For leaders, it is always a temptation in the face of tragedy to exert their power directly to achieve their ends. President Obama showed us this recently in his response to the Umpqua tragedy when he stated that "our thoughts and prayers are not enough" and again, when he named a number of "concrete steps" that must be taken. This is not the fault of his at all; it is the overwhelming of a good heart, of a compassionate person who stands at the head of a country and looks out, sees evil, sees apathy and knows not what else can be done. Just like a father who sees his children doing something harmful both to their surroundings and themselves. A foot must be put down. Things need to change around here.

But it must be seen that concrete change must stem not from the direct exertion of leaders in power--that is, after all, the structure of totalitarianism--but from a change in mindset. So what the heck is a leader supposed to do, then? If I, the leader, cannot put my foot down without being a tyrant, what can I offer my people?

What, seriously, is the difference between a leader and a tyrant? Is it really evil to think that the best form of leadership is precisely a benevolent dictator, a soft tyrant? If I remember correctly, even a genius such as Plato was convinced of as much. The idea is built into American society: The governmental structure in the United States is designed around the premise that the "power" of government officials is the power to effect immediate changes in society and in the lives of individuals, whether by laws, bills, institutions or otherwise. That is why it must be checked and balanced. And yet, is this the currency of a leader this particular kind of "power"?

That "power" is structurally similar to the violence that caused the tragedy itself: It is the utilization of direct force as a means of achieving some end. We should be especially careful here as well, considering how many of these "shooters" do what they do in the name of "justice."

"Justice," I think it can be shown, is an oddly fickle foundation for action. "Justice" always seems to be the "justice" of some human or group of humans who cannot be considered absolutely pure, absolutely without ulterior motive, without hidden desires, even ones they do not know of themselves; "justice," on the other hand, must be absolutely pure if it is to be "justice" at all. Can you see the problem here? It's an incredibly delicate one. It raises the question: In what name, then, do we act?

It is now and will for many years be considered cliché to act in the name of "hope." If "justice" is a fickle foundation, "hope" in our day is practically a cloud. Who would be stupid enough to stand on it? Just look at the rhetoric of experts in climatology or economy. They resort not to hope, but to apocalypse to compel us to act. The world-renowned philosopher, Slavoj Žižek, has pointed out that in public discourse today, it is easier to imagine the literal end of the world, than it is to imagine a more modest disruption and reorganization of global capitalism. I believe the same applies to the White House's response to tragedies, as well. So the New York Times can report Obama did not even believe his own statement of hope, that "his eyes betrayed the truth."

Hopelessness occurs as the natural consequence of ideology. Because every ideology is necessarily a reduction of the world into clear-cut categories, every ideology is bound to be shattered in due time. The world is too complex to be rendered legible in simple narrative form--even in complex narrative form. The good guys are never as good as we think they are; the bad guys, never quite as bad we believe them to be. Human desires are desires all the same and their similarities across cultures, geographies, religions, and ideologies confound our natural tendency to identify an evil Other. The desire for safety, shelter and community can manifest itself as the decision to join a terrorist group if that seems like the only viable option. A gang may be the parallel in the West, but note that it's not so simple.

What goes for desire also goes for fear. Afraid that the world is collapsing, that the world will never notice, that the world is meaningless, it is not at all inconceivable that one might resort to violence. This analysis could continue in the same vein, but I think the point is made.

We must constantly question our ideologies: Our simplifications of the complexity of the world. The hierarchies we begin to form that seep into our societal structures, literature and behavior; the associations with good and with evil that are not as grounded as we pretend they are; and the categorization of people that relies on these hierarchies and associations--these things must be questioned not for the sake of liberal arts scholarship or whatever, but because relying on them uncritically results in hopelessness.

The President's desire for "concrete steps" is admirable and good. But these must be concrete steps toward making hope visible to the American people--not toward policy decisions. That's the paradox here, folks. The country will change when the people do. And the people will change when they believe there is hope.

Policy alone, without a change in mindset of the people, is violent itself.

For those who care, here is some visible hope:

http://cureviolence.org/

http://apathappears.org/

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."