A Reflection on Prepare for the Ultimate Gaslighting (Julio Vincent Gambuto)
When I read Prepare for the Ultimate Gaslighting, I imagined the postbellum the author vividly describes as “The Great American Return to Normal.” The stadium lights came on, and I found myself thrust into Christopher Nolan’s turn-of-the-millenium thriller, Memento.
In the film, protagonist Leonard Shelby suffers from anterograde amnesia, meaning he can’t make new memories. He can only hold onto thoughts for a few minutes at a time. The memory loss is rooted in an assault that also results in his wife’s death. In his quest for vengeance, he concocts a system of Polaroids, tattoos, and notes to recall events and remember who to trust.
I’ll let you watch the film, but in short, as the film progresses, Leonard’s credibility as a witness wanes. The system is flawed. It results in half and convenient truths, and it’s easily manipulated, sometimes by Leonard himself. Even the audience struggles to separate reality from perception because pictures say a thousand words when you need a million. Our only source of truth is the filmmaker’s device: dramatic irony — when the audience knows more than the characters.
It’s a strange movie to recall in the current hour, but the parallels abound.
As a society, we often can only hold onto a few thoughts at a time. We’re bad at remembering. We only take care to remember when history repeats its tragedies (genocide, disease). And even then, it’s only because we are forced to learn from our antecedents.
We devise our own systems to remember: hieroglyphs, orations, textbooks, and tape recordings. They also present half and convenient truths, polaroids made brighter or dimmer based on she who casts the light. Although we are not all amnesiacs, our systems are susceptible to manipulation, especially by big interests.
Unfortunately, there is no dramatic irony in the real world. If there is, the truth is often owned by these same interests (governments) or the institutions they repeatedly undermine (the media).
Do you see what has been done? What will be done again?
For me, Julio’s piece presages a post-war reality that is better left in a horror film. But we have tools at our disposal that Leonard Shelby didn’t and that Christopher Nolan didn’t dare give him. I hope you’ll take this analogy as a call to arms.
The war against Covid-19 is unprecedented. The enemy is omnipresent and at your doorstep; you probably know one, two, or a treasure trove of doctors and grocery baggers on the frontlines. You and your neighbors are witnesses; your uprooted lives, expert testimony. I give you your shield. Wartime truths cannot be recast when the soldiers and civilians — the confidants and constituents — are one and the same. My recollection cannot compare so starkly to yours when our cities are the battlefields, our homes the surrounding encampments. Remember this war authoritatively, because for the first time in modern American history, you can.
Better yet, the ability to tell and share truths has been democratized over the last three decades. Video chats, Facebook posts, iPhone camera shots, and journals, will comprise the international time capsule of this historic pause. This reality can be archived by experts and amateurs. Remember this war scrupulously, because for the first time in modern history, you can.
As a society, we have a tendency to remember and reflect posthumously. I am asking you to do it concurrently.
Arm yourselves against the great Gaslighting. Remember the Covid-19 pandemic painstakingly and authoritatively, and don’t wait until it’s over.
The thought is exhausting. I hear you. Reading the facts is hard. Recording the reality sounds harder. Rising death tolls and sliding degrees of “Stay at Home.” Misinformation mushrooms, certainty slumps.
But if at any point you’ve asked, “What can I do?” I’d say it’s this. Draw from your inner humanity, your outer fear.
For the first time in modern history, we are all living different versions of the same problem, at the same time. We have the unique capability to develop a collective consciousness that withstands time and erasure. You and I, we are not Leonards. We have suffered a great trauma, yes. But we are credible witnesses, and we have more in our arsenal than a couple of flimsy Polaroids.
Today you are fighting a virus. Tomorrow: selective memory, revisionist history. When you cannot serve as Colonel, wear the banner of Corroborator.
We owe ourselves the post-war preparation that we were not afforded pre-war. Your most powerful weapon today, barring any N95 or vaccine, is this: your ability to remember and transcribe. When we emerge from the trenches, our vulnerability to “The Ultimate Gaslighting,” will depend on it.
