(Read Part One of this train of thought here.)
“Normal.”
“The way things are.”
“The status quo.”
When you go along with it, it’s invisible, like water to a fish (or air to a human). But as soon as you stop going with the flow, you can run up against it like a brick wall (it’s a non-Newtonian fluid, obviously). Or as Emily Dickinson so memorably put it:
“Normal.”
“The way things are.”
“The status quo.”
When you go along with it, it’s invisible, like water to a fish (or air to a human). But as soon as you stop going with the flow, you can run up against it like a brick wall (it’s a non-Newtonian fluid, obviously). Or as Emily Dickinson so memorably put it:
Much Madness is divinest Sense -
To a discerning Eye -
Much Sense - the starkest Madness -
’Tis the Majority
In this, as all, prevail -
Assent - and you are sane -
Demur - you’re straightway dangerous -
And handled with a Chain -
I tend to be more optimistic than she was, but it’s undeniable that anything perceived as a challenge to the way things are is bound to be met with resistance. Resistance to change. Resistance to the very idea that change is needed. Even when the change would be positive.
Here’s a relevant anecdote:
Here’s a relevant anecdote:
When I was first producing my own play back in college, a lot of people asked if I hated the Theatre Department. The underlying assumption seemed to be that if a system is in place for producing plays, then people intending to produce a play ought to be working inside that system, and anyone who wasn’t following that script (so to speak) must be motivated by some extreme animosity for the system itself.
But that wasn’t it at all. I had great relationships within ‘The System’, and for the most part I liked the work the Department was doing. I didn’t intend for my production to be some kind of rebellion, or even an alternative. I meant for what I was doing to compliment their work. I actually put a lot of effort into making sure that I wasn’t using people or resources that the official productions needed. But there were still enough talented people not being utilized by the current productions that I could put on my show without getting in their way at all. We didn’t have any bad feelings towards “The Establishment” for not utilizing our talents, but we weren’t going to sit around twiddling our thumbs waiting for them to call us, either.
But one of the interesting points made by the article is that creating alternatives is, inherently, a form of criticism, whether you mean it to be critical or not. In my case, it served as a reminder to everyone that there were talented people who would be happy to work within the system, but didn’t seem to have a place there. That wasn’t a message I set out to convey, but the fact that I was able to produce my show at all made that fact very clear. The Theatre Department didn’t have the attention to devote to more productions. They had their reasons for not doing more. Insofar as my production was critical, it was not critical of them so much as it was critical of the idea that they were enough, or that there was somehow no room for anything else. There is almost always room for more, as any kid who’s ever stuffed themselves on dinner and still had room for dessert can attest.
People love the idea that everything is fine, that there is nothing to worry about, that all is as it should be. And we don’t realize how much we love that assumption until something challenges it. The human brain will go to great lengths to not feel wrong. For me, this usually takes the form of thinking “If something wasn’t right, I would have noticed!” and then it starts to feel personal, like my observational abilities (or human empathy) are being questioned, and it makes it harder for me to accept this new thing. For example, I’ve never seen a woman get cat-called in person, so it’s hard for me to accept when my female friends tell me it happens all the time. “It can’t possibly be happening that much, I would have noticed!” Wouldn't I?
And even when it’s something as minor as “The Theatre Department doesn’t provide enough opportunities to keep all their students engaged,” that reflex still kicks in. There can’t be anything wrong with the system, so there must be something wrong with you. You must be angry at the system. Yeah, that’s it. (Think about how often women of being “emotional” when they try to raise feminist concerns.) It’s a good way to keep from actually engaging with the points being made if you can ascribe them to some personal problem. I think of all the recent stories of police officers killing fleeing or non-resisting suspects. In many of these stories, the officers are clearly in the wrong, morally, legally, and even when simply measured against their own departments’ procedures. Yet many of us rush to defend them, because if something was wrong with our legal system, we would have noticed, wouldn’t we? So it must be that nothing is wrong. You're just angry. Everything is fine. Yeah, that’s it.
Not to conflate my experience with those much more significant social justice issues, obviously. I merely mean to point out that the same psychological processes are at work in any instance where the status quo is being challenged. Even if you didn't mean to challenge it. Even when what you're doing isn't harmful, or even particularly important. These are the things we need to be aware of in ourselves when our assumptions are challenged, and in our audiences, as creators of this inherently critical thing known as 'art'.
Whew, that got deep. And I haven’t even gotten into the real subject of the article yet, but I guess for that, you’re going to have to wait for part 3.
But that wasn’t it at all. I had great relationships within ‘The System’, and for the most part I liked the work the Department was doing. I didn’t intend for my production to be some kind of rebellion, or even an alternative. I meant for what I was doing to compliment their work. I actually put a lot of effort into making sure that I wasn’t using people or resources that the official productions needed. But there were still enough talented people not being utilized by the current productions that I could put on my show without getting in their way at all. We didn’t have any bad feelings towards “The Establishment” for not utilizing our talents, but we weren’t going to sit around twiddling our thumbs waiting for them to call us, either.
But one of the interesting points made by the article is that creating alternatives is, inherently, a form of criticism, whether you mean it to be critical or not. In my case, it served as a reminder to everyone that there were talented people who would be happy to work within the system, but didn’t seem to have a place there. That wasn’t a message I set out to convey, but the fact that I was able to produce my show at all made that fact very clear. The Theatre Department didn’t have the attention to devote to more productions. They had their reasons for not doing more. Insofar as my production was critical, it was not critical of them so much as it was critical of the idea that they were enough, or that there was somehow no room for anything else. There is almost always room for more, as any kid who’s ever stuffed themselves on dinner and still had room for dessert can attest.
People love the idea that everything is fine, that there is nothing to worry about, that all is as it should be. And we don’t realize how much we love that assumption until something challenges it. The human brain will go to great lengths to not feel wrong. For me, this usually takes the form of thinking “If something wasn’t right, I would have noticed!” and then it starts to feel personal, like my observational abilities (or human empathy) are being questioned, and it makes it harder for me to accept this new thing. For example, I’ve never seen a woman get cat-called in person, so it’s hard for me to accept when my female friends tell me it happens all the time. “It can’t possibly be happening that much, I would have noticed!” Wouldn't I?
And even when it’s something as minor as “The Theatre Department doesn’t provide enough opportunities to keep all their students engaged,” that reflex still kicks in. There can’t be anything wrong with the system, so there must be something wrong with you. You must be angry at the system. Yeah, that’s it. (Think about how often women of being “emotional” when they try to raise feminist concerns.) It’s a good way to keep from actually engaging with the points being made if you can ascribe them to some personal problem. I think of all the recent stories of police officers killing fleeing or non-resisting suspects. In many of these stories, the officers are clearly in the wrong, morally, legally, and even when simply measured against their own departments’ procedures. Yet many of us rush to defend them, because if something was wrong with our legal system, we would have noticed, wouldn’t we? So it must be that nothing is wrong. You're just angry. Everything is fine. Yeah, that’s it.
Not to conflate my experience with those much more significant social justice issues, obviously. I merely mean to point out that the same psychological processes are at work in any instance where the status quo is being challenged. Even if you didn't mean to challenge it. Even when what you're doing isn't harmful, or even particularly important. These are the things we need to be aware of in ourselves when our assumptions are challenged, and in our audiences, as creators of this inherently critical thing known as 'art'.
Whew, that got deep. And I haven’t even gotten into the real subject of the article yet, but I guess for that, you’re going to have to wait for part 3.
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