J a r o n P e a r l m a n T h e P o l i t i c s o f F e a r I n h i s s e c o n d r e l e a s e , ‘ T h e P o l i t i c s o f F e a r ’ , J a r o n P e a r l m a n e x p l o r e s t h e e f f e c t s t h a t f e a r h a s u p o n b o t h m o d e r n p o l i t i c s a n d s o c i o l o g y H i s f i r s t b o o k ‘ I c o n o c l a s m : P o l i t i c a l E m p o w e r m e n t f o r t h e N e w M i l l e n n i u m ’ ( 2 0 1 8 ) i l l u s t r a t e d t h e v a r i o u s f r a m e w o r k s n e e d e d f o r s o c i a l i n t e r a c t i o n a n d c i v i c s t h r o u g h a s e r i e s o f s h o r t e s s a y s ‘ T h e P o l i t i c s o f F e a r ’ b u i l d s u p o n t h i s , a i m i n g t o s h e d l i g h t o n t o t h e F e a r ’ b u i l d s u p o n t h i s , a i m i n g t o s h e d l i g h t o n t o t h e i n n e r w o r k i n g s o f h o w f e a r i s u s e d t o m a n i p u l a t e a n d s u b j u g a t e t h e w i l l o f c o n s t i t u e n t s F e a r i s n o t j u s t a s u r v i v a l m e c h a n i s m , i t i s a l s o a n i n e x o r a b l e f a c e t o f o u r p r i d e , o u r i d e n t i t i e s , a n d o u r n a t i o n a l h i s t o r i e s P e a r l m a n p o w e r f u l l y a n d u n a p o l o g e t i c a l l y c o n v e y s h o w t h e r e m o v a l o f o u r u n w a r r a n t e d f e a r s i s k e y t o t h e s u c c e s s f u l e v o l u t i o n o f i n d i v i d u a l i s m , l i b e r a l d e m o c r a c y , a n d s u s t a i n a b l e e c o n o m i c s W e a r e r e m i n d e d o n c e m o r e t h r o u g h W e a r e r e m i n d e d o n c e m o r e t h r o u g h P e a r l m a n ’ s c a n d i d o u t l o o k t h a t w e a l l s h a r e t h e s a m e h o p e s a n d h i n d r a n c e s , t h e s a m e f u t u r e s a n d f e a r s The Politics of Fear By Jaron D. Pearlman Man is not afraid of things, but of how they view them. —Epictetus 1 Prologue The Origins of Enlightenment Throughout the civilized world, there are notions that man, a mortal being, was fashioned in the image of gods. To be godlike, ultimately, is to be a creator and destroyer, a source of novelty that defies natural convention and arranges the world by specific design. Regardless of religious belief or doctrine, this idea describes humanity very well. To be human is to create and to destroy, to defy the ultimatums set forth by the natural world and arrange it in ways that supersede earthly dogmas. Humankind has tailored the earth to its own convenience, utilizing agriculture, motor vehicles, vaccines, computers, electricity, art, and much more to mold our surroundings to taste. This desire and need to create is, in no small terms, godlike. No other creature on the planet has this creative capacity, or ability to translate abstract thought into tangible reality. It may be fair to assume that just as religious individuals perceive their god as an omnipotent and supernaturally powerful being, many animals would believe humans to be the same if they are capable of such thoughts. Surely the inventions and power displayed by humanity are a sight to behold if a creature does not understand them. One could imagine how animals view humanity, a complex mix of admiration and fear. This creative and abstract enlightenment is the source of a recurring question for humankind. Why are we so different from other life forms we see on earth? 2 It is said in ancient Greek mythology that Prometheus, a titan that preceded the gods of Olympus, was commissioned to create mankind out of water and clay. His brother, Epimetheus, toiled over the beasts of the forests and water, creating them to excel in the natural world. While Epimetheus designed his creatures for flight, speed, strength, and swimming, Prometheus obsessed over creating a single being with abstract thought and complex emotion. This would be his opus: a being that not only lived in the present and for survival, but also that could remember the distant past and see into the distant future, one that cognitively rivaled the Olympians themselves. When his creation was complete, Prometheus then gave humans the gift of fire, a privilege that had previously been reserved only for the gods. This gift of “fire” is likely symbolic, describing what was perhaps a gift of godly knowledge rather than literal flames. The altruism Prometheus had shown humanity was met with anger by the gods of Olympus; they found his gift to be blasphemous and believed that mortal beings should not be trusted with the knowledge of the gods. But it was far too late, as the gift of fire spread across the ancient world and humans began to flourish in their godlike abilities. Mankind would now be able to stave off wild animals of the forests and water, building sprawling cities, forging strong weapons, and living without implicit dependence on the gods. Prometheus would be severely punished for his sins against Olympus, chained to a boulder as an eagle ate at his liver for all of eternity. 