More on the “West:” The “Alt-West” and Islam

I have written before about the vagueness and unhelpfulness of the concept of “the west,” or “western culture.” Today I read a comment on some social media post by someone claiming to be part of the “alt-west;” which, according to this commenter, is a project about “saving Western culture.” You may rightly ask: saving “the west” from what? Well, the “threats” of “Islam and Marxism and of course that ever present danger of “multiculturalism.” The next question one may ask is what these “threats” will do to the “west?” The commenter explains: “You can’t have anything close to a Free Market if Islam is pervasive in a culture. They shut down and destroy almost as much as Communism.”

This is an extreme claim, which many of the ideology of this commenter would deny is in any way bigoted or a gross misrepresentation of Islam. However, this claim is bigoted and a complete and severe misrepresentation. First of all, no religion, not Islam, not Judaism, not Christianity, not Hinduism, not Buddhism, NO RELIGION shuts down and destroys things, especially not a culture. The fear that Islam will become a “pervasive” religion and “destroy” “western culture,” or “a Free Market” is utterly ridiculous, completely intolerant, and deeply, deeply, deeply incorrect. No religion, no ideology has causal force. People, who may or may not adhere to a particular religion and/or ideology, shut down and destroy things. Those people may be communists, or Muslims, or socialists, or Christians, or part of the “alt-west,” but it is not the ideology that is destroying things, it is the people; possibly motivated by their ideology(ies), but possibly not. Worry that some mystical force inherent to Islam, or communism, or multiculturalism, will destroy “Western culture,” is incorrect to the point of ignorance.

This arrogant “Western” savior’s display of ignorance doesn’t stop at claiming that Islam will destroy “Western culture,” he claims that Islam already has! Here is what he claims: “Islam caused the Dark Ages in Europe because it destroyed so many trade routes through piracy and attack that it shut down massive amounts of commerce across Europe.” That’s right! It wasn’t Visigoths, or ineffective rule, or civil war, or religious controversy surrounding Christianity, which precipitated the collapse of the Roman Empire, but Islam destroying trade routes! Someone better tell the classicists and historians that they’ve been wrong all along, because the “alt-west” has set the record straight. If by set the record straight, one means completely misunderstand and misrepresent history to fit their misinformed, ahistorical, and reductionist worldview.  It may occur to readers that I am not being kind and charitable either in my reading of this person’s commentary or in my refutation of his ideas. Certainly, I am not.

It is true that charity, understanding, and kindness in reading and refutation of ideas, and in all aspects of life, are virtues. However, there are times that it is impossible to read charitably or refute kindly. Charitable reading and kind refutation require the material to have some depth, some level of informed argumentation, even if this depth is odious or the information informing the argumentation is despicable, it must be present. But a comment like this contains no real depth or information at all; of course, social media comments cannot be expected to contain any such depth or information, though of course it may be nice if they weren’t completely misinformed. Undoubtedly, however, this commenter doesn’t seem much to care about charitable readings or kind refutation; responding to a challenger by calling him a “cultural suicide advocate,” whatever that means.

There are no “threats” to “western culture,” because there is no “western culture.” People change, cultures change, as Heraclitus would say “everything changes.” If Islam, communism, or multiculturalism becomes predominate in the “West,” it will not “destroy” the “West,” it will change the “West.” Change is not destruction; surely, one may dislike these changes, may even push back against these changes; however, to push back against these changes one must understand the changes, must understand the factors contributing to these changes, must understand that pushing back is not “salvation” of some threatened stagnant culture. If these people in the “alt-west” believe they are engaged in “saving Western culture,” they are deluded. Let us all remember some of the best advice Spinoza ever gave: “Do not weep. Do not wax indignant. Understand.”

If you wish to claim that there are issues within the ideological system of Islam, communism, or multiculturalism, immerse yourself in the literature of these fields, become an expert and push back; from afar it is easy to see superficial problems and make superficial (often ignorant) claim, but from within one can see real problems and make real (charitable and understanding) claims. Though someone arrogant and ignorant enough to claim that Islam caused the fall of Rome seems content with superficial problems and superficial claims about ideologies of which they have no actual understanding.

