Simplicity Is Killing Us

I know we’re inundated with more information every day than we could ever hope to make use (or sense) of.  And I understand that we’re all too busy to fully absorb any multifaceted discussions or complex narratives.

But why does every story we tell ourselves end up being reduced to just another case of “either-or”?

In America (at least), every headline can be boiled down to a choice between warring ideologies or identities, but there never seem to be more than two combatants.  It’s always Leno OR Conan, liberal OR conservative, bailouts OR collapse, etc.

As Highlander once reminded us, “There can be only one.”  And every story we tell is just another rung on that dichotomous ladder, either up or down but always en route to a single, final victory: one dominant political theory, one popularized framing of history, one accepted version of “the truth.”

And it has to stop.

How the Stories We Tell Are Tearing Us Apart

Modern media frames every news item as a sporting event, in which there must be a winner and a loser, underdogs and dynasties, slumps and grooves.  Every conflict is war.  And since all of our stories are told at such a primitive level, we’re never challenged to see more than just “us” and “the other.”

This cognitive shorthand makes it easy for you to choose sides.  You know who your friends are, you know who your enemy is, and you’re spared the arduous task of making up your own mind.  After all, who has time to research opposing viewpoints, consider bigger pictures and weigh potential outcomes?  Life is short.  Better to simply declare yourself part of Team Conan and move on to whatever else is worth your time for the next four minutes.

But what happens when reality shifts?  What happens when your favorite player switches teams, or when your elected official changes parties?  Is he now “the enemy?”  Or is he a complex person who made a complicated choice, which you now have to evaluate and form your own conclusion about (if you can)?

Speaking broadly, how are we supposed to evolve as a society when our news, our entertainment and our public culture is predicated on winners and losers, “right” OR “wrong,” “yes” OR “no”?  How do we voluntarily accept a culture that refuses to make room for “maybe,” “sometimes” and “better than or worse than, depending on the circumstances?”

Part of the answer is that audiences are only trained to process one kind of story: the kind that sells.

We’re All Just Cavemen with Laptops

If you want to become a screenwriter, most experts will suggest you read Robert McKee’s Story, which is an excellent resource for writers who want to learn how to tell exactly the same kinds of stories people have been telling since the dawn of human communication.

Like Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces, which frames the bulk of human narrative as a quest, McKee separates all narratives into two easily-digestible camps: stories in which a hero overcomes obstacles to obtain his goal — AKA “good stories” — and everything else.  Thus, every story worth telling must be told in a three-act structure.  We need heroes, villains, friends and a love interest.  We need to establish the premise, overcome the obstacles and defeat the bad guy.  Anything less is French.

Given this framework, it’s no wonder every (American) story is told at such a primal level of complexity.  Simpler = broader = more bankable.  All that needs to change are the details, so we’ll always have something new to buy.

Simple stories with obvious heroes also fuel our need for self-identification.  When we’re presented with a complex narrative, we need to know which participant(s) we’re supposed to empathize with.  Who shares our ideals and fights our fight?  Becoming emotionally attached to someone you later have to re-evaluate screws with your own sense of self.  Better to keep the white and black hats clearly defined.

But reality isn’t a football game, and it doesn’t follow a three-act structure.  Sports heroes turn out to be philanderers, politicians alternate between saviors and goats, and Mother Nature is notoriously ambivalent.  If we don’t provide ourselves with the cultural ammunition to understand the complexities of the world we live in, we become incapable of processing diverse opinions, identifying multiple causes and effects and appreciating incremental degrees of change.

Instead, we ignore the points of view that can’t be easily classified.  We disproportionately lionize and demonize our public figures, assigning them in roles in our minds rather than considering them as human beings.  And we continue to demand what we’ve been trained to demand: all or nothing, now or never, you or me.

And that, at the risk of being reductive, is a bad plan for the future.

Tags: America, audience, bullshit, common sense, language, perception, pop culture