From the virtual to the spiritual world
By
Frei Betto Read Spanish Version
While
traveling through the East, I came in contact with monks from Tibet,
Mongolia, Japan and China. They were quiet and measured men,
peacefully wrapped in their saffron-colored robes.
One
day, I observed the movement at São Paulo Airport — the
waiting room was full of executives talking on cell phones, worried,
anxious, generally eating more than they should have. I was sure they
had had coffee at home that morning, but, because the airline was
offering them another cup, they were eating voraciously. That led me
to reflect: "Which of the two models produces happiness?"
I
found Daniela, 10, in an elevator at 9 a.m. and asked her: "Haven’t
you been to school?" She answered: "No, I have classes in
the afternoon." I added: "That’s nice. So in the morning
you can play and sleep until late." "No," she replied,
"I have a lot to do in the morning." "What things?"
I asked. "English and other classes: ballet, art, swimming."
And she continued to list a program for a robot child. I began to
think: "What a pity that Daniela didn’t say ‘I have a meditation
class.’"
We
are building supermen and superwomen, fully equipped but emotionally
child-like. That is why companies nowadays consider that more
important than the I.Q. is the E.I. — emotional intelligence. Being
a superexecutive is not very useful if a person cannot relate to
people. Therefore, how important it would be to include meditation
classes in the school curricula.
A
progressive city in São Paulo state in 1960 had six bookstores
and one gym. Today, it has 60 gyms and three bookstores. I have
nothing against the care of one’s body, but I worry about the
disproportion in relation with the care of the spirit. It’s OK for us
to die in good shape ("What did the deceased look like?"
"He looked great; he had no wrinkles.") but what about the
question of subjectivity? Spirituality? Amorous idleness?
People
used to talk about reality: about analyzing reality, inserting
oneself into reality, knowing reality. Today, the password is
virtuality. Everything is virtual. One can have virtual sex on the
Internet. You can’t catch AIDS, there is no emotional involvement,
everything is controlled with the mouse.
From
his room in Brasília, a man can have an intimate girlfriend in
Tokyo without ever meeting his neighbor next door or in the next
block. Everything is virtual. We enter the virtuality of all values;
there is no commitment to reality. That process of abstraction of
language, of feelings, is very serious. We are virtual mystics,
virtual clergymen, virtual citizens. In this regard, reality is
ignored because we are also ethically virtual.
Culture
begins where nature ends. Culture is a refinement of the spirit.
Television in Brazil — with rare and honorable exceptions — is a
problem: with every passing week, we have the feeling that we’re a
little less cultured. The word today is "entertainment";
thus, Sunday is the national day of collective dumbing-down. The host
is an imbecile; the person who sits on a sofa is an imbecile; the
person who wastes the whole afternoon looking at the TV screen is an
imbecile. Because advertising does not sell happiness, we are under
the illusion that happiness is the result of the sum of all
pleasures: "If you drink this soda, wear these sports shoes,
this shirt, buy this car, you’ll achieve it!" The problem is
that, in general, you don’t achieve it. Whoever consents, creates
such a desire that he winds up needing an analyst. Or drugs. Whoever
resists, increases his neurosis.
Psychoanalysts
try to discover what to do with their patients’ desires. Where can
they put them? Since I am not in that profession, I dare to make a
suggestion. I think there is only one way out: to shift the desire
inwardly, to like oneself, to begin to see how good it is to be free
of all that globalizing, neoliberal and consumerist conditioning. You
could live better that way. Besides, three requisites are
indispensable for good mental health: friends, self-esteem and no
stress.
There
is a religious logic in today’s consumerism. If you go to Europe and
visit a small city with a cathedral, try to find out the history of
that city. The cathedral is a sign that the city has a history. In
the Middle Ages, cities acquired status by building a cathedral.
Today in Brazil, they build shopping centers. Oddly enough, most of
the shopping centers have stylized architectural lines. You can’t go
there dressed any old way; you must wear your Sunday best. Inside,
you feel as if you were in Paradise: no beggars, no street urchins,
no dirt.
You
walk into those cloisters to the sound of postmodern Gregorian music,
the vacuous tunes you hear in a dentist’s waiting room. You see
several niches, chapels that contain the venerable objects of
consumption, where beautiful priestesses serve as acolytes. Those who
can buy, feel that they are in the kingdom of heaven. If you have to
give a postdated check, use a credit card or a special check, you’ll
feel as if you were in purgatory. But if you cannot buy, you’ll
certainly feel as if you were in hell. Luckily, everyone ends up in
the postmodern Eucharist, attracted by the same table, the same juice
and the same hamburger at McDonald’s.
I
usually tell the shopkeepers who invite me to walk into their stores:
"I am just taking a Socratic stroll." And looking into
their startled eyes, I explain: "Socrates, a Greek philosopher,
also liked to clear his head by strolling through the commercial
center of Athens. When shopkeepers like you hounded him, he would
tell them: ‘I am just looking at the many things I don’t need to be
happy.’"
Frei
Betto is the co-author, with Luis Fernando Veríssimo, of "The
Ethical Challenge" and other books.
Source:
Alai-Amlatina
