Challenging Ideas
I've struggled picking a book for this challenge, and finally decided to pick the one I first really, really hated.
My grandparents often lament that my public education turned me socialist. They’re partly right, because I remember exactly when I first thought socialism was cool.
Fifth grade. I was ten.
My indoctrination didn’t come from repeated American government and history courses that ignored the rest of the world and most of the last fifty years. Instead, my school in the middle of left-behind America had over 55% of its students on free lunches. Most of the students had two generations of family working at the local paper mill, which filled the sky with reek and peeled paint off cars in a twenty mile radius. That paper mill would shut down decades later leaving a whole town with three generations of family members unemployed, but I didn’t know that back then.
What I did know was that I ranked among the “gifted” students; I got good grades, and my family was well off so college for me felt inevitable. In our white bread school otherwise devoid of diversity that made me a fiscal, over-achieving minority.
At first it felt a bit intimidating being a nerd; I cringed when teachers made me an example of praiseworthy effort. Everyone rolled their eyes, but nobody really bullied me. They didn’t care about my future; it had no impact on their lack of one.
There was no point to studying hard or getting good grades when your family could never afford college, and even with a degree there were only so many jobs in a five county radius that merited one. Scholarships were few and far between; only the weird kids passionate and insanely talented at a particular subject or sport went for them. The local vocational school offered more options, and they weren’t picky about GPA’s.
As a superhero nut, I developed a strong sense of justice early on and it led me to question. Why couldn’t my friends afford lunch, when both their parents worked so they had to go to latch key after school? Why didn’t the teachers encourage my schoolmates to try harder, when they piled expectations on me like nobody’s business? Why didn’t more companies open up jobs near us instead of the big cities we couldn’t afford to move to?
I had no answers to these questions, but I had a lot of extra credit homework and one such assignment required a review of different famous historical figures. Somehow I ended up with Karl Marx. I remember reading whatever limited textbook entry I had gotten from the library, and thinking, “Hey - this is it!” My friends, essentially, were low grade workers meant to struggle for survival so the elite owners of those ugly paper mills could hire cheaper labor and make more profit off them. Because at the end of the day labor is just a cost, and costs are meant to be kept down - that's the basic premise of capitalism.
When I excitedly explained my revelation to my extra-curricular teacher she looked horrified. Obviously I hadn’t understood; socialism - in any form - was wrong. In an effort I'm sure would have pleased my grandparents, she had me read a short story called Harrison Bergeron by Kurt Vonnegut in an attempt to make me understand.
Quick Spark’s notes on this sci fi short: In a dystopian future mankind is rendered equal through the use of masks to hide the beautiful, weights to weaken the strong, and little ear radios to drown out the thoughts of the intelligent. Amidst this horror, one young man escapes his bounds and runs amok while his parents unknowingly watch the Handicapper General order his execution live on TV, both of them too stupified to understand what happens. End story.
Two quick points here - 1) I was ten, not a college student writing a thesis on social equality 2) Even as an adult, I don’t enjoy Vonnegut. After I read it, I looked at my teacher and gave a short, child-like summarization of, "This is stupid."
When I made the - I thought vital - point that this short story had absolutely nothing to do with economics or money, my teacher frowned. She tried to argue with me, as if wanting economic equality suddenly meant everybody wanted to erase all forms of merit or talent whatsoever. Which, of course, was dumb. Why would anyone draw such wild conclusions? How did any of this address the concerns I had raised about economic disparity?
Because the students in my classes had talents too. The one kid who doodled everyday instead of studied had grown so talented his art had reached near professional levels - not that anybody would see it unless you sat next to him in class. The other kid who quietly sat in the back and asked to check my homework wasn't looking for answers he was actually checking his own - which were usually right, despite his insistance he was an idiot. These kids had their own masks of ignorance and inability - their poverty made sure of it, not socialism.
I hated that short story for the rest of my life. At first it was because I thought perhaps I just couldn't see the point my teacher had tried to make, which endlessly frustrated me. It wasn't until I was older that a friend of mine who liked Vonnegut re-explained it to me, arguing that the book was actually a paraody of the false fears Americans had about socialism and my naive reaction was perhaps what the author had sought all along. It didn't matter; I hated the story and couldn't be swayed.
What it did teach me was that people will draw wild conclusions in the face of uncomfortable topics. They will dodge facts, ignore truths, and generate hyperbole to shrug off the spectre of change.
And, as wise little ten year old me would say, "This is stupid."