Feelings, nothing more than feelings: on the culture of victimhood and death of the intellect

{Update: this is particularly useful to read since college students across America are "traumatized" and "need hugs" given the fact that Trump was elected President}.


The year was 1968. The television network ABC was plummeting in its ratings, and they needed a quick fix. Something controversial. It was the time of both Republican and Democrat National Conventions. ABC wanted to have commentators, so they paired up two enemies: William F. Buckley, Jr. - a conservative, writer, founder and editor of National Review, and host of Firing Line, and Gore Vidal – a liberal, writer, commentator. Buckley and Vidal were to debate on television.

And debate they did. It was during one of those debates when Vidal called Buckley a “crypto-Nazi,” and Buckley responded by calling Vidal a “queer.”

It would have been really easy to solely focus on this infamous moment, but filmmakers Robert Gordon and Morgan Neville took a different approach in their documentary Best of Enemies (2015). They use the intellectual relationship between Buckley and Vidal as a way to examine the political consciousness of the people at the time, as well as the role of the media then and now.

Whenever one encounters a documentary film that deals with both conservatism and liberalism, there is a tendency to assume that it will surely be biased, favoring one side over the other. I will admit that when I saw the trailer for the film, I had a trepidation that it might be leaning more toward the left, therefore attacking Buckley and favoring Vidal. But it truly wasn't like that. Gordon and Neville treat both Buckley and Vidal as human beings and actions of each men speak for themselves.

The film finely balances individual biographies of Buckley and Vidal and a larger picture of state of political debates. Wherever you look these days, “the talking heads” are shouting at each other. Some say things that are more interesting and true than others but for the most part, there is no interest in an actual exchange of ideas or reaching of intellectual conclusions.

The film opens with the tour of Vidal's Italian home. We enter into Vidal's bathroom where he shows us photographs of himself, proudly of course, and there right above the bathtub, are some of shots of the debate with Buckley. Vidal is a hedonistic elitist and when he is speaking, there is a kind of ooze released from him. He was fiercely intelligent but, to echo Buckley's brother's words in the documentary, I cannot help but feel slightly nauseous from Vidal's words.

“Why are the races unreconciled? Why does poverty persevere? Why are the young disenchanted? Why do the birds sing so unhappily? It is easy to be carried away, and yet always there is a strain of seriousness, something in the system that warns us, warns us that America had better strike out on a different course rather than face another four years of asphyxiation by liberal premises.”

These were Buckley's words, and he certainly had a way with those. He used the English language in a variety of unusual ways. Although I do not think that Vidal was better or even Buckley's match in such an endeavor, I do think that he was a good intellectual adversary.

They both represented a particular way of American consciousness – a distinctly American battle between the sacred and profane. For Buckley, sacredness and preservation of order of things was of utmost importance.

For Vidal, shaking the metaphysical foundations of America via sexuality was what was on his mind and what came out of his pen. Before it was “fashionable” and these days, dreadfully dull, Vidal wrote (namely, in his novel Myra Breckenridge) about transgenderism and any other kind of game of sexual behavior. He got a rise out of shocking moral Americans, who undoubtedly would shake with horror and wag the religious finger at the sexual perversions of Vidal's writerly explorations.

Whether he intended to shock people or whether he saw a genuine need to explore the issue of gender, Vidal most certainly got a rise out of disturbing Buckley. Buckley always prided himself in never being shocked by the strange behavior of the Left, but something about Vidal touched a personal nerve. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Vidal was so offensive, addicted to smearing dirt over the purity of the sacred.

Either way, it would appear to me that both Buckley and Vidal were slightly uncomfortable in their own skin in order to face each other in a non-defensive way.

Another aspect that Best of Enemies touched upon is the lack of intellectual dialogue today. All we are left with are talking heads, pundits, whatever you want to call them. (The ending of the documentary shows a cacophony of voices that ends with bizarre cackle of Megyn Kelly).

This is true. Love him or hate him, agree or disagree with him, Buckley created an intellectual space in America for a genuine and civil exchange of ideas. One had to be prepared to argue one's point with a strong back up, which often included experience rather than purely ideas.

Buckley was what you might call a public intellectual. He was able to bring together people from the Right and the Left, and even those who were apolitical. For him, the American Square was not just about politics. It was about culture, and culture was about the order of things, and order of things was necessary for the survival of civilization.

It isn't that the tension between the sacred and profane did not exist in the past (far and distant one, or a more recent one). It is that, today, we do not know the difference between the sacred and profane.

This is partly due to identity politics, which are inextricably linked to the “philosophy” of victimhood. Intellectual disagreement means being metaphysically offended. Those who wallow and hide behind the many masks of identity politics do not have strong philosophical arguments for their positions. So, when they are called out on it, the cry to mommy, and claim that they have been attacked and demand safe spaces. In the words of Tom Hanks: “THERE'S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL!”

