To attack all forms of collective self-determination — any kind of visioning an ideal, intentionally pursuing that ideal, and evaluating means in terms of whether they advance or harm the pursuit of the ideal…

… to brand every kind of collective intentional coordination of efforts as soulless “social engineering”…

… to hope that compromise solutions on innumerable questions of means, each considered in isolation from the others, will somehow result in something acceptable to all relevant citizens (that is, those with the awareness, the will and the means to take action)…

*

This is America’s state religion, held most fervently of all by our Christian element: An aggregate of self-interested parts, operating under simple rules, will somehow miraculously, effortlessly, inevitably and automatically serve the best interests of the whole.

Ours is an atomistic-mechanistic faith assembled by the blueprint image of the Deistic god of the Enlightenment.

Our self-interests are parts of an enormous intricate moral machine that drives the engine of public welfare. This system was designed for unconcern. Our impulses can — and should — push with unconstrained force against the unconstrained forces of our citizen-opponents. Each takes care of himself, and the system looks after the whole.

The system was designed to replace moral responsibility. Moral responsibility was never humankind’s strong suit. It’s too squishy, too evadable. Following laws to the letter, with no concern for their purpose or consequences — we’re much, much better at that. Push by the rules, and whoever is crushed in your pushing is either a holy sacrifice to competition or an economic infidel (insufficiently motivated to participate in our economy).

*

Here is a question: Do we hold the American moral atomistic-mechanical faith because we’ve seen it work out? Have we judged this tree by its fruit?

Is it possible that our adherence to this faith is just inertia? A fear of the Otherwise? Do we suspect that an improvement for the whole, might not be an improvement for me?

Or do we hold this faith because we are crushed by the sheer size and complexity of the world, and we’re dogged by pessimism that we can improve anything?

I have to wonder if the Founding Fathers imagined the psychological consequences of their lowered expectations. Did they ever imagine that a populace propped up by an artificial public morality might eventually lose all moral muscle-tone?

*

Not only do we pious Americans see no conflict between serving the good and serving wealth — we know for a fact that we  serve the good most perfectly by refusing to get caught up in ideals and instead concentrating on serving wealth. Who says there’s a conflict? With the exception of a few isolated wingnuts, nobody.

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We fixate on isolated issues because we instinctively know that discussing ends will be catastrophic.

Why? Because we disagree so deeply? Because if we sketched out our ideals to one another that they would be so mutually unacceptable that violence would be inevitable? But, if we can just manage to coerce the other into trying things our own way, they’d see how right we are?

Or, have we neglected altogether the question of how we would like our lives to be?

Or, have we merely defined our ideal negatively? I’d like my life as it is, but without the loneliness, the soul-crushing boredom, the insane stress, the ugliness?

Or, do we just have no idea what a public discussion of ends could be? What forum? What themes? How is it moderated? It cannot be imagined in any detail at all.

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How many of us believe we have any right to form our lives?

How many of us believe we can play by the rules and end up with lives we really love?

What’s a little strange is that many of us are pretty sure that this system doesn’t actually serve the whole, and when we play, it theoretically serves us — we can pay for our homes, our food and our entertainments — but our lives are not lives we would have chosen. Ah, here’s a moral responsibility every American is required to accept: We are responsible for feeling grateful. We are at least required to tack some gratitude to the end of whatever complaints we express. “Oh, well, it could be worse.” “At least I’ve got a job.” “At least I don’t live in Africa or Iraq.”

Sometimes we console ourselves with our little virtues. We may not love life, and we may not really concern ourselves with the whole — but at least we are good. We adopt little causes and practices here and there that we believe will somehow benefit the whole — the Earth, if you lean left, or America if you lean right.

At least we’re good. That we have.

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When you live your life wrongly, you lose the capacity to value.

When you lose the capacity to value, you cannot imagine something worth working toward.

When you have nothing to work toward, you live your life wrongly.