Holden Caulfield and Idealism

So I read The Catcher in the Rye near the end of the summer, and I liked it. The attitude and the rambliness of the writing style briefly put me off, and Holden did whine an incredible amount, but in the end I think those just contributed to the novel as a whole.

 I spent a couple of weeks just thinking and reflecting on it whenever I had a moment away from the crazy campers and their antics. I would just take a moment or two to dwell on it at the dinner table every night while the kids chugged their Texas Pete and continued their epic games of cheese football. (And the Swiss defense crumbles--TOUCHDOWN AMERICAN!)

Back at home on a weekend, I decided to look up reviews of The Catcher in the Rye and see if popular opinion was in line with my own views of the book. What I found alarmed me.

I read that the story is often characterized as a tale about growing up; a coming-of-age story of sorts.

If what Holden is doing is growing up, then I think I'd rather be a kid forever.

Now this characterization of the novel does make sense, but it's the implications that bother me.

This "coming-of-age" label implies that what Holden is going through is something everyone goes through as they grow up; that it is normal; a phase; that there is no problem with it. Saying that he is "growing up" adopts a superior and almost dismissive attitude towards the issues that Holden struggles with.

What some call Holden's "alienation," I would call "clarity." 

In my opinion, Catcher in the Rye is about a person trying to come to grips with the unbelievable amount of hypocrisy and unprovoked evil in the world. Holden is trying to find a way to live in the world without compromising and inadvertently becoming part of what he hates.

If this struggle with hypocrisy and lies is just part of growing up, then does that mean people eventually find ways to live as a part of the world despite the hypocrisy, or do they lose this clarity and inevitably become part of the machine (ooh political undertones)? Does everyone go through this struggle? If they do, then why does so much falsehood and unrationalized selfishness exist in the world?

As this explanation leads to only more contradictions and confusion, this interpretation must be getting at something else. Is Holden justified in his feelings of anxiety and alienation? Examining the facts of Holden's life and comparing this to the real world around me, I would say yes. It appears some interpreters of the book would say no. They appear to categorically dismiss Holden's legitimate qualms about society as naive: a symptom of his youth and inexperience.

Let's propose another word for naivete: idealism. A characteristic often attributed to young people who find more problems with the world than their elders would like to fix, idealism is sometimes used almost pejoratively, paired with or sometimes traded for naivete. The crotchety old grouchy veteran implies that the youth's idealism will fade in time, to be replaced with a more realistic sense of the world and its limits (read: people and their limits). He calls this "maturity."

But what is idealism? Why is there this naive, negative connotation? Why is it transitory or at least perceived as such, and what does this transitory quality actually mean for how we should think about it?

Google defines idealism as "the practice of forming or pursuing ideals." Identifying what is good and desirable and striving for it. I see ideals as very similar to values (values in a moral or virtuous sense). The difference being that an ideal is something you posit and then reach towards, while a value is something you hold onto, something you can describe concretely because it is already yours.

You describe your values with your words, but you describe your ideals with your actions.

A value is something that you view as important; literally something that you ascribe value to. So why are values free from this negative sense, this 'devaluation' that has occurred with idealism? The only difference between the two is that one implies, even requires, action. Values suggest action at best, and veil hypocrisy at worst.

So far we see nothing wrong with idealism; it appears to be something to be admired and encouraged rather than denigrated.

The idea that bridges the conceptual gap between idealism and naivete, however, is delusion. These ideals are believed to be inherently unrealistic and elusive. But what's the point of an ideal to strive for if it is easily attainable? An achieved ideal is now merely a value, an accomplishment to be listed.

The crotchety old veteran stock broker or entrepreneur or insurance salesman we have imagined so far would say that the idealistic youth is destined for failure. He will eventually become disillusioned with his righteous and unrealistically high standards and separate himself from his ideals, becoming just like the veteran.

But what is going through the veteran capitalist's head? (The cultural context and observations made in this commentary are firmly entrenched in a capitalist society; it'd be fascinating to try to look at it outside of that paradigm.)

Is this veteran's reaction simply a selfish instinct? If the old banker used to be just as idealistic as the youth, could it be that he doesn't want the youth to succeed where he could not? Maybe the banker never really tried but he doesn't want the youth to feel superior, he'd rather pull him down to his level? We could suppose a more virtuous point of view for the banker: maybe he wants to protect the youth from the supposedly inevitable disillusionment and subsequent fall away from the ideals.

But even if the youth is doomed to failure, shouldn't the observers be rooting for him, hoping against hope, rather than feeling condescending and superior and contributing to his fall? Is the veteran conscious of the fact that he has become just another part of the viciously hypocritical world that the idealistic youth fights against? Maybe the veteran's strongest motivation for opposing the youth has nothing to do with any concern for the youth or the supposedly inevitable fall and thus meaningless nature of his ideals, but the threat that the youth poses against the status quo itself? Is this intimidation the origin of the modern connotation of "idealism"?

Let's drop the analogy before I confuse myself even more.

Whether or not idealism is unrealistic in regards to human capabilities, I believe that there is no reason that it should be thought about in the way it is. It should be praised and welcomed in any situation. It should not be thought of as "naive" or "inexperienced." Instead, the "mature" and "experienced" should be seen as "battered" and "weary" and "(morally?) eroded  by years of torrential hypocrisy."

Whether or not human nature allows people to maintain these ideals and this attitude is irrelevant. If you tell a child that his legs are broken he will not even attempt to get out of bed.

