The Consumptive Class and the Irresistible Allure of the Creative
Putting my personal opinions of Mr. Rumsfeld aside for a moment, I can appreciate his small gesture of creativity in the midst of his twilight years.
That said, the peculiar nature of this transition inevitably leads me to ask, what exactly is behind this professional non sequitur? What impulse is driving this sudden about-face from a career of “doing politics and war” to the innocuous world of mobile card games?
Similarly, why is it that those who spend their lives pursuing power, wealth and renown at all costs inevitably pivot towards charitable or “arts”-related endeavors once the spectre of Father Time encroaches? It’s like clockwork.
Why indeed do the likes of the Koch brothers place their names on everything from museum rooms to concert halls?
In an attempt to answer this for myself, I have come to the conclusion that, far from seeking to exonerate themselves from a lifetime of transgressions, their basic desire is much simpler.
They want to be Creative.
It is as if, by placing their names on the facades of concert halls or in the bylines of mobile apps, they expect to absorb into their own psyches some of the profound energies that were actually responsible for erecting those creations. They can then proudly and ostentatiously display this newly acquired creative status to all comers.
But this is all a charade.
Spending the spoils of war, power and consumption on what is essentially an elitist form of personal branding does not suddenly make one creative.
The only way to be a Creative is to CREATE. Not to lease it on some nameplate.
While Mr. Rumsfeld’s latest venture is admittedly more intensive (“having to approve all those UX’s”) than putting one’s name on a wall, the underlying impulse I imagine is the same.
“I want to be remembered as more than a politician and a warmonger, I want to be remembered as a Creative.”
Unfortunately for Mr. Rumsfeld, true creativity breeds creativity. It inspires. It connects. It speaks.
Dabbling in war negates all of those things. For those innocent civilians who lost their lives in senseless warfare, what became of their creative energies? How will their legacies be remembered?
While Mr. Rumsfeld’s puzzling attempt at personal rebranding may be discouraging to some and bewildering to others, there is another perspective.
Rather than belabor the cognitive dissonance of this maneuver, I choose to see his newfound hobby as an affirmation of the intrinsic value of creativity, a value which cannot be denied even by those who have reached the pinnacles of power and wealth.
There is a reason that the world’s most powerful people are irresistibly drawn to artists, creators and dreamers alike. They secretly wish, in their heart of hearts, that they could be like them. That they could be them. They seem to ask themselves:
“What is their secret? I have all the material spoils that life can offer and yet why do I still feel this void? Can I buy my way free of it?”
So I am writing this for all the true Creatives.
I am writing this for those who pay their dues, who spend their waking hours painstakingly grinding up the skills required to pursue their chosen crafts.
I am writing this for those who inspire and empower others to create, not to those who bestow upon themselves the title of “Creative” simply because of the magnitude of their riches (i.e. “Job Creators”) or the placement of their namesakes.
To those true Creatives in the world who pursue quality in their crafts with all their heart, their mind and their soul. I salute you.
And in a way, so does Mr. Rumsfeld.
