Civilization is really just an organized panic about bears.

You can quote me on that.

Written while listening to Hate Me by Escape the Fate

Earlier than I have conscious memories, I have emotional memories of seeing Star Wars (the one they retroactively called A New Hope). Because of Star Wars, certain “ideas” buzzed about in my mind space since before I had “ideas,” as such. It’s an emotions versus descriptions thing.

Things in Star Wars got into my marrow in a deep way. Because of it, I have an emotion towards being civilized that’s much older than my knowledge of a technical definition of civilization.

I have this emotional attitude because of the way that Alec Guinness delivered the line:

“An elegant weapon for a more civilized age.”

Like great actors are supposed to do, Alec Guinness suggested in a few words more depth of detail and heartbroken nostalgia than the entire prequel trilogy ever could. I think, anyway. Since I first heard him speak of a civilized age when I was a tiny person, with all the imbalances of heightened emotional awareness and subdued intellectual awareness requisite of that time of life, I know that I keyed into the emotional depth and width of the words far more than the historical and denotative baggage of them.

I recognized the dichotomy he suggested. The world of the original trilogy of Star Wars isn’t a civilized one. In my little brain, I saw that their world looked similar to the world where I lived. They had power-grubbing people who dominated well-meaning people in a sad world where everyone’s interests conflict and nobody seems to know how to make it all work. I could tell that I lived in that world.

They didn’t live in a more civilized age, and I didn’t either.

But Alec Guinness remembered one.

Like Alec suggests, in our less-civilized age, we’ve lost things.

They don’t all have to stay lost.

Personal Calling Cards

I miss the days when we’d whip out our calling card, tap our cane handle against our top hats, twirl our rakish mustache in a rakish way, and flounce down the street to our next “engagement” having made a good social contact. I never personally experienced those days, as far as I’m willing to admit, but I miss them. Giving your personal calling card seemed, to me, to be an act with a certain gracefulness, a certain level of respect and dignity.

The semi-equivalent act we have these days is that two seconds of barely social interaction it takes to say, “Dude! You’re on facegramtube! Totes adding you.”

If I were more of a culture critic, I’d comment here that it feels like we’ve lost something relevant. I try to be less of a culture critic and more of a culture observer, though, so I’ll observe instead that what we’ve got today instead of calling cards is fucking stupid.

I mean to say, honestly, how many times have you forgotten to get in contact with that scientific insect salesperson who you jus’ added on facespotz or followed on the twittertubes? Eh?

Ha, it was a trick question, because you forgot. So of course you don’t know how many times. See what I did there?

Anyway, the point is, imagine how the scenario would have been different if you had exchanged personal calling cards, instead of social media profile information…

Okay, bad mental exercise…

In the day and age when you’re likely to be reading this (sorry to leave you out, future historians/time travelers from Georgian England), you’re living in a social climate that doesn’t remind you to take advantage of a social act like exchanging calling cards. So you’re going to forget the insect salesperson just as easily whether they give you their card or not.

Imagine if a few thousand of us started doing it at once, though. Imagine what it would do for your networking and for your social life. Imagine, for instance, those moments when you’re in the last few moments of talking to your most recent “Single Serving Friends” — as the goblin puts it — and you’re thinking…man, this dude might be cool to keep in touch with. I love cement mixer history, after all.

The trouble with that dude is that you aren’t sure if it’s socially appropriate to give them your phone number. You know that you don’t want to go through the technical hassle of trying to connect via social media, besides which social media has become such a sludge of non-information that it takes Sisyphean effort just to inject a little bit of humanity into the whole morass of the facegramterestvinetertube-verse.

Instead, jus’ imagine the simplicity of saying, “Hey, this was a good conversation. I’d love to continue it. Here’s my card.” And then doing what you wanted to do all along which is bugger off.

Exchange of personal calling cards would force another few seconds of contemplation in social contact, which would create jus’ another few million little memory triggers to help turn the “chance” encounter into a “social” encounter.

An’, ’cause any good idea can stand a little innovation…

I’d also propose adding a bit of something to the card, something personal to you that might give the Single Serving Friend a preview of what they’re getting into if they do, in fact, get in contact with you.

For instance, seeing as I have an obsessive relationship with music, I have the titles of several of my favorite songs on the back of my card. Interested Single Serving Friends can check out the songs and learn a bit about what I like.

Imagination! That’d be the thing to do here.

