Every now and then I think to myself, “Someday this blog is going to cost me. Big.”
And yet here it is. And I continue to post things. Honest things. Maybe not all of the things, but enough things.
There have been times when I’ve pulled it offline for a few months, maybe for a year. But it always goes back online. And the older I get, the more I think that it needs to be here.
Without wanting to sell myself to be more than I am, I still conceive of a place like this to be a bit like Václav Havel’s greengrocer’s window. There are so few places any longer to be honest. On left and on right, ideology has commandeered the world. On the left, you must be woke. On the right, you must be professional.
In our everyday lives, we are caught between these overlapping polarities. So long as you are to be gainfully employed, you must never say anything other than that which is “professional.” You have no feelings, no opinions. You are a machine. You are efficient. You show excellent judgment. You do not harbor grudges, or experience regrets, or frustrations. You are the smiling, inoffensive greeter-of-the-world. You represent your employer. Always. And so long as you expect to have a place in polite company, you must haver say anything other than that which is “woke.” Your religion is that of secular “emancipation.” The Christians are evil. The Muslims are good. The women are oppressed. The men are violent. The same-sex couples and gender transitioners are saints.
It’s not about whether these things are right or wrong, either in the abstract or for any one particular person. It’s that you must say them, say that you believe them, and say nothing else. Ever.
You must not express a contrary opinion. You must not admit that you feel pain, that you have bad days. You must not talk about little personal eccentricities, foibles, mistakes.
No, I don’t put myself at the level of the anti-totalitarian hero, standing in front of the tanks. I don’t have that much courage. Nor am I that foolish. But I do believe that there is a moral imperative for someones—and one of them may as well be me—to openly be human in public. That’s what this is.
Every time I take it down, I regret it. I feel as though I am lying to the world, and to myself. And that is not acceptable. And so it comes back.
But someday, it’s going to cost me.