Indeed, for many young people (and some who are no longer young), the actual truth value of statements is no longer privileged. These persons are interested principally in authenticity (Does the speaker seem real, committed, engaged?) and in transparency (Does the speaker reveal where he or she is coming from, or does she dissemble or hide?). Should these trends continue, then sheer truthfulness may become less important. Still, the idea of transparency rests on the assumption that there is an underlying truth, which one either foregrounds or shields. Transparency depends on—indeed presupposes—tests of truthfulness. In the end, a position that brackets truth harbors its own destruction, if not its own self-contradiction.
Moving on to our second virtue, we have survived the period in which "beauty" was effectively banished from the lexicon of "art talk." (To be sure, it was never banished as a personal experience, as can be testified by anyone who has ever eavesdropped on visitors at a museum of fine arts, a national park, or a venerable tourist attraction.) For nearly all individuals, emanating from nearly all groups, certain objects and experiences—family portraits, evening entertainment, athletic contests, high art—will continue to hold a special place, a place in which interestingness, memorability of form, and pleasurable feeling somehow come together and invite further exploration. However, the kinds of experiences that are judged to be beautiful, by individuals and by groups, will vary, often unpredictably, because the history, culture, technologies, and
Before the fact, who could have predicted the revolutionary effects of of Picasso's paintings, T. S. Eliot's poems, Igor Stravinsky's compositions, Martha Graham's dances—and the speed with which they absorbed into the canon? In other words, I would put my money on the Survival of Beauty long before I put my money on the Science of Beauty. At the same time, beauty per se has probably relinquished, for all time, its preeminent position in determining membership in pantheon of Great Art.
Our notions of goodness, in the individual moral sense, are far entrenched than our conceptions of beauty. What we expect of friends and neighbors, and what they expect of us, has not fundamentally altered over the centuries—though we are perhaps more tolerant in some ways and less tolerant in others. In an era of many weak and virtually unrestrained mobility, we may well be less accountable than we once were; but the basics of the Golden Rule and the Commandments need not be recalibrated.
The realm of "the good" is threatened by antipodal forces: a mindless absolutism, on the one hand, and a feckless cultural relativism, on the other. We cannot legislate goodness from on high, but we also should not throw up our hands in resignation and simply declare "Whatever." Postmodernist critiques are appropriately cautionary and occasionally devastating, but they cannot be allowed to become decisive. The digital media can play a positive role in exposing us to a range of alternatives, in presenting for debate the diverse views of "the good," and in modeling practices that have proved effective beyond our borders and outside our consciousness. An abundant supply of "best practices" on the part of the media may be necessary, but it cannot suffice.
Ultimately, we require a deep and continuing dialogue between citizens, on the one hand, and media practitioners (who aspire to be professionals), on the other. To the extent that citizens call for broad and well-rounded presentations of alternatives, this message pressures or frees media to be even-handed and comprehensive. But to the extent that citizens do not fill their roles responsibly—are indifferent or fixated on celebrities or interested only in dredging up support for their opinions and prejudices—the media will simply expand the fog of ignorance and prejudice.
No comments:
Post a Comment