Wild Wings and the End of Civilization

I was watching TV when I saw a familiar commercial for Buffalo Wild Wings.  In it, a football referee looks into a replay hood, and instead of the Buffalo Wild Wings crowd seeing the ref standing on the field, they suddenly see the ref's face looking straight at them.  He asks the BWW crowd what they thought about the play being reviewed.  One of the patrons says "We're not ready to go yet; is there any way you could send this thing into overtime?"  After a dramatic pause, the ref says "No problem."  This makes the BWW crowd cheer wildly.  The ref then makes a call that makes a coach on the sidelines go crazy.  They show the BWW logo, then show a quick scene where the ref (un-)subtly trips a player running down the sidelines, presumably extending the game further.

Now, I know this is just a fun commercial on TV--nothing to be taken terribly seriously.  But when I saw it this weekend, something clicked.  I've been thinking about a column Peggy Noonan wrote back in 2005 (and echoed back in 1998, if not elsewhere).  In it she talked about the deep-down dread it seems many people have now about the not-too-distant future. 

• Sometimes it's the realization that crazy people, anywhere in the world, may be very close to wielding immense destructive power against us. 
• Sometimes it's the fear that the richest and most powerful of our world may find us peons to be eminently disposable. 
• Sometimes it's the ever-increasing volume and shrillness of sensationalist media that thrives on pandemics, global warming, and any other catastrophe--the more fear it induces in the viewer, the more the viewer feeds their addiction to the media, the better for the media companies.

I don't know if these fears are well-placed.  That is, I don't really know if civilization is on the verge of falling apart.  But I have made the half-jokes myself.  I have felt that fear, wondered how our family will eat if it all falls apart.

What I wonder is, where does this fear come from?  Let's set aside for a moment, just for the sake of argument, the possibility that God is trying to warn us against some kind of terrible future.  If not that, then what is it in our society, in the things we are hearing and seeing and talking about, the way we see the world, that would foster this deep-down fear?

That brings me back to the light-hearted microcosm of the Wild Wings commercial.  When we watch a pro sports game, we generally assume (or at least hope) that the officials are unbiased and fair in their judgments.  Their fairness is part of what makes the game enjoyable.  We trust that the athletes, through the mechanism of the contest, are being fairly judged so that the athlete(s) who play best on that particular day or night are allowed to emerge victorious.

If the officials involved are not fair, then we can have no such confidence.  If the officials are unfair, then (in the real world) they are probably being paid to produce a particular outcome.  The victory goes not to the better athletes, but to whomever has the most money, the most power.  The order of structured, rule-bounded competition is lifted; we may be entertained, but the reality is no real contest is being played out.  We are watching the sugar-coated fruit of chaos.

What if the scenario painted by the commercial really happened in the middle of the national championship?  What if it was your favorite team that was playing?  What if you found out that the ref went under the hood and asked a bunch of half-drunk bozos for their opinion, instead of carefully examining the replay?  What if they didn't care about fairness, rules, or integrity, but just wanted a longer highlight reel?  What if the official was shallow enough to throw out the athletes' hard work, just to humor a cheering crowd?  Wouldn't something of substance be lost from the game?

If you enjoy watching or participating in sports (real sports, not staged junk like pro wrestling), you would be disappointed, stunned even, if you found out officials were so shallow.  The last thing you'd want to do is watch more games, especially if you knew the same official(s) were in charge.  What's the point of watching if you never know whether a play will be judged fairly or not?

But the commercial is funny.  Would the average person have found it funny 20 years ago?  40, 60 years ago?  I'm guessing not.  Maybe I'm reading too much of my own innocence upon an earlier era, but I don't think they would have found it so funny.  I believe that we can only find something like this commercial funny to the extent we've let go of our expectation that people in authority are actually worthy of our respect.  And respect for people in authority is something our society has spent a great deal of time, energy, and creativity tearing down over the past half-century or so.

"Never trust anyone over 30."  "Question authority."  "Follow your heart."  "I am the captain of my own destiny."  These and similar sentiments have guided and powered a desire for a kind of freedom, a longing to cast off the shackles of yesterday's heirarchies and set everyone free to follow their own way.  But what I think many people are starting to realize is that boundaries carry with them an irreplaceable facet of true freedom, genuine liberty. 

If there are no boundaries, there is no trust, and no stability.  If everyone has the opportunity, is even encouraged, to do whatever enters their head to be done, then we can count on no one to fulfill any of their commitments.  Spouses can not be relied on to stick around, priests can't be trusted with children, and it's just a matter of time before a politician steals our money.

For a long time, the inertia of old practices, the habits of people raised in the authority-respecting ways, have allowed us to continue our trust in the fundamental elements of a stable society.  But as those people die, and their habits disappear, as the hippies and baby boomers grow old and take their place, so their self-satisfying, whim-following ways take precedence in our society... and our fears find fertile ground to take root.

I'm really not trying to argue that society really is about to fall apart.  But that nagging sense is in the air.  You make a statement about the future, around someone you don't know well, and, half-thinking, throw in "assuming civilization doesn't fall apart before then.  You're half-surprised when the person flashes a quick look at you that says "you think that, too?"  But that moment of recognition helps to cement that sense of fear within you.  "Every other authority has fallen, in time," you think.  "I keep seeing the people and institutions fall that I always thought would last," you think.  "How far will it go?  How far will we go?  With no boundaries, no authorities, no one strong enough or mature enough to say 'Enough!'--how can we stop?"