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“The Right Side of History”

In modern American political discourse there is much that doesn’t make sense when analyzed. It all sounds convincing, but if seriously considered it lacks any real depth or breadth. The phrase “on the wrong side of history,” and its opposite “on the right side of history,” are perfect examples of this phenomenon. It sounds highly convincing to cast one’s social-political views and policies as the “right side of history,” and those with the opposite opinions as on the “wrong side of history.” Yet, what does this mean? Usually it is used as a moral statement, i.e. said policy is right morally, but as a moral statement there is no need to reference history; the more sensible statement would be “on the right side of morality,” which carries much more depth and breadth, if backed by principled moral convictions. However, “on the right side of history,” explicitly mentions “history,” leading one into dubious and unsafe territory.

If “on the right side of history” is a moral statement, then a claim about history is being made, viz. that what is morally right will win out historically. This idea is dubious to say the least. What reason do we have to believe that what is morally correct will win out; that what we believe right will be on the winning side of history? I would posit that we have no reason to see the world this way, in fact, I would be more comfortable (but only little) to accept the converse, viz. that morally rightness will lose. However, I am comfortable with neither the positive or negative view, for it seems more sensible to hold that history has no system, no agency, and no bend.

History is a story of ideas and the people that had and used those ideas, it is not a real thing that itself acts or tends to anything. To understand history as a narrative is to reject all interpretations of history that hold historical change as the chief principle, e.g. Hegelianism (“Historical change, seen abstractly, has long been understood generally as involving a process toward the better, the more perfect” 1953, p. 68.; “Historical development, therefore, is not the harmless and unopposed simple growth of organic life but hard, unwilling labor against itself” 1953, p.69.) or the Whig interpretation of history (Butterfield, 1931). History as a narrative is to be understood, as with any narrative, not as a thing with its own agency but as the neutral story of ideas and actions. One would not say that a protagonist is “on the right side of the novel,” because such a statement is ludicrous since it attributes the correctness of action not to the protagonist or author but to the neutral explanation of actions. To give agency to history or to a novel is to sap agency for the lived actors, either real or fictional. Thus, when one says that they are “on the right side of history,” they are removing agency from themselves. Their morality is not real morality but only morality preordained by historical change. They have no agency for their actions but are a purely mechanistic instrument for the unchallengeable process of history.

In my opinion, if something is moral it is moral regardless of institutional or societal outcomes (later to be called history); had the Axis powers won WWII their actions would not have become moral right, simply because they were “on the right side” of their historical narrative. Therein lies the rub, history as a narrative leads to the unsettling consideration of who writes the narrative. No two people see the same thing the same way; thus, each narrative will be different. Evidence and facts, the two champions of thinking in the scientific age, are not, in fact, either stagnant or universally the same. Two people may well look at the same evidence and, influenced by their own opinions, draw two different conclusions. Facts are no sure method at arriving at the “truth,” a thing which doubtless exists, but due to human’s remarkably limited sight and ability will never be fully obtained in this world. Facts and evidence are belief-dependent, thus the narratives built upon them are as well. There is no right or wrong side of history, only different narratives. History then cannot be justification for morality or policy.

On Loving the Enemy

In the wake of tragedy, in the wake of hateful actions, it is easy to turn to anger and thoughts of violent retaliation. It is easy to say that ‘love won’t win this battle’ as many have said. It is easy to fall prey to that human, all too human desire to enact justice through strength. It is easy to think that now, uniquely, is the time to use force against hatred – easier still to draw simple comparisons between the current day and a past era when force seemed to work to bring about justice. Finally, it is easy to hate those that committed the crimes, the injustices, and the hate. But what is easy is not always the correct course of action. The heat of the moment quickens the emotions but misleads them, we must stop and feel; we must stop and think.

In the wake of recent events, there are calls for an aggressive reaction and the aggressive is always the hateful; one does not ‘aggressively’ fight cancer out of love for the disease but out of hate for it. It is striking to find comments “reminding” people that “love did not defeat Hitler;” thus, we are told, “love” won’t defeat this fresh threat. Yet, here is the trap of the easy; it is easy to think that loving the enemy is inaction, easy to think that love is passivity, easy to think that only hatred and aggression are active; easy but false. To misunderstand loving the enemy as passive acceptance is to misunderstand the purpose and method of love.

