Reflections on Egypt

Many progressive-minded activists in the United States could learn a great deal from the youth in Egypt. One important point the Egyptians demonstrated in their recent incredible victory is the power of a non-ideological strategy. They kept their focus simple, concrete, and achievable – “Mubarek must go” – and rallied broad support. In contrast, progressives in this country often push complex, abstract, and/or unrealistic demands.

Ideally, ideas are interwoven with the reality to which they refer and are constantly reshaped by interaction with reality. Too often, however, individuals in the dualistic modern world treat ideas as if those ideas were separate from reality. With our abstractions, we treat a part of the whole as if it were the whole. This approach results in the ossification of ideas.

Ideology is as an organized collection of abstractions. With ideologues, the gap between ideas and reality is enormous. They attempt to fit reality into their previously formed analytical framework and try to forcibly shape the world to fit those preconceptions.

Incremental reforms are sacrificed for some ideal that is assumed to be more beneficial in the long run. Ideologues are determined to impose their theories, with little or no regard for short-term consequences.

Ideologues love people in the abstract more than they do in person. They care more about their theories than what is practical. They engage abstract ideas without reference to concrete examples. As with abstract art, they focus on form and neglect content.

A common aspect of the ideological approach is an absolute, all-or-nothing stance. Another frequent characteristic is utopianism, the belief that perfection is possible, which means that anything less than perfection is inadequate and therefore not worthy of celebration. A third trait of ideologues is dividing the world into us vs. them (which often involves projecting onto others tendencies that the ideologue refuses to acknowledge in himself). Another feature is labeling the opposition “evil,” or applying some other similar judgment.

Because ideologues care more about winning their war of ideas than they do about improving actual living conditions, they spend more time preaching than they do listening and shade the truth or lie. The ideologue always wants to prove a point or establish some grand principle for the sake of the future.

Describing what is distinctive about the ideological perspective is not easy. But we know it when we see it, as when people are unwilling to consider other points of view. It’s usually reflected in a tone that is shrill, loud, piercing, preachy, and arrogant.

A non-ideological, pragmatic approach affirms many-sided awareness. It sees the real world as complex and filled with contradictions. It accepts reality for what it is and affirms universal values that flow from the heart rather than the head. Talking from the heart merges ideas and feelings. People who talk from the heart are willing to acknowledge various points of view and learn from them, rather than always trying to convert others and recruit them into one cause or another. Being pragmatic does not mean that one has no convictions. Rather, it refers to the nature of one’s convictions.

Pragmatism does not preclude clarifying fundamental values and enduring principles. Nor does pragmatism conflict with dreaming about the long-term future. But dreams are best treated as dreams. We divine the meaning of dreams through interpretation and translating them to apply to our current situation. To pursue dreams as actual goals is fanciful. To regard dreams as concrete is to fall into ideology.

In his Nobel lecture, which he titled “In Search of the Present,” Octavio Paz objected passionately to “ideologists intent on introducing principles derived from a political theory.” Toward the end of his talk, Paz pointed the way toward a different stance, a focus on the present, which is filled with presences. He said:

With good sense, we tend more and more towards limited remedies to solve concrete problems. It is prudent to abstain from legislating about the future. Yet the present requires much more than attention to its immediate needs….  The twilight of the future heralds the advent of the now.... Reflecting on the now does not imply relinquishing the future or forgetting the past: the present is the meeting place for the three directions of time....

Tomorrow we shall have a philosophy of the present.... The poets do know one thing: the present is the source of presences....

We pursue modernity in her incessant metamorphoses yet we never manage to trap her. She always escapes: each encounter ends in flight. We embrace her and she disappears immediately: it was just a little air. It is the instant. That bird that is everywhere and nowhere. We want to trap it alive but it flaps its wings and vanishes in the form of a handful of syllables. We are left empty-handed. Then the doors of perception open slightly and the other time appears, the real one we were searching for without knowing it: the present, the presence.

When one is present, if one can’t change or escape a noxious reality, one accepts that fact and concentrates on changing what can be changed. One embraces imperfection. As Leonard Cohen wrote, “There is a crack in everything / That’s how the light gets in.”

When one is present, in attendance, one is open to presences, available, alert, attentive, spontaneous, in touch with feelings, intuitive, and ready to respond.

Most people today, however, are almost always engaged in a train of thought, whether remembering past events or imagining the future, scheming and dreaming, weighing the merits of various options, or speculating on how to make a difference by shaping the world according to their own ideas. Those who are present, filled with presence, merely want to do some good – one day at a time.

When Bob Dylan rejected being a servant for the Movement, he reflected a similar perspective. According to Dylan, “An artist has got to be careful never really to arrive at a place where he thinks he’s ‘at’ somewhere. You always have to realize that you’re constantly in the state of becoming.” That’s one reason we need artists and poets and musicians to inspire us to deeper, pre-verbal understanding.

In his 1964 song “My Back Pages,” Dylan recalled how with great pride he had used “ideas as my maps” and had screamed “lies that life is black and white” like the romantic Three Musketeers, based on what he had memorized about “ancient history.” He had adopted a “soldier's stance,” not realizing that when he started to preach, he became his own worst enemy. “Abstract threats” made him defensive and rigid. But now, he declared, good and bad were not so clear and after having been “so much older then,” he’s “younger than that now.”

Dave Von Ronk, one of Dylan’s early mentors, said that he and his fellow ideologues attacked Dylan for being unsophisticated in 1964, but he later concluded that Dylan was far more sophisticated than they were. Many progressive ideologues in the United States, however, still don’t get it.

But the Egyptian youth movement did. Perhaps we can learn from their example about how to go beyond ideology – that is, be present, pay attention to the whole of experience, focus on changing what we can, and really listen to the people we encounter.

Another key principle of the revolt in Egypt was a commitment to participatory democracy. Especially in the planning of the uprising, polling members on Facebook was instrumental. That particular mechanism is no magic bullet. Other methods are available. Eye-to-eye deliberation among elected representatives is also important. But the Egyptian youth demonstrated a remarkable degree of open, active participation on the part of potential demonstrators. Americans, it seems to me, could learn from the Egyptian dedication to internal democracy.

Perhaps the most important characteristic reflected in Egypt was a remarkable degree of courage. That example is relevant not only for those confronting a dictator. It also applies to ordinary daily life in the United States.

Far too often, we withhold our thoughts and feelings out of fear that others won’t like what we say. We become worried that others will punish us in some way, perhaps by simply ignoring us. We become embroiled in efforts to establish our worth, both to others and to ourselves.

American society fails to fully affirm the essential goodness of every individual and the equal value of each person. Rather, the primary message most children learn is “you are a loser” (because someone else is “the winner.”) This message undermines self-confidence and the sense of self-worth. Consequently, children grow into adults feeling that they must prove themselves by proving that they are superior to others.

We become overly competitive, egocentric, go on ego trips, play power games, and become overly focused on our families, our workplace, our circle of friends, and ourselves. We want to protect our position so we can move up the ladder of “success.”

We fail to lovingly confront those with power by challenging them to transcend their assigned roles and fully acknowledge everyone’s common humanity. We go on head trips and fail to experience the spirit within and the future that is breaking in on the present. So we neglect to profoundly love our neighbor by challenging oppressive power structures, not knowing what the results will be. We become hypocrites, for we neglect our conscience.

To be true to our deepest self, we must risk speaking truth to power – truth as we best understand it, power wherever we confront it. The youth of Egypt inspire me to take those risks.