3 A similar tale is found in ancient Sumer, modern-day Iraq. In this story a god named Enki was one of many giants that worked the earth for resources. His race had become tired of their perpetual labor, and Enki was tasked with the creation of a slave race to work for the gods. He went to work, crafting his humans from clay and blood. The god-giants were pleased with Enki’s work initially, as human beings began to bear the brunt of earthly work for their creators. They toiled with well-honed efficiency, but Enki had become very attached to his creations, eventually giving them the ability to reproduce autonomously. Once more, this idea of “reproduction” could be taken as a metaphor; not just meaning literal procreation, but also the acquisition of godly knowledge to create and invent. It was one thing for Enki to possess the gift of creation, but another altogether for the humans to have it themselves. Humanity grew and grew, becoming very vocal and possessed of their own self-determination. This offset their initial purpose of being slaves, as human beings began to focus more and more upon the future of their species, their creativity, and their livelihoods. It is at this juncture that another god, Enlil, became tired of Enki’s humans and began to plan a great flood to annihilate them. Enki learned of this plan and told the humans to build a great boat that could house all earthly animals within it, saving them from Enlil’s wrath. This is the origin of the great flood myth that morphed into Noah’s Ark in the Old and New Testaments. These tales can be even further translated into the religions of Abraham: Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. 4 According to the Christian bible, god made Adam from dust. The Jewish Torah and Muslim Quran say Adam was made from clay. Each of these variants offers the idea that humankind was molded from an earthly medium, similar to the stories of Prometheus and Enki. God placed his first humans in the garden of Eden, with clear definition that they were different from his other creations. Humans were “made in his image” and undoubtedly possessed his ability to create. Adam and his wife, Eve, were told to wander the garden and multiply. They were, however, explicitly told by god to avoid the tree of knowledge which bore the forbidden fruit containing a godlike wisdom of both good and evil. A serpent, representative of either satan or some other sort of demigod, beguiled Eve into eating from the forbidden tree. He said to Eve, “You surely will not die from eating this fruit! For God knows that in the day you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:4-5). In the traditional narrative, the serpent seeks to betray humanity and cause a fall from god’s grace. The serpent is said to be jealous of god’s favor to humans. Though when contrasted with the stories of Prometheus and Enki, the serpent is perhaps trying to help humanity obtain greater enlightenment, against the wishes of other supernatural beings. Adam and Eve are cast out of the garden and resigned by god to observe short and harsh lives, where the visceral actualities of death, invention, emotion, greed, loss, and self-sufficiency become their reality. 5 In each of these stories, there are gods that wish to deny humanity of their autonomy, using fire, reproduction, and fruit as metaphors for the forbidden. The parallels are truly astounding. This illustrates a keen self-awareness of ancient cultures, namely that human beings have long known that our enlightenment comes at a heavy cost. Though we are able to create in the way of the gods, we are subject to our own imperfections and our own fears. Though we may be able to create vaccines and agriculture, we are also able to create atom bombs and firearms. Though we can imagine detailed worlds of fantasy and beauty, we can also imagine realities of endless terror and our own mortal coil. The ability to create and manifest abstract thought is far from pure or neutral, jumping erratically from altruistic to destructive. The demigods that sought to give humans free will were players in a game that had little recourse. Humans would either become slaves to a regimented and dogmatic force or would be free to become our own agents of creation and destruction. By reimagining origin stories in this way, there is significant moral ambiguity. Is it more moral for gods to guide humans and protect us from ourselves? Or is it more moral for humans to have their freedom, even if it means self-destruction? There is a certain fear of enlightenment that is noteworthy throughout human history. As it will be examined in this book, literacy and knowledge are suppressed historically, not by gods, but by human beings, governments, and classist hierarchies. There is an innate fear that if humanity were wholly enlightened, that power could be usurped, overthrown, and replaced easily. 