In the November, 2004 Harper’s Magazine, writer Mark Slouka writes on the virtues of idleness in his article “Quitting the Paint Factory”. His aim, perhaps, was simply to enunciate his dissatisfaction with the Mr. Bush in the shadow of the November election but his essay has struck a chord that reverberates across many diverse categories of contemporary life. His essay has leapt to the top of the Google index, it’s popularity likely driven by the numerous weblogs referring to it and it’s frequency in the social bookmarking list del.icio.us, each measurements of the zeitgeist of a certain segment of the online community – the segment of society that is derivative of the successes in the “Innovation Economy” that Spokane is courting. This resonance should not go unnoticed by those seeking to manufacture serendipity along the Falls.
On December 8, Spokane County sponsored a regional economic summit. This was basically a morning meeting at the Davenport with the premise of being a facilitated brainstorming session to contribute to a strategic plan for regional economic development. It was pretty clear that the long poles of this strategy had already been decided upon before the summit by smaller groups, but the dynamics of the larger group were interesting and there were many things said, and some unsaid, that revealed the currency of power in and around Spokane.
(When I speak of power amongst humanity I generally am referring to the commingling of physical power, as evidenced by brute force, legalism, and infrastructure; economic force, as evidenced by the total amount of capital, and its currency; culture, as evidenced by the fruits of the mind, the respect for craftsmanship, and the dedication to education; and reputation, as evidenced by connectedness, transparency, and accountability.)
If the comments of those in attendance on 8 December are the only offering to judgment, power in Spokane is low and fading. The sentiment, in general, was confusing to me, and it has taken several weeks of reflection for me to be able to bound it into something that I can express. The desire, it seems, is to become more. More of what however, is less clear. Some would like more of the same, that is, “what we have but in greater quantity”, reasoning that life here is good, and more of good is better. Others would like more of the same, that is, “no change that effects them”, reasoning that they are in power now and nothing should be done that would jeopardize their position. Many have a particular issue dear to them that they are advocating, none of them utterly ridiculous, many of them in opposition to or in conflict with their peers. A few have utopian visions of unmitigated success, a few more cynical expectations of unmitigated failure. Some would like to shift blame to any available scapegoat. Some are brilliant but afraid to express their ideas. Most are just trying to get by.
There is a palpable sense that something has to be done, and an equally palpable sense that paying consultants and economic development gurus to do it isn’t going to work. There is a slowness languishing in between people and organizations, clinging at the ankles like the fog clings to Hart Field in the early spring and late fall, resisting the impetus to change, holding out hope that the sun may not burn away the clouds, heat the turf, and destroy the landscape that permits its existence. There is an opacity hiding the actions of the community like the dim streetlights of East Central Sprague, creating shadows to mask deeds that aren’t talked about in polite company. There is a frenetic ritual of comparison fed by the want for what others have, a smoldering fire of envy as we look out from our barricaded frontier town towards Seattle or Boise or Seattle or Denver and bemoan our lack and their supply.
We are contentiously ignoring what it takes to have supply and yet we ignore our own sufficiency. We choose the path of least risk, and consequently that of least imagination. When we are just trying to stay on our carousel steed, there is no reserve for reaching for the gold ring, and yet we refuse to let the ride end; up and down, up and down, the calliope music plays and we spin, trapped in the circle. The innovator eschews the ring, the horse, the calliope and strikes out on a tangent to seek not just another ride on the same old ride, but a new ride all together. The visionary leaves the idea of the ride behind in search of the new trail, blazing new routes to new destinations in the landscape of the agora as the explorer forged discovery in the landscape of the wilderness. We lack vision, not because we lack visionaries, but because we lack self-knowledge.
Delphi’s commandment is no less pertinent for Spokane than it was for Athens. When we have know knowledge of ourselves, we cannot say intrinsically what we lack and we must resort to defining ourselves in relation to those around us. Like a battered wife who cannot part with her violent husband because she blurs the beatings with her need for loving, we have morphed our lack for identity with the glow from far off places, confusing that with our need as a community for purpose, for place in the world, and for the reason of our existence. Who are we apart from Seattle and the Sound? Apart from Boise? Who are we when we stop looking off into the distance and instead look within? Who are we when we live in the present and are mindful of where we are, what we are doing, and where we are going? Are we courageous enough to embrace all of us as part of us? Will we enjoy the path we take to what we shall become? What we will become is unforeseeable, but becoming is inevitable. Only by asking can we answer, and only after answering can we influence who we become.
I see us as a community like the companions in Oz, full of brains and courage and heart and the means to go home, simply not knowing their own capacity. Unlike Dorothy and her friends, there is no Glinda and no Wizard to show us the way home. We, as a community of diverse interests, arrive at a knowledge of self that encompasses the environment, the tribes, the rural, the poor, the sub-urban and the urban not by wishing someone would show us the way, and not through the mindless labor of the ants, but by choosing to live a deliberate life that rejects hype and frenzy but also embraces risk taking and failure-as-education. This resulting image of self must likewise account for the corpora of our power as a community – the force, economy, culture, and repute. Without such an introspective, we will be merely sufficient, continuing to just get by, and be, as a city and a region, in the paint factory.