disagreement since I'm such a wonderful and courageous young lad and whatnot, having served my country in Iraq with the mighty United States Marines, I'm prone to call myself the pink-leaning sort of grey tribe, and essentially a sheep in sheepdog's clothing. Any given day, I've got a better than average chance of feeling more the sheep than sheepdog, but in my Young, Dumb, and Full of...Whatever moments, I fancy myself a hard-line sheepdog. Frankly, I figure at my very best I'm Bill Whittle's kind of amateur, stand-by sheepdog.
I figure I'm too inclined towards the artistic in my writing, too bad at practical productivity to call myself truly grey. You might say I'm like New York in that I can turn deep grey in a might hurry when it's called for, but civilian complacency has great power over me, and the idealistic college attitude still has a great deal of control over me as well.
The biggest point he made about being a sheepdog that makes me feel like I must be one, though, was this: "...all I can say is that I believe in my heart that I would rather die for something bigger than myself than lead a life where nothing is more important than me." That is one of my most important ideals...if I die peacefully in my sleep as an old, old man, I feel like I will have been robbed. If there's one way that I really want to be "special," it's that I want to die a death that means something profound. There are too many interesting and powerful ways to die for me to die an average, peaceful death. I would be much happier to die on the field of battle, not only defending but proactively asserting the freedoms and ideals not even of my countrymen but by god of my own self. And that's something that this article may have helped redefine for me; I don't want to die for the bland idea of my countrymen, as there are too many in this country who don't deserve it and don't appreciate what I'd be buying for them. I'll be damned if I'm thought to be so generous as to give my very life for somebody else's prosperity. I would be giving my life in assertion that these ideals that I hold so high, this country system that I value above all others, are righteous and true and leaps above all others in virtue and worth. I don't fight to secure the rights of simply others in my country, I fight to secure the rights of my Tribe. I love my Tribe, I love those who mean so much to me not because of a shared geopolitical origin but because they have found the same ideals to be true and worthy of high sacrifice to secure them. I do not care for those in my same system with diametrically opposed priorities to my own, and I would not give my life to see that they are afforded the opportunity to topple my beliefs. I think it's important that as many ideas and as many options as possible are brought to the table, so that we may evaluate them, laugh at the stupid ones, and strengthen ourselves, strengthen our other ideals and our other crops through synergy. Make no mistake that I have any intention other than to topple those who oppose my beliefs through the success of my system over theirs, and through the butterfly effect of conviction and commitment to what we have found to be right. We have found it to be so thoroughly right and righteous that our conviction knows no bounds; the things we know to be true are worth so much to us that their continuation is profoundly more important than our own.
Okay, so maybe I am a sheepdog.
One last comment from me on this post, as my justification for not just starting a new post will have run out...and this one's for Dad.
I have now read "Tribes" as well, and at the risk of soliciting your disagreement since I'm such a wonderful and courageous young lad and whatnot, having served my country in Iraq with the mighty United States Marines, I'm prone to call myself the pink-leaning sort of grey tribe, and essentially a sheep in sheepdog's clothing. Any given day, I've got a better than average chance of feeling more the sheep than sheepdog, but in my Young, Dumb, and Full of...Whatever moments, I fancy myself a hard-line sheepdog. Frankly, I figure at my very best I'm Bill Whittle's kind of amateur, stand-by sheepdog.
I figure I'm too inclined towards the artistic in my writing, too bad at practical productivity to call myself truly grey. You might say I'm like New York in that I can turn deep grey in a might hurry when it's called for, but civilian complacency has great power over me, and the idealistic college attitude still has a great deal of control over me as well.
The biggest point he made about being a sheepdog that makes me feel like I must be one, though, was this: "...all I can say is that I believe in my heart that I would rather die for something bigger than myself than lead a life where nothing is more important than me." That is one of my most important ideals...if I die peacefully in my sleep as an old, old man, I feel like I will have been robbed. If there's one way that I really want to be "special," it's that I want to die a death that means something profound. There are too many interesting and powerful ways to die for me to die an average, peaceful death. I would be much happier to die on the field of battle, not only defending but proactively asserting the freedoms and ideals not even of my countrymen but by god of my own self. And that's something that this article may have helped redefine for me; I don't want to die for the bland idea of my countrymen, as there are too many in this country who don't deserve it and don't appreciate what I'd be buying for them. I'll be damned if I'm thought to be so generous as to give my very life for somebody else's prosperity. I would be giving my life in assertion that these ideals that I hold so high, this country system that I value above all others, are righteous and true and leaps above all others in virtue and worth. I don't fight to secure the rights of simply others in my country, I fight to secure the rights of my Tribe. I love my Tribe, I love those who mean so much to me not because of a shared geopolitical origin but because they have found the same ideals to be true and worthy of high sacrifice to secure them. I do not care for those in my same system with diametrically opposed priorities to my own, and I would not give my life to see that they are afforded the opportunity to topple my beliefs. I think it's important that as many ideas and as many options as possible are brought to the table, so that we may evaluate them, laugh at the stupid ones, and strengthen ourselves, strengthen our other ideals and our other crops through synergy. Make no mistake that I have any intention other than to topple those who oppose my beliefs through the success of my system over theirs, and through the butterfly effect of conviction and commitment to what we have found to be right. We have found it to be so thoroughly right and righteous that our conviction knows no bounds; the things we know to be true are worth so much to us that their continuation is profoundly more important than our own.
