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Daniel Quinn’s Ishmael
is an exploration of modern myths perpetuating unsustainable behavior. It
is through crass interviews between protagonists, Ishmael and ‘man,’ that the
reader flushes out the founding stories of our excessively consumptive
society—stories fostering apathy and impunity. Full of symbolism and anecdotes,
Ishmael serves as an impetus for
investigating man’s true role as a community member of this precious planet.
The novel begins in the mind of a stoic narrator
who interestingly remains unnamed. This makes it easy for any reader to put
himself or herself in the place of ‘man,’ to take this cosmic journey towards
bio-acumen. In response to a newspaper ad, our ‘man’ comes into contact with
his mentor Ishmael, who just so happens to be a half-ton gorilla adroit in
Socratic style telepathy and the Judeo-Christian persuasion.
Not surprisingly, as a creature of the
entertainment industry, Ishmael claims his subject of expertise to be
captivity. This is relevant to saving the world, he claims, because, “[humans]
are captives of a civilizational system that…compels you to go on destroying
the world in order to live,” (25). This is an important point, no one
deliberately wants to contribute to the ecological devastation of the planet,
but our societal structure is such that participation renders global calamity.
Ishmael is going to argue that this tragic lifestyle is the product of an
ingeniously crafted web of self-evident myths and the enactment of their
ensuing stories.
Pre-launch of their metaphysical adventure,
Ishmael concretizes a few key concepts and terms. First, he differentiates
between the ‘Takers’ and ‘Leaver’ within humanity; this can be thought of as
civilized versus primitive cultures. He then coins the term ‘Mother Culture’ to
represent an almost Jungian collective unconscious or mechanism of
socialization. Mother Culture subliminally whispers a certain ‘story’ into our
minds: “a scenario interrelating man, the world, and the gods.” Humans, in
turn, ‘enact’ this story or, “live so as to make…[it]…a reality.” Ishmael
umbrellas said enactment under the term ‘culture,’ which is informed by the
messages of Mother Culture—one could foresee potential cyclical dysfunctional
with a pernicious plot. The particular stories of interest in this endeavor are
those encompassing ideas of meaning, divine intention and human destiny;
Ishmael labels these rudimentary tales ‘myths’ (40-43).
The creation myth is of paramount cultural
significance: billions of years ago, a big bang, unicellular organisms and
photosynthetic cells evolved into increasingly complex and varied species, all
building blocks for the pinnacle of creation and evolution, mankind. Ishmael
points out that while our creation story is factual in essence, the mythical
element is derived from an anthropocentric arrangement and perspective of
events. This myth alludes to the basic premise of the ultimate Mother Culture
parable: “the world was made for man,” and therefore man’s destiny is to rule
it, (60).
It is important to note here that humans are 1 of
about 30 million species on the planet yet we use 99% of the world’s resources
for superfluous ends (Spencer 1-30-13). Taker culture truly ‘enacts’ this myth
to our detriment and that of the planet because Mother Culture instills two
contradictory, yet coercively delicate cognitive scripts. The first: fulfilling
our destiny to rule the earth is a fundamental constituent of being human; it
is our duty to morph this chaotic world into a technological paradise. The
second: humans are inherently flawed due to original sin, therefore, enacting
destiny of global despot will catalyze imminent tragedy. Ishmael makes a
pivotal rebuttal here, “there’s nothing fundamentally wrong with people. Given
a story to enact that puts them in accord with the world, they will live in
accord with the world,” (84). That is to say, it is not human-‘beings’ that
needs to change, it is human-‘culture’.
Upon recognizing the Taker culture’s notion of
divine intention and man’s destiny, Ishmael encourages his student to explore
ideas about how Taker mythology exempts mankind from absolute laws of nature.
Ishmael’s student hashes out some cantankerous Taker pastimes: exterminate
competitors; systematically destroy competitor’s food-source to make room for
their own; deny competitors access to food. This behavior unequivocally
contradicts the most basic law of life, which Ishmael refers to as the
peace-keeping law: “[organisms] can compete but they can’t wage war,” (129).
The laws of ecology maintain balance and promote biodiversity, which are, in
the words of Ishmael, “survival factor[s] for the community itself,” (130).
