For the week of June 23, 1999  thru June 29, 1999  

Our fascination with secrets and conspiracies

Commentary by ADAM TANOUS


Thanks to the Freedom of Information Act, it was recently revealed that President John F. Kennedy was not buried in the coffin in which he was originally laid to rest. For some bizarre reason, his brother Robert, then U.S. Attorney General, decided to switch coffins before the burial. He then dispatched a secret Navy team to drill holes in the coffin, fill it with sand, sail covertly out into the Atlantic, and sink the thing. It was, amazingly, a secret kept for over 35 years.

Not only does the episode itself seem slightly absurd, but the fact that it was kept a secret for all this time is even more ridiculous. It is exactly the kind of news item that breathes life into the conspiracists of the world. And yet in defense of those who are often portrayed as laughable crackpots, we must acknowledge the fact that conspiracies are, on some level, oddly appealing to most people. A conspiracy theory, at the very least, removes the random, unexplainable factors from events and puts humans back into the center of the story. At their best they provide intrigue and mystery, both of which are compelling.

This strange little news item, though inconsequential in the whole scheme of history, does bring to light the curious nature of secrets and our undying fascination with them. Secrets are both contrary to our entire philosophy of government and social equality and, at the same time, the very reason the entire human endeavor moves forward.

We teach our children that it is not nice to keep secrets, yet we keep all kinds of secrets from them. We do so with the intention of protecting them from the dangers of the world. Undoubtedly, it is a laudable goal. The giant assumption we make is that we know better than they do, which is probably true up to some point in their lives. Of course, figuring out where that point falls is the riddle every parent faces.

When we bring secrets into the adult arena, however, the situation gets a little more complicated.

Most people love a secret, that is, as long as they are in on it. The reason, I think, has to do with the fact that secrets are fundamentally hierarchical. By its very definition a secret implies that someone knows the secret and someone else has been excluded from it. And implicit in any secret is the fact that an assessment or a judgment of character has been made. Being privy to big secrets means that other people deem you trustworthy, intelligent enough to "handle the truth," and powerful enough to do something with it. It is akin to being given a little dose of ego. Secrets wouldn't exist if we really believed and practiced the concept that "...all men are created equal." There would be no point in being discriminating with information.

Certainly the strength of a democratic society resides in its open debate and exchange of knowledge. A multitude of perspectives fosters creativity and, consequently, some form of progress. The great equalizing factor is information and/or knowledge. If our access to information is just and equitable then, at least, our citizens are competing on a level field. It is why equal opportunities in education are so pivotal in maintaining a truly democratic society.

Our tendency of late, however, has been to be more rather than less restrictive with information. I used to work with a friend who often said, "A little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing." I always thought this cliché had a little bit of a fascist ring to it. I understood his point though: My having watched a few heart surgeries on The Learning Channel shouldn't embolden me to do a quick and dirty coronary bypass on an old buddy. Nonetheless, disseminating information comes back to trust, another pillar of democracy. Without trust of our fellow citizens, we are neither equal nor democratic.

The fact is that democracy is at odds with our very biology. Despite all of our civilization, we are still Darwinian creatures. Competition and perceived or real hierarchies are in our bones (actually our genes). And so there will always be a fundamental tension when a group of competitors are asked to live democratically. A further complication is that secrets often bestow upon the keepers of them power and money. Unfortunately, these influences cloud the issue. They provide a strong motive for people to create and keep secrets.

There is yet another, more positive, reason secrets hold such a grip on our cultural imagination: They are at the core of our narrative heritage. Narratives are every story we have ever told. They are oral family histories, tales told around the fire, on film, in print, in poetry, prose, great pieces of art, short stories, and in novels. They are also the stories of the scientific word: the laws of matter and fields (gravitational, electro-magnetic, etc.), the genetics and evolution of life, the chemistry of the natural word. And at the heart of every good narrative is a secret. It might be a secret in character, plot, or even genetic code. The tortuous revelation of that secret becomes the narrative. It is what keeps us turning the page. We all want to know what happens in the end. If the truth is buried, we read after it.

People often cite the declining interest in literature as yet another indication that society is falling apart. Still, the fundamental facts haven't changed. We haven't lost interest in narratives themselves. They are simply starting to take different forms. Just as we are genetically inclined to be hierarchical, we are, inherently curious, probably uniquely so in the animal kingdom. We actually need secrets to pursue, whether they be human narratives or the scientific narratives of the physical world.

Our keen interest in narrative and the secrets within them are basic, because mystery is at the core of our real, everyday lives as well. Anyone who isn't confounded by life and its various complexities probably isn't old enough or hasn't yet started looking deeply enough at things. As far as I can tell, good narratives, of which literature is but one form, inspire thought, compassion, and an appreciation for the complexity of the human condition. It is exactly what good living should do for us. Over the course of our lives we can only hope to truly know ourselves and a few others close to us. The truth about ourselves and the ones we love is the one secret we chip away at for all of our days and nights. All the rest of what we do might just be sound and fury.

 

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