Question
What are some interesting personal manifestos?
Answer
I don't like the idea of a manifesto at all. Possibly because I am very suspicious of larger "save the world" visions in general. Most "personal" manifestos aren't really personal at all. They contain a grain of save-the-world thinking.
Even when purely individual, there is a triumphalist undertone to all manifesto-thinking. On one of my more satirical blog posts, a commenter posted a sort of uber-hopeful "what can we do to change this?" manifesto-type question, to which another commenter snarkily responded, "Yeswecanitarianism, is it?"
I love that word. Yeswecanitarianism. With due apologies to Obama, that's generally my view of all manifesto thumpers. They suffer from Yeswecanitariainism.
They all seem to be about declaring that you've either already "won" some obscure game of life, or will win it soon. You just have to Believe.
A manifesto is a statement of belief in a historicist worldview, and a vision of "progress" for oneself and like-minded people. Or worse, for the whole world. Universalist manifestos that proclaim certain hopes/visions for all humanity are the ones that annoy me the most. Sometimes I think I am like Heath Ledger's Joker. I itch to deeply mess with manifesto types simply because they think their grand visions will even redeem MY life for me, even if I don't do it myself. I will apparently be "saved" whether I want to or not.
So instead of manifestos (which I usually find to be either childish or parental -- id/superego in a Freudian sense), I usually prefer poignantly realist, adult statements of timeless wisdom. I suppose, in a way, I fundamentally look, not for hope and action towards what can be, but for solace and perspective about what is.
Two of my favorites are Kipling's "If" and Dr. Seuss' "Oh the places you will go."
http://www.adamandtiffy.com/blog...
http://www.teamhope.com/seuss.htm
People who see only the motivational part of the two texts above amuse me. The best part of the latter, for instance is this grimly ironic conclusion:
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)
Kipling's conclusion is similarly grim. The ONLY thing that is guaranteed if you follow his advice is that "you'll be a man, my son." Nothing else is for certain.
Even when purely individual, there is a triumphalist undertone to all manifesto-thinking. On one of my more satirical blog posts, a commenter posted a sort of uber-hopeful "what can we do to change this?" manifesto-type question, to which another commenter snarkily responded, "Yeswecanitarianism, is it?"
I love that word. Yeswecanitarianism. With due apologies to Obama, that's generally my view of all manifesto thumpers. They suffer from Yeswecanitariainism.
They all seem to be about declaring that you've either already "won" some obscure game of life, or will win it soon. You just have to Believe.
A manifesto is a statement of belief in a historicist worldview, and a vision of "progress" for oneself and like-minded people. Or worse, for the whole world. Universalist manifestos that proclaim certain hopes/visions for all humanity are the ones that annoy me the most. Sometimes I think I am like Heath Ledger's Joker. I itch to deeply mess with manifesto types simply because they think their grand visions will even redeem MY life for me, even if I don't do it myself. I will apparently be "saved" whether I want to or not.
So instead of manifestos (which I usually find to be either childish or parental -- id/superego in a Freudian sense), I usually prefer poignantly realist, adult statements of timeless wisdom. I suppose, in a way, I fundamentally look, not for hope and action towards what can be, but for solace and perspective about what is.
Two of my favorites are Kipling's "If" and Dr. Seuss' "Oh the places you will go."
http://www.adamandtiffy.com/blog...
http://www.teamhope.com/seuss.htm
People who see only the motivational part of the two texts above amuse me. The best part of the latter, for instance is this grimly ironic conclusion:
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)
Kipling's conclusion is similarly grim. The ONLY thing that is guaranteed if you follow his advice is that "you'll be a man, my son." Nothing else is for certain.