his majesty's column
Idol-Worshipping
We can't avoid choosing, as role models, people who stand higher than
we do,
in terms of talent and accomplishment. It would be preposterous for me
to
admire a successful writer whose work I don't respect, or a talented
writer
who can't or won't get published. But to look with awe upon a giant
can be,
on the whole, counter-productive.
Being a writer, I naturally tend to have other writers as role models,
at
least to some extent. H.L. Mencken, George Orwell, A. J. Liebling and
Mark
Twain are probably the four writers whose works I admire the most, and
to
some extent I look to such men for guidance on how to write and how to
conduct my career. But I can't say that I made a conscious decision to
admire
and emulate these men. To the contrary, to examine their lives and
accomplishments makes me uncomfortable. Each of the four, at my age,
was
appreciably more successful than I (okay, Orwell was making a lot less
money
than I make, but he was more famous, and was making a living writing
what he
wanted to write), and was a better writer than I.
Their greatness daunts and intimidates, more than it inspires. If I
had a
dollar for every time I've said to myself, "Stop wasting your time,
Dobrian;
you're never going to be THAT good," I could afford to have these very
articles published in book form at my own expense, then pay people to
buy
copies so as to turn the book into a best-seller.
And then, if I were widely enough read, and my name widely enough
known, I
WOULD be one of the best writers in the English language--not because I
really was that talented, but because the numbers showed that I was the
best!
Much more useful as role models are people whose fields of proficiency
are
nothing like one's own. If ever I had a personal hero, it was a man
with a
tested IQ of 76, who could barely read and write, who composed dreadful
verse, professed hatred for my race, and made his living by hitting
people.
I find it utterly impossible to explain to my own satisfaction why I
have
always worshipped Muhammad Ali, but I always have and always will. He
was
and is a God--in the style of the Greek Gods, with flaws and
limitations.
If you're not a boxer yourself, you can look up to Ali without feeling
inferior to him. I'm not trying to be the best heavyweight in the
world, and
I can do plenty of things that Muhammad Ali could never even think
about
doing. Still, when I'm doing the things I do well, I can imagine how
Ali
would do them if he could, and I can try to bring some of his �lan to
my own
efforts. (And it doesn't hurt a bit, when meeting a new client or
going on a
first date, to hear Ali's voice in my mind, whispering, "I am the
greatest!
Of AWWWWWWWL TIIIIIIIIME!")
To pattern yourself after an utterly distant hero--someone long dead,
or so
famous that intimate friendship would be out of the question--is
probably
preferable to taking a close relative or friend as a role model. It's
easy
to concentrate on a distant hero's virtues, and overlook the faults.
If
you're too close to your role model, you will see his or her faults a
little
too well, and since you're looking at that person with loving eyes,
those
faults will be distorted into virtues.
That's why your five-year-old son comes home with a bunch of
newly-acquired
naughty words that he refuses to stop repeating in front of Grandma:
After
all, he so loves and admires his slightly older and much naughtier
friend,
who taught him those words! And how many happily married couples must
unwittingly encourage each other's worst faults, by giving each other
constant, unquestioning approval?
For most of us, the most satisfying role models are, indeed, those who
have
serious flaws. Muhammad Ali would sadistically torture opponents who
displeased him. Mark Twain fought on both sides in the Late
Unpleasantness.
H.L. Mencken was more than slightly pro-Nazi, almost to the last.
To some extent, truly dreadful people--or even essentially worthless
ones--can serve as positive role models. Adolf Hitler, for instance,
was one
of the finest public speakers of our century. Any orator would benefit
from
studying his techniques. King Edward VIII of England (later the Duke
of
Windsor), was one of the shallowest, stupidest, most selfish men ever
to
blight a royal throne, but he sure knew how to dress. Madonna, a
talentless,
pretentious grotesque, must at least be admired for her industry and
her
tireless self-promotion.
Someone once remarked that if one wished to be a gentleman, one might
do
worse than to combine the qualities of certain Presidents of the United
States: George Washington's sense of duty, Thomas Jefferson's
intellect,
Abraham Lincoln's geniality, Theodore Roosevelt's manliness, Woodrow
Wilson's
idealism, Harry Truman's integrity, John F. Kennedy's charm, and Jimmy
Carter's compassion.
This is a fine suggestion. But however much we might admire some or
all of
those men, we still must consider Washington's haughtiness, Jefferson's
hypocrisy, Lincoln's deviousness, Roosevelt's posturing, Wilson's
self-righteousness, Truman's narrow-mindedness, Kennedy's
irresponsibility
and Carter's sanctimony.
And it's entirely healthy that we do consider those flaws. All of us
dream
of being God; none of us would be a saint.
- Josephus Rex Imperator
|