Against Collectivism

I despise collectivism. Any kind of collectivism. As soon as I detect that I might be losing my personality and personhood in the sea of sameness and triviality, I cringe. Then I shudder. Then, instinctively, I flee from the potentially bad situation.

Collectivism is insidious. It moves in slowly and then it starts to spread, and it would seem that one would have no choice but to succumb to its clutches, to its powerful and seemingly attractive hold. I wonder whether democracy brings on further forms of collectivism, which turn into evil? After all, it was democracy that killed Jesus.

Why is collectivism still alive, specifically in the United States? One would think that because America’s precepts are firmly based on individuality and republicanism (not to mention an individual freedom) that realities such as collectivism would have no chance of survival. But we are forgetting one thing: Americans have become historical amnesiacs, and as a result they have no regard for history or definitions of human condition, one of them being collectivism. This is precisely why the notion of community is confused with the notion of collectivism. Aspects which are quite different from each other have become synonymous. We seem to think that if we do things collectively, in superficially created groups, this will create a bond among human beings. On the contrary; the inauthenticity of the bond leads to a far greater degree of resentment among humans. Any possibility of a proper relationship and dialogue is shattered as soon as man’s personhood and uniqueness is lost.

Collectivism can come in many different forms, in many different stages of our lives. Students in high school and college are a perfect example. But perhaps we are willing to forgive the young people since they are, after all, still trying to figure out why they are truly meant to be. But what about collectivism in adults? A personal vignette may be in order.

I was teaching English in a high school. I had developed a decent rapport with most of the faculty, especially of the English department. One day, a member of the same department had asked whether I’d be willing to participate in a supply of bottled water for the English department. Basically, each month or so, one person would be responsible for buying a package of bottled water for everyone in the department, and on continues the cycle. Without hesitation, I said yes. But I knew that something was off about my decision. I felt uneasy and my stomach was turning into all kinds of knots. I imagined Windsor tie knots multiplying and wreaking havoc in my intestinal tract. Suddenly, as if waking up from a dream, I gained clarity and sobriety. I said to my colleague: “Count me out. I don’t know what was I thinking. I bring my own water to work.” I remembered the heaviness of the glass bottle of Perrier that I carried every day with me, along with the blue-grey lunch box.

Why do we do such things? Do we wish to gain acceptance? Do we want to be loved, as schmaltzy as that sounds? Why does a complete recognition from another human being even matter that it actually drives us towards a collectivist absurdity, thereby completely negating our identity? Of course, how ironic this is: in an attempt to be recognized for our uniqueness and be accepted by the group, we lose this uniqueness the minute we are accepted. And this acceptance is always transient. It may change based on someone else’s thought and emotion.

A great example of individualism is of course, William F. Buckley, Jr. From his writing to his personality to his speaking habits, Buckley was truly a free man. He didn’t crave acceptance and love from others for he knew that he was already accepted and loved by God. And what a possibility and reality of living a true life that is.