A Touch More Whitmania

It is my intention to elaborate further on what I intend by the term "Romantic Orientalism" but, before I do, I want to make a suggestion that may well amount to nothing more than a futile gesture. Then again, it may cause God to smile on us and send down Her/His/Its angels to remove the mountain of neo-fascistic war-mongering from our backs.

Curtis White, in his essay in the April 2006 issue of Harper's, argued that the question facing the present generation is "...whether we any longer know how to retrieve our own traditions from their institutional entombment. This can't be done by teaching Walden in high school. 'Saved' by the American literary canon, Thoreau is a mere dead letter. Thoreau can only be retrieved if we find a way to integrate his thought into the way we live as a sort of counterlife opposed to the busywork of the legality of the culture of death" (White, "The Spirit of Disobedience: An Invitation to Resistance" Harper's Magazine, April 2006, p. 36). The same holds true for Whitman.

The other day, I found myself suggesting to a friend that people of conscience ought to begin organizing Leaves of Grass study circles in order to become imbued with the Whitmanian vision in a way that no one will pick up from school. I also cautioned that they should be careful not to Christianize Walt. Or Islamize him or Hinduize him or whatever one is tempted to do. By all means, put him in conversation with your pre-modern sacred scripture of choice but, where the two appear to come into conflict, have the courage to tell your pre-modern scripture to stand down: it is on the wrong side of history where the Whitmanian vision of/for America is concerned (America, after all, is a post-medieval invention, no matter what the adherents of the American Religion may fantasize). Blake had no problem doing that with the Bible; we should all follow his lead. Down with bibliolatry! There is no god but God! Onward and upward with Walt Whitman who, in the words of Harold Bloom (who I call my "Imam"), is always up ahead of us, like the Jesus of the Gospel of Mark, waving to us to catch up with him further on down the road.

Now, after I made that suggestion, I confess I started to wonder whether I had finally gone around the bend (I know, I know, anyone who would refer to Harold Bloom as his "imam" is, well, res ipsa loquitur as we say in the law). Alright, granted. Even so, in the immortal words of John Lennon, "You may say I'm a dreamer/But I'm not the only one." I would draw your attention to Peter Simonson's article "A Rhetoric for Polytheistic Democracy: Walt Whitman's 'Poem of Many in One'" published in Philosophy and Rhetoric 36.4 (2003), pp. 353-375. I don't know Professor Simonson beyond this article and the fact that he teaches at one of my alma maters in a Spenglerian province of Western Appalachia; be that as it may, I applaud his scholarship, especially his recognition of the role that Whitman could be destined to play in our collective futures--if we would only let him.

Look; from time to time I subscribe to The Nation. In the back pages one will find advertisements for subscribers to form discussion groups for readers of the magazine. By the looks of it, these groups are forming around the country. I recognize that poetry is probably a tougher sell, and difficult poetry even tougher still. I just can't help wondering what the political climate in this country might be like today if people had started Whitman reading groups back in '75...

Continuing in a political vein...

but mixing politics with the history of religions, I would offer an analysis as to why we do not see many people of conscience coming forward in an avowedly Christian opposition to the present climate of neo-fascistic war-mongering. The crucial step in such an analysis is to suspend one's theological appreciation of Christianity in order to understand it historically and sociologically. So long as Christians of conscience are able to reassure themselves of the validity of their faith theologically (which, in my opinion, can be accomplished quite easily and indefinately), they will never recognize their own complicity in the current crisis which, I believe, is due in significant part to the conversion over the last two centuries of what Max Weber called the "Protestant ethic and the spirit of Capitalism" into the "Capitalist ethic and the spirit of Protestantism." The transition has been fairly gradual but, now that it is upon us, the Protestant ethic appears, for the present moment at least, a relic of religious history. I mourn its loss. I began to mourn its loss almost twenty years ago now, when I was in law school and looking comparatively (for the first time) at different legal systems and religious traditions. Tillich's articulation of the Protestant Principle remains, for me, a brilliant insight into religious history, although it was George Santayana (a Roman Catholic but, to my way of thinking, a true Morisco) who was able to put that Principle into an epigram: "Every human reform is the reassertion of the primary interests of [men and women] against the authority of general principles which have ceased to represent those interests fairly, but which still obtain the idolatrous veneration of mankind" (from The Sense of Beauty).

Harold Bloom has characterized the present historical and sociological configuration of Christian thinking--not any orthodox iteration of Christian theology--as the "American Religion." For the sake of convenience, I would summarize Bloom's argument by means of a satirical version of a song I was taught in Sunday School: "Jesus loves ME/this I know/Lord and Savior/and CEO." Bloom readily acknowledges the offensive nature of his argument to many Christians, but has decided that current exigencies leave him little choice but to be offensive. The true offense lies, as far as he is concerned, with what is being done today in the name of this Jesus. As an historian of religion, I think that there is much evidence to support Bloom's analysis; as someone who lives in a world where the American Religion has found powerful adherents in high places (Bloom identifies George W. Bush as an adherent of this religion), I would hope that self-identifying Christians who argue on theological grounds that the American Religion is NOT the Christianity that they embrace could move beyond being offended by Bloom's argument and, instead, ask themselves if there is any validity to his claim--and if there is, ask next what can they do about it...

