Stupid Guns

Newtown, CT, is about twenty-five miles from here, less as the crow flies. Like many other people near and far, I have been in a state of mourning these past weeks—not a voluntary, consciously assumed state of mourning, but an ongoing troubling, even choking, of the soul—anguish, I guess it is. Any rational thoughts I've been able to call up have centered on this tragedy being another example of how we so often do not think metaphorically and then suffer the consequences of that failure.

A New York Times editorial¹ came closest to describing my feelings coherently. The title was “It's the Guns,” to which I immediately wanted to add the word “Stupid!”--not to be insulting but to try to shake up some consciousness of our willful ignorance and our rationalizations on the issue of guns. The editorial was reviewing the gun-defenders' retreat into abstractions after the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School. The unnamed editor noted that this mental retreat has become common among politicians, even those who do not openly support free access by individuals to guns:

“Mr. Obama played into that argument on Wednesday, talking about the 'culture that all too

often glorifies guns and violence' and saying that any actions should begin 'inside the home and

inside our hearts.' It is tempting to blame abstractions, and give in to fatalism, knowing that

America is a land of hundreds of millions of guns and of a rabid, well-financed lobby that

shrouds its unreason in appeals to individual liberty and freedom from government.”

Abstract ideas, on their own, can be viciously dangerous. The Crusades would serve as a handy example. Or, more locally, a father might say to his daughter, “I love you so much that I will not let you out of the house, because I do not want you to be harmed.” The father speaks and acts through the abstract idea of love, but in the process he is causing suffering in a very real young woman.

Abstract ideas, even the best of them, have to be anchored in reality to be helpful rather than harmful—even as metaphors pair abstract ideas with concrete images. The gun advocates who defend such wonderful abstract ideas as liberty and self-defense but also refuse to suffer (in deed, not just in words) with the children and adults who suffered and died at Sandy Hook--in other words have com-passion² for them--cannot in terms of metaphorical thought be justified or right in their ideas. What happens to real people or animals or other forms of life when they are put at the mercy of abstract ideas must be taken as a counterweight at least as strong as the ideas themselves. As George Orwell says in his still very relevant 1946 essay “Politics and the English Language,” “When you think of a concrete object, you think wordlessly, and then, if you want to describe the thing you have been visualizing you probably hunt about until you find the exact words that seem to fit it. When you think of something abstract you are more inclined to use words from the start, and unless you make a conscious effort to prevent it, the existing dialect will come rushing in and do the job for you . . . .” In other words, concrete objects from the real world force you to think and feel for yourself and relate to the real world; abstract ideas impose certain pre-digested thoughts and feelings on you, allowing you to withdraw from the real world.³

None of us, not even the Newtown parents apparently, were allowed to see the mangled bodies of the children who were shot with up to eleven flesh-destroying bullets each. And yet that (in metaphorical thinking) is the image that must balance out calls for guns available to all to protect the abstract notion of liberty. Or perhaps you would prefer the image of a U.S. Congresswoman who can no longer speak or move easily. There are so many images to choose from! A New York Times article has recently exposed how many variations on the image of a gun we throw around in everyday speech without even thinking about the real-world implications of the imagery: “a gun to your head,” “take aim,” “under fire,” etc.⁴ What if we actually paused to think about the imagery we are throwing around so casually? Orwell says: “The sole aim of a metaphor is to call up a visual image. . . . [when] the writer is not seeing a mental image of the objects he is naming . . . he is not really thinking.” We are not being responsible in our language, and therefore we are abetting the powers that advocate common, casual availability of guns. Orwell, again: “In our time, political speech and writing are largely the defense of the indefensible. . . . Such [stale, abstract] phraseology is needed if one wants to name things without calling up pictures of them,” pictures that might actually stir our compassion or moral outrage. “Political language . . . is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable . . . .”⁵

My own preference is that the fates of real beings should weigh more than abstract ideas. If, in the process of promoting or defending an abstract idea you are causing harm to real, living beings (against their will⁶), then your abstract ideas are illegitimate and need rethinking. That's metaphorical thinking. If we, as a society, cannot handle the brutality of the image or cannot see the reality of the image, then we should think very hard about the abstract idea associated with it.⁷ As far as I can see, only metaphorical thinking that pairs real, living beings with abstract ideas can correct the kind of rationalizing abstractions that threaten to turn us into a death-seeking society. Or are we there, already?

