Author Archives: Jerry Flexer

Comment on a feminist documentary

Women heroes in Harlan County, USA

There are two prominent women heroes in the documentary Harlan County USA (1976), each representing a larger collective class of women. Lois Scott is the leader of the strikers’ wives, and Barbara Kopple, the filmmaker, represents the women filmmakers who brought the story of the women’s struggle and the strike to the public. Although each had the help of men, there would have been no story, and no telling of the story, had it not been for these heroic women. Lois’s heroics, with the rest of the strikers’ wives, is brought to our attention with cinema verite realism through the courage and heroics of Barbara Kopple and Nancy Baker.

As Annette Kuhn states in her book Women’s Pictures, Feminism and Cinema, “The central characters of socialist realist texts frequently embody heroic traits, a quality which has its origins in the influence of revolutionary romanticism on socialist realism. Art offers a vision of the future which is optimistic, but also aims to be grounded rather than utopian.”

While there is socialist realism in Harlan County USA, the filmmakers exhibit no desire for objective realism. This is a film by women and about women, and the momentous role they play in the struggle against classism and oppression. Kopple tells a story of real women living real lives, and tells it subjectively. She is keenly interested in representing the real lives, thoughts and feelings of her women protagonists. Thus she breaks with the conventional Hollywood cinematic tradition of placing woman in the gaze of man, woman as object for the benefit of man. The stereotype of woman as passive and man as active is shattered, as we are given a glimpse into the world of women organizing themselves in meetings, actions on the picket lines, verbal jousting with the sheriff and the gun thugs, Lois Scott packing a revolver, and women singing protest and labour songs (Hazel Dickens and Florence Reece). Throughout all this activity, women look after their children and their families. They support each other but are not shy about arguing about issues that matter to them most.

As Karen Warren argues compellingly in her essay The Power and Promise of Ecofeminism, there is good reason for feminists to support the ecology movement. Naturism, the destruction of nature by men, is justified in mainstream society by a logic of domination that is part of a patriarchal oppressive conceptual framework. The domination of nature by men is deemed justified by a process similar to the one that is used to justify domination of women by men. Harlan County USA provides a living, historical example of the powerful impact women can have in a struggle against patriarchal institutions, especially when women align themselves with other oppressed groups, similar to the way Karen Warren argues for feminists to see themselves also as ecofeminists.

In Harlan, oppressors are represented by two patriarchal institutions. The first is Duke Power, the corporation that owns the coal mine and that is governed by an executive board of men in suits. The second is the United Mine Workers of America, the union that represents the striking coal miners, also governed by an executive board of men in suits. And of course, the corruption and dealings between these two patriarchal institutions is made known by the film, through the use of stock footage found by Barbara Kopple and other scenes that play out during the strike.

One could argue that the wives act in support of their husbands against the company, purely for reasons of self-interest. They naturally want their husbands, the miners, to be safe. And they need for their husbands to receive better pay and benefits so they can feed and clothe their families and pay medical bills. This may well be true. However, the film supports a reading that the women have aligned themselves as an oppressed group themselves, with the strikers, another oppressed group by virtue of their class as workers. In addition to that, I would suggest, the film shows that members of one oppressed group often find it quite natural to make an alliance with members of another oppressed group. This is because oppression and struggle is understood as a result of personal, lived experience. As such, people who have never experienced oppression have difficulty feeling empathy with those who have, while those who have suffered oppression often relate with understanding to the struggles of others.

For example, in one telling incident captured on film in Harlan, the gun thug Basil Collins makes a threatening comment about the only black man we see as one of the strikers, calling him a “nigger”. Lois Scott hears the threat and shouts back at Basil “That nigger is a better man than you’ll ever be!” Here we have the natural alliance of aware and courageous women with other oppressed groups, in this case the racially oppressed (although the black man in question is also a member of the oppressed strikers).

Too often, though, empathy alone does not result in protest or action in solidarity with other oppressed groups. There is personal risk in doing so. But in the case of Harlan County USA, we see the women persuading the sheriff to serve an arrest warrant on Basil Collins. They do not ask the men to talk to the sheriff – they do it on their own, now that they have realized some inherent personal power as women. It is possible that empathy, on the one hand, and belonging to a group with common purpose, on the other hand, combine to supply the sense of empowerment often necessary for the taking of action in the face of personal risk.

Thus the power and influence of Harlan County USA is that it represents women as heroes in taking a stand against social injustice, as well as taking a stand to defend themselves and the oppressed. My point is that not only is this an example of one oppressed group struggling against an oppressive patriarchy, but rather there is much more happening here. When women take a stand in defence of other oppressed groups, the normal violent response of the patriarchal oppressors (at least in a more or less civilized society as 1970’s USA) is thwarted. Women have the power to use their perceived status as carers and nurturers to effectively shield themselves from the violence of men who defend the patriarchal institutions (scabs, strikebreakers, thugs, police). Women know that men see them not only as “the weaker sex” but also as the people entrusted with the care of their children and their families. The women know and expect, or at least have hope, that men would not be capable of shamelessly harming women in broad daylight and in living colour on camera. And their presence on the picket line protects the men on strike as well. This is what gives their non-violent resistance efficacy.

This advantage is available to the women of Harlan County through their own courage and the courage of Barbara Kopple. Kopple spent so much time on the picket lines with the strikers and their wives, that she became like family to them. Her main reason for doing so was her knowledge that with her on the picket line, holding her camera for all to see, the men gun thugs would not likely resort to violence. In the film there is an encounter between Basil Collins, the leader of the gun thugs, and Kopple. Stopping next to her in his truck one day, he tells her he wants to see her press credentials, while he has one hand on his revolver on the seat. Kopple asks to see his credentials, and says “Seems I forgot mine at home as well”. Basil’s attempted intimidation is thwarted. He drives off without incident. Kopple is a small woman, armed only with a camera, but aware of the source of her power and smart enough to take advantage of it. Nonetheless, it is a scary moment for Kopple, as she discloses in the commentary to the film.

The scene relating the shooting death of Lawrence, a young married white striker, one night when Kopple is not on the picket line, serves as proof for the viewers that the thugs, defenders of the patriarchy, are capable of employing violent means. As such, calling the role of the women heroic is no exaggeration. Ironically, the murder of Lawrence serves as a catalytic event that leads to a contract settlement with the company. The men in suits, representatives and defenders of the patriarchy, no doubt feel guilty for allowing its foot soldiers, the gun thugs, to commit murder. With murder on their conscience, the struggle has gone beyond acceptable forms of intimidation. Duke Power could be seen by the public as vicariously responsible for the criminal act of its agents. It thus becomes politically expedient to give in to the strikers’ demands.

