Redtree Times

Upon closer observation, it becomes apparent that every strong upsurge of power in the public sphere, be it of a political or of a religious nature, infects a large part of humankind with stupidity. It would even seem that this is virtually a sociological-psychological law. The power of the one needs the stupidity of the other.

–Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison

One of the most popular posts from this blog is one from 2017 called On Stupidity. It is about Dietrich Bonhoeffer and an essay he wrote from a German prison during World War II on the nature and danger of stupidity. I don’t know about you, but I often feel as though we are experiencing the Golden Age of Stupidity at this moment. It sometimes that there is almost a celebration or glorification of willful stupidity taking place, one that defies all reason.

It’s vexing, to say the least. And deadly dangerous, at its worst. It feels like this essay needs to be shared once more so that reasonable people can better understand what faces them. I have also added a video at the bottom that illustrates many of Bonhoeffer’s thoughts on the stupidity that drives movements. Worth a few minutes of your time.

From 2017:

I have written a number of times here about the events that are taking place in this country and my frustration at how little effect reasoning and factual evidence have on the followers of the current president [ note: this was the former twice impeached president in 2017]. Their stubborn stupidity seems impenetrable to even the most glaring truths. I am sure that there are many of them out there who still, faced with an ever-expanding list of acts of malfeasance, refuse to see anything other than a conspiracy against the leader of their cult.

It turns out that this phenomenon is nothing new. It is probably found in every major movement based on political power or religion. One of the most enlightening essays on the subject of the stupidity of the followers of movements came to us in a letter written in a German prison during World War II by theologian and anti-Nazi dissident Dietrich Bonhoeffer. The quote shown is from that essay.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a pastor and theological writer who stood in direct opposition to the Nazi regime and spoke out against its programs of euthanasia and genocide. He had an opportunity to stay in the US in the late 1930’s, safe from the reach of the Nazis, but he insisted on returning, believing that if he were to rebuild the German church in the war’s aftermath he must endure it with its people.

He was imprisoned in a German prison in 1943 and later transferred to a concentration camp. He was implicated in a plot to assassinate Hitler and he was hanged in the waning days of the war, in April of 1945.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s story is most interesting. His writings live on and have had great influence on the generations that followed his abbreviated life. One of the terms he also coined was cheap grace which also has great meaning today. I’ve included an apt description of this at the bottom of this page.

The following essay is taken from a letter written while in captivity. I urge you to read it. It may help you understand better your own frustration with what you see today. And if you are one of those who fail to see what seems so clearly evident to most people, perhaps you should read it then ask yourself how you allowed yourself to be swept up in this grand wave of stupidity.

Here is what Bonhoeffer wrote on stupidity from his prison cell:

‘Stupidity is a more dangerous enemy of the good than malice. One may protest against evil; it can be exposed and, if need be, prevented by use of force. Evil always carries within itself the germ of its own subversion in that it leaves behind in human beings at least a sense of unease. Against stupidity we are defenseless. Neither protests nor the use of force accomplish anything here; reasons fall on deaf ears; facts that contradict one’s prejudgment simply need not be believed- in such moments the stupid person even becomes critical – and when facts are irrefutable they are just pushed aside as inconsequential, as incidental. In all this the stupid person, in contrast to the malicious one, is utterly self-satisfied and, being easily irritated, becomes dangerous by going on the attack. For that reason, greater caution is called for than with a malicious one. Never again will we try to persuade the stupid person with reasons, for it is senseless and dangerous.

‘If we want to know how to get the better of stupidity, we must seek to understand its nature. This much is certain, that it is in essence not an intellectual defect but a human one. There are human beings who are of remarkably agile intellect yet stupid, and others who are intellectually quite dull yet anything but stupid. We discover this to our surprise in particular situations. The impression one gains is not so much that stupidity is a congenital defect, but that, under certain circumstances, people are made stupid or that they allow this to happen to them. We note further that people who have isolated themselves from others or who lives in solitude manifest this defect less frequently than individuals or groups of people inclined or condemned to sociability. And so it would seem that stupidity is perhaps less a psychological than a sociological problem. It is a particular form of the impact of historical circumstances on human beings, a psychological concomitant of certain external conditions. Upon closer observation, it becomes apparent that every strong upsurge of power in the public sphere, be it of a political or of a religious nature, infects a large part of humankind with stupidity. It would even seem that this is virtually a sociological-psychological law. The power of the one needs the stupidity of the other.The process at work here is not that particular human capacities, for instance, the intellect, suddenly atrophy or fail. Instead, it seems that under the overwhelming impact of rising power, humans are deprived of their inner independence, and, more or less consciously, give up establishing an autonomous position toward the emerging circumstances. The fact that the stupid person is often stubborn must not blind us to the fact that he is not independent. In conversation with him, one virtually feels that one is dealing not at all with a person, but with slogans, catchwords and the like that have taken possession of him. He is under a spell, blinded, misused, and abused in his very being. Having thus become a mindless tool, the stupid person will also be capable of any evil and at the same time incapable of seeing that it is evil. This is where the danger of diabolical misuse lurks, for it is this that can once and for all destroy human beings.