For those self-identifying Christians who are willing to grant some validity to Bloom's analysis but who find themselves at a loss as to what to do about such "co-religionists," I have some Bloomian (and probably offensive) recommendations. The first is to recognize, again, that the American Religion is de facto, not de jure. If it were de jure, Christians of conscience could ask their "co-religionists" how it is that they can justify the transformation of "Jesus loves me/this I know/for the Bible/tells me so" into "Jesus loves ME/this I know/Lord and Savior/and CEO." But since all self-identifying Christians are singing the same de jure version of "Jesus Loves Me" (the former version), the question would not make sense. Besides, even if one could pose the question, the spirit of Protestantism would authorize the retort: "What business is it of yours?" No. I do not believe that this issue can be usefully addressed on theological grounds: one cannot challenge the American Religion theologically because it does not have any open existence in theological discourse. The accent in the phrase American Religion is on American--and that is where, I think, the effective challenge to this version of Christianity lies.

As an aside: Those who would undertake the theological reconstruction of Christianity which, in my opinion, would help to prevent this sort of problem from emerging again in the future would do well to work through the ideas of the later Bonhoeffer in a systematic fashion...This is a discussion, however, for another time...

The challenge to what presently passes for the American Religion lies, as I see it, in the offer of an American counter-religion: one that boasts an American prophet. Now, the LDS church has offered such a prophet in Joseph Smith and the lineage of his institutional successors; however, as readers of Bloom will recognize, the LDS church diligently applied itself through much of the latter half of the twentieth century in a concerted effort to prove itself to be the American Religion--not an American counter-religion--hence its self-identification as the Church of Jesus Christ. It cannot be both the American Religion and the American counter-religion. Decisions made by the Church leadership decades ago have already decided that question.

A viable candidate for an American counter-religion is one that can draw upon a powerful prophetic vision of America as a mythological construct. That is indeed what the prevailing American Religion manages to accomplish by means of its conflation of traditional Christianity with the capitalist ethic and spirit of Protestantism. A viable counter-vision of America would have to be one that constructs a radically different mythology. Were it not for Walt Whitman, I would despair of such a counter-vision of America ever being placed on offer.

I find it quite intriguing that Whitman sang himself and the American Religion sings of ME. But Whitman sang a radically different "self"--a broad, inclusive, magnanimous, multitudinous self--not the winner-take-all self of the American Religion. And Whitman, we must be candid, was no Christian; he had moved beyond sectarianism--which can be part of the visionary promise of America--if people of conscience would allow it. Whitman's America was a strong embrace of every conceivable difference; it was a loafing and letting-be: disposing of nothing and arousing only unanswerable questions (1981-92 Leaves: "Birds of Passage: Myself and Mine").

An American counter-religion of Whitmanian pilgrims and strangers--on the move, restless, questing--would be beyond sectarianism without necessarily being "secularist." One may (and, in my opinion, ought to) continue to listen to other wise and/or prophetic voices and continue distinctive religious traditions and practices. Over time, however, a Whitmanian counter-religion of America would produce the conviction that the sectarian practice of religion in America violates the Whitmanian spirit. In other words, a Whitmanian counter-religion of America would probably create future generations of "spiritual progressives"--in the sense of people who are ready to move beyond religious sectarianism. This is not, as I understand it, the goal, nor will it be the effect, of a political organization that today calls itself "spiritual progressives" (which strikes me as just another hyphenated project of multi-culturalism). Whitman had a genuine vision for America that few if any of us have ever taken seriously. For my money, it is the only vision for America currently on offer that opens a way out of our current predicament: namely, what to do about an American Religion that provides moral legitimacy to the Neo-Fascism presently abroad in our land (performing the function that the German Evangelical Church did for the Nazi Party in the early decades of the 20th century).

To continue...

Again, the casual and matter-of-fact manner in which the potential "nuking" of Iran is discussed in this country has been gnawing at my guts. In recent days, the Gang of Four (Bush, Cheney, Rice, Rumsfeld) have laid low on this issue, but I anticipate hearing the pounding of the war drums in late August/early September--remember, never roll out a "new product" when your potential customers are away from their flat screens (on vacation, etc.)...Of course, this summer, the cost of travel may prove prohibitive for all those SUV-driving believers in the Cause. The cost of gasoline--not lives--may well be the undoing of the current Administration. In addition (and in my fondest dreams), the summer of '06 may turn out to be the Summer of Indictments. Summer is a good time for political fortunes to unravel. Well do I recall the summer of '73: when I should have been out in the warm sunshine playing ball, I was instead in the cool darkness of my parents' basement watching the Watergate Hearings--confident, until John Dean's testimony, that the road of political duplicity would never lead to the Oval Office. When it became clear that it did, my political childhood was over. But the bungled Watergate break-in was nothing compared to the high crimes and misdemeanors of the Gang of Four. As the bumper sticker says, "I never thought I'd miss Nixon." Think again...

