Apostate

I no longer believe in the religion.

Two of Heather’s family friends, a well-to-do old Jewish couple from LA came upon my work and were aghast. “What’s he doing?” they asked her. But as she explained that my sentiments were in earnest and that she too shared some of them, she realized their real beef wasn’t that the information was harmful or dangerous, it was literally “What is he doing to earn a living?”

The thing that bothered them most in the end was my posts ran afoul of their primary directive — make a living and acquire status within the tribe. How could you do something (even after you sold your part of the company) that conferred no wealth, no status? What are you doing? was not an insult, but a serious question. If you are not doing something you can sell to your peers as credible, why do it?

. . .

I remember when I started in fantasy sports, a well-meaning guy at my hoops game, asked me, “But what kind of career is that?” It wasn’t a beef or a judgment of me personally. It was a reflection of how he was programmed to see the world.

. . .

The pearl-clutchers and fearful scolds are a different breed. They believe literally the message that ISIS or climate change or cholesterol will kill them. They actively fear it. But most of the neoliberals with whom I associate — these are my circles, like it or not, as an educated NYC-bred Jew myself — aren’t really caught up too much in that. They mostly fear ostracism, failure, embarrassment. They don’t like what I’m doing because it risks all those things, not because I’m “killing people.” That’s only the small subset of people whose brains got irreparably destroyed during Covid.

The belief of which I’m running afoul then isn’t “masks save lives” — they know better, whether they would ever articulate it to themselves or not. It’s “Do something your tribe will reward.” Seeing me flout that is troubling to them. If I could explain it as “They’ll revere me eventually for the great artist I am,” maybe I’d get some traction, but it would be, “Great, so who’s your publisher?” “What steps are you taking to get your work out there?”

Sometimes I admit (being from the same culture) I imagine the same. When people read this I will become famous! Someone will see my clear thinking, sound judgment, incisive writing and give me a job! I remember a Woody Allen movie (can’t remember which one) where one character is a broke artist/writer type who sells out for a plush job, and he/she is much happier. There’s something to be said for winning the approval of your tribe in the form of money, or a narrative you can sell.

. . .

But I sold my share of the company to be free. What’s the point if you can’t be free? And how are you free if you are still on the treadmill, trying to cobble together a story to justify yourself to others?

I’m an apostate. Not only don’t I believe in the religion du jour (climate change, Pfizer’s latest products, January 6 OMG!) I don’t even believe in the deeper, more foundational tenets like the treadmill, the reverence for “important” people, the importance of “education” via elite institutions or the medical system. I don’t agree, and even though I might presently be in the minority in my circles, I don’t care.

Because in the end, these people are slaves. They are rich slaves, but slaves nonetheless to perception, to affirmation by the tribe, to belonging.

And slaves will always resent the free. There’s nothing I can do about that.