Why, on Earth
To be trapped seasick nauseous and hungry in a small prison cell-like yet expensive room aboard the m/v Kennicott in the North Pacific Ocean, incomunicado from friends and family and with no doctors obviously on board (a sign outside the purser’s office reads to the effect of “medical professionals please volunteer during an emergency”), enclosed with physical and emotional pain, and peep on the horizon outside the little circle window the snow white ridges of the Fairweather Range rising above gentle crests of wake and against clear celestial blue sky is just about worth the trouble.
It is better in some ways than living a cubicle life in D.C. Most people I know who do that work for the military industrial complex or richest families’ non profits or policy initiatives. (If you’re not sure how that could happen without it being obvious (I consider lobbying to be obvious), look up how the Cleveland Clinic, Mott Foundation, and so forth buy and develop property–the IMF similarly hides the influence of its highest nation funders, the nations being analogous to the wealthy families–or, alternatively, campaign finance reformists’ complaints. But these are only the beginning; private nonprofit hatcheries are doubtfully nonprofit, healthcare sharing ministries more obviously stretch the lines of the term nonprofit, and so forth. And these are just the nonprofits with lobbying interests off the top of my head.) Some do it thinking that one day they could become one of those richest families; others are only vaguely aware of the rich, instead jadedly trudging through the ways in which their work benefits “corporations,” “the economy,” or “special interests,” as if these were anything but owned or mostly controlled by the wealthiest families.
On the other hand, to critique us leftists, I think we oversimplify the semantical variety of the word “complex” in “military industrial complex.” The obvious sense most people connote is “1. a whole composed of interconnected or interwoven parts” or, “2. a building or group of buildings used for a single purpose” (ahdictionary.com). Leftists probably mean something closer to its third definition in the same dictionary, “in psychoanalysis, a group of related, often repressed ideas and impulses that compel characteristic or habitual patterns of thought, feelings, and behavior,” the repressed ideas and impulses related to insecurity and greed, the behavior being militarized violence.
Furthermore, we might interpret the adjectival “complex.” For the people who partake in it, though if I am to put on my judgment hat for a moment I would say are at least somewhat yet from their very foundation cowardly, like sustaining the Leaning Tower of Piza is a foundation that is mostly right, probably grew up wanting to help people or “do good.” Not only did they grow up that way but they strove years, perhaps decades, in order to achieve circumstances whence they could do just that. I emphasize “complex” because I think the answer to the question of how good are U.S. military operations, whether they are, from a global perspective—i.e. when considering the rights of each person—morally justified, even necessary, is complex. Unless you think you wouldn’t defend yourself with a gun from a bear should the circumstances arise (and maybe, if you are an extraordinary case of pacifism or Jainism, you would hope to have a strong enough will not to; I’m not saying you necessarily would or wouldn’t.) Morality certainly isn’t often explicitly addressed by the lawmakers who could, daily, put an end to any of these military operations.
Energy independence and security are important. I suspect, as do many conspiratorial leftists, that large swathes of military and intelligence operations orient towards energy independence, resource independence, economic security, or analogous goals not obviously related to physical security, freedom from violence, or prevention of human rights violations—the exceptions to pacifism that many leftists (perhaps not the most morally justified among us but that is a song for another time) might accept if push came to shove. I think more leftists need to recognize that even if their suspicions are true, and even if the relevant official departments are therefore duplicitous, that does not itself entail the moral impropriety of the military actions and events they order, perhaps just the mode of the orders themselves (i.e., a dishonest mode). We must wonder whether a given conflict should serve resource independence or economic security so much that it should be worth a few thousand American lives—perhaps some of our best few thousand lives at that, when you consider the extent of sacrifice they are willing to offer for the security of their compatriots.
