I thank whatever Gods that be that even at the age of 86 my mind remains restless and eager to absorb new facts, new theories, new ways of looking at life and the world, new stories of mankind’s continual search for perfected knowledge, new illuminations of the spirit. Not a day passes which is not full of surprises for the mind – insights which set me thinking in ways not thought before.
I was reading about the poet W.H. Auden, whose poetry I often love to read – but I had not seen this description of how he conceived of the purpose of poetry:
“What one secretly hopes from readers is that they will say ‘My God, I knew that all the time but I never realized it before.’ That’s the ideal reaction and then you know that you have said something that is true. I think if you ask me what is the function of not only literature but of all the arts I would say what Dr. Johnson said. ‘The aim of writing is to enable readers a little better to enjoy life or a little better to endure it.’”
In recent times very little has distressed me more than the way bankers in the rich world have gotten away with ruining the lives of millions of ordinary people by their incompetent, recklessly greedy, sometimes clearly criminal practices – not only gotten away with it without a single indictment but with nearly all of
them back to earning huge bonuses. It is one of the biggest scandals of recent years. And now I find, to my grim astonishment, that more than two centuries ago Thomas Jefferson, the third President of the United States, was warning of the dangers of reckless banking in the strongest terms. Here is what President Jefferson wrote in 1802:
“I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous to our liberties than standing armies. If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their currency, first by inflation , then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around the banks will deprive the people of all property, until their children wake-up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered.”
Sport is a never ending source of pleasure to me – and, I regret, frustration when it comes to watching West Indies cricket over the last any number of years. But pleasure mostly. And amusement. Do you remember the plight of the Real Madrid footballer Sergio Ramos a few years ago? By making the pass which enabled Cristiano Ronaldo to head home the winning goal, Sergio Ramos was instrumental in Real Madrid beating Barcelona in the final of the famous King’s Cup. What glory! Later, taking part in the victory parade before tens of thousands of supporters in the Plaza de Cybeles, Sergio on the top deck of the big parade bus attempted a tricky balancing act, putting the prized trophy on his head while jumping up and down. He dropped it. The bus slowly ran over the Cup and smashed it into ten separate pieces. Sergio was heard to cry out in anguish, “The Cup has fallen!” But the next day, being interviewed, he took a much better line: “The Cup did not fall,” he explained, “The Cup jumped with excitement.” Afterwards Sergio was happy to be assured that the famous Cup would carefully be put back together again. How I love sport and its triumphs and disasters!
I can understand what I am told by any number of the younger generation, including my sons and their friends, about the miracles of accessibility to information and advice and entertainment which the latest electronic technology makes available. Given such worlds of instant knowledge and stimulation at one’s fingertips, lives are bound to be filled with more interest than ever before and people certain to be better equipped to find fulfillment. But I am not so sure. Enough can be quite enough if enough is of sufficient quality.
In a recent article on spending time all alone on a remote uninhabited islet off the coast of Chile called Farther Away, Jonathan Franzen captured, I think, an insight which makes sense to me. He pointed out that there is a big problem in projecting ourselves indiscriminately into the cyber world: “There’s no end,” he writes, “of virtual spaces in which to seek stimulation, but their very endlessness, the perpetual stimulation without satisfaction, becomes imprisoning. To be everything and more is the internet’s ambition.” I am concerned that access to “everything and more”, will put at risk our full enjoyment of anything in particular and our ability, or even wish, to concentrate for any length of time on what otherwise might become one’s special, deeply considered and carefully wrought contribution or gift to the world. A ceaseless, restless hunt daily through cyber space is unlikely to lead to great careers or lasting achievements.
