The compulsion to witness
Why do I do this?
Not blogging, throwing these hastily written notes into the
aether. I mean constantly making the effort to see and
understand our political and cultural environment; most
particularly the crimes committed by leaders who exploit the
good nature, ill nature, instincts and inattention of those they
rule. The rhetorical tools they use. And their complex and
convoluted alliances with the military, the makers of weapons
and a panoply of vested interests.
This means trawling the internet and media, driven by some kind
of macabre curiosity. It feels like looking at a really nasty
traffic accident. I could kick back, enjoy life and its fruits
more, leave all this. I'll be dead soon enough anyway.
But I don't, or not for long. I've been afflicted by this
compulsion since I was about 13, and have usually thought it was
a compulsion to understand. More recently I've started to
suspect it's compulsion to witness, of which understanding is
just one element.
Witness to who? The future? Or is this some atavistic religious
remnant deep in my character? Do I expect God to call me as a
witness to the crimes of my age?
I don't understand, but the compulsion remains. At least, now
I'm blogging my bile, my wife has to put up with less ranting
and general swearing at the TV.