Even so, there are three major misgivings of the D.C. cubicle life. One is that a large portion of those partaking sense that there is something wrong with what they are doing—perhaps they feel locked or coerced into a corporate like ladder or office atmosphere they never wanted, continuing by inertia or comfort rather than motivation or adherence to their values; perhaps they *do* suspect that they are serving the richest families more than they are themselves and their compatriots (the more I experience, I become increasingly Rawlsian to the extent that I believe perhaps the best way to serve the worst off is leveraging greed but we are far from that); perhaps they recognize their cowardice or uncreativeness with respect to leaving the zeitgeist or hegemony in order to create unique utility for their country or community; more vaguely, and I am confident this is the case whatever else is going on, they find their existence meaningless or without tether to their values or purpose. Two is that the D.C. cubicle life shrouds one in an information bubble that blinds him to the experiences of most Americans and in fact most people—though from the Kennicott and most parts of Alaska frankly, one can see just how far from central are the experiences of people to the world and universe, moreover, how unimportant are most concerns indoctrinated into us. You may think you’ve escaped that pernicious phenomenon or be tired of the refrain but, as someone who was once similarly confident, I can assure you you haven’t. The matrix is too powerful, audiovisual media too entrancing; alternatively, like a magician’s tricks, some of the effects are simply unavoidable even if you understand the mechanisms. I’ll leave the third misgiving somewhat nebulous but I bet it has to do with lifestyle and “work/life balance.” Perhaps this third one is why I think to refer to what’s going on in and around the beltway as the D.C. cubicle life. It lacks variety, connection to nature and community, and balance—don’t get me wrong, I empathize with those who really do like to work all the time; it took me a while to admit that in our increasingly antiwork (not to judge) culture that looks down on such a person as overly competitive or missing something. That notwithstanding, the lifestyle seems childish or fratty outside the workplace and breeds a false sense of community within its walls.
At its best, I’m not sure there could be much better than to live the D.C. cubicle life. The D.C. cubicle woman, man, trans icon, etc., reads, writes, and calculates—often all in the same day—for a better world, a more efficient society, not to make a phone that spies on you’s screen imperceptibly more colorful or swipe better (probably so that you realize or care less how much it is spying on you). Perhaps more millennial than I would like to admit, I have had too many jobs that did not involve calculating whatsoever for me to underestimate what a luxury it is for your job to involve math if only a little. The problem, moreover, is that thousands if not millions in the beltway are content to put the blinders on by assuming that that efficiency is efficient for good—if not content, not committed enough to upset even slightly the order. (That is perhaps the hardest thing to train into an American adult: efficiency is vacant of value. Saying X is efficient is like saying X is “good at.” Good at what, pray-tell?)
What one learns swaying with the swells of cold dark ocean aboard the Kennicott is that a few years of sickness, hunger, confusion, marring discomfort, and genuine proximity to his own dying, is, if only barely, worth it if it means finding another way, a perspective outside the matrix whereby one might fight for or embody true love, justice, beauty, peace, and mutual appreciation from a position of relative clarity about what the good life is not. A city slicker’s incomprehension at that possibility serves only as further justification for believing in the problem and its solution.
Epilogue:
Robert Kennicott (1835-1866) was a zoologist and explorer. He was hired by the Western Union for the Western Union Telegraph Expedition, the purpose of which was to prospect a viable route to connect the U.S. to a trans-Siberian cable over the Bering Strait and through Alaska. The expedition began in the Yukon River in 1865 and was exhausting. Stress and hardship contributed to Robert Kennicott’s young death near Nulato the following year.
The telegraph line was never completed. However, the expedition yielded the first map of the 2,000 mile long Yukon River and the trip’s contributions to America’s understanding of Alaska’s resources helped in the U.S.’s negotiations for purchasing Alaska from Russia in 1867.
*copped from a display inside the M/V Kennicott, which did not cite its sources.
Addendum:
I realize that that essay is all over the place. The thoughts are disorganized. Not my favorite way to publish an essay; perhaps I will edit it later but I think I am on to something difficult to describe. Difficult because it comes almost entirely from my experience; I have no books or manuscripts to reference. (In retrospect, the hours and hours I have spent writing research papers seem comparatively easy. Not totally sure what you mean? Just add a reference! See, this guy thought it, too! No need, or even permission, to go out on a limb by trying to say something new.)