6 In my mind this is why stories of the serpent and his contemporaries are often demonized, while controlling and dogmatic gods are revered. It instills the idea that knowledge is less important than faith, authority is more important than equality, and adherence is more valuable than accountability. Mind you, when I say this, it is not meant to degrade the religious beliefs of you or anyone else. It is a simple observation of metaphors and their context, based in history and sociology. It is well warranted to consider that ancient stories may likely tell us more about our own anthropological history than the conjecture of gods or belief. But fear, and the repercussions of it, is undoubtedly what perverts enlightenment. The brilliance of the human mind is harnessed through understanding. Its destructive capacity is released through fear. It follows that fear is used to justify destruction and to permit corruption. This is what The Politics of Fear catalogs. What is fear? How does it shape who we are? What am I being told to fear? While we know what fear is emotionally, we rarely think about how it shapes our world and our individual personalities. Yet even ancient texts beg these questions. Could it be that these stories, regardless of their basis in reality, were warnings? Could they have been meant to stir our thoughts and perceptions in order to make us question our own potential for good and evil? What if the powers of gods and demons were not of some other world, but contained fully in the potentials of humankind? 7 I invite you to explore these ideas with me. The Politics of Fear is about our pasts, our presents, and our futures. It is about how we may harness enlightenment while staving off the potential we have for self-destruction. There have been countless human versions of Prometheus, Enki, and the serpent; men and women who have tirelessly sought to give humankind freedom and self-determination. There have also been countless human versions of the Olympians, Enlil, and Abraham’s god, those who seek to undermine free will and individualism. Some seek to break our chains, and others seek to reforge them. The only real question is this: What would we do with our freedom should we attain it? 8 Table of Contents & K D S W H U 2 Q H , G H Q W L W \ W h o A r e Y o u ? 1 1 W h a t W e A r e , W h a t W e A r e N o t 1 8 I A m a N a t i o n 2 4 S u r v i v a l 3 1 N o t e s 3 5 & K D S W H U 7 Z R 7 K H 7 K L Q J V : H ) H D U C o r r u p t i o n 4 1 C u l t u r a l R e l e v a n c e 4 8 D o g m a a n d M e a n i n g l e s s n e s s 5 3 W h a t W e D o n ’ t U n d e r s t a n d 5 9 N o t e s 6 5 & K D S W H U 7 K U H H ) H D U % D V H G 5 H D F W L R Q V M o r a l D e b t 7 1 C o n f i r m a t i o n B i a s 7 8 B a i l o u t s 8 3 X e n o p h o b i a 8 9 N a t i o n a l i s m 9 5 N o t e s 1 0 1 & K D S W H U ) R X U 3 R O D U L ] D W L R Q L o y a l t y 1 0 7 D o u b l e S t a n d a r d s 1 1 2 H o m o g e n i z a t i o n 1 1 9 B i n a r i e s 1 2 5 N o t e s 1 3 0 & K D S W H U ) L Y H ) H D U L Q J + L V W R U \ T h e P r i d e o f O r i g i n 1 3 6 T h e P r i d e o f U n d e r s t a n d i n g 1 4 2 T h e P r i d e o f W a r 1 4 8 T h e P r i d e o f N o s t a l g i a 1 5 4 T h e P r i d e o f F a l s e P r o p h e t s 1 6 1 N o t e s 1 6 8 & K D S W H U 6 L [ ) H D U L Q W K H 0 R G H U Q : R U O G N u c l e a r W a r 1 7 4 M a l t h u s i a n C a t a s t r o p h e 1 7 9 T e r r o r i s m 1 8 7 M a n i f e s t D e s t i n y 1 9 5 E c o n o m i c U n r e s t 2 0 0 N o t e s 2 0 6 & K D S W H U 6 H Y H Q & R Q T X H U L Q J 2 X U ) H D U V P e r s o n a l E x p e r i e n c e 2 1 2 E m b r a c i n g A n a r c h y 2 2 0 A m e r i c a A s A L e a d e r 2 2 9 T h e N e w F a s c i s m 2 3 6 N o t e s 2 4 2 ( S L O R J X H 7 K H 1 H Z ' H P R F U D F \ 9 ,GHQWLW\ 10 Who Are You? There are so many answers to this question. Are you your occupation? Some people would respond by listing their religion, their morals, or their political affiliation. Some answers would include a person’s hobbies, dislikes, or ethnicities. But is that truly who you are? Is it a culmination of these answers that reflect our individualism, or are these only superficial labels? As we grow older we develop deeper senses of identity, adding new perspectives daily to “who we are.” If we identify as a banker, carpenter, or entrepreneur, a Christian, a Muslim, or an Atheist, we are using words that culturally compartmentalize us for easy social identification. When we attain these new words to define the self, could such labels actually be simple means of marginalizing our attributes to illustrate a social value? Identity is a difficult thing to define. Yet there are common threads for each characterization of “self.” One of the most prominent of