Sheeple
When I hear talk of ‘the sheeple’, a part of me withers… the part that remembers who I once was, when the herd in which I was conditioned was the only place I knew how to be.
I remember being one of those people who do as they are told and dare not speak out for fear of … so many things … of being rejected, disowned, banished, unloved, alienated from belonging, separated from that which I most needed, judged so harshly by those who assured me they knew better.
I remember feeling ‘successful’ when I had a good job, made good money, wore nice clothes, drove a nice car, had a reasonable house and a modest mortgage, ate at fancy restaurants, travelled business class, and wasn’t inclined to associate with those who couldn’t afford the kind of luxuries I felt myself entitled to. I told myself they just didn’t understand, and besides, they were just not fun to be with. We lived in different worlds and spoke different languages. Not my problem. Not everyone can be as lucky as me.
Beneath the confident surface of my cashed-up lifestyle, I remember the lingering fear of not knowing what to do or how to live if it weren’t for everyone else showing me how it is done, too hungry from the longing of belonging to notice that no-one else seems to know either.
I remember imagining being called to answer “who do you think you are?” when I would dare to disobey those who presumed to know better, and harbouring a deep fear of not knowing how to answer.
I remember when I believed what the news told me, when priests and gurus were beyond reproach, when a government-approved education was a precious thing, when banks were benign and useful, when I trusted my doctor to have not sold out to a drug company, and when food on a supermarket shelf was presumed not to be poisonous to qualify to be there. I remember when I believed in my bones that the law of the land was there in service of everyone.
Now I see differently.
Between then and now though, my world had to crumble like the towers on 9/11. Dismantle one certainty and the whole thing comes crashing down. If I can’t trust what I learn at school, or my priest or doctor or bank, or what’s to eat in the supermarket, or the rule of law… what can I trust? Who can I trust?
Ask that with sincerity and, if you are part of the herd, it becomes the end of the life you know. Most people would rather not go too deeply into the difficult questions. Why would they? What’s the point? What is to be gained if the question asks of me everything I value?
I could afford to ask. I didn’t have kids or a mortgage. There were no innocent young eyes looking into mine, full of hope for a future in which they could thrive, for a system on which they could rely, for a love they could trust. It didn’t matter so much to me if the system crashed. I could adapt.
I remember believing that it would be a good thing if all the structures of our society came crashing down. Better a pile of rubble than a gigantic skyscraper made of bullshit, right?
Now I see differently.
The system needs a rebuild. It’s fucked in so many ways. No doubt about it. Everyone dependent upon the system is (ultimately) screwed as well.
Even those who benefit from the current systems are living on borrowed time. There is no Planet B, no matter how much cash or political influence you have. The captains of industry are busy destroying the natural systems that we need to keep us alive because it’s good for the quarterly balance sheet. It’s fucked, and if it doesn’t change, we are ALL going down.
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All that said, we can’t just destroy the systems we all depend upon to keep us functioning. We need water, food, shelter, sewage, power, transport, education, manufacturing, and collective systems of governance that are designed to protect all the rest of it. Totally destroy one of those systems and you create suffering that is beyond the imagination.
The effort to build those systems upon which we all rely has taken thousands of years, and is not to be taken lightly. Aside from the obvious miracles of running water and flushing toilets, roads and buildings, give some thought to the technology involved in bringing you books, power points, antibiotics and the weekly garbage truck. Our collective achievements to date are no trivial matter, and the desire to trash them all may not be as aware of their gifts as would be appropriate.
As bad as the current system is, the fact is that it still provides us with systems that deliver water, food, shelter, medicine, order, education and a measure of prosperity that was unthinkable even a handful of generations ago.
Focus only on that which is flawed and all you will see are problems (of which there are many, and some of them serious). Stand back and look again and you’ll see that all those systems that so many people want to destroy are bringing you benefits that your ancestors were willing to kill for, and which if were suddenly denied, would likely turn you into a far less civilised person that you currently believe yourself to be.
It’s like the difference between renovating the family home over time, one room at a time, so that all its occupants can still have a place to live, versus driving a bulldozer through the whole thing with the intention of building back better, but only then noticing that all those you love are freezing and hungry because you just trashed the structures they need to find shelter and prepare food and lead anything approaching a decent life.
When it comes to humans living in a herd, it might be easy to judge their ‘decent lives’ as something far less desirable, but can you imagine a life without sewage, electricity, a local market or technology of any kind?
The simple approach makes it much easier to just bulldoze the whole fucking mess, but the practical, caring approach asks us to renovate as best we can as we go. Take a moment to imagine your life without any of the systems upon which you currently depend and you may be a little less enthusiastic about the bulldozer approach. Think Mad Max without the glamour. Not pretty.
The fact that the majority of people out there have not had the luxury of thinking through how to renovate the house of humanity while we are all living in it, and are therefore terrified of what might happen if it collapses, is understandable.
With understanding, we can let go of our quick-fix shallow judgements and find some measure of compassion and kindness.
Those who see the problem but haven’t made the effort to understand may indeed find ‘sheeple’ a convenient label to dismiss the legitimate terror that so many innocent folk face when the truth comes knocking on their door.
Perhaps a more accurate label might be ‘the beloved other’, because we are, in the end, all in this together, all the one consciousness working to find our way home.