Playwright and screenwriter, Robert Ardrey, once wrote, “We are known among the stars by our poems, not our corpses.”
Which is to say, our acts of benevolence, kindness, love and generosity transcend our acts of terror, barbarity, murder, and mayhem.
The unimaginable carnage, cowardly and beyond any possible reason, carried out Sunday by Devin Kelley, takes us to our knees. We collapse under the weight of such a beastly crime. How does anyone human carry out such an inhuman atrocity?
Details are murky. The answers we need and want, and what will finally be revealed, if any at all, will not be sufficient. Whatever the motive or mental defect may have been, all we will be left with is that the depths of our individual capacity for evil and harm know no limits.
Monstrous crimes are not new. But what seems to be dramatically different these days is the frequency of them, so that they are becoming not an aberration but a common reality.
There is without question a poisonous, lethal anger in society today. Linked to that is simply cold indifference to humanity. The temptation today is to just not care about one another. We are being encouraged to grow weary of our differences, to refuse compromise, to ignore any impulse to relate to others not like us. The result is that many have become detached, frozen in some moral inertia, unwilling and even unable to be compassionate, understanding, or empathetic.
There is a movement in our country, I can’t say it is a conservative movement because that does a disservice to real conservatives. But a radical, pernicious movement nonetheless, of leaders, influencers, people of means and power, who have given authority to the idea that I am here and you are out there and let’s keep it that way. These so-called leaders are giving us permission to hate, to be cruel, to rage, to dominate, and to kill. And in some instances, they encourage this by their own actions.
When, with your words, or your politics, with your ideas, or your religion, you crush the humanity out of people, you’re left with people with no humanity.
We are getting there. And yet, there is nothing American about this.
I have been watching the PBS documentary series on New York. The history of the state and of New York City is a fascinating journey of discovery, genius, and vision. Early in its development, New York City was the nation’s capital. But the leaders at that time did not want the city to be about politics. They wanted it to be about commerce, culture, and opportunity. So the capital was moved to the swampland of what later became Washington, D.C. Seems Congress has reverted to its original landscape.
The philosophy of New York City was to be the greatest city in the world. That has not changed. Then and now, it is a city open to all. Immigrants from across the world flocked to New York City to start a new life. Foreigners, people from odd cultures, the classes of poor and uneducated, aliens and outlanders unable to speak English went there and built a life. Some built a fortune.
America was seen in that bold, energetic, innovative city as a nation of welcome to everyone. New York was a massive port city of international trade. The mix of so many different people caused problems early on. There were resentments, violent scuffles, and abuses. But there were those who saw the mix as wonderful, raw, something new and indispensable to America’s future.
Walt Whitman was one who saw this. His “Leaves of Grass,” a monumental book of soulful poetry, all about Brooklyn and New York City, called people together. He celebrated the vast differences in the City and believed they made us a unique nation.
His poetry guided Americans toward a vision of unity and acceptance. “I am large,” he wrote. “I am multitudes.” He loved the mix. He revered all people. His humility and humanity called us to a larger social perception. He asked us to work through differences and cherish people. “Poetry, beauty, romance, love,” he wrote, “these are what we stay alive for.”
That is our history and our legacy. Not isolationism. Not ignorance and bigotry. Not murder and mayhem. Not cruelty and cowardice. But openness to extraordinary ideas, to a bold vision of ourselves, to the risks and the rewards of welcome and cooperation.
Yes, New York City had and still has its scoundrels, its crooks, and criminals, its blowhards and bullies. But it gave and it gives the world a sense of our true American spirit, one that says we’re all capable of something, perhaps even something extraordinary, if only we work hard, take risks, cooperate, and believe in one another.
If somehow we can break this spell of outrageous selfishness, moral bankruptcy, cruelty, and hate, then perhaps we can be known again among the stars, and across the world, for our poems and not our corpses.
© 2017 Timothy Moody
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