Letter Never Sent

O.W. expresses the necessity of duality:

The schemer will readily recognise his fellow; an impassioned player easily reads the same power in another person; whilst those with no special powers will observe nothing. Art discerns itself best, as Wagner said. In the case of complex personalities the matter stands thus: one of these can understand other men better than they can understand themselves, because within himself he has not only the character he is grasping, but also its opposite. Duality is necessary for observation and comprehension; if we inquire from psychology what is the most necessary condition for becoming conscious of a thing, for grasping it, we shall find the answer in “contrast.” If everything were a uniform grey we should have no idea of colour; absolute unison of sound would soon produce sleep in all mankind; duality, the power which can differentiate, is the origin of the alert consciousness. Thus it happens that no one can understand himself were he to think of nothing else all his life, but he can understand another to whom he is partly alike, and from whom he is also partly quite different. Such a distribution of qualities is the condition most favourable for understanding. In short, to understand a man means to have equal parts of himself and of his opposite in one.

That things must be present in pairs of contrasts if we are to be conscious of one member of the pair is shown by the facts of our colour-vision. Colour-blindness always extends to the complementary colours. Those who are red blind are also green blind; those who are blind to blue have no consciousness of yellow. This law holds good for all mental phenomena; it is a fundamental condition of consciousness. The most high-spirited people understand and experience depression much more than those who are of level disposition. Any one with so keen a sense of delicacy and subtilty as Shakespeare must also be capable of extreme grossness.

Another good article, Buying into the psychology of consumerism, a discussion of the book “Nation of Rebels: Why Counterculture Became Consumer Culture” about how counter-cultural movements reinforce materialism.

Next, the authors analyze the psychological underpinnings of the counterculture in their chapter “Freud Goes to California.” Freud, they say, believed in the importance of civilization even though it limited individual freedom. The counterculture, on the other hand, chose to elevate individual freedom over civilization. They condemn the widespread individualism of the counterculture for making it difficult to organize social movements. Engaging in guerrilla theater might be fun, they say, but it does not solve serious problems.

With biting wit, the authors expose what they see as the hypocrisy of anticonsumer critiques of capitalism. Arguments against consumerism, they say, are merely snobbish putdowns of what other people buy. Budweiser is bad, single-malt liquor is good; hamburger is bad; risotto good; Chryslers bad, Volvo good; and so on.

In actuality, they argue, the anticonsumer movement has found its most fertile ground in the United States. Antimaterialism has become a cash cow, they say, offering expensive handmade goods to those willing to afford them. But does buying “all-natural organic tea” make you more virtuous? No, they say, it just helps a new market grow.

The authors level their harshest criticisms on those who favor cultural rebellion over political action. Take the marketing of brand-name products to teens, for instance. Countercultural critics might see no solution to the problem of selling goods to vulnerable consumers short of overthrowing the capitalist system. The authors offer a simpler reform: Putting a tax on advertising.