1Editor, “It's the Guns,” New York Times online, 19 December 2012.

2The word “compassion” derives from Latin words that mean literally “to suffer with.”

3Neuroscience has confirmed that we respond neurologically to concrete images in our imaginations in the same way we respond to those actual things in the real world. In other words, we become personally involved with images; we interact with them internally through our emotions and our thoughts. This is not true of abstract ideas. See, for instance, Annie Murphy Paul, “Your Brain on Fiction,” New York Times online, 17 March 2012.

4Peter Baker, “In Gun Debate, Even Language Can Be Loaded,” New York Times online, 15 January 2013.

5More from Orwell's essay: “As soon as certain topics are raised, the concrete melts into the abstract and no one seems to be able to think of turns of speech that are not hackneyed.” The result is a failure to think, to respond the the immediate situation; we are in thrall to abstract ideas. Again, political language for Orwell is abstract, formulaic language—language you can use without having to think, language that lacks relevant imagery, non-metaphorical language. “Politics and the English Language” is widely available on the web.

6A person who voluntarily joins an army may well choose to suffer and even die for abstract ideas—that's not at issue here. The children and adults who died at Sandy Hook Elementary School did not choose to die for the liberty or self-defense of others or even of themselves.

7More from Orwell's essay: “As soon as certain topics are raised, the concrete melts into the abstract and no one seems to be able to think of turns of speech that are not hackneyed.” The result is a failure to think, to respond the the immediate situation; we are in thrall to abstract ideas. Again, political language for Orwell is abstract, formulaic language—language you can use without having to think, language that lacks relevant imagery, non-metaphorical language.

Christmas Gift

On Christmas morning, I received a “gift” of sorts that completed my five-year quest to give myself enough physical, economic, and psychological stability that I could devote myself primarily to writing. So, I want to make a personal statement here, as premise to my future writing in this blog.

I often feel compelled to write, and I am by far happiest when I am actively thinking and writing. I have a sense of metaphor as a way of being that I want to develop in this blog. I feel that this is what I'm here to do at this point in my life. To some extent, then, this blog is a self-indulgence—a development of my own ideas. But that's why I'm writing a blog and not scholarly articles. A blog allows for freer, more creative thinking, and the audience is more voluntary and not even necessary. I think actually, what I would most like would be to write this blog for an imaginary audience. Writing only for myself is not satisfying for some reason (I guess I need some reality check), but I really do not want to write to convince others of anything—I want to write because this is how I think most clearly, in writing.

When I have stopped writing for periods of time (as in the past year in which I did not add a post to this blog), it is because I have been troubled that some others have been interpreting my writings as having a particular political agenda. I do not intend my writings to have an agenda other than facilitating my own thinking. I get joy from writing at times, and almost always I get satisfaction from developing my ideas. Certainly my thoughts arise in part from personal experience, but also from much reading and thinking. I like to see how my personal experiences fit into larger philosophical and/or psychological contexts. I have certainly had unfortunate or unhappy experiences in my life, as everyone does. But I feel now that I have brought myself to a good place and that I am ready now to do what I have always wanted to do in this life—write, for myself. I carry forward no grudges or regrets; if I did, I would not be able to explore my deepest thoughts.

I have learned to take experiences other than what goes on in my own head pretty much impersonally—and I'm even careful about evaluating what goes on in my own head. As Jung said, some dreams are from the personal unconscious and don't give us much of value in the long run; other dreams are from the collective unconscious and can indeed give us much of value, with some thought and work. I think the same distinction can be made about thoughts and feelings. As for external experiences, what happens to me socially is just not that important to me anymore. I have stepped back from my career for that reason; I no longer feel competitive. I no longer measure myself against others, except in some occasions that I try hard to avoid.

I am an older person; I've done my duty to society and now feel I have the right to “drop out.” (The “gift” I received on Christmas morning was my first Social Security deposit. The feeling that came along with it was something like, “Thank you for your previous contributions to our society. Now do what you want to do with the rest of your life!” And that's exactly what I intend to do with this financial support.) My experiences have provided fertile ground for thought, and I want to develop some of those thoughts here. I'm much more of a mystic, a contemplator than a social person. I am also a Jungian, in his sense of the main goal of the latter years of life being individuation.

I now have the means and the grounds to write. I will do so. I do not do so to criticize but to reflect. Seeking metaphor is like seeking internal unity—my ultimate goal.