Thursday, July 28, 2016

What I Learned From Sting

The tickets had been a gift at the last minute, and due to a scheduling issue I wasn’t able to arrive until the concert had already began, but that was fine. I’d thought I was going to have to miss the show entirely, and was certainly appropriately grateful for the opportunity to see Sting and Peter Gabriel in concert.

They didn’t play sets, as such, choosing instead to alternate songs between them so as not to interrupt the flow of the performance, and I can personally attest to the fact that the performance did flow. By the time Sting got around to “Message in a Bottle,” the whole crowd was singing along, calling back to him as he called out to us, joining with him in full voice as the song neared it’s climax…

“Sending out an S.O.S.”

“Sending out an S.O.S.”

“Sending out an S.O.S.”

“Sending out an S.O.S…”

And that, I think, was when I finally understood the appeal of fascism.

Because it really DOES feel good to stand, surrounded by twenty thousand other people, most of whom you’ve never met, most of whom you’ll never meet, and know that, in that one moment at least, you are all of one mind.

It feels good to cry out, together, a simple sentiment shared by thousands of your fellows, knowing that everyone present is invested in that moment of unity every bit as deeply as you are.

It feels good to share your passion, and to unleash that passion free from judgment or consequence.

It feels good to free yourself of the burden of yourself, and in doing so to lose yourself to the will of the group. To nullify all sense of personal identity as payment for the opportunity to become a part of something terrifyingly huge, and utterly uncontrollable.

There’s freedom in that feeling. And power…

So yeah, I “get” fascism now.

Which is good.

It’s good to know.

It’s important to know that I’m as susceptible to that sort of thing, given the right circumstance, as anyone else.

If for no other reason than so as to avoid it…

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