Wouldn’t it be great if someone invented a kind of technology that would facilitate the sharing of consciousness? It would have to be something elegant enough to facilitate the transfer of a person’s innermost thoughts and feelings to another but simple enough for everyone to use. It would need to be a reciprocal tool that would allow a two-way sharing of meaning, and it would need to be flexible enough to adapt to any number of different circumstances. It would have to require zero maintenance and instead update its operating system organically over time offline. It would also need to be affordable and easy to access. I wonder how much of an R&D investment it would take to come up with such a technological marvel.
Of course, we already have this very tool and it’s free – language. By simply labeling what I think and feel using a set of agree-upon symbols and sounds, I can deliver to you a word-based replica of all that is in my mind and heart, and it doesn’t cost a dime. And not only that, I can actually receive my very own replica of your unique, individual conscious experience as well. No membership necessary, no delivery fees or taxes. In my opinion, language is a miracle.
And it’s also a mess. Words are concrete symbols used to convey abstract thoughts and feelings, and like all symbols, despite their genius, they are incomplete. Such labels are necessary but limited. As the saying goes, the finger pointing at the moon is not the moon. Perhaps this gap between finger and moon – between label and essence – is at the very heart of our polarized national discourse today.
If I say that “black lives matter,” does that have to mean that I am a radical Marxist ready to use violence to promote racial justice? I sure hope not. I am not Marxist, and I hate violence. I do not align with any political “organization” connected to any BLM movement. But my language is limited. I say that black lives matter because I believe they do. Racism is real and needs to be addressed. But my use of this language seems to suggest that I must be part of some wacked-out antifa organization bent on anarchy, which is not true.
If I say that that “defunding the police” sounds like a terrible idea, does that have to mean I am part of some fascist movement intent on institutionalizing discrimination against black people? I sure hope not. I do not think that the sins of some are the sins of all. Individual police have committed horrific crimes, but so have nurses and accountants and welders and teachers like me. Why can’t I be supportive of good policing and still be in favor of needed reforms? But my use of this language seems to suggest that supporting anti-racism efforts means I necessarily want to abolish the police, which is not true.
I could go on and on. In short, language is limited. And we weaponize this gap between the terms themselves and the reality they are designed to convey. We turn difficult issues into all or nothing propositions. We assume that any reasonable person who believes X is the same as the fanatical nut job who takes X to its outrageous extreme and seeks to advance its interests through violent means. We then characterize these nut jobs – on both the left and the right – as part of a calculated, sinister, well-financed organization designed to destroy all that is good decent. And we become more and more angry, polarized, and isolated every day.
Perhaps the best use of R&D funds might be in studying a new kind of technology, one that not only identifies but actually grapples with life’s “grey areas.” One that prevents us from automatically demonizing what is different. Maybe if we had some clever tool that allowed us to identify nuance and subtlety and ever-so-slightly different shades of meaning, we might not have these problems. Oh, but wait . . . we already do. That same grey matter that’s responsible for the miraculous development of language is also capable of using it differently.
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