It’s easy to poke holes in the Practicality of this idea, to which I say…

No shit, dude.

Thing is, see, when Alec Guinness inadvertently implanted the emotional intent behind a “civilized age” in the wee child imagination of Oliver, the emotional intent he suggested rather defied practicality.

If “civilization” is really just an organized panic about bears

(I have a well-laid argument in favor of the definition.)

then, if we only do practical things, then we’d embrace socialism and communism. We would, in fact, invent a combination of socialism and communism, I think, by which all people would be protected, all needs would be met, and all frivolous things quashed. Frivolous things like frills, fries, and French roast.

Communism is practical. So is socialism. They are the most practical forms of people management, when they work. The cattle industry proves that. That population is the such an equal-rights and well-managed population that it’s frightening. A governmental agency — the farmers — make unilateral decisions across entire populations, and those decisions effect everyone in that population with absolute, undiscriminating equality, and the “success” of those decisions is a mathematical fact. Cattle provide a mathematical proof that absolute communal-socialism, as a tool for managing the biological wealth of a species, works perfectly. The populations are perfectly balanced. All of their needs are met. Their species propagates to an improbable degree.

Cows are kept according to the most practical rules of population management we have so far devised.

And that feeling of, “dude…people are not cows,” that you’re feeling right now…that’s the reason why living in a “civilized age” should not be practical. Pure practicality equates to the mathematics of survival.

Eat, mate, propagate.

To devote the entire energies of your species to survival, on the highest of organized scales, would seem to be the aim of a domesticated species. It might be argued that the species of human is a pretty damned domesticated species. It might be argued well. I might even agree with the arguments.

The act of seeking entertainment and spending time on creative work, though, suggests some lingering interest in what wildness might be ours.

(I’m leaving this thread about “wildness” and “civilization” dangling on purpose. See note at the bottom.)

That might be an ironic way of justifying…

A more civilized age

Saying “we’re going to be civilized by not being domesticated.” I would contend that its imagination is my species’ best claim to nobility, however, as an animal. Animals all have their nobility. Eagles fly and sloths sloth and goats gambol. Humans imagine. That’s what makes them “noble,” and what undomesticated humans would do best.

I would contend that it’s a desire to imagine that justifies the aspects of “civilization” that exceed the pure practicalities of survival.

There are limits to this statement, but “because it’s not practical” should rarely be the last word on any cultural movement. It should be included in the planning, sure. I won’t disagree with you if you tell me that my idea to solve all awkward situations with the strategic use of false mustaches might have some execution no-starters. But, by great Scotland, I’ll defend the philosophy behind it till you get bored or the cold death of the universe. Whichever comes first.

So don’t tell me that it’s more practical to just exchange information on your phone.

No! Not the point. Don’t care. Keep that to yourself. It’s also more practical to shave your head, wear socks with sandals, never read, and to stop wishing for love. Are you dropping everything you’re doing and adopting those customs?

I didn’t think so.

Let’s be civilized here.

If I meet you on the street and we have a good conversation, don’t be too surprised if I momentarily forget everything I’ve written here and wish that I’d given you my card when I had the chance.

Didn’t expect that, did you? Twist ending.

Honestly, though. I’ve got my personal calling card in my pocket. I’ll give you one, I’m sure, if I ever meet you.

What about youse guys? Any vestiges of “a more civilized age” that you miss? Ever felt frustrated that your new contacts seem to get lost in the bottomless social network pit? Ever changed your name to Henry then switched back before anyone noticed, just for kicks? Tell me all.

NOTE:

There are some loose threads in this story. I’m aware of them. They are there because I want to write about them in other stories. This isn’t a cunning ploy to try and get people to read other things I write — not entirely, and not much. I’m doing this because I came to a realization, while outlining this story, that it’s a story that has, for me, many stories in it. I want to do them all justice. Rather than shorting any of them, I’ve decided that I’m going to embark on a bit of a writing experiment. Still figuring out the details, but the essential point is that I’m thinking of this story you’re reading as one among several that will tell a larger story.

So stay tuned.

p.s. Cassandra and Caitlyn, of the North. gave me some feedback on this before I published it. They give good advice. It’s in better shape thanks to them.

Keep in touch. Sign up to get updates on my adventures. It’s like a newsletter, but less “news” and more “letter.” I’ve taken to treating the internet like a huge street bazaar. To that end, I would feel blessed if you’d consider supporting me on Patreon.