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On what seem to be fairly regular occasions I find myself in a position where I wonder if Hamlet was wrong about his very famous question that surfaced while he reviewed his awful situation and contemplated terrible options for dealing with it.  I occasionally have reason to wonder whether the real question is not “to be, or not to be,” but rather “to know, or not to know.”  The existence and personal acknowledgement of this question is somewhat disturbing to me given that I have spent the vast majority of my life actively seeking for both knowledge and wisdom.  At my core, I have built a life based on obtaining and applying knowledge.  Willful ignorance is weakness and ugliness.  If you know me at all, you know that I love to learn…  learn anything… learn everything (if that were possible).  How is it then that I could even contemplate willful or “blissful” ignorance.

I have always understood that knowledge comes at a price.  Anything worth having requires giving up something in exchange, and knowledge is no exception.  Aside from the work it requires to learn, knowledge comes with other responsibilities – in particular, the responsibility to use it appropriately.  Once obtained, knowledge requires we wield it as a weapon in defense of truth and right, a lever to lift the afflicted, a light to chase out darkness, and a safety line to prevent personal catastrophe and aid in rescuing the lost.  It is a powerful tool, and like any other tool, requires energy and discretion on our part in order to use it effectively.

Throughout my life, my quest for knowledge has been a central focus.  You might say I’ve attempted to become something akin to the mental equivalent of a high-performance athlete, constantly working to build strength and capacity.   As with an athlete’s physical capacity, building mental capacity requires exercise of existing capacity to the point where that capacity fails, prompting a system response to rebuild stronger.  That process universally entails discomfort, if not outright pain.  However, it is a pain that the experienced practitioner recognizes, understands, and actually enjoys because it is a sign of progress.  The benefit is visceral and real in the tangible and foreseeable future.

As an example from my earlier life, I began running regularly while in graduate school to relieve stress and keep my wits about me.  When I began, running anything over a mile was painful.  I didn’t enjoy it.  In reality, I hated it.  However, I recognized a need to master my body and clear my mind, so I continued through the pain.  It wasn’t long before I began to see the benefit that came with challenging my body as my capacity adapted to the new challenges.  Within a year, the guy who routinely struggled to pass a one-and-a-half mile fitness run for the military was running half-marathons and ultimately a full-up marathon for fun in spite of the fact that both the build-up and the actual race resulted in considerable pain.  I saw the benefit, so the cost in time and discomfort was worthwhile.

This experience with physical pain directly correlates with my experiences gaining knowledge.  From a very early age, I have found the process of learning exciting.  I have always been able to apply bits and pieces of knowledge in ways that I find rewarding, to the point where the experience many would describe as “the pain of learning” is an exciting journey.  Just like when, at the peak of my training for the marathon, I found the physical discomfort of training comforting and pleasurable, I very early in life began to love the effort it requires to learn.  While not my foundation, this concept is at the core of who I am.  One might claim it is the load-bearing walls that support the rest of the structure.  Questioning it is like driving a bulldozer through the center of a building and expecting it to remain standing.

Unfortunately, as I’ve “gained experience” with life the unhappy realities of our mortal condition have presented me with somewhat regular opportunities to obtain knowledge and face realities that inflict pain without any clear payoff to offset the price.   Usually that kind of knowledge has to do with understanding the unfortunate realities that impinge upon me such as the evil nature of some men, motivations and intentions of public figures, and the willful ignorance of others.   For this kind of unhappy understanding, at least, I have found a path to accept it philosophically.  However, lately I’ve found a niche where I’m not sure knowledge, or rather information, isn’t outright hurtful.

A few years ago Liz got rather sick.  For a long time, the doctors were unsure what the nature of the illness was.  They struggled to develop a course of treatment that would pull her back from the brink.  It was a very dark time for me.   As they worked their way through the various possibilities I would occupy myself with pouring over the medical and other literature to understand the nature of the disease(s), treatment options, prognosis, etc…  At first it felt like a therapy, providing me with something on which to expend the nervous energy that threatened to build up to a point where it would consume me.  Learning was my default method for tackling a problem, and I applied it with vigor here.

However, as the easily identifiable and treatable conditions were eliminated one-by-one, what began as therapy took on more of an aspect of slow torture.  As the list of possibilities shortened, the consequences and potential outcomes became disturbingly frightening.  To make matters worse, Liz needed reassurance and I needed strength.  I was forced to suppress the pain and anguish boiling under the surface.   The effort to keep control of my fears left me with nothing in reserve.  Not only did I suffer, but those around me suffered as conditions that wouldn’t normally have bothered me triggered harsh or inappropriate responses.  What had begun as  therapy began to fuel the disease.  I eventually came to doubt the wisdom of arming myself with information.