Another reason why Harlan is a women’s film is exemplified by the way it was made. The making of the film in a way mirrors some of the story it describes, in that it was made in a collaborative effort by the filmmakers, many of whom worked without pay for long stretches of time so that the story of the struggle could be told. And like the collaborative nature of the film production, the unfolding events described in the film come about through collaboration between groups as well. The women of Harlan County and the women filmmakers work together. The women of the strike connect with the filmmakers because they appreciate their support. Kopple and Nancy Baker lived with the women of Harlan County for several months. They heard their stories, saw how they lived and struggled, and came to respect them and their courage. Collaboration, as opposed to competition, is a hallmark of femininity. Harlan shows us how it can be a key to successful struggles against an oppressive patriarchy. As Annette Kuhn so aptly points out,

“To the extent that it has adopted collective and participatory working methods, feminist film practice shares in and contributes to a broader tradition within independent cinema, a tradition which arises from a rejection of the production practices of the film industry, with their highly developed divisions of labour and hierarchies of power and authority.”

Harlan County USA is a political film; political in the sense that it documents the struggle for social justice, waged by an oppressed group. Many people nowadays seem to think that when it comes to political struggles, there are always two sides to every story. Harlan reminds us that we need to take a stand when we are witnesses to oppression. That is the mark of a just society. I imagine that in 1970’s USA, you could either be for the Vietnam War, or you could be against it. It must have been untenable to say you were undecided. What brought an end to the war was the effect of so many people who were willing to give voice to the strength of their conviction.

Harlan shows how movements of social struggle against oppressors use this principle of solidarity. People join a movement in support of the oppressed. And struggles succeed when the movement gains momentum from the solidarity of those on the margins of the struggle. Kopple makes this point clear when towards the end of the film we see Florence Reece singing her anthem of the coal miners “Which Side Are You On?”, rallying the miners at a meeting. The song is a call to awareness and action. While seeking the solidarity of those on the margins, it serves also to create a sense of community among the strikers, in a similar way that Pete Seeger’s We Shall Overcome became the rallying song for supporters of the civil rights movement. I expect African-Americans would not have achieved their civil rights without the active support of women and white folk, minorities and others.

When it comes to oppression, acquiescence is not an ethical option. Either you are for justice and fairness or you are against it. Barbara Kopple, as a woman filmmaker, understood this reality early on. She had no hesitation in joining the side of the oppressed – the women and the coal miners. It was never about objectivity. It was always about what was right.

It seems ironic that this notion of choosing sides – “Either you’re with us or you’re against us” – is today often used as a talking point in the public relations campaigns of right-wing, conservative political groups, at least in the USA.

Harlan County USA is a woman’s film, a feminist film. It portrays women as heroes and as powerful. It could not have been made had it not been made by a woman – a politically aware and courageous woman. Not only is the film’s story an inspiration to women and other politically oppressed groups, but the filmmaker – unafraid to take a stand – is an inspiration to political women filmmakers and to women seeking to break from patriarchal notions of how to make socialist realist art.

Bibliography

Kuhn, Annette (1982). Women’s Pictures – Feminism and Cinema. London, Routledge & Kegan
Warren, Karen (1990). The Power and Promise of Ecofeminism. Environmental Ethics, vol. 12, No. 2 125-146
Crowdus, Gary, ” American Dream (Interview of Barbara Kopple and Nancy Baker),” in Cineaste, vol. 18, no. 4, 1991

Decline of truth in America

On The Decline of Truth in the Age of Bullshit

It’s late September in the forest on Salt Spring Island. Foot-wide, stiffened, yellowish-brown maple leaves float to the ground, signalling the end of summer, and I crave one last taste of watermelon. In Ganges, watermelons are on sale. The label says seedless. Back in my forest hut, I slice into that succulent two-tone green orb, only to discover that its crimson-pink flesh hides dozens of white seeds. Flicking away these intruders, I remind myself that this is advertising. Anything goes. In my disappointment, I can’t tell if the bland taste means I didn’t pick a good one or if seedless doesn’t cut it when it comes to sweetness.

Should I be bothered about a misleading label? What right do I have to be indignant about it? I’ve stretched the truth a little here and there, dabbled in some exaggeration over the years. Everybody does it. It’s all quite harmless, isn’t it? I wonder if it’s just the silhouette of a shadowy monster.

What’s become of Truth? Is it Play-Doh in the hands of Mad Men, used car salesmen, politicians, cheating spouses, nasty five-year-old fibbers?

Apparently, from the time we can speak, grown-ups inculcate us into the cult of Truth. But according to Dr. Frances Stott, child development researcher and faculty at the Erikson Institute in Chicago, learning to fib is an important step in every child’s development. Stott says most children learn to lie between the ages of two and four, with the first lie representing a developmental achievement because it marks a child’s discovery that her thoughts are her own. We grown-ups all tell lies of convenience, while our children watch and learn.

Dr. Bella DePaulo, a psychologist at the University of Virginia, confirms that the lie is a condition of life. In a 1996 study, DePaulo and her colleagues asked 147 people between the ages of 18 and 71 to record all the lies they told over a week. Most of them admitted to lying once or twice a day. Over the course of a week they deceived about 30 percent of those they interacted with one-on-one. Not only that, but some types of relationships, such as between parents and teens, seem to be built on foundations of deception.

Everyone lies, although some people lie more than others.

America’s funniest self-proclaimed television pundit, Stephen Colbert, has his own take on what’s happening to truth in America. In 2005, he popularized the notion of truthiness as a gut feeling that something is true regardless of logic or the facts. “Truthiness is tearing apart our country,” Colbert said in 2006. “It used to be, everyone was entitled to their own opinion, but not their own facts. But that’s not the case anymore. Facts matter not at all. Perception is everything. It’s certainty. People love the President because he’s certain of his choices as a leader, even if the facts that back him up don’t seem to exist. It’s the fact that he’s certain that is very appealing to a certain section of the country. I really feel a dichotomy in the American populace. What is important? What you want to be true, or what is true?”

In a 2011 study, researchers working together in both New Zealand and Canada, looked at how images people see every day – the ones that decorate newspaper or TV headlines – produce truthiness. What they discovered astounded even them. In one example, they showed the claim ‘The liquid metal inside a thermometer is magnesium’ to one group alongside a photo of a thermometer, while a second group was shown the same claim without a photo. When they asked the test subjects if they agreed or disagreed with the statement, those who saw the claim with the photo of the thermometer were significantly more likely to agree, even though it was obviously false.