And let's not start thinking about the potential connection between this repressed idealism and capitalism or I'll get all sad.

I'm going to briefly zoom back out (in? turn around? flip the page?) to Holden Caulfield and The Catcher in the Rye.

We should not be looking at Holden just as a young inexperienced boy, only now beginning to perceive the vile nature of the world. He is not naive; he does not bear unrealistically high expectations for the world; he is not just "going through a phase" of alienation. He is a man who sees what is wrong with the world and is deathly afraid of unwittingly becoming a part of it. He may run away from it, but he learns that it is unavoidable and that he must find a way to preserve his identity and his ideals without isolating himself from everyone and everything. We should admire his clarity and the fortitude of his ideals. Even if his constant whining does get a little bothersome.

(This post came out of a rambling scribble about Idealism in the back of my English notebook and a summer of stewing over J.D. Salinger.)

I think the world would be in a lot better condition if we had more ideals and less values. People put everything on display when they reach for an ideal; Values are only good for hiding behind.

Hypothetical Dichotomous World-View

Suppose with me for a moment. Let's pretend we can break humanity down in a relatively simplistic manner.

There are two types of people in the world.

There are those who can't really trust others, and those who can't really trust themselves.

First of all, this comes off as pretty cynical. Not a single person on Earth trusts both themselves and other people? And there's not a single person who really just trusts nobody?

Well obviously there's a qualification here.  The people who can't trust themselves don't just blindly trust everyone around them.  You're always going to have people in your life whom you can't trust, no matter who you are.

The people who can't trust themselves trust *easier*.  They don't find it hard to let go and rely on other people.

The people who don't trust others tend to do a little more shunning and pushing away of others.  Then they end up facing their problems alone; the problems that led them to push others away. 

The people who don't trust themselves  don't have the same problem. They don't doubt that there are people there to catch them if they fall back; their problem is that they don't trust themselves to handle things on their own.

Now here's something I have written down in my notebook; I'm going to try to rationalize it:

Those who appear outwardly confident are usually one of the latter (those who can't trust themselves).

If you trust others easily and don't worry about what people around you do, that lets you be a little more confident and certain about how things are going to go when you're out and about.  That's because your real crises are not out and about; your crises are internal.  On the inside is where you're struggling and pushing, so you spend your time outside with other people.

If you trust yourself but not others, then your real conflicts will manifest themselves more often externally.  Your crises will appear in your relationships with the people around you.  You spend more time on the inside, because it's nice there.  Of course you've still got internal problems to work out, but it's better than being outside where you're struggling and pushing against the people around you.

Naturally, as with any attempt at dividing and defining humanity, more holes are going to appear the more you describe and detail.  So I will re-abstract and make a tentative conclusion:

Truly trusting and truly self-confident are mutually exclusive qualities.





Happy moment: I got to say dichotomous!


(This post came out of a hastily scribbled paragraph in the notebook I used for just such things this last summer. I think the thought itself appeared on a late night weekend drive between Agape and Raleigh; Probability suggests that Vampire Weekend was playing loudly in the background.)

Introductory Post; Huzzah!

Why do I try to make everything ridiculously over-philosophical?  I feel like every time someone says something remotely random or off-kilter I grab onto it and try to make it a blandly prophetic statement about life or religion.  Sometimes I come up with some pretty profound stuff, but I do it almost obsessively. 

Am I trying to impress people? 

Do I honestly just enjoy it?  

Whenever I’m not trying to make things deep and poetic and resonant, I’m trying to make them funny.  I try to make everything into a joke, with differing levels of success.  If I’m feeling creative and enthusiastic, it’ll work out great and I’ll come up with a lot hilarious stuff.  If I’m not, then I spend hours looking at a sentence trying to come up with the perfect weird phrase that would make it comedic gold.  Then it looks bland and it’s obvious I’m trying too hard.  

But where is the line?  

Am I always trying to impress people, but I happen to enjoy it too?  It could be that I only do it well when I’m enjoying it and it flows, and that I only struggle and try too hard when I’m trying to make myself look good.  

But aren’t I always trying to make myself look good? 

I evaluate how well I’m doing by the reactions of the people around me, so doesn’t that mean the entire thing is just a deeply arrogant, ego-inflating exercise?  Maybe I enjoy it solely because of the attention?  

That’s depressing. 

But isn’t that what art is about?  

You try to make something beautiful, but beauty exists only as a product of people’s perceptions.  You want people to perceive it, to find the beauty and make it real.  Some artists may not care if the people recognize the creator behind the art, but aren’t they still looking for the reaction of the observer?  Is there really such a thing as art for the sake of art?  Isn’t there always an audience, even if it’s nowhere else but in the mind of the artist? 

 Here’s another thought:  maybe I’m just deflecting.  I don’t really have anything significant to say about anything really real, so I say funny and deep things.  Maybe I don’t really know myself well enough to say anything really significant about myself or what I think.  Maybe I know myself but I’m afraid to talk about myself so I philosophize and joke around in a detached way about unnecessary things, hoping that little bits of “me” will get filtered in there and find their way to a real person in spite of all the bullshit.

Whoops – there I go again.

That said, I'm going to be using this space to do some random unnecessary philosophizing.  Then we will look back on it and reflect and see if anything especially interesting or insightful happened.  Then I shall expound upon it. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Ad nauseam.

Huh. Apparently Google doesn't recognize Latin.  Let us scoff pretentiously together at Google.

*scoff scoff scoff*

(This post came out of a Creative Writing exercise involving asking questions about myself and the world around me)