The difficulty arises around the following phenomenon. Up until this point in my adult life, I have traveled a lot. Not just a weekend in Cabo or Thailand—that is probably the smart way to do it. Nay, I have worked or studied in 4 countries and 5+ states across the U.S. (If you have traveled more, dope, that’s not my point.) Whenever I do this, I tend to enjoy where I’m living and working. Due to the nature of my work, it is not usually in a destination location. This isn’t Paris, Santa Monica, Tokyo or Manhattan. People invariably ask me how it could be that I should be enjoying myself, either explicitly asking how I could like the location or implying that I should not be enjoying the location. I believe, when looking at the mosaic of essay above and trying to interpret what I mean, that it is my first approach at expressing how I’ve been able to enjoy myself in these various disparate and often inhospitable places (100+ F with no air conditioning in near the Equator; -40F and snowing in the Arctic Circle; 10+ (I actually counted for a few weeks) nightly gunshots in inner Cleveland, etc.)
The conclusion I am coming to is threefold.
First of all, I like adventure, for better or worse. I often downplay the danger as a coping mechanism and partially because I am not in the military, a war journalist, nor poor, so I cannot really complain. The fact is that I have occasionally been risking my life, even if less than other folks do.
Second and more importantly, working in this variety of places has shown me, as anyone would be apt to notice in my shoes, that most places and people have quite a lot to offer. Intelligence and virtuosity are not so concentrated nor rare as urbanites would sell you into believing. People all over the world make good food, music, government, etc. Some cultures are better than others at one or the other thing but most tend to be pretty good at most things. What someone in a 3,000 person town might lack in vocabulary or open mindedness, he might make up for in peace, tranquility, or a sort of independent handiness. That is not always true but tends to be in general. It is insulting but, worse, delusional to think otherwise.
Finally, urbanites are caught in some kind of matrix or rut. They cannot even imagine the possibility that something besides their rushed, anxious lives of commodifying everything should be worthwhile. They justify decisions they disagree with so often, especially their overblown careers, my guess is by telling themselves that there is no alternative, that they either cannot imagine an alternative lifestyle or place, or are so afraid of the possibility that their pains not be justified that their defense mechanism is to reject the possibility and further enshrine themselves in the inner citadels of their worldview. I do not mean to be acrid; my hope is that you snap out of it. Don’t like move cities or anything but also just stop sacrificing so much—life is short! Your why nots are built on a house of cards. And don’t be so quick to judge small town folk. Open your mind.
On the other hand, people in these remote areas also incredulously ask me what I am doing there. How could I not be in New York City? Imagine all of the concerts! The restaurants, the healthcare and schools! My retorts would really be the same. The city is not all it is cracked up to be. That wisdom has made it into songs and movies by people from those places. Past a baseline you probably have if you’re reading this, money and power do not improve your life. Quickly diminishing returns. Fancy careers are oppressive. The restaurants load you with cheap oil, flour, and sugar; with a little time, you can make better food on your own and you can occasionally find that time outside city limits. Glitzy shows by musicians and fine artists you do not know are parasocial. In summary, not all that glitters is gold. What I miss most of the city whenever I leave it is the diversity of origin and thought. Other than that, you’re not missing anything worthwhile. “The city” is a sham, a show; don’t be drawn to its lights like bugs to a lamp.
Food for thought, perhaps to be addressed in a future post: which is better, having the world’s best healthcare while living stacked on top of each other like monkeys in a barrel in an overpopulated area or having decent healthcare in the ineffable beauty of the mountains? If the answer is still “living in an overpopulated area,” then by all means. The pros could outweigh the cons. This latter question came to me because a relatively well off couple was lamenting that they should have to fly from Alaska to Europe for a particular medical treatment, as it was the only continent in the world where the treatment is available. Perhaps, if the treatment to what ails you is only available in one place on Earth, sure, gamble on making the trek, but there is a serious question of whether it’d be better to die in peace around what and whom you love rather than in a final lurch to grab, relatively, a few extra seconds. Similarly, are we not to some extent unduly burdening ourselves if our reasoning for living or working in a place is marginally better healthcare?