Photos make it easy to picture the information, and that makes it feel right. “These photos might have unintended consequences,” concluded the researchers, “leading people to accept false information because of their feelings rather than the facts.” Could this help explain the mesmerizing power of print and visual advertising? Might also explain why cigarette makers paid actors big money over the years to light up in the movies. If our heroes smoke, how harmful could it be?

Seedless watermelons are hybrids – like a mule is a cross between a horse and a donkey. As a more convenient product, seedless watermelon outsells seeded by a margin of eight to two. According to the U.S. National Watermelon Promotion Board, ten years ago that margin was only six to four.

In the film The Insider, about Jeffrey Wigand, a former vice president of research and development at tobacco manufacturer Brown & Williamson. Wigand blew the whistle on the tobacco industry in a 1996 episode of the CBS television program 60 Minutes, when he revealed that Brown & Williamson intentionally increased the amount of nicotine in its cigarettes to make them more addictive.

But two years before the 60 Minutes revelation, a U.S. congressional subcommittee, while conducting a formal hearing into the regulation of tobacco, had heard sworn testimony from seven CEOs of American cigarette makers. They were asked point blank if they believed nicotine was addictive. One by one they parroted: “I believe that nicotine is not addictive.”

And when U.S. state governments sued big tobacco companies in the 1990s, newly released documents revealed that tobacco executives were aware of the harmful and addictive effects of smoking since the early 1950s. But in January 1954, four of the largest cigarette makers published an ad in the New York Times and 400 other newspapers, headed ‘A Frank Statement to Cigarette Smokers.’ It read, in part:

“Although conducted by doctors of professional standing, these experiments are not regarded as conclusive in the field of cancer research. However, we do not believe that any serious medical research, even though its results are inconclusive, should be disregarded or lightly dismissed…Regardless for the record of the past, the fact that cigarette smoking today should even be suspected as a cause of a serious disease is a matter of deep concern to us…We believe the products we make are not injurious to health.”

One small step for advertising and public relations. One giant leap for bullshit.

Bullshit is pervasive in American culture, suggests moral philosopher Harry Frankfurt in his essay On Bullshit. “Everyone knows this,” he claims. “Each of us contributes his share. But we tend to take the situation for granted.” Bullshit is something expressed with complete disregard for the truth. Pretentiously. The object is to influence others by lying about the speaker’s own thoughts, feelings, or attitudes.

Many of us look to journalists to keep the bullshitters honest. But even journalists can be victims of the war on truth. Sadly, libel chill stifles many important stories. And two current trends I’ve observed suggest the war on truth is relentless and escalating. The first is the flourishing of bullshit media – both broadcast and print. The second is the proliferation of whistle blowers and truth-checking organizations. The Canadian Journalists for Free Expression, for example, announced their inaugural Integrity Award in 2011. Three Health Canada scientists became international heroes for raising concerns about potential harmful effects of Monsanto’s bovine growth hormone, designed to boost the milk production of dairy cattle. Following the scientists’ whistle blowing revelations, the drug was banned in Canada and most of the developed world. But only after a smear campaign led to them being reprimanded, ordered to be silent, and eventually dismissed from Health Canada. Another new truth organization is FactCheck.org, popular recently for ferreting out truth and lies in the U.S. presidential election campaign.

I doubt FactCheck.org would be as popular as it is if mounds of bullshit weren’t being piled on the truth like so much fertilizer on a field of watermelons.

I Google seedless watermelon. One web site says there is no such thing as a seedless watermelon – they all have seeds. But here’s what the National Watermelon Promotion Board has to say about seedless watermelons:

“Seedless watermelons…have few or no seeds. When we say seeds, we are talking about mature seeds, the black ones. Oftentimes, the white seed coats where a seed did not mature are assumed to be seeds. But this isn’t the case! They are perfectly safe to swallow while eating, and don’t worry – no seeds will grow in your stomach.”

To me they look like seeds.

On the September 18, 2012 CBC television show The National, a segment called The Insiders, hosted by Peter Mansbridge, featured a panel of experts discussing the politics of lying. One of the examples the panel looked at was a news release by Stephen Harper’s 2005 election campaign that asked the question: “Paul Martin supports child pornography?” Truth is, Paul Martin did vote against a Conservative motion to curb child porn. But in Parliament, opposition motions are routinely voted down. Nonetheless, what the Conservative press release proclaimed was that “Martin says he’s against child pornography but his voting record proves otherwise.”

Also in the same segment, Mansbridge showed a clip from the recently released fiction film The Ides of March. In the scene, a U.S. senatorial candidate’s campaign press secretary asks a staffer if it’s true their opponent has investments in a diamond mine in Liberia. The staffer says they’re still checking it but they got it from a blog. “I don’t care if it’s true,” says the press secretary, “I just want to hear them denying it. If it is true, great. Find out. But if not, let them spend a day telling the press he doesn’t own a diamond mine in Liberia. Win win.”

Fiction imitating real life?

Hasn’t there always been bullshit? But what’s different nowadays, Frankfurt claims, is that bullshit is no longer shit – waste emitted without thought. Advertising, public relations, and politics all rely extensively on bullshit that is meticulously crafted by sophisticated specialists with the help of market research, public opinion polling, and psychological testing.

I get it that people sometimes lie to cover up an embarrassing secret or mistake, or to make money. No doubt, most of these people are decent folk who have strayed after succumbing to temptation or pride. But when someone resorts to bullshit, he does not care at all about the truth. His aim justifies the means. He knows that maybe he can’t fool all of the people all of the time, but he tries to fool enough people to achieve his aim.

Bullshit is perceived by most people as less objectionable than lies, and it’s also harder to debunk. Spun into strands of disinformation, with enough wool to pull over people’s eyes, it renders the unaware blind. Bullshit is the smear campaign’s ammunition. Insidious and manipulative.

Why does it bother me? Harm and consequences, I think. Certainly, lies can cause great harm. But bullshit has the power to change a society, by changing the rules of common discourse. It can sap the spirit of those who think they are playing the same game – the game of debate over truth and reality – when it’s actually a completely different game. There are no rules. Bullshitters spread whatever bullshit will make the other side squirm, and wait for the red face or the white flag.

When elected leaders and corporate executives flaunt the truth, many of us can become cynical, skeptical, or overly vigilant. Behaviour changes. We might start to rationalize and justify our lies and our bullshit. Or what’s worse, people could become apathetic, lose faith in democracy, in society’s institutions, and in their fellow man. Which leads inevitably to further erosion in the value of truth. Like the downward spiral spin of an out-of-control aircraft, it’s very difficult to reverse.