Okay, so maybe I am a sheepdog.
posted by Roger W. at 11:29 PM
3 Comments:
Roger,
There are two sections of Bill Whittle's "Tribes" essay that make me feel I am grey and a sheepdog. I am grey because the world I live in is "the place where Murphy mercilessly picks off the Weak and the Incompetent, where the Speed Limit is 186,282.36 miles per second, where every bridge has a Failure Load and levees come in 50 year, 100 year and 1000 Year Flood Flavors." That has been my experience, and people can deny it, lie about it, or stick their head in the sand and ignore it, but that doesn't change the essential nature of the world. This belief makes my Tribe grey.
Bill Whittle's essay identifies a sheepdog thus; "But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? Then you are a sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the hero's path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed." To me, having a capacity for violence means I will protect what is mine, and I realize that in the world I live in there are criminals and terrorists and other threats that impinge on my existence whether I like it or not. It is unreasonable to expect that there will always be a police officer 30 seconds away when a criminal tries to break into my house. Therefore, I have to be willing to take action on my own to protect my property and loved ones.
If you re-read the essay, you will find that your arguments parallel the ones made almost precisely. Substitue "Tribe" for "fellow citizen" in the sentence above, and your thoughts jibe nicely. Another quote,
"What kind of money could Barbra and Martin and Tim and Susan and Gwenneth and George and Steven and Viggo and Linda and Harvey and Brad and Angelina and Ben and all the rest – how much could they really put together, if they actually believed what they say – not to mention the cash available to the Malodorous Michigan Manatee of Mendacity? What kind of check could they write? .....I hate those sons of bitches with all of my heart. And the fact that so much of our society has come to worship these shallow, egomaniacal dolts says a lot about where we are, and none of it is good."
They are not part of your Tribe, and you certainly don't have to fight, or die, for any of those fools.
I find your notion that it is more meritorious to die a glorious death in battle than to die at a very old age in peace disturbing. To paraphrase George S. Patton, "Your job is not to die for your country. Your job is to make sure the other s.o.b. dies for his." While we rightly honor those who fall in battle, what we are really honoring is the type of life they chose to live. A Marine chooses Honor, Courage, Commitment, and may be forced to give up his life because of his choice. A suicide bomber also decides to give up his life, but it is neither a rational choice nor one with honor. There is no equivocation between the two. Make the suicide bomber give up his life before he detonates his bomb, or identify and kill the terrorist before they can kill you or other members of your tribe. Then come home, raise a family, and try to pass on to your own children the values that have made this country strong. If you can do that, you can die in your sleep at age 100 with no regrets.
You are a sheepdog.
Love,
Dad
It's a little insulting that you'd think I'd rather die in combat than to soundly defeat my enemy. To assume that is to assume profound ignorance. All I'm saying is that at my funeral I'd prefer even my casual funeral-goers to have a sense of amazement and admiration than to go home and forget about it a week later. Call me arrogant or tell me I just want to be "special" if you will, but I don't think anybody would disagree that they'd rather be remembered long and clearly for extraordinary actions by many people than soon fogotten by everybody outside a small circle.
I guess it's a thing of quality versus quantity. Really, I suppose that wanting to be remembered is essentially the same thing as wanting to be special like so many people think of themselves these days, but I don't think having it as a goal is really at all similar to thinking that I'm special already. I see it as something I'd like my life to add up to (making a noteworthy difference with my life, not dying) rather than an obscenely immature assumption about myself for which I should be awarded. Anyways, I'm perhaps still too young to see the virtues of a less storybook life, one in which the details were what I'm remembered by, over a life long remembered for something strong, if short. "It's better to burn out than to fade away" is I guess what I'm saying, and maybe time will change that in me. But I'm rambling.
Everyone: I closed my Augie email account, so in the future please email me at my gmail account. If you don't know it, call me or something.
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