(Welcome to visitors from the first Virginia Blog Carnival. Thanks so much for stopping by. Please check things out - whether food or cats or travel or current affairs, I have a whole spectrum of things for you to read! And, always, many thanks to my blog-brother, "John Behan" for bringing the Old Dominion Blog Alliance together, and for starting the Carnival.)
One of my favorite writers in the whole blogosphere has done it yet again.
Bill Whittle doesn't post daily - or even monthly, necessarily - but when he does, it's well worth the read. Mr. Whittle is eloquent and pulls no punches - and today he's asking, "What Tribe are you?" in an essay titled, TRIBE.
Race has nothing to do with this – precisely nothing. The mobs of murdering Hutus and swarms of slaughtering Serbs are as different racially as it is possible to be, and they are cut from precisely the same cloth.
I know this is so because there have been murdering scumbags of every stripe and color in the long history of the human race – which is depressing – and that these animals, at any given time, represent only a small percentage of the majority of people, also of every stripe and color – which is not. There is no corner on virtue, and no outpost of depravity. Human hearts are indistinguishable and interchangeable. Anyone who claims otherwise is, without further argument or statements necessary, a complete God-damned idiot.
Now, with that said – have we all heard that loud and clear? – there are light-years of difference in how various Tribes will behave.
Only a few minutes ago, I had the delightful opportunity to read the comment of a fellow who said he wished that white, middle-class, racist, conservative cocksuckers like myself could have been herded into the Superdome Concentration Camp to see how much we like it. Absent, of course, was the fundamental truth of what he plainly does not have the eyes or the imagination to see, namely, that if the Superdome had been filled with white, middle-class, racist, conservative cocksuckers like myself, it would not have been a refinery of horror, but rather a citadel of hope and order and restraint and compassion.
That has nothing to do with me being white. If the blacks and Hispanics and Jews and gays that I work with and associate with were there with me, it would have been that much better. That’s because the people I associate with – my Tribe – consists not of blacks and whites and gays and Hispanics and Asians, but of individuals who do not rape, murder, or steal. My Tribe consists of people who know that sometimes bad things happen, and that these are an opportunity to show ourselves what we are made of. My people go into burning buildings. My Tribe consists of organizers and self-starters, proud and self-reliant people who do not need to be told what to do in a crisis. My Tribe is not fearless; they are something better. They are courageous. My Tribe is honorable, and decent, and kind, and inventive. My Tribe knows how to give orders, and how to follow them. My Tribe knows enough about how the world works to figure out ways to boil water, ration food, repair structures, build and maintain makeshift latrines, and care for the wounded and the dead with respect and compassion.
There are some things my Tribe is not good at at all. My Tribe doesn’t make excuses. My Tribe will analyze failure and assign blame, but that is to make sure that we do better next time, and we never, ever waste valuable energy and time doing so while people are still in danger. My Tribe says, and in their heart completely believes that it’s the other guy that’s the hero. My Tribe does not believe that a single Man can cause, prevent or steer Hurricanes, and my Tribe does not and has never made someone else responsible for their own safety, and that of their loved ones.
Later on, he quotes Lt. Col. Grossman, who wrote the Bulletproof Mind, and discusses Col. Grossman's imagry of the sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. Sheep, Col. Grossman says, are you average everyday citizen: they have no interest in hurting and exploiting others, and tend to be oblivious to the fact that there are wolves out there who are. Wolves, of course, are the brutal animals masquerading as human who seem to delight in using power to force their will on others. Wolves steal, maim, and kill with little care for what the rest of society may do.
Then, there are the sheepdogs. Sheepdogs are aware of the violence in the world, and they are able to be violent, themselves. But the violence they use is only to protect the defenseless sheep against the ravening wolves. They are guardians, warriors - true knights, sans peur et sans reproche.
I strongly recommend that you go read Mr. Whittle's essay; it's stunning. And, if you're unfamiliar with his writing, you're in for a treat, because he's kept all his wonderful essays up at his website, www.ejectejecteject.com . Definitely a treat!
Nevertheless, the question he poses - or implies, rather - is important. Which tribe are you?
Are you the tribe of ungrateful sheep? Are you a ravening wolf? Do you contribute meaningfully to civilized society? Perhaps you're a sheepdog, standing against the wolves? Maybe you're standing as a stronghold of organization amidst chaos? (pay particular attention to the entries from 29 August to 05 September and so on, in that last hotlink) Or, perhaps, you look for an opportunity to "get back at [a] society" which is the most open and flexible and compassionate in the world?
Or, are you a knight fighting evil? Are you willing to lay down your life so others may be spared? Are you serving overseas, offering freedom, even to those who would kill you?
I know what tribe I want to join. I know what tribe I want my Darling Munchkin to choose one day. I may be a domestic sheepdog, but I am a sheepdog nonetheless, and if it comes down to it, I pray God will give me the strength to take up arms and defend the defenseless.
In the meantime, I will be a sheepdog by taking responsibility and not assigning blame. I will not shirk my duty as a wife and mother to nurture my family. I will ask for God's strength to be a godly member of a local church. I will vote responsibly and respect and obey the laws of this land.
It takes courage to fight oncoming storms. Courage.
Courage isn’t free. It is taught, taught by certain tribes who have been around enough and seen enough incoming storms to know what one looks like. And I think the people of this nation, and those of New Orleans, specifically, desire and deserve some fundamental lessons in courage.
Because we are going to need it.
I want to be part of the courageous tribe.
Excellent additional articles by others at the American Spectator, and the Intellectual Activist.
Mrs du Toit has a brilliant discussion about the School of Hard Knocks.
My blog-brother, the always-erudite Rick Moran, discusses the Response Timeline surrounding Katrina.
