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“No two social scientists agree on what “fascism” really is (though everyone agrees it’s terrible!). But historical examples that most people agree to call fascist states all had in common a strong national ideology and a standing army. The State is not just the governor in a fascist country: We are the State, the State is Us.
The State is the source of polite behavior and moral instruction. And we know our State – and therefore our ideology – are better than that of neighboring States because our standing army is so much stronger than theirs. If our army is defeated, it has nothing to do with insufficient manpower or poor strategy or losing the arms race. It’s because we were sabotaged by traitors, or because the National Will at home wasn’t strong enough (see “We are the State”; above).
Such circular reasoning appeals to the hunter-gatherer instincts which ten thousand years of civilization have not yet eradicated. We want to belong to a tribe. We also want to belong to the right tribe: the strongest tribe, the one that can best protect us. And we want to provide for the tribe with which we identify so closely. Appealing to people’s desire for strength and safety can open any door.”
―
The State is the source of polite behavior and moral instruction. And we know our State – and therefore our ideology – are better than that of neighboring States because our standing army is so much stronger than theirs. If our army is defeated, it has nothing to do with insufficient manpower or poor strategy or losing the arms race. It’s because we were sabotaged by traitors, or because the National Will at home wasn’t strong enough (see “We are the State”; above).
Such circular reasoning appeals to the hunter-gatherer instincts which ten thousand years of civilization have not yet eradicated. We want to belong to a tribe. We also want to belong to the right tribe: the strongest tribe, the one that can best protect us. And we want to provide for the tribe with which we identify so closely. Appealing to people’s desire for strength and safety can open any door.”
―
“As an artist, you normally reach your peak of creativity, regardless of whether you are singing or acting, when you develop the greatest possible freedom within very strict boundaries.
For I can't just improvise away while the band's playing something different. I have to say my lines and maintain my position. By the same token a footballer must stick to the rules too.
But the most exciting thing is when people manage, within the rules, to develop a freedom that is unpredictable surprising and simply artistic and marvellous.”
―
For I can't just improvise away while the band's playing something different. I have to say my lines and maintain my position. By the same token a footballer must stick to the rules too.
But the most exciting thing is when people manage, within the rules, to develop a freedom that is unpredictable surprising and simply artistic and marvellous.”
―
“Linc wasn't interested in hearing replays of anecdotes that had already been old long ago. "So what's new?" he asked.
Chips stared down as his hands, spreading his fingers. He was wearing a lot of rings these days, Linc noticed.
"Kyle's still around, running the collections ...." Chips paused, as if considering whether to confide something weighty. "As a matter of fact, we might be working something out - you know, sharing some of the action. He made me this proposition ...."
It was strange. Linc had practically forgotten about Kyle. He could remember nights when he had lain awake nursing the rage that had burned in him, consoling himself by rehearsing in his mind how he would get even. And not just with Kyle but also the man called Carolton, whom Breece had said Kyle worked for.
But somehow over the months that had slowly changed ... and now it just didn't matter anymore. Linc had seen things that Kyle could never know. He could no longer hate a man he didn't envy.”
― Outward Bound
Chips stared down as his hands, spreading his fingers. He was wearing a lot of rings these days, Linc noticed.
"Kyle's still around, running the collections ...." Chips paused, as if considering whether to confide something weighty. "As a matter of fact, we might be working something out - you know, sharing some of the action. He made me this proposition ...."
It was strange. Linc had practically forgotten about Kyle. He could remember nights when he had lain awake nursing the rage that had burned in him, consoling himself by rehearsing in his mind how he would get even. And not just with Kyle but also the man called Carolton, whom Breece had said Kyle worked for.
But somehow over the months that had slowly changed ... and now it just didn't matter anymore. Linc had seen things that Kyle could never know. He could no longer hate a man he didn't envy.”
― Outward Bound
“War pictures are always fascinating for people; they were for me growing up, even though I'm not nuts about war."
"War is the ultimate conflict, and conflict is the basis of drama to begin with.”
―
"War is the ultimate conflict, and conflict is the basis of drama to begin with.”
―
“Linc didn't know if it was his imagination, but the streets seemed to have gotten older and dirtier - more so, surely, then was possible in the time that had gone by. What he remembered as the center of where the action was, and where all of life happened had turned into tired and shabby remnants of an age that was running down.
Had the store fronts always been so grubby with their cloudy windows, half hearted displays, the paint around the doors dulled and peeling like the once-high hopes of some forgotten opening day long ago? Had trash always stunk like this, piled in alleys and strewn along the gutters?
Above it all, high-rental buildings that had once thrust proudly toward the sky crumbled silently amid the winds, the rain, and the corrosive fames eating into them. They had degenerated into cheap hotels and apartments while business fled the cities for manicured office parks by the interstates.
But the people no longer stopped to gaze at these buildings, in any case. The figures on the sidewalks hurried on, avoiding each other's eyes, enwrapped in their own isolation.
Even those who stood or walked together aimed words at each other from behind facades that had become so second nature that even they themselves now mistook them for the persons atrophying within.
A city of brooding shells, inhabited by beings who hid inside shells.”
― Outward Bound
Had the store fronts always been so grubby with their cloudy windows, half hearted displays, the paint around the doors dulled and peeling like the once-high hopes of some forgotten opening day long ago? Had trash always stunk like this, piled in alleys and strewn along the gutters?
Above it all, high-rental buildings that had once thrust proudly toward the sky crumbled silently amid the winds, the rain, and the corrosive fames eating into them. They had degenerated into cheap hotels and apartments while business fled the cities for manicured office parks by the interstates.
But the people no longer stopped to gaze at these buildings, in any case. The figures on the sidewalks hurried on, avoiding each other's eyes, enwrapped in their own isolation.
Even those who stood or walked together aimed words at each other from behind facades that had become so second nature that even they themselves now mistook them for the persons atrophying within.
A city of brooding shells, inhabited by beings who hid inside shells.”
― Outward Bound
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