To love the person is not to love their misdeeds; in fact, loving makes the hatred of misdeeds all the stronger. To love the person is not to overlook their actions but to examine their actions, understand their motives, and empathize with their emotions; all the while despising their hateful actions. This may seem a bit paradoxical, for how can one empathize while simultaneously despising? In the same way that one loves the person while simultaneously hating their actions. To give a concrete example, one must love the murderer, understand their motives, and empathize with those factors (moral, psychological, environmental, and social) that contributed to their choice of action, but maintain a hatred of the action. To love the person is to hold the person in the holistic view humanity demands; this holism of love is one of the reasons that it is so hard and why it is much easier to hate the person and hate their misdeeds.

In holding everyone in the holistic view, in seeing them as whole people, as complex products of ever more complex situations, there is an uncomfortable necessity. A necessity to examine those complex factors that contributed to the hateful action; to consider the moral and social environments giving rise to such thoughts and deeds, to examine the psychological underpins that may have played a part, in short, to look at the variety of causes that resulted in the hateful action. Rather like the chemist may examine those chemicals that played a part in a violent reaction; we must examine those factors that lead to hate and hateful actions. This is deeply uncomfortable for in examination of these factors, one might find unsettling conditions that one has been complicit either in maintaining, supporting, or writing off as just part of the system. This is not to blame any individual or group of individuals; indeed, perhaps, most unsettlingly, everyone is to blame, because everyone is, in at least some small way, complicit in some hateful action or another. For hate and transgression are spiraling things; one action of hate leads to another, abyssus abyssum invocat [1].

For this reason alone, one is compelled to love one’s enemy; perhaps, in loving one’s enemy one can quell the spiral of hatred; in dwelling in the light of love one might be able to drive out the darkness of hatred. Yet, there is not only this reason to love one’s enemy. For loving one’s enemy is not only, not even primarily, about this fleshy experience termed human life. It is not a tactic to win battles; it is not a banner for the new revolution; loving one’s enemy is, in fact, about souls. Perhaps, this is why the idea is so sneered at today, in the increasingly secular world that rejects the “silly” notion of the soul (a different discussion for a different time). Maybe there is something here, maybe talking of souls is too grand, call it the heart or the mind or whatever else one wishes; the principle remains the same. Hatred degrades and ultimately destroys the soul. This is why, hatred spirals, the degraded soul seeks to degrade, and in degrading is yet more degraded. It might be said that the task of loving one’s enemy is as much about oneself as about one’s enemy. Indeed, hateful actions are designed to generate hate, thus in responding with love the hateful act is sapped of some of its power. However, there is a mistaken interpretation of this that must not be made.

Loving one’s enemy is not excusing one’s enemy. Loving one’s enemy is not always pacifistic appeasement. At times, a violent response to violence is justified, perhaps necessary (though this is a thorny claim); actions have logical consequences. However, rather like the good parent, who in punishing their rebellious children does not cease loving them, one must not, in violently responding to violent action, stop loving their enemy. We must love but we must condemn; we must understand but we must never excuse. We must neither stop loving and understanding our fellow humans, yet we must, in no uncertain terms, denounce injustice and hatred. To do either is to do precisely what we decry. The former is to hate the criminal; the latter is to hate the victim. We must do neither. Ἒνθεν μὲν Σκύλλη ἑτέρωθι δὲ δῖα Χάρυβδις [2]. Here, again, is a reason that the task of love is so difficult. Compounding this is that love must constrain our actions; we must, in accordance with love, only ever use defensive violence, and never aggressive violence; for, again, aggression necessitates hatred of those aggressed against. To beat this path is hard, at times painfully hard, for it is natural to want to enact harsh punishments against unjust, but it is necessary to beat this path, we can do no other.

In the wake of injustice there are easy choices and there are good choices. The choice to hate those that enact injustice, ultimately, only leads to more hatred. Degradation leads to degradation. To love the person is not to love their actions, but to hate their actions. To comprehend the origins of the hatred is not to excuse the hatred; to love our enemy is not to spite their victims; indeed, loving our enemy is the same as loving their victims. To love is to oppose hatred and in opposing to turn the tides. To love is to understand the whole human and, in understanding, never to excuse transgression but evermore to despise it. To love is never passive, but always active. To love is never to refuse to punish but to limit our harshness, to avoid aggression. In all this, we mustn’t fall prey to false self-righteousness that in loving we are better than those who hate. We are all human, yoked together whether we like it or not [3]. To be self-righteous is to fail to see that we are all damaged, this is another reason that hatred comes so easily in response to injustice. In hating we are allowed to feel that those enactors of injustice are somehow separate from us; but, disturbingly, evil actions remind us that within humanity there is a capability to do both good and evil; within this thing called human life there are options to hate or to love. To hate and divide is easy; to love and unite is hard. Indeed, as Plato wrote: “χαλεπὰ τὰ καλά.” [4].

