SON ET LUMIERE

SON ET LUMIERE

When I find myself in that slow period of the day when there’s little to do and less energy to do it with, I make the mistake of turning on the news. And when I tune into things like the impeachment performance, I can only think of “lights, camera, action.” What isn’t already scripted is given a very narrow window for improvisation.

I think of the modern techniques used today in staging the roles of leadership. If the definition of artist is that which commands the most power, whether musically or politically, in addition to a knowledge of stagecraft, lighting, amplification, angles, close-ins, shadows, backdrops, and scripted interruptions, then greatest artists reside in (or work for) Congress — not New York, Hollywood, or Nashville. In fact some even say Hitler was the greatest “artist” of his time. He had a keen knowledge of all those things and used them masterfully. Back in the 1980s a Yale student was seen wearing a t-shirt saying, “Adolf Hitler – The European Tour – 1938-1945.” If it came to having to light up a dance floor, Hitler was your man.

If “the artist” is measured by his wealth then this is a language everyone understands. If he earns mega-millions, he is by proclamation “an artist.” It is of course a slap in the face to real artists, especially when hearing the phrase, an “artist at what he does.” It dismisses the entire creative function and exchanges it for anything clever, resourceful, or shrewd. It bleeds into business and economics. But it’s no secret that we prefer that kind of artist anyway. It’s the billionaire (Trump-like) businessman who decorates a palatial home with statues and paintings he knows nothing about (except their worth at auction). It’s the type of individual the media obsess over more than anyone else. He may actually know nothing about politics, foreign or domestic policy, budgets or the national debt, “oh, but look how rich he is.” Somehow, somewhere long the way, money became the sign of wisdom on all things.

What is it about Americans who assign wisdom to irrelevant statuses? I remember a birthday party that was given to me, and about fifteen kids showing up. I was about twelve, introverted, and fought against it, but my mother insisted. We were playing a baseball game and I was playing right field (still trying to get my head around why all these kids were there because of me). I was counting the dandelions when suddenly a play was made at home-plate, too close to call. Instantly, everyone looked out into right field. They wanted an “official call.” I didn’t even see the play and was too immersed in dandelions anyway. It didn’t matter. They awaited my verdict. I shrugged my shoulders, and in a shy supplicating tone asked, “out?!” And the game resumed. To this day the power of a birthday (and status) bewilders me. Maybe they thought I was in charge of the cake.

The artist today makes “copy” for the press, draws crowds, elects presidents, fires presidents, holds hearings, briefings and conferences, is seen in publicity photos, in restaurants with celebrities, enjoys guest appearances on Oprah, and “works the room” at banquets and fundraisers. This is the artistry of today.

During Hitler’s tour he said to his fans that “winning” was the whole point. And winning was all about showing that truth and compassion were “the expression of stupidity and cowardice.” It was also about making lies loud and frequent enough that people would eventually believe them. This hasn’t changed. Nor has the pursuit of wealth as the mark of power. The more there are of both (lies from wealth, wealth from lies) the more thorough the depletion of truth. It’s the fine art of “working the details” that lands the palatial Florida estate, the private jets and security police. — Let’s not forget that everything Hitler did in Germany was “legal.”  

And so, during my “off time,” I sit back watching the Senate hearing and, I must confess, there is the palpable stench of doublespeak, trickery and fraud in this whole theater performance. We’re kept in the dark about the real power-brokers working the mise en scene behind the scenes. The show is just a distraction from what’s really going on with the nation’s wealth and tax dollars. And this, I have to say in protest, is (by their definition) true artistry.

And what is it that’s going on? Human rights abuses, sponsored terrorism, economic and military aggression, corporations selling markets/audiences to other businesses, massive pollution, bribery, extortion, misallocation of public funds, historical lies, puppet regimes, lies about the “national interest,” keeping America in fear (divided, prejudiced, nativist, xenophobic, illiterate, uneducated, ignorant), making wars, and the ongoing (never to change) criminal inequities of wealth and privilege.

