To
be or not to be an idiot
The public exhibition
of ignorance is scary
By H. Utanazad
The
Iranian
9/11
might have changed a lot of things, but I
was still as much of an idiot on the 12th
as I was on the 10th. Much has happened since.
There have been wars, rumors of wars and of
course, the most massive outpouring of activism
the world over on February 15th of this year.
Yet, I am still the same idiot today as in
the years past.
Is it not terribly obnoxious how
a life in exile works? The three dreaded D's
of despair, disillusion and despondency overshadow
one's desire for connection, human interaction
and optimism. But come to think of it, all
is not gloom in exile. At least, one has come
to learn a language or two.
There is something peculiarly odd
about learning a foreign language don't you
think? I am sure we all remember that annoying
feeling that comes with having to look up,
yet again for what may seem like the zillionth
time, the meaning of an unfamiliar word, only
to be confronted by the thousand and one different
ways in which it is being used everywhere.
It is almost always as if only after
one has looked up a word that one would come
to notice how it is plastered on the billboards,
on the buses, in the subways, in the media
as well as employed in the daily conversations
of the assorted number of one's colleagues,
acquaintances, friends or relatives. How could
one have missed something so omnipresent?
What does that say about one's ability to
be observant? Learning a new language, one
may conclude, inevitably demands of one to
be more introspective.
Let's pause a minute on the additional
question of the meaning of a given word. There
is usually a slight problem associated with
meanings - only if one continues this introspection.
It is not a problem to be exact, only an opportunity.
Words are not always what they appear to be.
Words, if understood in their root
constitution, open a small window into an
absolutely enchanting dimension of being so
easily overlooked. I don't know about you,
but I never learned to decipher words when
studying Farsi. We just do not do many exercises
in etymologies the way some students of other
languages do - we simply have no experience.
Take this same multi-syllabic word
as an example. Experience is a funny word
when you think about it. It is everywhere
and everyone has it and those who don't have
it always want it. On the surface, this "from-around-being"
appears to be a fundamental cornerstone of
our culture and our political identity.
Our theocracy is the rule of the
fagih, the proverbial mujtahed - the depository
of ijtehad or simply one who has done hard
work. But a lot of people, one may wonder,
work hard in their lives and yet no one -
no one reasonable at least - expects them
to get to run our lives automatically and
for perpetuity.
We don't simply cower and relinquish
all independent thought, all our aspirations,
desires, hopes, dreams and wants the moment
we encounter someone who has worked hard.
Sure, we are willing to listen to their counsel,
and to re-evaluate our thinking. But that's
about it. A hard worker doesn't automatically
get to decide the shape of our lives.
It is not that simple, is it? Politics,
religion, history, culture, these are complicated
subjects that don't easily avail themselves
to being deciphered. Years of labor is needed
to qualify one to even begin to pass judgment
on things so directly affecting the contours
of one's life. Making a fetish of experience
seems to lie, in a fundamental sort of a way,
at the center of our cult-ure.
Have you noticed how there are hardly
ever people with a simple first or a last
name in dinner parties? Lots and lots of titles
roam around. Experience, it seems, once acquired
and worn as a badge of honor, automatically
qualifies one for monologues and rules out
the possibility of having a genuine con-ver-sation:
that collective, tormenting, painful act of
turning, or bending oneself in/towards a different
direction.
Isn't this the ability most essential
in examining a position, proposition or belief?
To look at things from a different perspective
presupposes the propensity to hesitate, to
doubt, to pose questions; a readiness to be
tentative in embracing an easy answer, and
a willingness to be wrong, to start from scratch,
to be frustrated, and yes to experiment, and
ultimately a desire to work collectively when
seeking solutions to the problems one confronts.
What seems to lie at the center of
this enchanting creative process is precisely
the qualities that don't bode well for a spiritual
disposition that simply venerates and defers
to the experts, the prophets, the imams and
to the kings. To hesitate is to exhibit one's
ignorance - to reveal to the public what a
"fraud" one really is. This is tantamount
to being caught with one's hand in the cookie
jar; to admit and to be perceived as the dreaded
none-expert; as the one lacking experience.
This public exhibition of ignorance
is scary, wouldn't you think? This embarrassing
moment got us the low grades in schools and
made "cheaters" of a lot of us.
As adults, it is wreaking havoc on our existence.
We are fundamentally scared and all the chest
beatings and aggressions (matalak) and all
the violence and the verbal jousts, (rajaz
khooni) will not mask this fear.
But is fear not, one may wonder,
rather healthy? Should it not be embraced?
Does it not lie literally at the heart of
the much venerated ex-per-i-ence? Is this
not the primary impetus for - the motivation,
that which propels/animates - one's moves
in the right direction?
Isn't what lies at the center of
the constitution of ex-PER-i-ence, this literal
"from-around-being", in reality
a healthy fear --'the one that manifests transparently
in the French puer, or in the per
of the English peril -- the fear of
loss, the fear of calamity and the fear one
ultimately overcomes the moment one has taken
a chance to learn "by trying."
And when it comes to learning by
trying, no one has done better than the Greeks.
Sure there have been some wise Persians and
the one in particular whose advice was ignored
oh all those many centuries ago. There is
still a family of his around somewhere, yet
they too are lost for they have forgotten.
I digress though.
Thus we are left with the example
of those pesky Athenians - you know the ones
who expected their citizens to be involved
in all decisions that affected their community.
They closely listened to all foreign envoys
and worked out their attitudes. They discussed,
debated and voted, often acrimoniously, and
loudly, and yes occasionally unwisely and
unjustly, on all matters of war and peace.
As for the question of domestic administration,
their system was one in which every citizen
was expected to and got to serve in various
capacities, chosen through a process that
has come to be known as sortition, a sort
of selection by lot. This magnificent mode
of experimentation, this readiness to learn
by doing, has given humanity one of the most
vibrant epochs of its history.
They had a name - those Greeks –
for the occasional one who refused to get
involved: they called him the idiotes,
the private person, the one who cared not
for the affairs of the community, or for politics.
I have had enough, I tell myself today, of
being an idiot.