these threads is that identity thrives upon task-related action. To embrace concepts of identity we complete tasks, or work toward their completion. In the act of writing this book I am cementing a part of my identity as an author, a social commentator, and an activist. The reinforcement of these terms feels good to me. It validates the perception I have of my own identity, committing a new addendum to the story of “me.” Task completion and creation are necessary for a sense of identity, usefulness, and mental health. These feats can be as grandiose as building a skyscraper or as cathartic as simply beating a video game, 11 but it is clear in either case that creation and completion are hallmarks of value that humans need in their lives. This positive feeling of personal growth can be related to a Freudian concept called the psychic apparatus . In this theoretical construct, there are three mediating forces in our psychology: the id , ego , and super-ego The id exists on one side of the spectrum, dealing with survival instinct. This is our base level of consciousness. It tells us to eat, drink, reproduce, and avoid danger. Self-preservation is paramount to the survival of conscious organisms. Creatures like fish and reptiles exist primarily upon the function of their id; there is likely little concern to a lizard about its personality or morals. A lizard is more likely focused upon its next meal, finding a mate, or avoiding predators that would consider it a nice lunch. The benefit of the id is obvious: Without it prolonged survival of a species would be unlikely. Darwinistic success implies a functioning id and a strong basic survival instinct. On the other side of the spectrum exists the super-ego. The super-ego deals with complex social and personal concepts such as morality, identity, role identification, social decorum, and interpersonal value. These things all result from social interaction. Species that interact socially often need a better psychological frame of reference for themselves and their contemporaries. By defining attributes like those listed above, social interaction can become organized into functional templates: alphas and omegas, castes, familial bonds, and individualized strengths. By defining the self and others through the super-ego, role delegation becomes possible, as does psycho-social evolution. What this can ultimately amount to is the organization of civics and collective action. 12 An excellent example of the super-ego fine-tuning social interaction exists within lion prides. While male lions are physically more powerful than their female counterparts, female lionesses do nearly 90 percent of the hunting for their pride. This is due to several factors, namely that the role of a male lion is to fight and deter rival males from killing their pride’s offspring. A male’s mane helps in scaring off younger and less mature rivals but is not so effective in camouflaging them from potential prey, whereas the females have a sleek and minimal coat. A lion’s super-ego has helped in defining gender roles based upon practicality. Though these roles assist in long-term survival, they do not assist in immediate survival like the id. Fight-or-flight reactions are indicative of id-related responses, while planned and socially conscious actions are the result of the super-ego. It can also be phrased that the super-ego is capable of using knowledge from the past or predictions about the future to make informed decisions about the present. Mediating between the id and super-ego is the ego. The ego pulls information from each side of the psychic apparatus and assists in decision-making. Based on reactions from the id and super-ego, the ego invokes action. Assume you have to jump from one building top to another. If you make it, you get a million dollars. An internal dialogue may go as follows: Id: You can’t make it. The gap is too far and you may fall and die. Super-ego: Go for it! You are strong enough, and there’s a million dollars on the other side! It is at this juncture that the ego must mediate each opposing viewpoint, weighing factors for the jump and allowing you to make a decision. The ego is an arbiter between base-level survival and 13 higher-level social thinking. The million dollars is valuable socially, and the super-ego recognizes its value. But the id knows the potential fall is immediately dangerous. What is interesting is that the id and super-ego also deal heavily in what we fear. These are not just means of psychological compartmentalization; they help in determining what we find displeasing or scary. Our fears are an intangible component of who we are, often defining more about us than even our hopes or dreams. Fears of failure, pain, loss, hopelessness, or helplessness accompany even the greatest dream or achievement. Therefore it can be reasoned that “we” are no more our