Endnotes:

[1]: One misstep leads to another; or literally: hell calls to hell

[2]: On the one side, Scylla, on the other divine Charybdis (Homer); ‘between a rock and a hard place’

[3]: For those hardcore individualists tempted to deny that all people are inexorably linked to each other, may I say that such a position ignores human reality. It is one thing to advocate methodological individualism for analysis (indeed this is a useful method) and/or to advocate for individual agency and autonomy over and against collective authority; but it is an entirely different thing to deny that everyone is bound up together as fellow human beings and that the actions and words of one person affect another, and that this effect has a chain reaction. If one is tempt to quote that famous line of Genesis 4:9: “Am I my brother’s keeper;” one may well wish to recall that this is said by a man that has freshly murdered his brother, thus, clearly, God’s answer (if one is so inclined to belief), is that yes, you are your brother’s keeper.

[4] “The fine (or good) things are difficult.” [Republic; Hippias Major]

What I Write When I Should Be Writing

Writing and reading are so seemingly essential to modern life, especially modern academic life. This might seem odd to people that believe that the advance of technology would destroy the written word. However, the internet has not devalued the written word but made it more powerful and omnipresent. Now, the majority of the American populace is literally surrounded at all times by more written information than ever before in human history. Furthermore, though places like Amazon may have “killed” (a ghastly metaphor) the brick-and-mortar bookshop (though not in all cases); they have not “killed” the print book. Indeed, this seems odd given the advance of devices and apps such as the Kindle, Google Books, and iBooks; for some, ebooks truly rule the day, but for many people physical books are still very much desired and used. Positing why this is the case can only be pure conjecture, utterly tainted by personal preference. However, I believe that the there is something in the physicality of tangible books that make them appealing to many people; there is also the aspect of visibility. It is impossible in most cases to tell from a passing glance what someone is doing on their smartphone, tablet, or laptop. Maybe they are reading an ebook, or maybe they are scanning Facebook; it’s a mystery. Whereas with a physical book there is no mystery, it is easy to tell at a glance when someone is reading a physical book. Moreover, I would hazard a guess, that a third aspect contributing to the continued presence of print books is a desire to differentiate activities.

There is a serious danger when one is reading on a screen to flit to something else, a game, a social media app, etc. This can seriously damage one’s reading; indeed, only the dedicated reader will not yield to temptation when a boring section of a book occurs. Clearly, there is a danger to flit between tasks with a physical book as well. It is all too easy to put a book down during that dull section. However, I would posit that there is a fundamental difference in these two types of task switching. Fliting between apps on a smartphone is as simple as putting down a book, but far less physical and, thus, (I would guess) far less memorable. Whereas after putting down a physical book it is still there in what can sometimes be oppressive physical omnipresence, reminding one of the task they’ve abandoned; switching apps on a smartphone is easily forgotten, it is easy from minute to minute to go from iBooks to Facebook to Twitter and on and on, without returning to iBooks. Closing out the app removes the presence of the book as does shutting down one’s Kindle or other e-reader. The book is in some sense gone, vanished, not, as with physical books, oppressively omnipresent. Giving up reading Gravity’s Rainbow on a reading app is much simpler than abandoning it physically. The file takes up no physical space, it does not stare one in the face every time they pass their bookshelf; in short, electronic books are more easily forgotten than physical books. Furthermore, I believe that many people probably want to differentiate their tasks, between “screen-time” and “non-screen-time;” especially with the growing body of evidence that screens are changing our brains [1]. I think it is safe to say that print books are going nowhere anytime soon. However, this does not get us any closer to why reading and writing are so fundamental.

