Blog
15.March 2003 - 00:00
A frightening thought
For over six months I have been expecting something to happen to me. Would it come gradually or would I cross some clear thresholds? Could it happen to me quite insidiously or would I at some point begin to have a hunch about something? Would there be moments of nausea as I do a balancing act between guilt and evasion?
What I am waiting to see is when power will begin its destructive work in me; and why on earth should I be an exception? I don't pretend to myself that I have much power, but I have seen that anybody can become sick with power – and they are not all politicians, either. Some bishops and others who fell people by prayer can be stricken with power-lust as much as journalists with their word-power. The latter are perhaps the most desperate group. The worst of it is when one falls ill without noticing it; when we don't even take into account the possibility that the power watchdog could also become drunk with power.
One route to depravity is to start to write or speak with an eye on the community whose applause we expect. By then, one has relinquished part of one's freedom and incorruptibility. I’m saddened when I see a verbally gifted person in whom there is no sign of melancholy. A structural melancholy in an honest person springs from her being aware that with well-chosen words she could buy anyone’s allegiance. But she doesn’t, only because she doesn't want to. I suspect that politicians, columnists and preachers are equally tempted in this respect.
Another form of corruption by power begins with distorted mirrors. We all need someone to hold up a mirror that would honestly reflect our behaviour. These guileless mirrors easily disappear from the vicinity of the one who holds the reins of power. It’s to the advantage of their subordinates and others close by to stifle their critical noises. But keeping silent is not always a conscious calculation. The very being of those close to the powerful acquires new subtleties, with mental tiptoeing and the rising of the inner lackey. So have mercy on those corrupted by power; the problem is not theirs alone.
Where on earth does permission to wield power come from? When can power ever be justified? I can't find any other justification than this: when he who has power uses it to benefit the weak.
Often power has no justification; the history of humankind is the history of revolutions. And yet all revolutions fail in the end. A revolution devours its children as the former subverters become the new rulers.
I know of only one revolutionary who kept to his manifesto; he didn't build a new powerbase to replace the one he overturned. Jesus systematically refused to coerce anybody; there is no sign of him forcing anyone. Anyhow, he was killed and it is disconcerting to so characterise his followers. In the spiritual marketplace the power struggle is often merciless and the weapon used is quite likely to be God.
Some years ago my six year old daughter tried to explain to her four year old little brother what it meant when we say that God is Almighty. "If it wants its own Uncle Fedja-book, it'll get it. If it wants its own desk, it'll get it. Whatever it wants it gets." I didn't have the heart to interrupt the conversation but quietly wrote it down. I thought that some time in the future we could talk about whether this is so. For perhaps it doesn’t hold true in regard to human beings that whatever God wants he gets. He relinquished much power when he created a free human being. And, quite clearly, he would want that I didn't become sick with what power I have. But he will not prevent it. It’s a frightening thought. And I, myself, have to watch out.
Originally published in a magazine of Finnish Literature, Hiidenkivi, April 2000
For over six months I have been expecting something to happen to me. Would it come gradually or would I cross some clear thresholds? Could it happen to me quite insidiously or would I at some point begin to have a hunch about something? Would there be moments of nausea as I do a balancing act between guilt and evasion?
What I am waiting to see is when power will begin its destructive work in me; and why on earth should I be an exception? I don't pretend to myself that I have much power, but I have seen that anybody can become sick with power – and they are not all politicians, either. Some bishops and others who fell people by prayer can be stricken with power-lust as much as journalists with their word-power. The latter are perhaps the most desperate group. The worst of it is when one falls ill without noticing it; when we don't even take into account the possibility that the power watchdog could also become drunk with power.
One route to depravity is to start to write or speak with an eye on the community whose applause we expect. By then, one has relinquished part of one's freedom and incorruptibility. I’m saddened when I see a verbally gifted person in whom there is no sign of melancholy. A structural melancholy in an honest person springs from her being aware that with well-chosen words she could buy anyone’s allegiance. But she doesn’t, only because she doesn't want to. I suspect that politicians, columnists and preachers are equally tempted in this respect.
Another form of corruption by power begins with distorted mirrors. We all need someone to hold up a mirror that would honestly reflect our behaviour. These guileless mirrors easily disappear from the vicinity of the one who holds the reins of power. It’s to the advantage of their subordinates and others close by to stifle their critical noises. But keeping silent is not always a conscious calculation. The very being of those close to the powerful acquires new subtleties, with mental tiptoeing and the rising of the inner lackey. So have mercy on those corrupted by power; the problem is not theirs alone.
Where on earth does permission to wield power come from? When can power ever be justified? I can't find any other justification than this: when he who has power uses it to benefit the weak.
Often power has no justification; the history of humankind is the history of revolutions. And yet all revolutions fail in the end. A revolution devours its children as the former subverters become the new rulers.
I know of only one revolutionary who kept to his manifesto; he didn't build a new powerbase to replace the one he overturned. Jesus systematically refused to coerce anybody; there is no sign of him forcing anyone. Anyhow, he was killed and it is disconcerting to so characterise his followers. In the spiritual marketplace the power struggle is often merciless and the weapon used is quite likely to be God.
Some years ago my six year old daughter tried to explain to her four year old little brother what it meant when we say that God is Almighty. "If it wants its own Uncle Fedja-book, it'll get it. If it wants its own desk, it'll get it. Whatever it wants it gets." I didn't have the heart to interrupt the conversation but quietly wrote it down. I thought that some time in the future we could talk about whether this is so. For perhaps it doesn’t hold true in regard to human beings that whatever God wants he gets. He relinquished much power when he created a free human being. And, quite clearly, he would want that I didn't become sick with what power I have. But he will not prevent it. It’s a frightening thought. And I, myself, have to watch out.
Originally published in a magazine of Finnish Literature, Hiidenkivi, April 2000