Lobotomized
Lobotomized
June 22, 2004
By Condrado de Quiros
OLIVER Sacks has a case in "An Anthropologist on Mars" that might as well speak of our national condition.
Sacks is a neurologist but has the distinction of having his works translated into movies and plays. "Awakenings" is his more famous work; it brought Robert de Niro and Robin Williams together in the movie version. He is the author as well of "The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat," which was turned into a play. "An Anthropologist on Mars" chronicles several cases, all of which reveal the infinite wonders and mysteries of the human mind.
There is another case there, "To See and Not See," that was turned into the movie, titled "At First Sight," starring Val Kilmer. Though the movie was creditable, you have to go to Sacks to grasp one very fundamental point about that story. Which is that "sight" is a learned experience. People who have their sight restored after a lifetime of not having it do not automatically see. They just apprehend an incoherent jumble of stimuli. They have to learn to see to see.
But I digress. As I was saying, there's a case in "Anthropologist" that struck me as symptomatic of our national condition. That is "The Last Hippie," the case of a man who has lost his capacity to remember. Greg was a hippie in the 1960s, took a lot of drugs, and joined the Hare Krishna. While still in his youth, he started having vision problems, which his fellows attributed to his developing a higher consciousness. The higher consciousness proved to be a benign tumor in his head which, left untreated for years, grew to the size of an orange and destroyed his frontal lobe completely.
The function of the frontal lobe used to be largely unknown in the past. Prison authorities used to recommend lobotomy, or the surgical removal of the frontal lobe, for violent inmates because they had the effect of inducing pacific behavior. That was so, as it turned out, because it removed a person's memory altogether. The practice was banned later on as a result of that discovery. It was worse than capital punishment.
Sacks describes Greg thus: "[He was] in effect confined to a single moment -- 'the present' -- uninformed by any sense of the past (or future).... Some sense of ongoing, or 'next,' is always with us. But this sense of movement, of happening, Greg lacked; he seemed immured, without knowing it, in a motionless, timeless, moment. And whereas for the rest of us the present is given meaning and depth by the past (hence, it becomes the 'remembered present'), as well as being given potential and tension by the future, for Greg, it was flat and (in its meager way) complete. The living-in-the-moment... was so manifestly pathological."
Those are exactly the same pathological symptoms found in us as a people or nation. For all practical purposes, Sacks could be describing us. We are in effect confined to a single moment -- the present -- uninformed by any sense of the past or future. Sacks writes elsewhere that Greg forgets a story that is told to him after five minutes. He starts by modifying details until he tells a different story altogether.
That is how we relate to our past too, even if you convert minutes to days. We forget events almost as soon as they happen. We start out by modifying details until we end up telling a different story altogether. What we remember of the past, if we do at all, has very little to do with what happened. Our history is largely myth, or biography, produced by those who have the means -- and motive -- to hire mythmakers and biographers.
Some sense of ongoing, or "next," is always present with most countries. But this sense of movement, of happening, we lack; we seem immured, without knowing it, in a motionless, timeless, moment. It's not just a matter of lack of expectation, or lack of caring about the future, it's the lack of knowing there's one. There are other ways of putting it: We do not row, we just float. We do not look for a cure, we learn to live with the disease. Or my own favorite: We do not make love or war, we just make do. Even "bahala na" [come what may] doesn't quite capture the attitude. "Bahala na" at least implies a resignation, or surrender, based on faith in providence, or Bathala. Our attitude is just taking things as they come. The world demands caregivers, we give caregivers. Stimulus, response -- that is all.
Whereas for the rest of the world, the present is given meaning and depth by the past as well as given potential and tension by the future, for us it is flat and, in its meager way, complete. We live in the moment, by the moment, for the moment.
I don't know why we have become this way, though I've always thought it had to do with the sheer length of colonial subjugation. I don't know any other Asian country that has been a colony longer, though I do know many that have endured harsher rule. Though this sounds more like the stuff of science fiction than Sacks, the colonial rulers removed all traces of the past from the national consciousness and implanted a new memory upon it, one best exemplified by shibboleths like "Bataan," "Corregidor" and "I shall return," which stir zombie-like responses from us. But the other side of the equation is that we internalized the condition (human beings react to trauma by burying it deep in the subconscious) and began to perpetuate it ourselves. We can't remember anything outside of five minutes, or five days, or five weeks to be charitable. We keep repeating the same mistakes again and again and again.
Is there hope for a country that is lobotomized? I don't know. Sacks did offer a glimpse of it, Greg responding enthusiastically to a Grateful Dead concert and being "human" once again if only for a night. But right now, all I can hear for us is the name of Jerry Garcia's band.