This is the irony in the Taker story, when we wage war against the earth we are
inevitably waging war against ourselves, “you end up in a community in which
diversity is progressively destroyed in order to support the expansion of a
single species,” (133). Ever since Descartes cogito, Humans understood mind and
body as mutually exclusive, Ishmael seeks
to breakdown this dualism; humans are inextricably linked to the repercussions
from an expanding bio-necropolis.
Student and teacher delve into the nascence of
these dysfunctional ideologies by analyzing some core biblical stories. The
human species had been inhabiting the earth for millions of years before Adam
and Eve, yet ‘the fall,’ is a momentous occasion for Taker culture because it
explains how man obtained the knowledge of good and evil—who shall live and who
shall die. There is powerful symbolism in the story of ‘the temptation.’ As
Ishmael explains, Eve literally means ‘life’ in Hebrew, while Adam means ‘man.’
When Adam was giving into temptation with Eve, he was truly saying yes to
‘life’—endorsing growth without limit and exemption from the laws of nature. In
the words of Ishmael, “Adam wasn’t the progenitor of our race, he was the
progenitor of our culture,” (184). Adam symbolizes that ideological separation
of man from nature due to this newfound knowledge only previously had by the
gods. Adam giving into temptation also illustrates the ‘original sin,’ the
catch22—even though man was made to rule the earth with this knowledge, he is
intrinsically flawed because he gave into temptation and therefore he will
never truly know how to wield it like a god.
Of course, man could never know such absolute truths,
but it is interesting how man arrogantly created religion, conveniently
appointed himself divine ruler, and then wrote his own laws on how to exist.
Ishmael makes a salient point here, while the logic of divine appointment is
clearly dysfunctional, to renounce it, “would mean that all along…[man had]
never known how to rule the world,” (168). Although humans aren’t necessarily
flawed, they are definitely proud; fessing up to thousands of years of
defective groupthink would be an ineffable paradigm shift.
Ishmael points out the flipside to another
misconceived biblical story, that of Cain and Abel. Cain was an agriculturalist
and Abel was a pastoralist. When the two came to offer their sacrifices to God,
he only accepted Abel’s and in vengeful wrath, brother slayed brother. Ishmael
believes this, and the fall, was once a Leaver story, written to explain the
barbarous actions of early Taker society. Eden was a garden from which man
could reap the fruits of the gods without work. In other words, Eden represented
the pastoral or hunter/gatherer lifestyle. As is described in the bible,
banishment to agricultural existence was a severe punishment. The heathen
agriculturalists acted like as if they were gods and left the Leavers without
choice, assimilate or be destroyed.
This classic biblical parable has been perpetuated
throughout the centuries, taking different forms, slavery, genocide,
colonialism, deforestation, war, pollution, racism, corporation,
Americanization, globalization, “and every time the Takers stamp out a Leaver
culture, a wisdom ultimately tested since the birth of mankind disappears from
the world (206). Just as we disrespect nature, we disrespect those who oppose
Mother Culture doctrine. This systemic and inter-cultural violence is a result
of two clashing ideologies: the world belongs to man versus man belongs to the
world. Taker culture, “cling[s] with fanatical tenacity to the specialness of
man,” as opposed to recognizing the human species as just another life form
(146).
I appreciate Quinn’s vehement standoff towards
modern day meta-cognition. He makes very salient points about the contradictory
nature of our automaton existence. While his neo-Biblical thesis is
captivating, Ishmael seems to be an
ideological thought experiment without any operational framework for
transformation from which to proceed. Ishmael alludes to consciousness raising,
which is no doubt an effective impetus of change. However, many issues akin to
climate change, structural oppression, corporatism, inequality, poverty
bigotry, globalization, and systemic injustice (to name a few), are profusely
simplified.
Quinn advocates for population control, which,
anyone in the international arena can attest is politically volatile. Truly
regaining our Leaver roots would mean famine and death for millions of people;
it wouldn’t be the top-tier Takers who suffer either. How can we expect to
transform society for the environment when we can’t even transform society to
ensure human rights? Quinn would most likely respond that it is not our job to
play god, but at the same time he feels it is his job to write this book, aimed
at a Western audience, in order to inspire those in control to instigate
change. He forgets that non-action is also a choice; while we may claim we are
not responsible for the death and suffering of millions of people, we cannot
deny that we chose not to help them.
Ishmael
provides a provocative commentary on the relationship between ideology and
sustainability. The jury is still out as to whether there will be hope for man,
without gorilla.
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