It seems odd that something so artificial has shaped the modern world in more ways that it is really possible to fully comprehend. It is hard for any literate person to imagine a world without writing; I do not mean that it is hard to imagine what it is like to be illiterate. This is something, I think many can easily imagine, though I doubt many can understand the deeply unsettling emotionality of adult illiteracy. However, I think that to imagine being illiterate, or actually to be illiterate, presumes literacy. The lack assumes to the presence. To imagine being blind, or to be blind in reality, necessitates that sight exists. Similarly, illiteracy necessitates that reading and writing exist. This is why imagining a world totally without reading and writing is so difficult. However, stepping back from our phenomenal present existence and considering writing from a distance we can see that it is strange and artificial.

Speaking and listening are deeply natural for humans. We are linguistic creatures. This is evidenced by the fact that all humans in all places speak some language or another from infancy onward. Indeed, even deaf individuals develop and use language, though not spoken, that is deeply and structurally linguistic every bit equal to spoken language. Language is what people do. Many in the modern literate society, such as the United States, would unreflectively assume that writing is just as natural, evidenced, no doubt, by its omnipresence in society. However, upon reflection it becomes clear that writing isn’t natural. It is artificial. Consider indigenous societies that even today do not write. They are non-literate societies – NB they are not illiterate societies; they are non-literate, meaning that they live without writing and not without the knowledge of writing.  Of course, many of these indigenous populations are now illiterate societies, having been brought into contact with the written word. However, it should be clear that writing is not something natural in the same way that speaking (or signing) is natural.

Writing was invented a few times in a few places, the big ones are Mesopotamia, Egypt, China, and Mesoamerica; but there are other places where writing was invented, for example Crete and the Indus valley. For a long time a theory called monogenesis ruled the day. The theory held that writing was invented once, in Mesopotamia, and spread from there to Egypt; however, more recent finds have shown that the Egyptians invented writing on their own. Obviously, China and Mesoamerica (the Maya and Aztecs) were not in contact with the Mesopotamians, and thus could not have stolen writing from them; though this was, for obvious reasons, never seriously postulated. (Now, if certain people are correct, monogenesis may yet be saved, as obviously the aliens invent writing and gave it to everyone; but until there’s actual concrete evidence for these “aliens” it’s safe to say that the Egyptians and the Mesoamericans invented writing independently.) From these inventions of writing, the idea spread and morphed along the way. Soon Phoenician traders had developed what would become the alphabet, though they didn’t have vowels in their version. These traders spread their invention around the Mediterranean. The Greeks took hold of it changed some letters from “barbarian” sounds to vowels, thus creating the alphabet the majority of the world uses today (the “Latin” alphabet is an Italian variant of the Greek and the Cyrillic is a Slavic variant) [2]. All of this should show that writing is far from natural, in the sense of innate. It may have become naturalized because of its singular ubiquity but it is, nonetheless, created, artificial. Writing is an art and a gift that those of us in literate societies too often take for granted.

We’ve lost touch with the art of writing in two senses. The first is the rather forgivable loss of appreciation for the beauty of the written form, as handwriting and calligraphy slip more and more to the periphery; however, this loss is not so great given that writing began as something merely functional in many ways, after all most early examples of writing are basically accounting records. The second loss is much graver, we have, I fear, lost touch with the art of writing in a broad sense. By this I mean that we have lost the sense that there is an art to writing; that writing is something special, that it is something to be grateful for, and something to appreciate and cherish.  I fear that writing has become something so merely functional, so basic, and so base that it has lost all meaning to most literate people. It may be unclear what this loss means, but I fear that its implications are as deep and wide. If we forget that writing is something special we run the risk of relegating it to merely another technological tool, something to be used without much thought; something, moreover, to be abandoned if something better comes along. We forget that though writing is an artificial gift, it is a gift nonetheless, and has deeply changed our world. Forgetting the art of writing is forgetting the power of writing.

It cannot be denied that writing is the most power thing people have ever invented. This claim is bold but true. Certainly, inventions like the wheel, the utilization of fire, and guns have shaped the world and qualify as important inventions. However, the knowledge of these things can only be transferred in two ways: speech or writing. Indeed, the oral tradition is the older option, useful in many cases, but severely limited in scope. In the oral tradition things are passed down generation to generation in a direct line, this means that if any one part of the chain is broken the knowledge is lost. Since the oral tradition is also limited to the size of a human community, a break in the change is more likely than with writing. In writing, knowledge can skip a generation, or more, as long as the text isn’t lost. For example, it is possible for anyone to become a Scholastic scholar even if no one else in the family ever read St. Aquinas. Furthermore, unlike the oral tradition, writing is not limited to the size of any one human community; any one can learn the language of a text and read, regardless of their membership in a particular community. An additional benefit of writing is that written information is less prone to change in meaning than oral information. One need only think of the children’s game where something is whispered alone a chain of people and the message is changed, often extremely, by the end of the chain. Writing allows not only for the widespread and, generally, accurate transmission of technical knowledge for building wheels and weapons; it also, more importantly, allows for the spread of the most powerful thing in human history: ideas.