Take climate change. Soon after Al Gore shared the science with the world in An Inconvenient Truth, deniers started filibustering the debate. U.S. Republican Senator James Inhofe, for example, has championed the notion that “global warming is the worst hoax ever perpetrated on the American people.” Action deferred is action not taken. I’m not a scientist, but I think I smell the stench of…well, you know.

Have I developed sensitive bullshit antennae? If bullshit detection is a learned behaviour that’s hard for me to shake, the thought makes me sigh with sadness. In a way, I grieve the loss of the me I once was, carefree and ready each day to embrace the world with an open heart and a smile.

Now summer is saying hello to autumn. Squirrels scramble to store food for the winter, and my neighbours in the forest chop and pile stacks of firewood. I can taste my next watermelon, the last one I’ll have before next summer. This time I’ll get one pockmarked with slippery, inedible, pesky black seeds. It’ll be hard work digging them out, but I know the sweet red flesh that remains will quench my desire for natural watermelon taste. The real thing. Authentic.

Before the Law

Critical Review of Franz Kafka’s Before the Law, a parable within a parable

(see the wiki entry on this work by Kafka here)

The literary form of the parable

In using the form of the parable (Kafka had a special talent for parables), Kafka shows he is the equal of the Zen masters, who realized that one way to jar their students towards a consciousness-changing insight was through the use of koans. Kafka’s parables are to Europeans what the koans are to the students of Zen. With parable, as with the koan, the form is everything – content is secondary to form.

Here is an example of a parable from a Buddhist sutra:

A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger after him. Coming to a precipice, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself down over the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Trembling, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. Only the vine sustained him. Two mice, one white and one black, little by little started to gnaw away the vine. The man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted!

And this is the opening verse from a well-known collection of Zen koans:

The great Way has no gate; There are a thousand different roads.

If you pass through this barrier once, you will walk independently in the universe.

– The Gateless Gate, The Classic Book of Zen Koans¹

Some material from the bible could be described as parables.² With all parables, paradox is the essential element. Paradox directs the reader to look inward for some fresh insight and wisdom. Knowledge may lead to understanding, but never to wisdom.

Kierkegaard valued parables and stories as forms better suited to the study of philosophy. Parables direct the reader to self-examination, provoke self-discovery, and cultivate the capability of developing the self.²

Symbolism in Kafka’s Before the Law

Readers can ponder the many possible meanings for the symbols in Before The Law. The ‘law’ could be: Enlightenment, God, religion, ethics and morals, truth, the meaning of life, your life’s purpose (‘this gate was meant only for you’), the great mystery of the universe, or simply the law – that system of rules used to administer justice. Who is the doorkeeper? And who is the man from the country? And what does the door stand for? The beauty of this work of art is that it speaks to each reader differently. Many readers will be perplexed. And some will simply despise it. Others could be frustrated. It is like a koan. No matter which way you turn to find logic, you find only paradox. And then you might see that trying to make sense of the parable using your logical thinking leads nowhere – leads to a door guarded by a doorkeeper who refuses to let you in. This parable within a parable (as part of the novel The Trial) is intended to perplex.

Two types of possible interpretations of Before the Law

a) Existentialist interpretations:

Be bold as you follow your life’s journey. You will encounter obstacles and you must push on fearlessly. The man from the country is not barred from entering – he is afraid to enter without permission. No one said it would be easy. There is a price of admission – one must ignore the doorkeeper’s veto. The man from the country decides to wait, thereby neglecting to exercise his existential responsibility.
You must not submit to the doorkeepers in your life – those who wish to steer you away from your authentic self.
Rules suck the life out of you – do not let them grind you down to inaction. March past the doorkeeper, and the next, and the next. Fight them if you must.

b) Anti-existentialist (or post-existentialist) interpretations:

Accepting the mystery of the unknown, foregoing the search for a unifying explanation, allows you to focus on life as it happens in the present. It is pointless to sit and wait for permission to live, while frittering away your life.
Accepting absurdity and arbitrariness in the world leads to letting go of a need to control your life, to achieve success according to societal expectations, to be somebody rather than to be yourself. Letting go of control leads to inner peace.

Connections

Does Kafka’s parable lead to nihilism? No, there is no nihilism here. It is simply suggesting that you cannot sit around waiting for admittance to the law (whatever it is), while wasting your life away. You must live in each moment of time that you are alive as if it is the only moment. Otherwise, like Kafka’s man from the country, you risk living for the sake of the search – a search for something that is not available to you. Do not wait to discover that when most of your life is behind you.

This is the opposite of nihilism – while it annihilates the future and does away with all hope, it affirms the notion that being alive now is all there is. So, be alive, or rather – live! Instead of searching for the law, or truth, or meaning – just live!

The law, or truth, or meaning, can be found in the living of every moment in authentic relationship (Buber, Nietzsche, Heidegger, Kierkegaard, Camus). There is no need to assume any personal responsibility (Ellison, Sartre, Tillich, Frankl) for anything else.

When one lets go of the search for God, for truth, for purpose or meaning, for a theory of everything, for an explanation of all that is – it is then that one can be free to live with God, with the law, with nature, with oneself, with the world. The gate is made only for you, but there is no path to it. There is no way for you to get there from where you are. It is a gateless gate. Once you pass through the gate that is not there, you are free, because you are no longer looking for the law (truth, meaning, etc.)

Martin Buber loved the Hasidic tales. The one about the three rabbis and a maggid who wishes to save their people from harm, suggests that God (or truth, or the law) does not require religion or rules or prayer. All the fourth rabbi could do was to tell the story. And it was sufficient, “(f)or God made men because he loves stories.” Good stories keep the reader engaged by creating tension, through a complication – something that makes the life of the main character difficult. In Before the Law, a man wants to know the law. He believes it should be available to all. But a doorkeeper tells him he cannot enter, and invites him to wait. Maybe he will be allowed to enter later. And there is the complication. The reader is in suspense. Will the man gain entrance?

Kafka does not provide a satisfactory closure to the complication. At the height of tension – when the man is close to death – the doorkeeper shuts the door. For the reader, the parable has the same ending as the shutting of the door has for the man from the country. Our desire for a happy ending is thwarted. The law is inaccessible to the man from the country. And maybe God, truth, meaning – in a way humans can describe it – is inaccessible to us humans.

What does the work tell me about my own existence?

I love simplicity. But in Art I am drawn to complexity, ambiguity, and paradox. A character in Bergman’s Autum Sonata says she can live in her art, but not in her life. For life is one great paradox. There is no point in letting life pass me by while I search for the doorway to my truth. Truth is here, all the time. Just as it is nowhere, never. Kafka’s simple and yet complex parable is like a Bach piano concerto, Bergman’s Autumn Sonata, Rumi’s poetry, Maui surf at sunset, the call of the kookaburra, a child’s laughter. Explanation is not required. Words are unnecessary.

