I was there when
Jan. 18th, 2009 11:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfield"History is merely gossip."
- Oscar Wilde
At least a quarter of all civilized humanity is apparently descending on Washington D.C. this weekend, gassed-up with neo-political enthusiasm over the swearing-in of a new president.
It is not enough that our new president is simply replacing the old one, whose term has been about as beneficial (and about as popular) as a staph infection. No, people everywhere want to be here to watch the changeover happen. Some folks have traveled thousands of miles to watch the new guy recite a thirty-second oath and give a 15-minute speech.
Oh, sure, there's some value in being "present," I suppose. Aside from the traditional social and cultural events that accompany such affairs, like inaugural balls, cocktail parties and the We Are One: Inaugural Concert to End All Inaugural Concerts, In Which Bono, Springsteen And Every Other Prominent Zeitgeist Troubadour With An Inflated Sense of Purpose Will Lead The Whole World In A Choir of Harmony And Peace, and Possibly "This Is Our Country," Making Us All Forget About Our Legion of National Troubles For Two Hours So We Can At Least Briefly Feel Good About Ourselves, Sponsored by HBO, there is also the predictable sense of synergy, in which the good spirits of all the participants combine to achieve an even greater sense of community.
It's intoxicating. I get that. I myself have felt it, in 1998 at Game One of the World Series in Yankee Stadium, when Tino Martinez hit a grand slam off of Mark Langston and the place erupted in volcanic euphoria -- I was caught up in the moment and I was rooting against the Yankees. And whenever anyone talks about that game, or that moment, I can say "I was there."
This seems to be a pretty significant motivator in our society: the ability to say "I was there when". There are a million people in this city literally saying, "I want to be able to say 'I was there when we inaugurated Barack Obama.'" Of course, when you stop and think about it, this compulsion is totally stupid.
Because, first of all, anyone can say it. "I was there when the Berlin Wall came down." See what I did? With minimal effort, I just made myself more interesting. Don't believe me? Prove me wrong. Think I'm lying? Here's the great part: at that point, it doesn't really matter if I'm lying, because there's no difference in being shallow enough to pretend like you actually had something to do with the Berlin Wall coming down and being shallow enough to lie about it. The truth is irrelevant.
Maybe 200 years ago, when news still traveled by horseback and mass communication was still an embryonic notion, first-person accounts were useful and interesting. But the 1998 World Series was seen on television and heard on the radio by millions of people. They know what happened. They where there, watching on their televisions, taking part in their own ways. I simply happened to be many miles closer. But it's not like I was divining any particular information from my seat in the upper deck, other than the fact that I thought it was going to collapse under the incessant stomping of 60,000 Yankee fans.
The phrase, even when weilded honestly and earnestly, is a meager commentary on character. After all, mere proximity does not necessarily imply anything other than good fortune, good connections or maybe, maybe the personal dedication it takes to forge a difficult journey. Ultimately, "I was there when" is little more than a way to insert oneself, however insignificantly, into a significant event. (If indeed it even is significant, which is usually a matter of opinion.) It's a very mild, generally acceptable form of self-aggrandizement. It's small-talk junk food.
Nevertheless, here everyone is, squeezing onto trains and trudging over bridges and carving out their own two square feet of grass in order to be a teeny-tiny itsy-bitsy part of "history." And yeah, I'll be out there too, given to a sense of obligation, experiencing the experience. But I'll be happier when it really is history.
- Oscar Wilde
At least a quarter of all civilized humanity is apparently descending on Washington D.C. this weekend, gassed-up with neo-political enthusiasm over the swearing-in of a new president.
It is not enough that our new president is simply replacing the old one, whose term has been about as beneficial (and about as popular) as a staph infection. No, people everywhere want to be here to watch the changeover happen. Some folks have traveled thousands of miles to watch the new guy recite a thirty-second oath and give a 15-minute speech.
Oh, sure, there's some value in being "present," I suppose. Aside from the traditional social and cultural events that accompany such affairs, like inaugural balls, cocktail parties and the We Are One: Inaugural Concert to End All Inaugural Concerts, In Which Bono, Springsteen And Every Other Prominent Zeitgeist Troubadour With An Inflated Sense of Purpose Will Lead The Whole World In A Choir of Harmony And Peace, and Possibly "This Is Our Country," Making Us All Forget About Our Legion of National Troubles For Two Hours So We Can At Least Briefly Feel Good About Ourselves, Sponsored by HBO, there is also the predictable sense of synergy, in which the good spirits of all the participants combine to achieve an even greater sense of community.
It's intoxicating. I get that. I myself have felt it, in 1998 at Game One of the World Series in Yankee Stadium, when Tino Martinez hit a grand slam off of Mark Langston and the place erupted in volcanic euphoria -- I was caught up in the moment and I was rooting against the Yankees. And whenever anyone talks about that game, or that moment, I can say "I was there."
This seems to be a pretty significant motivator in our society: the ability to say "I was there when". There are a million people in this city literally saying, "I want to be able to say 'I was there when we inaugurated Barack Obama.'" Of course, when you stop and think about it, this compulsion is totally stupid.
Because, first of all, anyone can say it. "I was there when the Berlin Wall came down." See what I did? With minimal effort, I just made myself more interesting. Don't believe me? Prove me wrong. Think I'm lying? Here's the great part: at that point, it doesn't really matter if I'm lying, because there's no difference in being shallow enough to pretend like you actually had something to do with the Berlin Wall coming down and being shallow enough to lie about it. The truth is irrelevant.
Maybe 200 years ago, when news still traveled by horseback and mass communication was still an embryonic notion, first-person accounts were useful and interesting. But the 1998 World Series was seen on television and heard on the radio by millions of people. They know what happened. They where there, watching on their televisions, taking part in their own ways. I simply happened to be many miles closer. But it's not like I was divining any particular information from my seat in the upper deck, other than the fact that I thought it was going to collapse under the incessant stomping of 60,000 Yankee fans.
The phrase, even when weilded honestly and earnestly, is a meager commentary on character. After all, mere proximity does not necessarily imply anything other than good fortune, good connections or maybe, maybe the personal dedication it takes to forge a difficult journey. Ultimately, "I was there when" is little more than a way to insert oneself, however insignificantly, into a significant event. (If indeed it even is significant, which is usually a matter of opinion.) It's a very mild, generally acceptable form of self-aggrandizement. It's small-talk junk food.
Nevertheless, here everyone is, squeezing onto trains and trudging over bridges and carving out their own two square feet of grass in order to be a teeny-tiny itsy-bitsy part of "history." And yeah, I'll be out there too, given to a sense of obligation, experiencing the experience. But I'll be happier when it really is history.
