Thoughts #18
This was originally supposed to be a thesis about the normal man, versus the media’s creation of one. Hours were spent filing through pages of old books now turned to pdf files. Nothing tangible for me to grab on to anymore. My argument was driven by bias but held none all the same. Its purpose was not to sway a person towards believing someone is honorable and altruist because of the propagandists that seep into our everyday informative outlets. Or that the news we see, read, and hear just in passing may not always be honest. My intention was to relay the foundations of a practice still utilized a full century later. With little to no improvements, just continuous progress towards the neglect of those who are the ones the speeches and parades cater to. The power of a question, and the strength of the accountability it carries behind the mark, was diminished by phrases of condescension. The “we’re just not ready for that”s and the whataboutisms that follow suit cloud the voting booths. And many would rather stay home than drive in the fog. The pathetic attempts to gain support keep falling flat, and the blame that gets thrown when failure reaps what the unworthy successors have sown decades ago slaps the front page of every newspaper that rots in the box, guarded by coins many of us don’t have enough to spare.
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Catchy quips against an individual, or for one, seem to hold more weight than the handwritten letters of concern the crowd gained enough courage to send out. The voices of the brave, the loudness of the worried, drowned out in a sea of finger pointing and minuscule wins that not a single person except those hungry for a flashy title care about. And to the much-loathed ignorant public, the millions of apathetic Americans that watched their favorite TV show, on that Tuesday night, when our screens burned red; their laissez-faire mentality towards the inner workings of their own homes, are now realizing the consequences of that very voluntary nescience. The ones who find it easy to overlook the public’s woes in lieu of their own personal endeavors, are the ones most impacted by the hubaloo shoved right into their concerned eyes. Propaganda works best on untouched grounds. As Edward Bernays states in his evaluation of modern propaganda in his own book, “…The answer is the same as…whether the newspaper makes the public opinion or whether public opinion makes the newspaper. There has to be fertile ground…for the idea to stand on.” (Propaganda, 1928). Murder trials that only reach the masses when a snag of abnormalcy hits the mind of someone of higher influence, and rape cases that try to hide in between the current verdicts everyone holds their breath to hear. The dramatic interest of constantly “bringing awareness” to deeply important causes, only come out when a camera can be propped up next to your two sons, or when the Black Lives Matter sweatshirts sales start to climb every February 1st. Just another game of catch to play as the suffering toils on, without a coupon expiration date in sight. The media holds a stake on this ceaseless carousel; they take their giant pens and spin the platform faster for each news cycle, watching us fall dizzy to the ground, unable and unwilling to stand back up.
We shake fists of rage at the power hungry, and we’re good at it. Too good at it. Our screams fall on deaf ears, and our actions are that of pitiful arguments over who’s the more intelligent and aware, and who’s just plain stupid. The fists we raise are high in the air, but somehow, they never meet the surface of a neighbor’s door, or anyone’s for that matter. Not a single one of these warriors have thought that in order for true change to occur, they must take to the world, not relentlessly seek it through painless posts on the internet. The thumbs that feverishly type away to prove to others that they are on the “right side” of history, forget that history’s toes at least met the steps of someone’s front porch. It is a thankless job; I’ll attest to this wholeheartedly. But necessary. The impressionable are stumbling into the open arms of well-versed propagandists and choosing to believe what is being told to them by so-called “professionals” and “analysts”. When in actuality, the truth is received best by the basic human connection. No one comes to your book club without their own self-involved opinions, but your distrust encourages conversation, and your doubts form questions, and those marks I spoke of before, have answers only you have the authority to find, and to believe. Communities are best served together, and the long-lasting idea that there are only two political identities falls ill to the individuality of humankind. And I may be an optimist. The polarization that has procured for generations is blatant and crass. It cuts us apart, and our weaknesses bleed across our state and national borders, brandishing an incredibly depressing representation of immature adolescence. To acknowledge our youth in the ways of our world, is to understand that although we set a prototype for the future, that very futurity has now come back around, and we are expected to change once again. And yet, just as any young adult, procrastination and denial of any need to modify the structure of our country, remains unopposed despite the calls (ironically from inside the house) to act upon amending our countless, cruel mistakes. My hope does not come from a place of naivety, but out of a space left open for my own criticisms. I’ve discovered a certain level of importance in how transformation comes to be, and how its seemingly immovable force curates an air of frustration that only washes away when acceptance is embraced in its entirety. The gravity of this revelation has aided me in reigniting a flame that I had assumed was no longer in existence. I add to it in strife, with little to no payout, but the overall outcome is what I’m most sought after. And I write this to implore you do to the same.
Change is quite literally inevitable. We cannot go back, for there is nothing left for us to gain in doing so. And trying to grab at a future without building a foundation first would leave us scrambling and even more susceptible to the preying grins of vigilant oligarchs. And fortifying takes time, not inherently a long time, but just time in general. Of which, we are already seeing the effects of consistent effort. Creating groups in the small amounts of free time we have, to talk, discuss, to hold discourse in person, and discover the leaders we want to stand by, rather than the ones we’re told we should. This leader in the evolution of our current governance should not be considered a savior, but a spokesperson for the American peoples’ dreams. They will not be our hero, but our partner. They will find the lives behind the hands that uphold this country more worthy if not the total value of running for an office of higher standing. The self-proclaimed “leaders” we are tired of seeing today, boast of their intellect with pompous ass attitudes, all while our kids struggle in school with the little to no money our own government provides. The “vote for me because I’m smarter than this person” is a miserable excuse for a captivating campaign, and they wonder why they have to rely on money to win their elections. Take the foolishness of the establishment politicians and find inspiration to motivate people, enlighten the public, and never discourage or belittle the uninformed. Form a path towards charisma, vibrant personalities, and instead of childlike tantrums when things don’t go according to plan, focus on the youthful feeling of growth, head steady on your shoulders. And yes, the battles, every single one of them, will be draining, with unappreciation lingering about, but to try, is the only way we’ll ever make it out of this. We’re loud with our voices, but we can be deafening with our actions.