I have lived on the lip of insanity, wanting to know reasons, knocking on a door. It opens. I’ve been knocking from the inside.

Rumi (version by Coleman Barks)

In oneself lies the whole world, and if you know how to look and learn, then the door is there and the key is in your hand. Nobody on earth can give you either that key or the door to open, except yourself.

J. Krishnamurti

Endnotes:

Yamada, Koun, The Gateless Gate, Wisdom Publications, Boston 2004
Bonsignore, John, In Parables: Teaching Through Parables 12 Legal Studies Forum, 191 (1988)

Luther Standing Bear

Red, White, and Green; the warning of Luther Standing Bear

The Lakota way of being in the world provides context to explain why modern Western civilization is destroying the natural world. This flows from Luther Standing Bear’s description of Indian mind and white mind (1). For me, four themes stand out.

First, the theme of individual consciousness – awareness of the world. Indian mind is a way of being in the world that is in harmony with all living things. Standing Bear calls this way of being in “…kinship with all creatures of the earth, sky, and water”. This way of being is closed off permanently for almost all white minds. And since there can be no true understanding between minds operating at different levels of consciousness, white people are not capable of hearing, nor appreciating the import of, Standing Bear’s words.

Second, the theme of scientific thinking. For the Lakota, writes Standing Bear, “…mountains, lakes, rivers, springs, valleys, and woods were all finished beauty; winds, rain, snow, sunshine, day, night, and change of seasons brought interest; birds, insects, and animals filled the world with knowledge that defied the discernment of man… Lakota could despise no creature; all were filled with the essence of the Great Mystery.” For the white man, there is no Great Mystery, only uncharted territory to be discovered, classified, labeled, explained, dissected, analyzed, and used for the benefit of humans. Masanobu Fukuoka, a Japanese scientist and farmer, known for his practice of natural farming, states quite forcefully in The One-Straw Revolution: “…understanding nature is beyond the intelligence of man”. (2)

Third, the theme of thinking with the heart. Luther Standing Bear writes “…I have come to know the white mind does not feel toward nature as does the Indian mind.” There is one word choice that allows us to glean a valuable insight from this sentence. Standing Bear does not say the white mind does not think as the Indian mind. He says the white mind does not feel toward nature as does the Indian mind. A similar notion is recounted by Carl Jung, the founder of depth psychology. In 1925, at the age of 50, Jung visited the Taos Pueblo in New Mexico. According to Jung, Ochwiay Biano, the chief, shared that his Pueblo people felt whites were “mad,” “uneasy and restless,” always wanting something. Jung inquired further about why he thought they were mad. The chief replied that white people say they think with their heads – a sign of illness in his tribe. “Why of course,” said Jung, “what do you think with?” Ochwiay Biano indicated his heart. (3)

Fourth, the theme of sensitive, somatic awareness. The Indian lives with respect for the source of his food, water, and air. These are essential for survival. Kinship with all living things comes from sensing with the body – touching, smelling, tasting, listening, and most of all seeing with natural eyes. The white mind has lost this sensitivity by supplying food, water, air, and all of nature as commodities. All a white person needs for survival is money. There is no need to understand or appreciate the source of the food, water, and air. Food, water, even air, can all be purchased with money. As a result of this alienation from nature, White mind has skin and hands but does not know how to touch, has ears but does not know how to listen, has a nose but does not know how to smell, has eyes but cannot see clearly. As Emerson has written, “To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature.” (4)

Indian mind, as Luther Standing Bear tells us, is a kind of consciousness, able to see what is there, with fresh open eyes. Indeed, many white people have experienced an alteration of their consciousness, arriving at a state of mind resembling more closely that of the Indian mind. Whitman, Emerson, and Thoreau come to mind. My sense is that such transformations of consciousness occur only for individuals immersed intensely inside a natural world, or in circumstances of great pain or trauma. There are other catalysts, I am sure, but my point is that it happens infrequently. It is doubtful whether this consciousness can be accessed by the will, desire, or intention of a white mind. And if this is the case, it is possible, then, that expository nature writing will be read only by lovers of nature and lovers of nature writing.

There is one strand of nature writing that may help to transform white minds without the need for extraordinary catalysts. Standing Bear’s description of the Lakota way of being in the world is made personal and enhanced by his boyhood memories. He knows of what he speaks from personal experience and observation, and that is what he describes for us. “The old people came literally to love the soil and they sat or reclined on the ground with the feeling of being close to a mothering power.” There is a hint in his expository prose that suggests storytelling may perhaps engage the white mind and heart on a deeper level of knowing. This is especially so, I think, when storytelling is written in language accessible to young people. As Standing Bear writes, “…the old Lakota was wise. He knew that man’s heart, away from nature, becomes hard; he knew that lack of respect for growing, living things, soon led to lack of respect for humans too. So he kept his youth close to its softening influence.” Young people can be brought close to nature’s softening influence by encouraging them to be in nature, and also by providing storytelling in accessible prose and style. I am thinking of three particular examples:

The Education of Little Tree, by Forrest Carter
I heard the owl call my name, by Margaret Craven, and
Pilgrims of the Wild, by Grey Owl (Archibald Belaney)

Notably, each of these books has been adapted into film, or has inspired a film.

Endnotes

1. Standing Bear, Luther. “Nature”. Nature Writing: The Tradition in English. Eds. Finch, Robert, and John Elder. New York: Norton, 2002. 326-331.

2. Fukuoka, Masanobu. The One-Straw Revolution: An Introduction to Natural Farming. Trans. Larry Korn. Emmaus, PA: Rodale Press, 1978

3. Shulman Lorenz, Helene and Mary Watkins. “Depth Psychology and Colonialism: Individuation, Seeing Through, and Liberation.” 4 Sep. 2000. 25 Oct 2009 <http://www.pacifica.edu/gems/creatingcommunityw/depthpsychologycolonialism.pdf>

4. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. “Nature”. Nature Writing: The Tradition in English. Eds. Finch, Robert, and John Elder. New York: Norton, 2002. 140-151 (p. 143)

Storytelling power

Social movement (SM) campaigns are often won or lost depending on which side tells the better story. Too often, SMs lose the battle of the story when the opposition uses techniques of advertising and public relations. Rod Bantjes asks “If rhetoric is for sale, what are the prospects of the powerless winning discursive struggles?” (Bantjes, 2007:287) I suggest that theories for analyzing SM repertoire –frame analysis or discourse analysis, or even resource mobilization – are not equipped to appreciate fully what is needed to win the battle of the story. In our hegemonic society, many activists tend to rely on objective truth and logic to present their case, perhaps neglecting what we now know about narrative (story) as a persuasive force (Bantjes, 2007). Occasionally, activists tell their story with great creativity. While this approach sometimes gets results, my impression is that, more often than not, success comes more from intuition and innate skill rather than from strategic planning and craftsmanship.