This anecdote is one of a handful of similar circumstances that have led me at times to question the utility of knowledge in all cases.  I can’t help but wonder sometimes if it wouldn’t have been better to be the trusting and blissfully ignorant idiot, unaware of the awfulness of the road ahead.  There are times when knowing you are facing a tough road can prepare you for the journey, making the experience less painful or even enjoyable.  But I’ve also found times where knowing the path doesn’t equate to being able to alter it, slow the progress, or even prepare for the impact that is barreling at you.  Sometimes I wonder if I would be happier in certain circumstances were I unintelligible to the crisis until it suddenly and unexpectedly swept over me.

At present, I am staring at another situation where dredging up information has instigated anticipation of a potentially terrible path while leaving me completely unable to change course or prepare for the journey in a way that would be any more effective than simply waiting in ignorance.  In this case, should the information prove relevant, all I have done is rob myself of a period of  relative peace I could have enjoyed.  Luck may favor the prepared, and knowledge may be the glory of God; but isn’t there a small shred of truth in the sentiment “ignorance is bliss?”

When in Rome, do as the Romans

– St. Ambrose

I was pondering some on the nature of the “quote” above and decided to look up it’s history.  Much to my surprise, it is attributed St. Ambrose, a devout Christian.  Given the way this sentiment is used in modern society, I was thunderstruck at the idea it had originated from one of the most influential Christian thinkers of the early Church.  On the surface, it would appear that St. Ambrose is advocating for a form of moral relativism and giving license to abandon morals and standards in order to “fit in.”  However, after reflecting some and looking for the context around which the thought was based, I understand how it could be applied to Christian morals and have found a modicum of comfort in it.

It was something in the nature of my professional, interpersonal, and private relationships that initially got me pondering on this topic.  You see… it seems to me I have something of a split personality.  When at work, the personality and behaviors I utilize are markedly different from those I use with my family or social acquaintances.  The public face of Dad when he gets home from work looks very different from that of the LtCol who just left work.  Both of these faces look different from the face of the Priesthood leader, and all of the faces combined look different from the face that lies hidden in the recesses of myself.

I have, of necessity, developed something of a segmented personality and persona that has dropped deep roots into the crevices of my brain.  What I must be to function in the varied environments I live and work in changes with the surrounding environment to some degree, and the long years of practiced mental segregation have resulted in rather solid dividing lines between the various contexts.  Because of the nature of my work, much of what I say or do at there must stay there.  Aside from requirements to protect certain information from disclosure, the techniques and traits used to get “it” done are wholly inappropriate and inadequate for social or familial situations.  As a result, I have a “work brain” and “work personality” that activates almost automatically when I walk through the doors to my office.  Similarly, I have a “home brain” and “home personality” that kick into gear when I am around family, and a “social brain” and “social personality” I can drag out of hiding when I need to be sociable at a party or other “fun” gathering.

The lnikages between these various personalities have tended to get weaker and weaker as I get more and more exercised at using them for their intended purposes.  In fact, one complication of this kind of compartmented reasoning and reacting is that I tend to forget what I was doing and what is required of me almost instantly when I switch from one context to another.  When I am at work home is not in my thoughts much, and events, anniversaries, requirements, shopping lists, or any other home-related things I should be remembering are archived in the “home” section of myself and lie dormant until I leave work and shift gears.  The process works both ways.  As a result, I am a rather forgetful person on the whole.

This split-personality characteristic has always bothered me.  It has often made me feel like a fraud to some degree, and caused me to attempt to consolidate the public faces of myself from time to time.  Each time I’ve made the attempt it has been aborted after exhaustion kicked in or consequences stemming from misapplied techniques became uncomfortable.  As a result, I’ve resigned myself to the unhappy reality that having a context-sensitive personality is an unfortunate but necessary requirement for me.  While I strive to ground all of my behaviors on a common foundation, the aspects of me that different people are exposed to look entirely different depending on where and when the interactions occur.

Given that there are several different public versions of “me,” none of which fully reflect the totality of me, that they have evolved to satisfy the requirements of my environment, and that they may seem inconsistent with each other, it’s no wonder that I have found grappling with this reality to be a little uncomfortable.  This is where the context around St Ambrose’s message becomes important.  He was addressing the Church about differences in non-doctrinal liturgical practices between geographic regions, not about adopting amoral or immoral practices simply because they were common in the local area.  I believe his message was that in cases where you aren’t compromising your integrity, honor, or moral standards it is okay to adopt the custom of your environment to smooth the way.