I believe that it is ideas that rule society and history. Indeed, to quote Ludwig von Mises [3]: “The history of mankind is the history of ideas. For it is ideas, theories, and doctrines that guide human action, determine the ultimate ends men aim at and the choice of the means employed for the attainment of these ends.” There is no better way to disseminate ideas than writing, itself an idea of sorts. Writing allows for the spread of ideas regardless of context, place, time, culture, or any number of factors that limit other means for spreading ideas. With the advent of the printing press the spread of ideas in writing grew faster, freer, and wider. With the ideals of universal education and literacy that blossomed in the mid twenty century, though never fully achieved, the advance of writing was finalized as universal. It is a tragedy that in all this the medium of advance has been largely forgotten and ignored; writing hardly receives a seconds thought as it is used to spread ideas around the globe. It is hardly considered that it is writing that heralded scientific revolutions, writing that convinced men to send armies to march across the globe to advance written ideas, writing that championed the ideals of world peace and an end to war, writing that simultaneously sent people to their deaths and promised that there would be death no more. Writing is a neutral tool as all tools are, the hammer can be used to destroy as well as to build, no less can writing. Nevertheless, it is the unique providence of writing to be that omnipresent tool that is used for every imaginable end. War and peace are penned in the same medium, racism and antiracism proclaimed with the same tool, theology and atheism championed in the same form. Writing and the advance of ideas, thus the advance of history, are inexorably linked. Writing as the basic representation of spoken language in symbols is often, unfortunately, overlooked and forgotten; its unique place in history and society overlooked; however, in a different sense writing is hardly ever overlooked or forgotten.

Writing as prose or poetry; writing as essay; writing as literature; in short, writing as the thing taught in English classes, is rarely overlooked. Compositional writing is the likely the first thing that jumps to people’s minds when they think about writing. Organized writing rules the day, in books, newspapers, magazines, and even television and movies (which use written scripts). There is no doubt that organized writing is important and world-changing; however, it is thoughts of composition, of order, that remove one from the wonder of the medium itself. As important as good composition may be, it is impossible without the presence of the medium of writing itself. A well written piece is something to be admired and praised but without the letters it is impossible. It is important that in composition we forget about the letters in favor of the words, or even forgetting the words in favor of the structure of a piece; however, though this leads to good composition it also leads to a loss of wonder and appreciation for writing qua writing. It is important that we take time to learn what makes a good composition a good composition, but it is equally important that we take time to reflect on the medium of composition itself: the art of this artificial thing that was invented a few times and in a few places; the beauty and power of the invention that changed the world; the might of this tool that we call writing. Writing is the most human of inventions and tells the most human of stories.

 

[1] See here: https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/cravings/201609/how-internet-use-is-shaping-our-brains

[2] For a more in depth history of writing, watch Thoth’s Pill by Nativlang here:  https://youtu.be/PdO3IP0Pro8.

[3] von Mises, L. (1977). Planned Chaos, p.62. Foundation for Economic Education: Irvington-on-Hudson, New York.

On 2016

As the year draws to a close, it is a perfect time to reflect on the year and look to the future.

According to some 2016 has been the “worst year” (e.g. here). Indeed, some very bad things did happen in 2016. Here’s a brief list: celebrities died, the United States continued to be a statist nation that elects presidents who have too many powers, there were diseases, there were wars, terrorism, other things anyone doesn’t like happened. How sad. I mean compared to 2016 all other years fail to even register as bad, for example: 1916 with the Battle of Somme; or the Plague years; or 1941-1945, with the Holocaust; or 1520-21 for the Aztec (fall of empire); or any of the years 1861-1865 in the United States.  I think my point is clear, 2016 wasn’t all that bad, it wasn’t great but there has never been a “great” year if you think about it.

