Very Much Reality
One of the oldest pieces of parenting advice is that if a child asks you a question, your response should provide only as much detail as he or she would like. So, if a little one says, "Why did that man drive around the countryside killing people?" an initial reply might be, "I think it's because he was unwell." And if the child then doesn't come back with something like, "But what made him so unwell?" then you can assume that you've given as much info as he or she is willing to deal with at that moment. If a child wants more details, they'll ask more questions; they'll indicate to you where they'd like the line to be drawn.
I've been wondering lately if we take this attitude through into adulthood, and I suppose I've been prompted by the realisation that I know very little about certain topics which I'd claim are important to me. I accept that we can't all be experts on everything, but even so, I can't really explain why I'm not entirely clear on, say, what's currently happening in Iran, not just in relation to the UN's attitude to the country, but also in terms of the state of the lives of ordinary Iranians, trying to go about their daily business.
The same applies to the recent case of the aid ship stopped by Israeli troops. My knowledge of the details of the incident is patchy at best, despite the fact that I'd usually declare myself to be someone who wants to possess a full picture of what's happening in the Middle East.
And as for The Financial Crisis, well, my standard line in conversations about the subject is, "I don't really understand economics," after which I go on to spout the usual, hollow lines about the American housing market being at the root of the problem.
Of course, all this could be remedied. I could commit myself to reading a newspaper thoroughly once a week. I could subscribe to various experts' blogs. I could pick up the phone and talk to knowledgeable friends and relatives. But part of the point I'm trying to make is precisely that I avoid doing these things. Sure, there's only so much we can cram into one day and some endeavours have to be prioritised over others. But maybe, on some level, I'm reverting to a child-like state and exposing myself only to as much info as I feel I can bear. Maybe my subconscious isn't as opposed to blinkers as I'd like to believe. T S Eliot did once say that "humankind cannot stand very much reality". Could it be true that, for all my opposition to nanny-states and censorship, what I really want is a pat on the head and a promise that everything's going to be all right?
The same applies to the recent case of the aid ship stopped by Israeli troops. My knowledge of the details of the incident is patchy at best, despite the fact that I'd usually declare myself to be someone who wants to possess a full picture of what's happening in the Middle East.
And as for The Financial Crisis, well, my standard line in conversations about the subject is, "I don't really understand economics," after which I go on to spout the usual, hollow lines about the American housing market being at the root of the problem.
Of course, all this could be remedied. I could commit myself to reading a newspaper thoroughly once a week. I could subscribe to various experts' blogs. I could pick up the phone and talk to knowledgeable friends and relatives. But part of the point I'm trying to make is precisely that I avoid doing these things. Sure, there's only so much we can cram into one day and some endeavours have to be prioritised over others. But maybe, on some level, I'm reverting to a child-like state and exposing myself only to as much info as I feel I can bear. Maybe my subconscious isn't as opposed to blinkers as I'd like to believe. T S Eliot did once say that "humankind cannot stand very much reality". Could it be true that, for all my opposition to nanny-states and censorship, what I really want is a pat on the head and a promise that everything's going to be all right?
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