I still doubt it is ideal, and can’t completely shake the thought that I ought to be “who I am” no matter where I am or what I am doing.  However, as the distinct and mutually incompatible segments of my personality have been developed they have become a part of “me” to the extent that if given the opportunity to simply adopt one or a combination of multiple of them, I’m not sure which I would choose.  Am I the cynical, hard-nosed, over-confident, business-oriented professional?  Am I the quiet reserved and awkward geek?  Am I the academic? Am I the socialite with a wide network of friends?  Am I the hillbilly redneck who would rather spend time under the hood of a car or on a tractor than anywhere else?  Am I the artist and poet?  … The answers to each of these questions, unfortunately, is “Yes,” and I am sure there are more caricatures  should I dare to plumb the depths of myself.  I don’t think I am capable of dropping any of them (except maybe the business professional) without damaging a part of me that has become important in some form or fashion.

So, while I don’t necessarily care for my current state of mind (or personality, or being, or whatever…), I guess I have come to terms with the fact that it is who I am, and that it will be a part of me for the foreseeable future.

What’s wrong with DC?  How is it that the array of government and our duly elected representatives can be so disconnected from the reality of the majority of American lives?  After spending another several days in the national capitol region, I am reminded of at least one of the reasons.  DC is nothing like the rest of America.  It is a frighteningly distorted fairytale land, and I am convinced that anyone who spends much time there will eventually lose touch with the realities facing most of America.

The fact of the matter is that people are influenced by their environment in ways they are largely unconscious of.  I have lived in enough places and worked in enough different environments that I have seen the impact local culture and environment have had on my personality, outlook, expectations, and perceptions.  I have been perhaps fortunate that those experiences have been diverse and have constantly challenged biases and prejudices in ways that have forced me to adopt a more critical view of the messaging (overt and otherwise) that has been working to shape my opinion. What I see in DC is a self insulating and perpetuating micro-climate that is distinct from what life is like in the vast majority of America and inexorably shapes the perceptions of those who live there.

I recently saw a report claiming that Democrats in the District make up 75% of the population, unaffiliated 16%, and republicans 6%.  Regardless of your political affiliation, you have to admit that DC is far from representative of the broader population.  About the only places where political affiliations are this polarized are deep inner cities where the population has become addicted to government largess and a few extreme rural areas where a small pocket of right-wing conservatives are the only humans within an entire voting district. This severe polarization, however, is not even a significant part of why DC should have figured prominently in Lewis Carrol’s tales.  Every time I have the misfortune of traveling there, I add experiences and anecdotes to my mental library chronicling the fantasy land that is DC.

My hotel receipt from my recent trip is a decent place to start.   The room cost me $239.00/night at a discount rate from a nation-wide hotel chain.  I can rent the same category of room almost anywhere else in the united states (other screwed-up megalopolises like LA and NY excepted) for around $120.00/night, and many places for around $90.00.  There are no extra amenities to justify the extra cost, and in fact, the hotel was in need of a refresh compared to a similar property in the same chain I stayed at in Omaha recently (incidentally for $110/night).  For the extra $119.00/night, I got the privilege of walking half a mile to a metro station in a humid 90 degrees, city lights shining through my less than blackout curtains, traffic, noise, limited cable channels, and slow Internet service.

This enhanced cost of living is not just for the transients.  A friend purchased a home on the outskirts of the NCR almost ten years ago for over $600,000.  For that price he got a three hour commute to a modest home on a postage-stamp of land tightly controlled by the HOA.  Eight years later, I built my dream-home on 5+ acres for well under half that amount.  In their mind, I am the crazy one.

This disparity seems lost on most who live in the NCR much above the poverty line.  Those with a family seem to think it normal to spend ten thousand or more dollars on a mortgage or lease each month while parking their Mercedes, Jaguar, BMW, or Cadillac SUV in a rented stall that costs them nearly as much as my mortgage.  The thought of not spending hundreds of dollars a month on each of the five or so extra-curricular activities for each of their 1.5 kids (if they have any) is heresy.  And as for the thought of putting them in public school, well… that is for “other people’s kids.”

For those too young to start a family (under 40, or maybe 50), a home and kids is unthinkable.  Extraordinarily expensive and crowded apartment high-rises are interspersed between large office buildings housing major defense contractors, consulting firms and think-tanks.  Things as simple as a functioning kitchen are tough to find, and functionally unnecessary because most food is prepared in a restaurant, usually with some fancy name and/or pretentious decor.  Life for this crowd revolves around work and play in search of “self actualization.”

