Perhaps one’s search for grand human beings is doomed from the get-go in a technocratic culture, ruled as it is by single-minded experts and uni-dimensional specialists. At best, I seem to encounter highly functional ‘operatives’ within a system of fragment-persons—men and women who are not even equipped with a language for the spiritual, psychological, and cultural deficits from which they suffer in the dark. At best, they sense that something is terribly amiss in the very form of life we are collectively living today, but there is scarcely anyone talking about this cultural derailment in the desert in terms that are readily graspable by most of us. And if they do, they usually do so in terms of looming economic or environmental disasters. These are by no means trivial matters but they are peripheral and superficial compared to the sickness at the core of our ailing culture. It is the white elephant in the middle of the room that no one talks about—and not so much out of a sense of politeness or decorum, but because there are no articulate terms generally available to us as contemporary Americans. They have not been provided by our cultural upbringing. It is like a missing organ—and not a single kidney or an appendix, mind you, but a heart or stomach. We are, most of us, on an artificial life support system of some sort or another—culturally speaking—and thereby unable to experience a fully human life. Like the chickens we buy cut up and deboned at the supermarket, the petty and pernicious poppycock that fills our minds has to a great extent been artificially and unnaturally mass-produced under the most unwholesome (psychological and spiritual) conditions in tiny, cramped cells where no light enters—and the smell (again, psychologically speaking) is awful enough to make one want to retch.
Just seeing through this bogus scheme into its barbarizing core transforms a person into a kind of unwelcome anomaly or an accursed Cassandra—if he or she can actually digest and successfully assimilate the insights thus acquired. Life can never be the same after the veil has been lifted from the dehumanizing process that underlies the present scheme of things in our deforming mass culture. Because so few persons possess the spiritual resources required to withstand the walloping shock of such an unveiling—let alone the patience and considerable learning required to digest it and register the grim and sinister implications—the few persons ‘in the know’ are both alone with their dangerous knowledge and extremely hampered in their ability to communicate their distressing insights. They are hampered by the resistances that are naturally thrown up by those they would seek to inform—resistances which bear a strong resemblance to the reluctance most young children have to swallowing vile-tasting medicine or to being confined to a quiet room with a book on a perfectly beautiful day. We are hampered not only by the fact that our ‘medicinal’ knowledge is unwelcome to the popular palate, but also by the fact that we have qualms of conscience about being alarm-bell sounders and distress-bringers.
Even when we know that collective spiritual and cultural conditions are only likely to worsen without the willing embrace of such unpleasant medicine by a sizable—perhaps decisive—portion of society, and that such a recovery is unlikely even under the most favorable conditions, it is not surprising that some of us throw up our hands and ask ‘What’s the use?’ The cure may turn out to be more painful than simply allowing the disease to proceed unchecked to its ‘whimper’ end. We may, in fact, be in a situation where the only way to save the patient is through a draconian amputation of a gangrenous limb—but in order to succeed, the amputee must endure his ordeal without anesthesia. The pain itself may be a necessary evil on the road to recovery, while at the same time constituting a trial or hurdle that few can surmount. Every cell in my body tells me, however, that there is no painless or peaceful path to the healing of this profound sickness from which our culture suffers (and I daresay that’s not just my Catholic background talking). It has lost its connection with reality and in the process, all of us have become weakened, reduced, imbalanced, and deprived of weight, of gravity. As Nietzsche saw, over a hundred years ago, we have become decadent, fragile, easily overcome, evanescent, a kind of embarrassing disgrace from the ‘virile’ standpoint of our more valiant ancestors, whose many sacrifices and privations for our sake—for posterity—are mocked by our pampered frailty.