We see this practically every day. Here are just a few examples from the last week or so:

1. Newt Gingrich gets into a heated argument with Megyn Kelly. He calls her out on her journalistic inadequacy. He is labeled a misogynist.

2. Christina Hoff Sommers is about to deliver a talk at Columbia University on victimhood and academic freedom. Posters of her talk are defaced and student organizer of her talk gets pretzels and cereal thrown at her by the opposition. Pretzel logic?

3. Professor Tony Esolen is protested against at Providence College for writing an article titled “Succumbed to the Totalitarian Diversity Cult.” The students who protested wrote a letter to the president of the college with main point of how such article “made them feel.”

Victims everywhere! Even from a purely psychological stand point, I am not sure how can one derive the meaning of life on being a perpetual victim. This is a pathological problem. It is also a multi-faceted problem: one that involves academia, politics, public square, anti-intellectualism. All of these have one thing in common: lack of freedom of speech. The order of things is subverted under the guise of empathy and diversity. Change the meaning of words, and a lie will become a truth.

It is a sad state of affairs, my friends. We should welcome ALL of the intellectual positions (be they sacred or profane). However, they have to stand on their own merit and power and validity. 

{Best of Enemies trailer}

Distractions Breed Bad Vibrations

A few days ago, I went to a concert of Brian Wilson - the main founder of The Beach Boys.  Wilson was joined by another band member, Al Jardine, as well as Blondie Chaplin (who toured with The Beach Boys on their album Holland), and the current band/orchestra that accompanies Wilson.  This was the 50th anniversary of the album Pet Sounds tour.

The concert was a mixture of emotions.  This wasn't the first time I saw Brian Wilson in concert, and so I had an idea of what to expect.  The band is tight, but Wilson disengaged, whether from the audience, his band, or even himself.  This time, the experience was even worse.  Wilson brought "bad vibrations" indeed with snarkiness, sarcasm, impatience, and childish introductions to the songs of Pet Sounds - what I consider to be one of the best albums ever composed and produced. He was like an impish child who is forced to eat his "Vege-tables" (read: to tour), referring to the concert as the "fundraiser," and telling the audience that he just wants to "get the hell outta here." 

It was, needless to say, disappointing.  Obviously, Wilson is in a bad place in his life, and most likely suffers from clinical depression.  My theory is that he never truly addressed his past (particularly the strange "therapy" of Eugene Landy), and we will really never know what happened after the incomplete production of SMiLE. 

Strangely enough, Wilson did not have any respect or reverence for the music he wrote.  Pet Sounds is a deeply spiritual album, what you might call an American musica sacra, and it will be forever part of the Great American Songbook.

As if taking cue from Wilson, the audience too failed to see the beauty of the notes.  I was distracted from the left, right, front, and behind with glowing orbs of distraction, i.e., smart phones.  People were either recording (the concert or themselves), taking flash pictures, texting, updating their Facebook statuses as well as obsessively hitting the "Like" button on pictures of someone's graduation or grandchildren at play.  But here is the most egregious act of them all: looking up the information on Pet Sounds album on Wikipedia!!!

As I looked around, I realized that most of these people are not living in the present moment whatsoever.  They have a patience of a two year old child, who needs to be constantly gratified, pacified, given attention.  We can forgive the child but an adult?  Hardly.

There is no doubt that is a collectively existential problem.  But why are people not seeing it as a problem?  If an unexamined life is not worth living, then all I see are a lot of worthless, meaningless lives.

It would appear that we have to break up this problem into small bi(y)tes.  Cut up those vegetables and meat for the impish children!  Before addressing the philosophical aspect of distraction (lack of spiritual and ethical discipline), we have to focus on the act itself.

If you are scrolling through the Facebook feed during the experience of concert,  you have to ask yourself why.  Are you afraid that you might miss something?  Are you afraid that someone might forget you unless you post a status update?  Why are you afraid that you might be forgotten?  Now, we're getting somewhere!  We have to tease out the perennial questions out of contemporary absurdities.

If you're looking up the information on Pet Sounds (on Wikipedia no less!) during the concert that is playing the album in its entirety, then you must ask yourself why are you at the concert to begin with?  Could it be that you are just not enjoying yourself at all, and you are only familiar with Good Vibrations, and that maybe your partner (who seem to be enjoying himself a lot!) dragged you to the concert, at which point, you may have a bigger problem than not knowing the music of The Beach Boys?

Thomas Merton, 1915-1968

Thomas Merton wrote, "Why do we spend our lives striving to be something we would never want to be, if we only knew what we wanted?  Why do we waste our time doing things which, if we only stopped to think about them, are just the opposite of what we were made for?"  
To be honest with you, I am not even sure whether we are ready for a question like this.  In order to ask it, we must first begin to question the meaninglessness and absurdity of our daily acts, and recognize that there is something "off" in the whole set up of our day.  (And if you do not experience this, then great!  Hopefully you won't be offended by my spiritual musings and you won't see it as a "micro-aggression").