‘Yet at this very point it becomes quite clear that only an act of liberation, not instruction, can overcome stupidity. Here we must come to terms with the fact that in must cases a genuine internal liberation becomes possible only when external liberation has preceded it. Until then we must abandon all attempts to convince the stupid person. This state of affairs explains why in such circumstances our attempts to know what ‘the people’ really think are in vain and why, under these circumstances, this question is so irrelevant for the person who is thinking and acting responsibly. The word of the Bible that the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom declares that the internal liberation of human beings to live the responsible life before God is the only genuine way to overcome stupidity.

‘But these thoughts about stupidity also offer consolation in that they utterly forbid us to consider the majority of people to be stupid in every circumstance. It really will depend on whether those in power expect more from peoples’ stupidity. than from their inner independence and wisdom.’

-Dietrich Bonhoeffer, from ‘After Ten Years’ in Letters and Papers from Prison (Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works/English, vol. 8) Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2010

Cheap Grace-

“But there is another, uniquely religious aspect that also comes into play: the predilection of fundamentalist denominations to believe in practice, even if not entirely in theory, in the doctrine of “cheap grace,” a derisive term coined by the theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer. By that he meant the inclination of some religious adherents to believe that once they had been “saved,” not only would all past sins be wiped away, but future ones, too—so one could pretty much behave as before. Cheap grace is a divine get-out-of-jail-free card. Hence, the tendency of the religious base of the Republican Party to cut some slack for the peccadilloes of candidates who claim to have been washed in the blood of the Lamb and reborn to a new and more Christian life. The religious right is willing to overlook a politician’s individual foibles, no matter how poor an example he or she may make, if they publicly identify with fundamentalist values.”

— Mike Lofgren

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Restored, a bicycle fleshed
With power, and tore off
Up Highway 106, continually
Drunk on the wind in my mouth,
Wringing the handlebar for speed,
Wild to be wreckage forever.

—James Dickey, Cherrylog Road

Looking around for a song to play this week’s Sunday Morning Music, I realized I wanted to hear 1952 Vincent Black Lightning from Richard Thompson. It’s a wonderfully written and performed song. Doing a quick search I found that I hadn’t played it here in well over a decade. Time to break it out again. Listening to it again reminded me of a post from back in 2009 about a childhood memory about a hill climb. Here’s that post followed by the song:

It was in the mid-60’s and I was no older than eight years old when I accompanied my uncles and father to a hill climb on a steep hillside outside of Corning. The whole idea of a hill climb is to see who could conquer the sharp rise of the hill while staying aboard their motorcycles without flying off and sliding (or rather, tumbling) back to the bottom of the hill. It seemed kind of crazy and dangerous, even to a kid.

It was a hot summer day filled with sun and the field at the base of the hill was littered with all sorts of bikes, mostly pared down iron monsters from the 50’s. There were Lincolns, Indians and BSA’s, all having that throaty sound like chainsaw noise filtered through a big cardboard tube, making it echo and somewhat rounder in sound. I don’t know if that description makes sense but the sound was so different that the high squeals of modern bikes racing down the highway.

It’s a sound that makes my skin crawl now but was pleasing to a kid enthralled by the sound and fury of the spectacle of that day.

One after another guys in leather pants and armless  denim jackets, most without helmets, would get a running start at the bottom of the steep decline and fire upward, trying to find the line that would take them to the top. Dirt flying, undulating back and forth as their bikes belched fire, they climbed higher and higher above the crowd only to come to an even steeper point in the hill.

Gunning it, they  would dive into the rise. Many would suddenly flip to one side or another, their bikes stalling out as they dug their legs into the ground trying to not start rolling down the hill. An unfortunate few didn’t get to do this instead flipping over backwards and tumbling a good portion of the way down the hill.

Believe me when I say that it was pretty cool thing, speaking as a kid.

But the part that remains with me most from that day were the motorcycle gangs that were all through the crowd watching. I was awestruck watching these people. They were unlike anything I had seen at this point in my life. The group next to us was gang out of Detroit, the name of which had evaded my memory over the many years. Scorpions? I can’t quite remember the image on their jacket backs.

Most were bearded and filthy, dressed in black leather or grimy denim covered with writing and patches. Some had bike chains worn like military braids. The thing that caught my eye were the animal paws that hung like medals from their jackets. Were those dog paws? One looked like a lion’s paw, for chrissakes!

