by Mary Chino Cherry
In a famous moment
from The Blues Brothers, Elwood Blues breaks down a vital
concept for his brother Jake. Jake has just accused Elwood of lying
to him while Jake was imprisoned, and Elwood responds “I just took
the liberty of bullshitting you a little . . . . It wasn't lies. It
was bullshit.”
Americans are, of
all variations of the genus homo, perhaps
the most prone to—or adept at—bullshitting as a way of life.
Alexis
de Tocqueville notes that,
even in the 1830s, the people of these United States were constantly
on the make, uninterested in philosophy for its own sake, but
fascinated in all that might make material differences in their
circumstances. Tocqueville's insinuation that this was a flaw is,
perhaps, prototypically French, but the fact that he devotes
considerable real estate in Democracy in America
to exploring it implies the opposite. Indeed, no American would
seriously criticize another for wanting to do better for himself,
even if that American was already rich. “Excessively wealthy”
must, then, be considered the default synonym for “successful,”
“happy,” “satisfied,” or any other conceivable positive
status.
That
we Americans want
philosophy to bend toward bettering ourselves by fattening our
wallets may get us into trouble, but, importantly, it's a good
benchmark by which our devotion to bullshit may be measured. Rather
than let Christian traditions about the sacraments of giving and
living simply get in the way, we have re-created the faith as the
“prosperity gospel” without a single stammer or blush. Put
simply, Americans have forged Christ Hisself in the image of the
charlatan, the adman, the salesman, the motivational speaker, the
bullshit artist.
Americans
fall for marketing strategies, bald-faced hype, and clever ads not
because we're gullible, exactly, but because these
things are different passages from the same American scripture. We
recognize in those who speak them the words of Our One True Lord. To
not fall for the
come-on, to call the salesman on his bullshit, is something just shy
of blasphemy; doing so places the bullshit-caller-on-er squarely in
the category of pessimist, destroyer of the American Dream. In a
broad-based transvaluation of values, the American bullshitter has
become the American plain-dealer. He is fair because he is playing
the game as, it is understood, it ought to be played: an attempt to
gain advantage is the only admirable quality in the continual
tournament of self-interest. Woe be to she who walks away or refuses
to play the bullshit game.
It
is this ethos that allows the right-wing—which correctly does
represent “traditional” American values—to denigrate all
“bleeding hearts” and feminists, “do-gooders” and regulators
alike.
There
is little more sobering to the spirit of bullshitting than she who is
unafraid to point out its obvious and overpowering stench.
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