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Why does everything about the contemporary world seem unsatisfactory , its innovations so rarely of any real benefit to a
public obliged to put up with wall-to-wall advertising campaigns promoting them ? Why do we spend so much of our time feeling
bamboozled at every turn ? The virtual rambler is here to address questions such as these. Meanwhile , with the dexterity of a
politician , we’ll ask some others. Has there ever been a time when people have not decried a bewildering fragmentation
of former codes of value ? A time in which there were no radicals convinced of the need to abolish the corruptions of existing power
structures ? A time without its alarmed conservatives who felt it necessary to cut back on concessions to those at the bottom of the
social order ? Can you cite an age without questionable public exhibitions of “entertainment” offered to the proletariat ? Consider
the long line of inexplicably popular T.V. shows , from Opportunity Knocks to The X Factor , wherein amateur performers succeed one
another in a bid for transient fame and delusive fortune. Their uninfectious exhibitions of artificial enthusiasm solicit approval
where none is manifestly due. In our psychoelectronic age , texts may be deleted , debts may be liquidated , music streamed , accounts
settled , buildings demolished , contracts terminated and hunting abolished but one aspect of human behaviour that has proved resistant
to change or decay is our appetite for posturing. Posing , that is , ‘putting it on’ , keeping up a front. It’s all top show.
When out and about in company , the hollow man tries out a variety of ways to look bigger : a tall hat , a horse or a balcony always
proving useful to those in pursuit of power or prominence. In his book The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (1956) , Erving Goffman
suggests that we are always playing to the gallery , not only in our social behaviour but even when we are alone , comporting ourselves
before an imaginary audience. It’s a trait that social media was tailor-made for. Some have discerned elements of display in the world of
ideas , where ambitious “thinkers” seek to confer authority upon themselves by “examining” – rather than understanding
– some aspect of nature or culture , or by a controversial new slant on events from the past or in the present. Hence the postures
of so many authors , whether philosophers , historians , anthropologists or virtual ramblers. Half-baked Hamlets bulking up their
soliloquies by quoting some obscure German intellectual. Spengler said this , Adorno said that.
Maimonides offered a Guide For the Perplexed but we prefer to join them in saying “You bowled me a fast one there” when confronted with
each knotty question. There are so many negative postures we can assume in order to enhance our self-esteem. Never (for instance) to issue
any practical advice on interior design , sartorial make-overs or culinary preparations. To forego offering tips on investment in foreign
property. To never debate the relative merits of jazz or the Conservative party. What others regarded as his failure to capitalise on early
academic promise , he saw as haplessly but steadily distancing himself from any public idea of success , a condition guaranteed to drive its
incumbents away from what is most inward in themselves. In our lives , as in our dreams , we imagine we’re treading the boards of a theatre
managed by ourselves. Our agenda of productions was a blend of the old and the new. From angry young men in drainpipe trousers to philosophical
ancient Greeks in their robes. Like So-craits as Bill and Ted called him.
It may be all seething with self-doubt , confusion and anxiety within …. but the directive from head office is to exhibit a reassuring
appearance of being in full control , twiddling the dials behind a front either easy on the eye or easy upon the ear. Like those
appointed to govern us , we behave like children who think they’re invisible when they close their eyes , imagining no-one will
notice our inner panic if we keep on behaving as if we’ve got away with it. Behind our piecemeal façades , we really don’t know
what might be for the best but we can’t admit it in public , for that would be to lose face. Our habitual postures act as a layer
interposed between our inner need to dispel potential sources of anxiety and an outside world run by bankers , racketeers and swindlers.
Our postures and our congestions , along with our sniffles and palpitations , hot flushes and bursts of unreasonable ill-humour , belong
entirely to us – though often shared with our nearest and dearest – and they all block out , albeit fleetingly , the view down cemetery road.
Wig.
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