This was in the days before pop-tops of any type on beer cans. To open a can you had to use a can opener that tore a triangular hole on the can top.  They would open a can with can openers that hung from many of their jackets and would drink the beer by holding the can at arm’s length and let the beer sail through air to their waiting gobs. Nobody I knew drank beer that way so it caught my attention.

But perhaps the most vivid memory from that day was of a biker lady. She had hair that was bleached to a pale yellow-white, a color I had never seen before. She fascinated me as I stood staring at her from about eight feet away. She was wearing worn leather pants and a black and only a black bra with white polka dots as a top. She wore dark rimmed sunglasses and held a can of beer as she looked up at the hill. It was, again, a new look for me and I took advantage to register the memory.

There was no trouble that day and I didn’t leave with bad memories of those people, although I was still a little worried about those paws. Over the years whenever I’d see a biker wearing his colors I flash back to that summer day in ’66 or ’67 and that biker lady in her polka dot bra.

Wonder what she’s up to these days?

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Fortune’s Smile— At Principle Gallery, Alexandria VA

Give fools their gold, and knaves their power;
Let fortune’s bubbles rise and fall;
Who sows a field, or trains a flower,
Or plants a tree, is more than all.

For he who blesses most is blest;
And God and man shall own his worth
Who toils to leave as his bequest
An added beauty to the earth.

— John Greenleaf Whittier,  from A Song of Harvest

As one gets older, worries pop up about what becomes of those things we have accumulated once we are no more. They might have meaning or value for us but mean little, if anything, to others. Will they continue to have the same meaning and value once they are left behind?

Are they a legacy or a burden? A gift or garbage?

The thought made me think of the old Aesop’s Fable of the Old Man and the Three Young Men. It’s a parable that is present in similar forms in the stories of many cultures, one that points out that when we seed the future with flowers and trees, we do it as much for the future that exists without us as we do for ourselves in the near future.

It’s something to keep in mind. It’s never too late to work on that legacy.

Here’s the Aesop version of the tale followed by Pass It On from Bob Marley & The Wailers. Good stuff…

AS AN OLD MAN was planting a tree, three young men came along and began to make sport of him, saying: “It shows your foolishness to be planting a tree at your age. The tree cannot bear fruit for many years, while you must very soon die. What is the use of your wasting your time in providing pleasure to others to share long after you are dead?”

The old man stopped in his labor and replied: Others before me provided for my happiness, and it is my duty to provide for those who shall come after me. As for life, who is sure of it for a day? You may all die before me.

The old man’s words came true; one of the young men went on a voyage at sea and was drowned, another went to war and was shot, and the third fell from a tree and broke his neck.

Moral:
We should not think wholly of ourselves, and we should remember that life is uncertain.

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Helen Frankenthaler- Savage Breeze

There are no rules. That is how art is born, how breakthroughs happen. Go against the rules or ignore the rules. That is what invention is about.

–Helen Frankenthaler

I remember reading about Helen Frankenthaler, the famed Abstract Expressionist, when I was first beginning to really paint with purpose.  In an article that I read but can’t locate now, she spoke of how she came to her trademark stain paintings where very thinned oil paint is applied to unprimed canvas.  She said it was almost by accident that she first experienced the absorbing of the paint by the raw cotton canvas and how that it caused a reaction, a breakthrough, in her thinking about how she wanted to express herself within her work.

Helen Frankenthaler -Sirocco

She felt that all artistic breakthroughs were the result of a change in the way one saw and used their materials.  It could entail changing the type of material used or using them in a more unconventional manner, as her above quote stating there are no rules infers.

This immediately clicked with me at the time I read it.  I had been trying to shape my way of thinking to fit the materials I was using at the time. Unsuccessfully. What I needed to do was change the materials to fit the way I was thinking. To allow my thought process greater free rein and not cater to the restraints of materials.

That may sound kind of abstract but it allowed me to start working with my paints and grounds in a much different way, forming my own process that worked well for my way of thinking and has become entrenched in my thought process. Even though it may be outside more traditional forms of using these same materials, this process has over time become as rigid in my use as the techniques used by the most steadfast adherent of the most traditional school of painting.

You reach a certain point, a mastery of your materials, where there are few accidents, few surprises in the materials’ reactions and, as a result, fewer surprises in your own reactions.

You have reached an endpoint, a culmination.

For most, this is the goal. But I want that surprise, that not knowing exactly how the materials will react and that need to solve the problem presented by the need to express with the limitations of the materials used.

So, I try to continually tweak, to create a little tension and uncertainty in how the materials react to my use of them, to create a sense of surprise.

Because that’s where the breakthroughs dwell…

This post first ran back in 2010. I ran it again a few years later when I had the honor of having my work hang alongside Frankenthaler’s work in an exhibit at the U.S. Embassy in Kuwait. Though my work didn’t echo hers in any way– her breakthroughs were hers alone as were mine–her words certainly shaped how I viewed my work.

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