Consider another take on the demographics.  I see in the District a relatively small set of very distinct and disconnected populations, only a few of which are statistically significant outside of the national capitol region (NCR)… First, and most visibly, there are the government employees. These people depend on the government for their paycheck which is quite large and well protected when taken in context.  This group has a vested interest in perpetuating and expanding the roles and responsibilities of the government and in expanding the benefits accrued to those who “serve.”  In the NCR, these employees fall into two primary categories…  The young and ambitious, and the old and powerful.  The young and ambitious want to be old and powerful, so they spend their days coddling and reinforcing opinions of the old and powerful.  The old and powerful spend their days doing “brain work” by loudly proclaiming the opinions that have been given them by one or more of the other power-broker classes (the young and ambitious or the rich and connected).  They all live lifestyles that would be unrecognizable to almost anyone from the “flyover states.”

The daily uniform for men in this class consists of expensive suits or designer shirts and ties.  Clothing that appears functional is a clear indicator that one is either a tourist or one of the various categories of servile underclasses.  A man-purse is a mandatory accessory for the young variety as is a hairdo and general demeanor that is sufficiently androgynous to avoid offending people of any sexual persuasion.  Women among the young and ambitious are generally skinny, pretty, wear skirts above the knee (often well above the knee), tight tops that expose substantial cleavage or otherwise draw attention to their frequently augmented breasts and are generally in their 20s or 30s.  The old and powerful women are rarely seen, but are hardened, wear pant suits, and are either chauffeured in or occasionally drive expensive luxury cars.  Middle-aged women seen in public are often tourists or under-class.

The most powerful class in DC though is not the collection of government employees.  It is the rich and connected, many of whom are at the disposal of large corporations dependent on government largess, and the remainder largely paid by the rich and powerful to use their connections to develop and propagate legal justifications or politically correct explanations that obfuscate the true nature of government actions.  Many of the latter are graduated from the old and powerful or pulled from the most ambitious and successful of the young who collected contacts and networks before switching to selling that information to the highest bidder.

The rich and connected are in a unique position.  They have at their disposal and routinely exploit information that can be used for or against those who are in positions of power.  They reward desired behavior with insights that, strangely enough, almost universally add to the personal wealth of the powerful or their close connections.  They use their access to media to manipulate messages and agendas.  Behavior that is disruptive is punished through leaks, disinformation campaigns, “spin,” ostracism, or other thuggish tactics.  Even the perception of the potential for punishment, coupled with the rewards of compliance, is more than adequate in almost all cases to silence real debate and discussion.  As a result of long years of participation, many of the old and powerful have also worked their way into the rich and influential category.  This is the pinnacle of DC success, and the real reason behind many of the decisions made.

Unfortunately, simply shutting down discussion and debate is not an option because there must appear to be two sides to each debate.  Representatives need to have materials for reelection campaigns.  To satisfy this need, spurious topics with important sounding and politically hot undercurrents are brought to the forefront to occupy the media and distract constituents while the old and powerful collude with the rich and influential behind the scenes to line their pockets and solidify or deepen their personal influence and wealth.

A short walk down any of the major streets will highlight another oddity.  Unlike other major cities that are built around one or more industries that have a requirement to produce something to survive, DC is founded squarely on the one and only organization that doesn’t need to produce tangible results, please shareholders in any real sense, and can “solve” its problems by giving itself more power, money, and influence.  Because of this, corporations in the city do not produce tangible products for end consumers.  Every major company with the resources to dedicate has an office in the NCR with the express intent of influencing governmental decisions in their favor so they can “bring home the bacon.”  Street after street is filled with offices for corporations like Lockheed, Boeing, Textron, Bell Labs, Raytheon, CACI, SAIC, and on, and on, and on.  Nowhere else in the world will you find such a concentration of ‘nonproductive’ employees.

This would make no business sense if the bureaucracy functioned in a fair and impartial manner.  However, big corporations don’t get and stay big by doing things that didn’t make business sense.  There is a form of unvoiced and notionally legal quid-pro-quo that keeps these offices gainfully employed.  Money translates into access, and access shapes policy which drives spending – constituents be damned.

If I sound somewhat cynical of our government, I am.  The miracle of it is that it works at all.  Throughout history, representative governments have collapsed when they became seriously corrupt and focused on purchasing votes through government programs.  Given the current state of things, I’m surprised we haven’t already gone over the edge.  Perhaps there is just enough of truth and honesty in our public servants (or at least fear of an informed public) to keep things from completely going off of the rails.  Then again, maybe we’re on the track and headed for the cliff with a full head of steam but just haven’t felt the rails fall out from under us yet.