names or occupations than “we” are our own fears. The id deals with intrinsic fears that aid in survival. Unconscious or uncontrollable fears are often very primal, and these phobias have their foundation in the id. Many fears can even be irrational, like arachnophobia (the fear of spiders), which is rooted in concerns of being poisoned by venomous arachnids. However, this id-based response likely served our ancestors well, allowing survival for those who successfully avoided venomous spiders. Many of us have a fear of heights, snakes, small spaces, or storms. But as human beings, we are subject to perceptions far beyond just that of just our immediate survival. Our super-ego deals with a catalog of fears that are far too numerous to name. We fear for our professional success, relationships, future, pets, and governments, how we are perceived by others, and how we perceive others. We fear whether or not we are perceived to have social value; many of us also fear if we are somehow prejudiced. We are afraid of hypothetical situations where we run out of money, run 14 out of creativity, develop health issues, or become socially irrelevant. The empathetic and predictive ability of the super-ego is a blessing and a curse. Through it we are able to associate emotional attachment to memory, guiding the hand of human evolution across the generations. The happiness experienced by early humans after creating fire likely helped in remembering those skills, giving the ability to pass this gift to their children. At the same time, this emotional response is easily manipulated and staked in personal biases. This is largely what The Politics of Fear deals with. Because the super-ego is so valuable to our sense of “self,” it can feel as though our identity is lost when it is threatened. If the super-ego is threatened, that feeling can very easily pass through the filter of ego and into the id, where it is then processed as an immediate threat to survival itself. Intense emotional reactions to superficial stimuli are clear examples of this phenomenon, wherein a non-threatening action invokes a fight-or-flight reaction. Threats to the super-ego are often not true threats to survival, but our psyche can interpret them as such. This is perhaps best shown in a quote attributed to Mark Twain (though there is no specific record of his actually saying this): “It is easier to fool people than to convince them they have been fooled.” What this quote means is that once information is accepted as being true, the super-ego must be challenged in order to change said acceptance. Doing so is no easy task; people often prefer to continue believing they are correct even when confronted with information to the contrary. When this occurs, the super-ego is attempting to 15 preserve itself and its identity. If the ego fails to mediate appropriately, an attack on the super-ego can infiltrate the id, where an intense survival response is initiated. This describes why people can become irate or even violent when their preconceived beliefs are challenged. It truly is an easier task to get someone to accept completely new information than to change old information. These ideas may seem far-fetched, even hyperbolic, but they reflect very real paradigms regarding the psyche and sociology. It would be silly to imagine that large governing forces are unaware of such concepts, even if they aren’t phrased in Freudian dialect. The truth is that for all of our creativity and resourcefulness, human beings are sensitive creatures. We rely deeply upon the state of our psyche and sense of self, each of these being easily used as back doors to the manipulation of our actions. By altering or patronizing our senses of self, our innate fears, and our psychic apparatuses, there is the potential for massive groups of people to be misled. Individuality can be sterilized, and progressivism can be substituted for stagnant or corrupt political policy. Placation of the super-ego is an unfortunate means by which identity and individuality can be used against a populace, ironically making them feel freer as they are more easily misled. By gaslighting and provoking negative responses from the super-ego, it can be very simple to undermine the will of the people. Once the super-ego has triggered the id, there is little consideration for the past or future, severely stunting any potential for collective political action. It is because of this that our senses of self must rely on something deeper than affiliative labels. Simply being our occupation, religion, or political party depreciates the true content of individualism. It also 16 leaves open the back doors of our psyche to manipulation, preventing growth on both the personal and national levels. Given the superficial nature of such labels, we are now tasked with a much more difficult question: How do we define who we are? 17