Beyond the nostalgic view of some golden pass, every year looks pretty bad but also pretty good. Here’s the long and the short of it. People die; fight; make choices others think are wrong, stupid, dangerous, or whatever; bad, even terrible, things happen, often to good people; there are diseases and wars and potential despots and dictators. However, there are many positive things that make life worth living, for example (without getting religious): the sun continues to rise and give warmth; people fall in love, make friends, and build communities; cures for diseases are found; disasters are avoided; people innovate more and more every day. Indeed, it is true that there are many, many things that are terrible in the world, but there are just as many things that are wonderful. Certainly, some things are looking down, but just as many things, if not more, are looking up.

There is an important point here that is easy to miss. All of us are very good at projecting problems into the future, both our own problems and the world’s problems; but we are very bad at predicting the innovations, the solutions, and the ideas of the future. If you truly believe that 2016 was one of the worst years ever, than it should be a starting point to inspire new solutions. Indeed, that’s what has happened before. Many things have gotten better over the time. Disease, violence, war, and poverty have decreased over time; whereas, life expectancy, literacy rates, and standard of living have increased over that same time. Indeed, if you think about it, one of people’s biggest complaints about the year is that it “took” so many celebrities.

First of all, the year does not “take” any one, the year doesn’t do anything. People die during the year, not because of the year, but because of any number of things including: age, health conditions, lifestyle choices, accidents, or a combination of these things. More importantly, it shows how go things actually are that one of the biggest complaints about the year is that so many famous people have died this year. It is true that anyone’s death is a tragedy, but it hardly makes a 2016 any worse. I also understand that many people that bemoan this year aren’t complaining mainly about the death of celebrities but about war (a legitimate complaint, but overall this year was better than, say one hundred years ago – WWI), or, sadly much more likely, political votes not going how they would have liked.

First it was Brexit (a truly ridiculous word, but never mind) and then it was the election of Donald Trump. Let me be honest, I think the British vote to leave the European Union was a good thing (light your torches) and I am a harsh critic of Donald Trump and I voted against him (for Gary Johnson). Let’s talk Brexit for a moment, I believe that it was the best option not because I believe strong nationalism is necessarily a good thing, nor do I hate immigrants; furthermore, I think the average British person that voted in support of Brexit did not vote nationalistically or because of some deep and profound hatred of immigrants; I would hazard the guess that most of them were simply unhappy with the increasing power of the EU. I understand that one can think I am totally wrong and that’s perfectly okay and won’t ruin my year. Now onto Donald Trump; if his election actually ruined your year, I’m sorry. I really am. You see, if it truly ruined your year you obviously are under the twin delusions that (a) the US president is all powerful and (b) government and society are actually the same thing. Guess who also has these delusions: people that blindly support Donald Trump. Will he be a great president, no; a good president, maybe; a bad president, maybe; a terrible president, maybe; a dictator, no.  If you are honestly afraid of Donald Trump, you have a problem; there’s a difference between being literally afraid of him and thinking his policies will be bad.

The president is not all powerful, they cannot do anything they wish, the likelihood that one will become a death camp administering life-long dictator is low; not impossible, but very, very long while this country is at least somewhat stable. The likelihood that Donald Trump will become dictator for life is next to zero, as is the probability of him jailing those that dissent. There is a simple reason: everyone is on guard about his actions before he has actually assumed power. The moment he does something debatably unconstitutional he will have hundreds if not thousands of people fight him in the courts.

More deeply, politics is not life. Government is not society. At most it is a poor and distorted reflection of society. We must not allow government to replace society, the bullet to replace the book, or the black-and-white thinking to replace nuanced, gradated thinking. In the end, life will go on no matter what individual is the president of the United States.

2016 has been a mixed bag, but every year is. Think back to any other year and you’ll find that there were just as many negatives as 2016. Perhaps, the problem is looking for the negatives. If one looks to be saddened, outraged, or otherwise made upset, they have ample opportunities and outlets. 2017 is fast approaching and it will be just as much a mixed bag as 2016. Maybe, just maybe, if we all try not to find ever more things to be upset by and to divide ourselves over the world can continue to improve. I hope that 2017 will be a year of increased intellectual dialogue, informed and nuanced thinking, and ever more free discourse.

Pulling away from this wide view of the year and towards the personal, you are the only one that can determine how the year was for you and how the next year will be for you. In the words of Marcus Aurelius: “You have power over your mind – not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”