The problem with frame analysis is that it does not have the tools to help us understand how storytelling works (Polletta, 2006). Discourse analysis fares no better, because while it is useful to understand rhetoric (Polletta, 2008), it is much too focused on the logic of language and meaning, and neglects the reality that narrative complies with ancient, universal rules of its own (Gottschall, 2012; Campbell, 1949). And resource mobilization stresses rationality (Scott and Marshall, 2005), while both literature studies and science suggest we look beyond the rational and dig deep into the affective nature of storytelling if we want to appreciate its power.

The Center for Story-based Strategy (CSS) is one SM organization using storytelling as a strategy with a great deal of success. And American sociologist Francesca Polletta’s recent work relies on literary and dramatic concepts to analyze storytelling. These recent developments could lead to an evolution in SM repertoire. Perhaps storytelling is coming out of the ‘story of the battle’ closet and into the ‘battle of the story’ arena.

Many SM scholars recognize the central role of stories in SM campaigns. Bantjes, for example, writes that “discourse analysis is compelling when it uncovers ways in which those claiming to speak rationally and objectively are in fact relying on rhetoric and drama” (Bantjes, 2007:286). And Della Porta and Diani use story analysis to discuss collective action and identity: “These stories are about identity: in particular, about the relationship between identity and collective action” (Della Porta and Diani, 2006:91). When SM participants are hurt by culturally imposed negative definitions of identity, better stories can counter-frame a positive identity. For Della Porta and Diani, like Bantjes, storytelling certainly does play a pivotal role in SM. However, they do not venture to assess storytelling as an intentional repertoire strategy.

For the CSS, “the dominant culture represents powerful social interests and perpetuates the stories that validate their political agendas” (Canning, Doyle and Reinsborough, Patrick, 2009:6). We give meaning to life through stories, and so all power relations have their foundation in story. The work of the CSS is very much informed by the concept of hegemony, developed by Gramsci. The dominant hegemonic culture relies on stories to reinforce the status quo; stories with messages like “you can’t fight City Hall”. What the CSS does is help SM deconstruct the story of the dominant culture and then reframe and reconstruct a new story that exposes bias and faulty assumptions. They call their approach Story-based Strategy (SBS). SBS involves using the techniques of narrative to structure information in a way that changes hearts and minds. Control over how a story is framed, is key to success. This is what the CSS calls the battle of the story. SBS reframes the story to wrest power away from the dominant authority.

In 2007, the CSS was invited to help prevent Nestlé’s construction of America’s largest water bottling plant near McCloud, California. Nestlé had targeted the town because of its history with “Mother McCloud”, a timber company that had operated a mill in the town until it closed 25 years earlier. Nestlé had spread the narrative of the ‘good old days’, with “Father Nestlé” riding in like the cavalry to save the town from economic ruin. Nestlé framed the issue around a story with the hegemonic ‘it’s either jobs or the environment’ message. Activists knew they had to reach out for wider support from local ranchers, and they were aware of the science showing Nestlé’s proposed bottling plant would dry up the ranchers’ water supply. But rather than argue logic and science, the CSS helped develop a brand-busting campaign to reframe the story. At the time, local ranchers had been battling an invasive plant species, called a spurge, that was sucking up their water supply. Activists distributed a poster with the title “Invasive Plant Alert” and an image that blended the Nestlé chocolate drink symbol of a striped straw, with that of a spurge. With this message and story in their minds, ranchers now saw the proposed bottling plant for what it was. Soon, Nestlé was forced to change its plans.

For Della Porta and Diani, frame analysis is a useful tool for analyzing mobilization. They discuss frame alignment, frame extension, and frame bridging (Della Porta and Diani 2006). In one example, they suggest an organization seen as concerned only with financial globalization (the ‘single-issue’ trap) could use frame extension to reframe that perception. It could, for example, connect financial globalization with its harmful side effects and point out how the process is inherently undemocratic. Della Porta and Diani also discuss discourse as repertoire. For example, they suggest that the “emphasis on the political often obscures the role of discursive opportunities, such as the capacity of movements’ themes to resonate with cultural values” (Della Porta and Diani, 2006:219). Because SM so often count on the media to spread their message, control of the media is essential for mobilization. Della Porta and Diani acknowledge, though, that in SM research, little attention has been paid to “subjective perceptions of reality”. Like Bantjes, then, Della Porta and Diani acknowledge the value of framing and discursive strategies. Nonetheless, both texts seem to have neglected to hone in on storytelling as SM repertoire, something that seems typical of most SM scholars.

Francesca Polletta has studied narrative for its rhetorical effects and discovered how these rhetorical effects work (Polletta, 2006). Polletta mentions examples of activists using personal stories: In women’s consciousness-raising groups, in coming-out stories, in stories of abuse survivors (Polletta, 2008). According to Polletta, though, many activists find it difficult for their stories to be accepted outside SM, because most people have a hard time seeing people struggling for power as powerless victims. Writing about battered women, Polletta says women can be both victims and agents. They can be both dependent and autonomous. But most of us are reluctant to read or view a story that differs from the cultural norm. Polletta argues there are elements of narrative – such as its elusiveness, for example – that engage the audience’s attention and help audiences accept stories different from the norm. She demonstrates this by analyzing a documentary film made in Maryland in 1989 as part of a campaign to allow expert testimony at battered women’s murder trials. In the film, four women imprisoned for killing their abusive husbands tell their stories. Using narrative and filmic techniques, the film presents the women as complex characters – both victims and agents. It achieves this with literary devices most social scientists are not familiar with. Some of these are, for example: shifting point of view, irony, and antithesis. Each of these elements of narrative craft, says Polletta, develops ambiguity. In one scene, for example, a woman says, “but right in midstream, as he was beating me and as I was sliding down my refrigerator, something inside me was like: I want to live” (Polletta, 2008:24). Each of the four women describes that very instant when she made up her mind to save her own life. And it is at this instant when the viewer’s attitude changes from skepticism to empathy. The stories told in the film differ from the cultural norm. These complex women had been both victim and agent, but their main motivation was to survive. With this film, the SM succeeded after years of unsuccessful activism. Polletta emphasizes the women did not put any kind of PR spin on their stories. They simply spoke from the heart. And in speaking from the heart, their stories were presented in a more ‘literary’ style. For Polletta, literary analysis has a lot to teach us about storytelling for social change. Frame analysis, on the other hand, does not help us discover why some stories work while others do not.

