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.