By Daniel Cano
Appreciating the past, the present, and the future |
I agree that we can't really understand the present without knowing the past. The problem is many people don’t want to know the past, or they only want to know enough of it to benefit their thinking. Of course, there are those who could care less, which then gives some credence to George Santayana’s statement, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
I am assuming Santayana meant to remember as
much of the past as possible, and why presidents often turn to scholars for
advice, which, often, they ignore. It kind of reminds me of a quote by Elinore
Roosevelt: “There are those who make things happen, those who watch things
happen, and those who wonder what has happened.” I find a lot of people in the
last category.
Today, I hear people argue vociferously
about politics, and I can tell by the evidence they present to substantiate
their positions, they depend on limited sources, mainly their favorite
television news stations on online programs. So, inevitably they go round and
round. They also fail to adhere to the main tenet of argumentation: if you know
you can’t change a person’s mind about a topic, and he or she won’t change
yours, don’t argue. You might end up saving a friendship or relationship.
Then, there are those who want to know as
much as possible, to form an educated opinion about a subject, even if it
means, gasp, changing their minds. It’s like people arguing about the conflict
between the Israelis and the Palestinians and only going as far back as October 6.
If you don’t understand the history of the Ottoman Empire, Zionism, and European
intervention and colonization in the 19th and 20th
century, you can’t understand the position of the Arabs or Jews, or, for that matter, get the most out of the movies Exodus or Lawrence of Arabia. Some argue, to
truly understand the conflict, you need to understand the Bible.
I asked my grandson if he watched the
Super Bowl half-time show, featuring Kendrick Lamar. He said he did, and it was
great. I told him I didn’t think the majority of fans had ever heard of even
knew Kendrick Lamar. He disagreed. “Do they live under a rock,” he said, more a
statement than a question. He said they might not know his music, but they know
his name. I told him a lot of people didn’t like the performance. He said,
“That’s because they don’t know the lyrics or understand the context.”
That answer surprised me. It was like he
was telling me to best understand the performance, you had to understand the
history and culture of rap, hip-hop, African Americans in the U.S., and the
personal feud going on between Lamar and Drake.
I asked, “Do you know the lyrics?” He
replied, “Yup, all of them. That’s why I thought it was a great show.”
I’m sure he had a limited knowledge of
Lamar’s music, and the context, but, it seemed, he had a lot more than I did
and that was enough for him to see the performance in the different light than
others. Personally, I like Kendrick Lamar’s music, but like many, I too was
lost during the performance, but I don’t blame Lamar, I blame my own lack of
knowledge and context.
Even if country singer Chris Stapleton had
been up there singing, and I enjoyed his show, I might not have had the context
since I don’t understand the deep South, but I do know Stapleton attended
Vanderbilt University to study engineering, which helps me understand the
sophistication to his song writing. Just like it helps me to understand
Kendrick Lamar a high achieving student at Centennial High in Compton, and
earned A grades in poetry, so he understands poetry and lyricism, which led to his
being the first rapper awarded the 2018, Pulitzer Prize in music.
As a former teacher, a voracious reader,
and a self-proclaimed lifelong learner, I know context is crucial to
understanding any subject. When I see what is happening with immigration, for
example, I’ve studied enough history of Latin America to know much of the
problem lay with the past policies created by the U.S. and Latin America, even
going much further back than Roosevelt’s “Good Neighbor,” policy, maybe even
further back than James Monroe’s Manifest Destiny, which opened up all lands to
U.S. adventurism and exploitation.
The genocide (and I don't use the term lightly) of Indians in Central
America, especially Guatemala, by U.S. trained death squads, from the 1930s to
the 1990s, devasted Indian farms, hamlets, and complete regions, opening up
their lands to corporate cultivation of cotton, cattle, oil, and the exploration of other minerals.
Where do they go? They come to the U.S., whose employers welcome them with open
arms.
Yet, when too many come, then there is an
economic crisis, or a politician needs a scapegoat to win an election, we
demonize them, identify them as the root of the problem, and, the same old
answer, generation after generation, deport them, bound in chains, like slaves
in a galley, but like Santayana tells us, since we don’t remember the past, or
worse, choose to ignore it, we are condemned to repeat it, generation after
generation, until we welcome the next wave, and hail them “essential workers,”
while they toil and the rest of quarantine, isolate, and lockdown during the
next pandemic.
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