Two other approaches to analyzing story are narrativity, the study of fictional narrative, and the transportation model from the field of communications. Kinnebrock and Bilandzic (2006) have integrated these two approaches into one model. With transportation, the reader or viewer’s enjoyment consumes her attention. While engaged so intensely with the story, she is not processing the content with a critical attitude. This combination of intense reception with uncritical processing is what gives the story its persuasive influence. Integrating narrativity, Kinnebrock and Bilandzic ask the question, “What makes a story engaging”? They propose that narratives are characterized by varying degrees of narrativity. In other words, some stories are better than others at influencing people. Several ‘narrativity’ factors make for an engaging story. A few of these are: dramatic conflict, more than one storyline, characters who develop and change, and a complex story-world. Everyone knows a story must have a beginning, middle, and an end. But just rearranging the sequence of events can evoke different reactions. Most of all, a structure that creates suspense is particularly effective to transport the audience into the story-world. How then do we integrate the transportation model with narrativity? Kinnebrock and Bilandzic claim that different levels of transportation correspond to different degrees of narrativity. Stories with well-crafted narrativity elicit intense and uncritical processing. For SM, the key here is that narrativity choices are well within the control of the storyteller.

To what extent, then, are well-crafted true stories capable of changing behaviour and attitudes? Looking at the world of news media, Kinnebrock and Bilandzic point to studies that show how engaging news stories employ narrativity factors to engage viewers. Dramatic conflict in a news story, for example, makes a news story more engaging. Whether a story is truth or fiction has little impact on the transportation effect. Thus a well-crafted true story has the power to change attitudes and influence behaviour.

Recent research reinforces this thinking. Science writer David DiSalvo (2011), says studies show that “when viewers identify with a particular character in a television drama, they later report more emotional involvement with the narrative and it results in a greater influence on their attitudes and behavior” (DiSalvo 2011:157). In one such study, viewers watched two shows about organ donation. The first presented organ donation in a negative light and the other treated it positively. Viewers who had not been organ donors changed their mind after watching the show with organ donation depicted positively. And, surprisingly, viewers learned new information, but some of what they ‘learned’ was false. As it turned out, this did not make any difference – the information was seen as accurate if the viewer felt engaged (transported) with the story and its characters. DiSalvo concludes that this experiment really says two things. The first is that emotional engagement with a story affects the way people think and act. And the second, of special note for SM, is that this kind of engagement with a story can work to challenge the status quo, but also to support it. The implication is that strategic crafting of story is all-important.

According to Jonathan Gottschal, stories are almost always about people with problems. An engaging story is about the main character overcoming obstacles to get what she wants, at some cost or sacrifice. “Good story writers rely on a pattern of complication, crisis, and resolution” (Gottschall, 2012:54). All good stories share universal features, with a recognizable pattern and a limited number of themes. One of these themes is “power: the desire to wield influence and to escape subjugation” (Gottschall, 2012:55). Gottschall suggests the reason why stories follow a pattern and have a limited number of themes is because “the human mind was shaped for story, so that it could be shaped by story” (Gottschall, 2012:56). What science has now discovered is that when we watch a movie or read a story, we respond like a mirror. An engaging story makes us feel what the character is going through, as was the case with the imprisoned battered women in the documentary Polletta analyzed.

Another study Gottschall describes disproves the notion that people always store factual information separately from fiction. Whether it is knowledge or emotions, we often mix what we absorb as fact with what comes to us as fiction. While studies suggest that fiction is much more effective than nonfiction at changing attitudes and beliefs, I am not suggesting SM should stretch the truth to suit their aims. What I am suggesting, though, is that SBS apply techniques of fiction (as does the CSS) to skillfully and strategically craft nonfiction stories. In the realm of creative nonfiction, this is rudimentary. Creative nonfiction is the application of techniques from fiction to craft engaging true stories.

This, then, is a call to SM to embrace SBS as campaign repertoire, and develop it further to maximize its potential power for social change. Perhaps more work needs to be done to create a comprehensive theoretical model, then a workable framework, and perhaps even a practical guidebook. The CSS has pioneered this effort and made an impressive start. We can also learn much from Polletta’s insights into how, when, and why stories succeed or fail. And, as Polletta shows, we can only learn more if we integrate input from other disciplines.

We are, after all, the storytelling animal. Can we change the world without changing the story?

References

Bantjes, Rod. 2007. Social Movements in a Global Context: Canadian Perspectives. Toronto: Canadian Scholars’ Press

Campbell, Joseph. 1949. The Hero With a Thousand Faces. New York: Pantheon Books

Canning, Doyle and Reinsborough, Patrick. Re:Imagining Change: An Introduction to Story-Based Strategy. n.p. SmartMeme, 2009

Della Porta, Donatella and Diani, Mario. 2006. Social Movements: An Introduction, Chapter 4. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing

Della Porta, Donatella and Diani, Mario. 2006. Social Movements: An Introduction. Chapter 8. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing

DiSalvo, David. What Makes Your Brain Happy and Why You Should Do the Opposite. Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 2011.

Gottschall, Jonathan. The Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2012.

Kinnebrock, Susanne and Bilandzic, Helena. “How to Make a Story Work: Introducing the Concept of Narrativity into Narrative Persuasion.” International Communication Association Conference, 2006. Retrieved 29 July 2013 http://darwin.bth.rwth-aachen.de/opus3/ volltexte/2011/ 3638/pdf/3638.pdf >

Polletta, Francesca. It Was Like a Fever: Storytelling in Protest and Politics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006.

Polletta, Francesca. “Storytelling in Social Movements.” 2008. Retrieved 31 July 2013 http://www.socsci.uci.edu/~polletta /Articles/storytelling%20in%20Johnston%20volume-2.pdf

Scott, John and Marshall, Gordon eds. A Dictionary of Sociology. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005

Frost’s Mending Wall

‘Wall’ as Metaphor in Robert Frost’s Mending Wall

I suggest the wide appeal of Robert Frost’s “Mending Wall” (read the poem here) is, in the main, attributable to the different meanings carried by WALL as a metaphor. The Wall in the speaker’s story is a real physical wall, but I believe the theme of the poem is about WALL as a metaphor for something more abstract and ‘larger’ than a physical wall. To be more precise, WALL serves as a relatively concrete concept that encourages thinking about more abstract concepts readers might associate with a wall. As suggested by Lakoff and Johnson, “[t]he essence of metaphor is understanding and experiencing one kind of thing in terms of another”. (5) In “Mending Wall”, WALL as one kind of (concrete) thing invites readers to examine the way they view other kinds of things (more abstract concepts). In this essay, I will discuss three different ways in which WALL as a metaphor is significant, to show that different shades of metaphorical meaning make this apparently straight-forward poem rich with complexity.