Looking for solace, I turn (as ever) to literature. A week or so ago I sat down and re-read Conrad's brief but brilliant novella The Heart of Darkness. In prose as dense as the Congolese jungles he was describing, Conrad weaves a tale of colonialism, of European imperialism, of Romanticism run amok. Towards the end of the book, Mr. Kurtz (the man the narrator of the story was sent up the river to bring back) was described this way:

"All Europe contributed to the making of Kurtz;...He had faith--don't you see?--he had the faith. He could get himself to believe anything--anything. He would have been a splendid leader of an extreme party..."

And I thought of Iran's current President (Ahmadinejad); and I thought of George W. Bush.

It is generally conceded in the press (which has shown itself to have a vital interest in stoking bloodlust) that Iran has no nukes, but what if it did? Our President has his finger on the trigger of the most powerful arsenal of weaponry in the history of the world. And he can get himself to believe anything--the twisting of the "evidence" of Iraq's WMD's has demonstrated that.

I am far more concerned about the hardening of the average American's heart than I am about the potential of an Iranian attack upon U.S. soil. I find the very notion of such an attack ludicrous beyond words. The hardness of our collective hearts disturbs me and I find that I am at a loss to understand how we got to where we are today. When I was in college (late 1970's, early 1980's), people who spoke nonchalantly about nuclear war were typically regarded as "kooks" and "nut cases" and generally ignored. I could never understand what Jimmy Carter saw in that rabid Russophobe Zbigniew Brzezinski. Of course, back then, everyone understood that the enemies du jour (the Russians and the Communist Chinese) had nuclear arsenals themselves--and could do to us what we could do to them. The Cold War's status quo had a lovely acronym: MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction).

Kurtz, Conrad tells us, was mad and his methods were unsound. "His was an impenetrable darkness." I cannot seem to shake the apprehension that his spirit is now abroad in our land. Where is the voice of conscience? Where is the Christian church? Why aren't Christian ministers and priests and preachers coming forward to intervene?

About a year before his assassination, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. began speaking out on issues of war and peace. Perhaps that is what finally sealed his fate.

I have decided that, this summer, two books will be indispensable: The Modern Library Edition of the Complete Works of Tacitus (available in paper for about $13.00) and the Library of America's Hardcover edition of the complete works of Walt Whitman (entitled Walt Whitman: Poetry and Prose and marked down about 40% to a mere $22 at Amazon). The hardcover edition of Whitman is to be preferred because this one is for the long haul. It is the American scripture.

The ascerbic commentary of Tacitus on the cowardice and stupidity of people who sold their freedom for "security" could not be more timely reading for an American today.

On the other side of the coin is Whitman--Bard of an America that never was but yet could be--if enough of us could summon the courage to share his vision. To get there, however, we must read him: over and over again. Poetry can save lives. I believe that.

Mazeppa & Sons

In his "Little Red Book," the Chairman (and I don't mean Sinatra) wrote:

"There is an ancient Chinese fable called 'The Foolish Old Man Who Removed the Mountains.' It tells of an old man who lived in northern China long, long ago and was known as the Foolish Old Man of North Mountain. His house faced south and beyond his doorway stood the two great peaks, Taihang and Wangwu, obstructing the way. With great determination, he led his sons in digging up these mountains hoe in hand. Another greybeard, known as the Wise Old Man, saw them and said derisively, 'How silly of you to do this! It is quite impossible for you few to dig up these two huge mountains.' The Foolish Old Man replied, 'When I die, my sons will carry on; when they die, there will be my grandsons, and so on to infinity. High as they are, the mountains cannot grow any higher and with every bit we dig, they will be that much lower. Why can't we clear them away?' Having refuted the Wise Old Man's wrong view, he went on digging every day, unshaken in his conviction. God was moved by this, and he sent down two angels, who carried the mountains away on their backs."

The Chairman went on to say that "two big mountains lie like a dead weight on the Chinese people. One is imperialism, the other is feudalism." I wonder what are our mountains (as Americans, as Citizens of the World); what are their number? Where ought we to begin to dig?
I am reminded of Hart Crane's complaint in a letter to Waldo Frank (1926): "If only America were half as worthy today to be spoken of as Whitman spoke of it fifty years ago there might be something for me to say." We are now 80 years beyond Crane's complaint. Is America half as worthy of Whitman as it was then?

This month, bewildered by the casual fashion with which the potential "nuking" of Iran is bandied about in the news media, and by how that callousness, that strange hollowness seems to have filtered down into everyday conversations overheard at the bus stop, in the cafes, on the street, I decided to keep what I call a "war diary." I will be drawing from that journal as I develop this blog.

Mazeppa & Sons