We really have to ask why are we doing what we are doing.  Why do we have the need to pick up that phone (or as my husband calls it, the "porta-puter/pewter") when we are alone, or even in the company of others?  Of course, we are distracting ourselves.  But from what?  Only each individual can answer that for him or herself. 

Against Identity Politics

Edward Albee, 1928-2016

The great American playwright, Edward Albee died last Friday at the age of 88.  I was reading his obituary in The New York Times, and I was struck by the fact that Albee was gay and in a relationship with a sculptor, Jonathan Thomas from 1971 until Thomas' death in 2005.  All these years I've been reading and admiring Albee's work, and I had no clue he was gay.   Not that it would matter, one way or the other.

Then, another thing struck me even more - a quote from Albee himself.  Accepting an award in 2011, Albee stated: "A writer who happens to be gay or lesbian must be able to transcend self. I am not a gay writer. I am a writer who happens to be gay."  He continued: "Any definition which limits us is deplorable."

Of course, you can imagine and not be one bit surprised that he received backlash from gay community for saying that, presumable for not being "supportive," or whatever overly emotional word du jour was.  Who were the ones who backlashed?  It doesn't even matter because they are forgettable, and they are forgettable precisely because they are not true artists.

This quote by Albee and the backlash shows how much society has changed, and might I add for the worse.  It's called "identity politics," and great art and great thought suffers because of it.  Of course, one's sexual orientation (just as religion, or ethnicity, or nationality, etc) makes one unique in his or her view.  But the problem here is that one aspect of that identity is what makes great art.  So say mediocre "artists."  Albee's insistence that art is art (and there's either great or bad art) is what is missing from our current cultural consciousnessness.

What I truly detest about identity politics is the unapologetic and disturbing objectification of people.  The proponents of it have nobody to blame but themselves because, frankly, they are the only ones who are objectifying themselves, continuously reducing themselves to either a penis or a vagina, or as it is fashionable these days, to something in between (what would you call it? pegina? vagis?). 

Art has suffered because of lack of resolve, definition, and statement.  The only statement "identity politicians" are making is that of human reductionism where soul doesn't exist and metaphysical uniqueness of each individual (and thus his or her artistic output) has no bearing, or worse, is not even needed in order to produce art.  What is needed is a fantastical tale of pseudo-suffering.  This will suffice in being heard.  What?!  How is this possible?  Why are we accepting this?  Get over yourself, I say, and show me some real work, some real art, and then, perhaps, just perhaps, we can talk about your "identity."

Among many things, I am a Muslim from Bosnia.  But I would hate to be reduced to that.  A token Muslim.  Highly dehumanizing.  Yes, it's part of my identity, but I am much more than that.  And I refuse to categorize myself for the ease of those who are unwilling to understand the interiority of a human being.  I am not going to make myself simplistic so I can be deconstructed.  And this is exactly what identity warriors are doing to themselves and to others. 

The question to be asked is this: what makes great art?  When we read something, can we recognize what took precedence in the work?  Was it based on "identity politics" (in other words, complaining and marinating in some falsely perceived victimhood) or was it based on great human questions?  What are these questions?  Read the classics, you'll know.

Art is not about (often times, false) victimhood.  Art is about beauty and perennial questions, which will never cease because we are human beings with souls, and minds, and faces. 

Invasion of the Internet Zombies and Thought Snatchers

Although the show The Walking Dead has been in existence for quite some time now, I have only recently started watching it.  In case you were like me (highly unlikely!), the plot is fairly simple: a local police chief, Rick Grimes, wakes up from a coma only to find himself in the midst of a zombie apocalypse.  What ensues are interesting moral scenarios of what to do during such an event.

It's a very good show.  Granted, sometimes frustrating if you want a resolution already!  But it does present the viewer with interesting moral challenges.

Zombie trope and metaphor is usually linked to the reality that we live daily.  It can be directly related to government control, government causing epidemic, or zombie within us, people that are "awake" and those that aren't.  Quite simply, the "walking dead."

As I was watching the show, I could not help but make the comparison between the undead and the internet trolls.  The number of people, who make it their "job" and "purpose" every day to sit behind the computer and cause debate chaos on the internet.  These "keyboard warriors" are intellectual cowards, who do not know how to form an argument and very rarely stay on topic of the original article.

What's disconcerting is that they have been given a priority and a voice (which sounds more like the growling of the zombies than actual sentences), and that people who have something intelligent to say are usually dismissed.  In other words, eaten alive.

But what's more disconcerting is that the troll mentality has spilled over into the blogosphere and even worse, into the regular "print" publications.  Writers are no longer arguing ideas.  They call each other names and try to dismantle each other's ontological structure.