First, WALL can be understood as a barrier to social interaction, connection, and friendship (the theme of barrier to social connection). The speaker and the neighbour get together each spring to mend the wall, at the instigation of the speaker. (12) Ironically, the speaker suggests that his only interaction with this particular neighbor occurs in the springtime when they are both engaged in mending their wall. The speaker does not love a wall, and would rather see the wall come down. (1, 35-36) He doesn’t see the need for the physical wall because there are no more cows in the fields, and his apples aren’t going to eat his neighbours’ pine cones. (25, 26) While this can be read as a reference to the physical wall in the story, WALL can also be understood metaphorically as a barrier to forging a closer relationship between the two neighbours. The speaker would like to have a closer connection with the neighbour, and he would like to put a notion in his neighbour’s head – to question the need for a wall between their lands. (29 – 31) But the neighbour seems content to have the wall between them as they go (15) and falls back on his father’s saying that ‘good fences make good neighbors’. (27, 45) The speaker acknowledges that mending the wall is like a game (21), and while it could be said that games bring people together, this one-to-a-side kind of competitive game does not satisfy the speaker’s quest for closer connection. “It comes to little more: There where it is we do not need the wall:” (22, 23) In this reading, WALL can be understood as reluctance to make friends with your neighbour.

Second, WALL can be understood as an entrenched belief in a tradition or a rule of society that inhibits a new approach to a situation (the theme of resistance to change). For the speaker, a time comes for questioning old habits and traditions. “Spring is the mischief in me,” (28) he says. There where it is they do not need a wall. (23) And with that, he has come to realize something important: that they could take the wall down, remove the barrier that separates them, or at the very least, neglect to mend it each year and let it fall apart. And while the speaker does not tell us why he does not love a wall, it does not require a great leap of the imagination to surmise that the speaker would prefer to walk the land openly, or to meet with his neighbour on different occasions. “Why do they make good neighbours,” he asks himself (30). The attitude of the speaker is contrasted with the attitude of the neighbour. Before he built a wall, the speaker would want to know what it would achieve, and who might take offence. (32 – 34) But the neighbour is “like an old-stone savage armed,” moving in darkness “not of woods only and the shade of trees.” (41, 42) All this suggests that here, WALL as a metaphor goes deeper than just suggesting a barrier preventing social interaction. There is something more at work here. The neighbour is portrayed as parroting his father’s saying, what he has been taught by his parents. (43) He is in love with the thought itself—that good fences make good neighbours—and continues to resort to the rule blindly (in darkness). (43 – 45) In this reading, WALL can be understood as resistance to fresh thinking, resistance to changing attitudes.

And third, WALL can also be understood as a barrier to enlightened behavior and expanded awareness of self as a member of a larger community (the theme of ‘love your neighbour’). This WALL is within the minds and hearts of people and groups with belief systems that view others as ‘us and them’. This attitude leads to intolerance and conflict. “We keep the wall between us as we go / to each the boulders that have fallen to each.” (15, 16) Here the speaker implies that people are reticent to share with others, and to allow access not only to their possessions but also to their ‘real’ self. The speaker does not love a wall (1, 35). It is open, I suggest, to understand WALL here as a metaphor not only for a physical and emotional barrier, but for a shield that prevents a deeper connection between people (‘neighbours’). Here the metaphor WALL understood as SHIELD works in tandem with the metaphor NEIGHBOUR understood as EVERYONE who is close enough to you who might be affected by something you do. This is why the speaker says:

Before I built a wall I’d ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out,

And to whom I was like to give offence. (32 – 34)

In this third meaning for WALL as metaphor, the speaker expresses his disdain for his neighbour’s outlook. But I suggest the object of his disdain is those who cling unreasonably to old sayings, impractical traditions, and intolerant belief systems (NEIGHBOUR as metaphor for all of us). In other words, the main object of the speaker’s disdain is intolerance. This disdain is expressed in the following lines:

I see him there

Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top

In each hand, like an old–stone savage armed. (38 – 40)

The speaker sees his neighbour as an uncivilized savage, weapon in hand, ready to protect his property and his privacy with violence if threatened. And in the next two lines, the depth of this disdain reaches a crescendo:

He moves in darkness as it seems to me,

Not of woods only and the shade of trees. (41 – 42)

For the speaker, to cling so vehemently and unreasonably to what fathers teach and pass on from generation to generation without question (unlike the speaker’s attitude as expressed in line 30), is like living in darkness. This is not a darkness of woods only and the shade of trees, but a darkness of the soul. Here DARKNESS is another metaphor, in direct opposition to ENLIGHTENMENT. His neighbour’s mind is ossified:

He will not go behind his father’s saying,

And he likes having thought of it so well

He says again, “Good fences make good neighbors.” (43 – 45)

In this reading, WALL can be understood as a shield people use to protect their sense of self, a shield that prevents relating to others with consideration, love, and respect.

This richness of multiple meanings infuses the text with a complexity that is a hallmark of great works of art. Different readers will find different meanings in the poem. And some readers will see more than one way to understand WALL as metaphor. Also, the poem could be understood differently from time to time by the same reader. For these reasons, I suggest “Mending Wall” is rich with engaging complexity, and also one readers can return to several times over and discover a previously elusive nugget of truth. One such nugget relates to the central conflict in the speaker’s situation. What gives the poem an air of drama is the speaker’s acknowledgment that it would be futile to try to convince the neighbour that there is no need for a wall (both in the literal sense and the metaphorical). This conflict remains unresolved at the end of the speaker’s situation. But the poem itself serves as one possible means for the speaker to put the notion—his desire to have the physical wall (and all the other walls suggested by WALL as metaphor) come down—into his neighbour’s head. “I’d rather he said it for himself.” (37, 38) In a way, the poem is a metaphor for a message to his neighbour, and to all of us. As metaphor, it suggests rather than tells. It invites reflection without pointing a finger of blame or shame. And it allows the reader to feel he or she has figured out something profound, engaged as an active participant with the speaker.

Works Cited

Frost, Robert. “Mending Wall.” Elements of Literature. Eds. Robert Scholes, et

al. Toronto: Oxford UP, 2004. 548. Print.

Lakoff, George and Johnson, Mark. Metaphors We Live By. Chicago: University

of Chicago Press, 1980. Print.