June 22, 2004
By Condrado de Quiros
OLIVER Sacks has a case in "An Anthropologist on Mars" that might as well speak of our national condition.
Sacks is a neurologist but has the distinction of having his works translated into movies and plays. "Awakenings" is his more famous work; it brought Robert de Niro and Robin Williams together in the movie version. He is the author as well of "The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat," which was turned into a play. "An Anthropologist on Mars" chronicles several cases, all of which reveal the infinite wonders and mysteries of the human mind.
There is another case there, "To See and Not See," that was turned into the movie, titled "At First Sight," starring Val Kilmer. Though the movie was creditable, you have to go to Sacks to grasp one very fundamental point about that story. Which is that "sight" is a learned experience. People who have their sight restored after a lifetime of not having it do not automatically see. They just apprehend an incoherent jumble of stimuli. They have to learn to see to see.
But I digress. As I was saying, there's a case in "Anthropologist" that struck me as symptomatic of our national condition. That is "The Last Hippie," the case of a man who has lost his capacity to remember. Greg was a hippie in the 1960s, took a lot of drugs, and joined the Hare Krishna. While still in his youth, he started having vision problems, which his fellows attributed to his developing a higher consciousness. The higher consciousness proved to be a benign tumor in his head which, left untreated for years, grew to the size of an orange and destroyed his frontal lobe completely.
The function of the frontal lobe used to be largely unknown in the past. Prison authorities used to recommend lobotomy, or the surgical removal of the frontal lobe, for violent inmates because they had the effect of inducing pacific behavior. That was so, as it turned out, because it removed a person's memory altogether. The practice was banned later on as a result of that discovery. It was worse than capital punishment.
Sacks describes Greg thus: "[He was] in effect confined to a single moment -- 'the present' -- uninformed by any sense of the past (or future).... Some sense of ongoing, or 'next,' is always with us. But this sense of movement, of happening, Greg lacked; he seemed immured, without knowing it, in a motionless, timeless, moment. And whereas for the rest of us the present is given meaning and depth by the past (hence, it becomes the 'remembered present'), as well as being given potential and tension by the future, for Greg, it was flat and (in its meager way) complete. The living-in-the-moment... was so manifestly pathological."
Those are exactly the same pathological symptoms found in us as a people or nation. For all practical purposes, Sacks could be describing us. We are in effect confined to a single moment -- the present -- uninformed by any sense of the past or future. Sacks writes elsewhere that Greg forgets a story that is told to him after five minutes. He starts by modifying details until he tells a different story altogether.
That is how we relate to our past too, even if you convert minutes to days. We forget events almost as soon as they happen. We start out by modifying details until we end up telling a different story altogether. What we remember of the past, if we do at all, has very little to do with what happened. Our history is largely myth, or biography, produced by those who have the means -- and motive -- to hire mythmakers and biographers.
Some sense of ongoing, or "next," is always present with most countries. But this sense of movement, of happening, we lack; we seem immured, without knowing it, in a motionless, timeless, moment. It's not just a matter of lack of expectation, or lack of caring about the future, it's the lack of knowing there's one. There are other ways of putting it: We do not row, we just float. We do not look for a cure, we learn to live with the disease. Or my own favorite: We do not make love or war, we just make do. Even "bahala na" [come what may] doesn't quite capture the attitude. "Bahala na" at least implies a resignation, or surrender, based on faith in providence, or Bathala. Our attitude is just taking things as they come. The world demands caregivers, we give caregivers. Stimulus, response -- that is all.
Whereas for the rest of the world, the present is given meaning and depth by the past as well as given potential and tension by the future, for us it is flat and, in its meager way, complete. We live in the moment, by the moment, for the moment.
I don't know why we have become this way, though I've always thought it had to do with the sheer length of colonial subjugation. I don't know any other Asian country that has been a colony longer, though I do know many that have endured harsher rule. Though this sounds more like the stuff of science fiction than Sacks, the colonial rulers removed all traces of the past from the national consciousness and implanted a new memory upon it, one best exemplified by shibboleths like "Bataan," "Corregidor" and "I shall return," which stir zombie-like responses from us. But the other side of the equation is that we internalized the condition (human beings react to trauma by burying it deep in the subconscious) and began to perpetuate it ourselves. We can't remember anything outside of five minutes, or five days, or five weeks to be charitable. We keep repeating the same mistakes again and again and again.
Is there hope for a country that is lobotomized? I don't know. Sacks did offer a glimpse of it, Greg responding enthusiastically to a Grateful Dead concert and being "human" once again if only for a night. But right now, all I can hear for us is the name of Jerry Garcia's band.
posted by Dante at 12:01 AM
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