In The Eyes of Others
April
24 2019
The
clothes make the man
only
if you are
what
others think you are.
How
shallow is that,
to
depend on the judgment of others?
But
when I consider the opposite,
that
I exist as a singularity
the
sovereign individual,
I
begin to feel unmoored.
As
if unseen
the
impervious boundary of skin
that
keeps them out, and keeps me in
had
become insubstantial,
and
my sense of place
unsure.
The
anomie
of
the solipsistic self
is
like the lost astronaut, whose tether's been cut;
tumbling
through space
in
his stiff pneumatic suit,
visor
fogging over
air
running out,
his
atoms set to boil off
into
the cold black void.
At
least if one believes
we
exist in relationship,
and
that only in the eyes of others
do
we find ourselves.
Because
who doesn't need
to
be needed and loved?
Or
doesn't want to believe
one
is indispensable?
So
there is something to be said
for
appearances,
for
how we present ourselves
and
how we are seen.
The
famous actor
who
said he got into character
from
the outside in,
costume
and make-up
as
transformational acts.
And
the animals
so
practised at display.
The
brilliant tropical frog
whose
skin is toxic
and
basks in the jungle untouched.
As
if beauty could only come
at
the cost of death.
And
all the beasts in camouflage,
who
recede into the forest
as
stealthy as shadows at dusk.
And
me, in my standard uniform
looking
much like my peers.
Drab,
reclusive, concealed,
like
all social creatures
invested
in the greater good.
A
cell
in
a multicellular being
of
reciprocity
attachment
belonging.
Except
for
the brightly coloured ornament
I
unobtrusively sport.
Something
campy, outrageous, defiant.
A
small subversive act
to
proclaim myself.
I wanted to write a poem
about this fundamental tension: between libertarianism and
communitarianism; between the individual and the collective.
Libertarians assert their rights, and personal freedom is paramount.
Communitarians balance rights with responsibilities, and consent to
relinquish some freedom of action in favour of the common good. As
the poem asks, do we “exist in relationship”, or as
“sovereign individual(s)”?
Our
culture tilts toward a celebration of individuality and personal
freedom. And immersed in this culture, we reflexively think this is
the way it has always been. When actually, this worldview is a
relatively recent innovation. So individualism is an invention of
modernity; in a way, defines it.
Recent
because it depended on the decline of organized religion and the
ascent of secularism. So where once, one waited for the after-life
to find happiness – when one could finally escape this “vale of
tears” – it was now something one could strive for here on earth.
There need be no expectation of suffering. It was harder to justify
self-sacrifice for the common good; especially when there was no
assurance of an eventual eternal reward.
And
recent because individualism is a product of the industrial age,
sustained by its wealth: one could survive without the tribe,
traditional institutions, and the bonds of blood and belonging that
were necessary when life was hand-to-mouth subsistence.
And
also recent because individualism is a consequence of meritocratic
capitalism, with its mythologizing of the heroic striver and
self-made man.
While
personal freedom is a luxury afforded by this same collective
prosperity, as essentially unsustainable as that wealth may be.
Unfortunately, where once personal freedom may have been seen as a
route to meaning and self-realization, the concept has now been
diminished to the sovereign freedom to consume. We are consumers, not
citizens, unconstrained by social responsibility or the hidden costs
of consumption. So freedom from want has become freedom to consume.
(Prepositions count!) And all this in an economy that cannot be
uncoupled from constant growth, and has little regard for social
inequality or the environment.
(I'll
refrain from debating the illusion of this so-called meritocracy,
except to say that it is probably more idealized than real. And I say
“unsustainable” because the only way to continue supporting this
profligate lifestyle is to keep extracting more resources from the
planet than it can sustain.)
I
think the idea of clothing, which is a kind of unifying device that
runs through the poem, comes from the idea of skin: the outer
boundary, the demarcation of self-hood; and also the way we present
ourselves to the outside world. We construct our appearance, and how
we look sends a message. The semiotics of fashion, I suppose. My own
“style”, for example, sends a message of frugality, of contempt
for status and fashion, of anti-materialism, and of general
obliviousness. (So not so much calculated non-conformity and defiant
individualism as simple cluelessness and apathy!)
I
originally called this poem Aposematic Man. Aposematic
colouring is what makes the Monarch butterfly so noticeable: it is
advertising to potential predators the toxic foul-tasting chemicals
acquired from its diet of milkweed. And, similarly, what makes the
poison dart frog – “the brilliant tropical frog” of the
poem – so beautiful. (I quite liked the sound of the original
title, as well as its tantalizing inscrutability. But in the end, I
felt this was one of those poems where the reader needed a small
signpost flagging the theme in order to get her, from the get-go,
pointed in the right direction.)
As
humans, we are torn between declaring our individuality and
fitting-in; between our insistent sense of self and our essential
nature as social creatures. So we can be both aposematic and
drab: both flaunting our individuality, and subsuming ourselves for
the sake of “the greater good”.
Except
maybe better not drab. Because we are very much poison, and so
aposematic colouring would seem most appropriate. After all, we are
the most lethal creature who has ever existed on earth: the
instrument of mass extinction; a terraforming wrecking-ball that is
changing the actual chemistry of the planet, permanently altering its
surface, oceans, and air, while diminishing the biodiversity that
confers both its resiliency and its wonder.