Backstage, nothing changes. Our leaders cast themselves as the very flower of humanity, while, quoting Chomsky, “wealth and power tend to accrue to those who are ruthless, cunning, avaricious, self-seeking, lacking in sympathy and compassion, subservient to authority and willing to abandon principle for material gain.” The real shock isn’t in the quote itself but in the fact that it raises no eyebrows.

Door Number-1 fights Door Number-2, and we choose one door over the other. Meanwhile, an invisible hand pulls the strings behind both at the same time. Studio executives just look away and say nothing. The same goes for the prop-men, gaffers, lighting technicians, engineers, screenwriters, hosts, and featured guests. I have never seen a more elaborately played out stage-play in my entire life. When it’s all over, we must still ask ourselves, “Who collected the tickets?” “Who ran the cash register?” “Where are the proceeds?”

The players will never say. They take their time following the glacial movements of bureaucracy and jurisprudence, knowing that Americans have short attention spans, get bored quickly (when not entertained), and know virtually nothing about constitutional law. When it’s all over they are not likely to be seen soon anyway. They’ll be off sipping martinis in quiet gated communities, in topiaried gardens festooned with statues and paintings no one knows anything about.

Trump is already impeached, and he may in fact even be “removed” – or not. I await my own entry (and others) on the outcome some weeks from now (if I’m so inclined). But the American voter needs to become aware of a matter which only presses harder, like gravity. If Trump is removed, so what? Does anything change? Nancy Pelosi has already said that she “opposes” universal healthcare, and the Senate is dead against it. Will the fossil fuel industry slow down with Pense or even a Democratic president? Will we get infrastructure, the new minimum wage, jobs, benefits, new gun laws, immigration reform? Again, the questions raise no eyebrows. Perhaps we intuitively know the answer.

There’s one cardinal rule in Washington one is required to defend if he wants a political future. Behind literally “everything” (the pantomime and theater) is the “preservation of the status quo.” It’s about that which serves the few, the powerful, the very people who created it in the first place. So why would they change it? To fight for real reform marks you as as “outsider,” and your career is over. If you’re popular with voters it doesn’t matter. The “insiders” will do everything imaginable (rumors, scandal, infidelity, treason, doctored photos, phone taps, misquotes) to ruin your family’s name and send you home on your ear. It’s no wonder that George Will calls them “invertebrates.”

This is the dark truth about our political system (and most others in the world). We can still fight it, and we must. But “expect” that for every mile of progress desperately fought for and legally won, only a few yards of that ever see the light of day. Just ask the followers of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. or Native Americans. And then, many times, every step forward is followed by two steps backwards – as we see now with white supremacy and immigration.

I’m often conflicted over the argument whether cultures really do evolve – or do we simply learn new ways to repress our oldest instincts? We’re masters at covering up, rationalizing, and applauding ourselves for how “civilized” we are. But allow just one major crisis, or the appearance of a demagogue, and we become shockingly medieval. We’re right back in the primal forest. Armed survivalist camps, phobias/hatreds/myths of all stripes, and warnings of apocalypse spread like kudzu. The only difference is the technology it’s all done with.

I tend to think that “the first” artist, the troglodyte blowing dye over his hand on the cave wall, was far more evolved than today’s “artist” noted for his skills at treachery and cunning.

We’ll see what our so-called “elected” artists do after the Senate trial. Again, I don’t think it will raise eyebrows. There will be no surprises and very little will change even with a new president. The changes we do feel will be drippings from the king’s table meant only to present the “appearance” of change. We will, once again, settle for the two yards of progress left in the wake of scratching and clawing a country mile.

This isn’t cynicism speaking, just reality. This troglodyte is a pragmatist. I may leave my signature on a rock wall no one reads or cares about, but I see things about our future which are just pasts revisited and differently packaged. Like Faulkner said, “the past isn’t dead, it isn’t even past.”

© 2020 Richard Hiatt