In the book I am currently listening to, Doris Kearns
Goodwin’s The Bully Pulpit, Goodwin mentions
that Teddy Roosevelt had been a member of Harvard’s exalted and monumentally
exclusive “Porcellian Club.”
My (cursory) research unearthed two tidbits. One – that the “Porcellian Club” is believed
to have been established in 1791, meaning that a mere fifteen years after the
“Declaration of Independence” proclaimed that all men were created equal, students
at Harvard established an organization proclaiming that by the immutable
standards of the “Porcellian Club” they in fact actually weren’t.
My second cursorily unearthed tidbit reveals that one of the
greatest presidents of all time – Franklin Delano Roosevelt – once confided to
a friend that having not been accepted into the “Porcellian Club” was “the
greatest disappointment of my life.” Making
that rejection, in F.D.R’s mind at least, to have been more devastating than
contracting polio.
To me, this is sad.
Really, really sad.
As well as quite stupid.
But I get it. It
hurts to hear “Not you.” (Even if you
wind up with the “Consolation Prize” of being president.) By that is simply the way it is.
By its definition and nature, the institution of “In”
demands the ex-titution of “Out.” You cannot
have one without the other. And to many
people, apparently including the man who ended the Depression and won World War
II, being found unworthy of acceptance into a social club named after a pig,
really matters.
Of course, this stuff does not upset me. Because I am a superior
kind of person. (Please know that I am
currently rolling my eyes. At least as
best as I can.)
I was once asked to pledge a hard-to-get-into high school
fraternity. Not because they liked me;
my brother had been a member, making me
an automatic “legacy.” I pledged the
fraternity for a while. But then I quit.
I had concluded that it was not worth suffering the
humiliating degradations of the pledging process in order to ultimately get in. I know it feels good to get in, and I do not
deny the perks and potential pleasures of being
in.
It appeared to me, however, that the primary reason my
co-pledgees wanted to be in was not because
being “In” was particularly wonderful, but because it allowed them to escape
the unwanted ignominy of being “Out.”
I have never been comfortable with the idea of distinctions
based on status, class or rank. If I
die… Freudian Slip…when I die, what I
want most for people to say about me is,
“He treated everybody the same.”
No delineating categorizations. No “Us” and “Them.” For me, the ideal is the “Universal Us.”
Think about this for a second.
If you are “In”, it is only because some earlier “In’s” invited you in, thus placing you entirely
at the mercy, whim and potential arbitrariness of those “In’s.”
What if something you say or do alters the perception of
those “In’s” towards you, and now, no longer wanting you in, they summarily, instead, boot your ass out?
If your security as an “In” is contingent on other people’s
uncertain standards of personal acceptance, in the final analysis, how “In”
actually are you?
Then there is the issue of the “Outs.” What is the “Out’s’” reaction to your being “In”? Now it is quite possible – even likely – that
an “In” does not give a hoot what the
“Outs” think of them.
Keep in mind, however, that the exclusivity of the “In” organization
insures that there are an overwhelmingly fewer number of “In’s” than there are
“Out’s.” This means that, while you were winning the acceptance of “The Few”, either
because of what “The Few” stand for or because you have uncaringly left them
behind, you have incited the hostility of “The Many”, resulting in your now
having more people who hate you than who believe you’re okay.
More interesting, at least to me, is, once you become an
“In”, what then is your perception of the “Out’s”, of which you were just
recently a member? Is it not inevitable
that you will start feeling – unconsciously, perhaps, but “feeling” nonetheless
- that you are better than they are? Or
at the least, indisputably,
“No longer them”?
You worked hard to become an “In.” There was an undeniable selection process
involved in which you were deemed to be “In-Worthy” whereas the masses (now
using the derogatory definition of the word) were adjudged “not.”
It is possible that
that doesn’t mean anything – your acceptance could have been a fluke, or an
accident of birth. But whatever it was, it
happened. And now, you’re “In” and
they’re “Out.” Being a decent and
compassionate person, you might believe, or at least believe you believe that, “I am not better than anybody else. Nothing has changed. Except that I’m ‘In’ and they’re ‘Out.’”
In practice, however, it does not seem to work that
way. “In-ness” and “Out-ness” engender
meaningful consequences. Consider an
example. Wait, why be stingy? Consider two
examples:
I am attempting to engage this guy I have just met in
conversation, and he is unequivocally blowing me off. He cannot get away from me fast enough. Twenty minutes later, after apparently Googling my impressive television
writing credits, he returns, beaming:
“I know who you are!”
You see what happened there?
First I was “Out” and then I was “In.”
While all the time being exactly the same person.
Example Two: (Surprisingly
not about me.)
A wonderful new acquaintance reveals that her longtime companion
was of a lofty status, allowing her access to his “A-List” community. When he died, they immediately cut her off.
You see that? – It’s the same story turned around. First, she was “In” and then she was “Out.”
Remaining throughout exactly who she had always ever been.
I know the “In” and “Out” paradigm appears innately
hard-wired and runs historically deep.
Mel Brooks quintessentially capsulized it when, as the “2000 Year-Old
Man” he intoned his cave’s unapologetically “In”-inflected Anthem:
“Let ‘em all go to hell, except Cave Seventy-Eight!”
But to paraphrase – and remove much of the poetry – from the
inspirational speech by Dr. Martin Luther King,
“I look to the day when a person is judged by the content of
their character… and that’s it.”
Any chance of that happening, do you think?
No.
ReplyDeleteI try to be optimistic about these sorts of things but this is one case where I have to agree with your previous commenter, Anonymous. Most people are deeply into making Us/Them distinctions.
ReplyDeleteJust the other day, when I had the audacity to pull out onto the road when the next car was at least 100 yards away, the driver of that car (who, in my judgement, had been traveling the speed limit of 40 mph), roared up to my bumper and followed dangerously closely for the next few miles - even after I had sped up to over 40 mph (to appease them I hoped) rather quickly.
The other driver had apparently been born on this road and was not about to allow some riff raff in front of them. I hadn't been invited into this traveling fraternity so this couldn't have been a case of hazing. I think I was being met at the border and told to go back to my own kind. For all this driver knew, I might just let other interlopers onto the other driver's road. That's the trouble with letting one outsider in the club.
So, in agreeing with Anonymous, I have to say, "No. Even if a larger number of us want to try to follow your and Dr. King's paraphrased statement, there are just too many people adamantly opposed to it that are only too ready to throw us out, too."
Jim Dodd
I think there's some biological imperative here, that resources are always limited and we share them with *us*, not *them*.
ReplyDeleteAs for FDR, don't rejections in your teen years, when your ego is at its most fragile, often hurt more than they do later, when you have more experience and perspective? A friend who ran one of the oldest online communities once commented that she thought that a lot of the behavior we see online is working out high school angst. Sounds right to me.
wg