If internet trolls are zombies, then many writers (whether bloggers or regular columnists) have been bitten by the decaying and rotten teeth of the zombies.  The infection is spreading.  The question is can we find the cure before the infected ones either die or become the undead themselves?

It is not surprising that many excellent writers and good intellectuals, who actually create reasoned arguments are losing hope.  Just like the characters in The Walking Dead, they are tired of running away, finding food or ammunition, seeing the next journey as a possibility of a rescue or an end to the madness only to be completely disappointed and finding that an end was just a mirage.  We lose energy when we try to fight the "internet zombies."  How many times can you fire a gun until you run out of ammo?  How many times can you send an arrow into the mindless brain of a zombie until you run out of energy?  Some want to "opt out," which, on the show, is a euphemism for suicide. 

In the past, if someone wanted to comment on an article, they had to send a letter (or an email) to the editor.  Because of the act of sitting down and writing a letter, a person choosing to say something had to at least think before composing his or her thoughts.  Now, the democratization of opinion has annihilated a potential and actual intellectual debate.  It's easy to type something in your pyjamas, with smelly morning breath, from your mommy's basement, while you hide from the world and an actual encounter with a person. There are no consequences.

I am not sure how to go about this, but a face to face encounter has to emphasized now more than ever.  As a writer, who is trying to reach a bigger audience, I oscillate between quitting this blog (opting out) and keep going.  I can't say that I am hopeful, but at the same time, I don't want the zombies to eat me.

I guess I'm just going to have to get more ammo, more food, keep a cool head, and organize a group of real people in order to fight the invasion of the zombies and thought snatchers.

Bosnian Melancholy {Bosanska melankolija}

What is easier to speak: Bosnian or English?  First you have to define the word "easier."  English is good at defining and somehow making everything logical.  Bosnian is poetic and mysterious.  And so you are stopped immediately.  Stuck between philosophy and art. 

Is delving into the metaphysics of language easier than defining the language?  If you delve into the metaphysics of Bosnian language, you're not only entering into the maze of words, but of history and memory, both collective and individual.

And what happens when it's easier to speak English because the words in Bosnian have been lost, or what's more likely, they are laying dormant somewhere, in some old house, in some village, in some room, in some cellar, but the path toward it is so vague that you have no idea how to get to it?  Has the landscape changed?  Has the war ruined the mountains?  No, it has not.  But it has made ruins but even ruins have voices.  Particularly. 

Maybe if I go back to a time before the war, it'll be easier.  But it's not, you know it's not, you just pretend that it is.  Because there is always an anticipation of war. 

"Hey, look at me!" you exclaim.  There's me, that me that was very young and very childish, and I had to leave the childish things, and I am angry that they made me leave my childish things.  Who are you, you cowards, sitting on top of the hills, aiming your cowardly snipers at me?  Do you even care?  Do I care?  Is my anger so big that I will never forgive?

"Hey, look at me!" you exclaim.  So worn out, not a child anymore, but a being aware of evil. 

Yes, it's easier to speak English because you can't bleed all the time.  But what if I lived in Bosnia, I would have no choice but to speak and think in Bosnian.  So, there must be a way to speak Bosnian without bleeding, right? 

So, I ask you: what's easier? 

{Šta je lakše? Možda život nije lak ili lagan ili se ne može živjeti lako ili lahko. Živjeti izmedju jezika je živjeti izmedju različitih geografija, i pošto su geografije takodje metafizičke, onda naravno slijedi da je tvoje biće velika mapa različitih geografija. Pa se onda pitaš ko si i šta si. Zar ne bi bilo lakše da sam jedno i da nema nikakvih komplikacija i da biće, koje sam ja ne pita pitanja?

Ne, ustvari ne bi bilo lakše, jer ovo dijete je vidjelo zlo. A kada se vidi zlo, onda se moraju pitati pitanja o ljudskoj dobroti. Ne bi bilo lakše, jer to bi onda značilo da ovo dijete i ova žena i ovo biće je budala. A budala ne pita, ne razmišlja, ne uživa, nego samo ide u krug a misli da je krug put.}

“Translation”:

What is easier? Maybe life is not easier or easier or you can't live it easier or easier. To live in between two languages is to live in between different geographies, and since geographies are also metaphysical, of course it follows that your being is a big map of different geographies. And then you ask who am I and what am I? Wouldn't it be easier if I were only one thing and that there are no complications and that the being which I am asks no questions?

No, actually, it would not be easier, because this child has seen evil. And when you see evil, then you have to ask questions about the good. It wouldn't be easier, because that would mean that this child and this woman and this being is a fool. And she's not a fool, because a fool doesn't ask, doesn't think, doesn't enjoy. A fool runs in a circle thinking that a circle is a path.