John Whitehead's Commentary
Timothy McVeigh: The Search for Meaning in the Age of Paranoia
On April 19, 1993, an FBI SWAT team descended on David Koresh's Waco, Texas compound. Clearly paranoid about the strong arm of the government and expecting an apocalyptic end to the world, Koresh was burned alive--along with 92 men, women and children--in a fiery blaze.
Two years later to the day, 27-year-old Timothy McVeigh vented his paranoid rage against the United States government, in part because of its involvement in the Koresh affair, by massacring 168 people in the Federal Building in Oklahoma City.
Then on April 20, 1999, a mere four years later, 18-year-old Eric Harris and 17-year-old Dylan Klebold walked into Columbine High School in Colorado and vented their rage by murdering 13 people.
These incidents reveal both a generational problem as well as a decidedly frustrated, alienated and often paranoid American psyche, one that predominates in some way in a broad cross-section of American culture.
This paranoia that seems to be gripping American society--particularly the younger generations--appears to increase proportionally every time government agencies mishandle certain nationally publicized crises, i.e., the Waco fiasco and the way Elian Gonzalez was snatched from his Miami home by federal agents dressed like storm troopers. However, it's not only fear of the government but the fear of multinational corporations, viruses, AIDS and the like which gets added to the matrix of cultural suspicion.
Consider, for example, the inscrutable, paranoid and remorseless Timothy McVeigh, set to die at 7 a.m. on May 16. McVeigh belongs to the large group of young people born between the early 1960s and 1980--the so-called Generation X--in other words, the next generation to assume leadership.
The Xers are the most racially diverse American generation, and they generally come from the worst home lives. Forty percent, like McVeigh, are children of divorce. Even more were latchkey kids. They grew up immersed in a culture shifting from G to R to NC-17 film ratings, amid new public health dangers and the nightmare of self-absorbed parents. Fifty-eight percent of all unmarried singles between the ages of 20 and 24 still live with their parents, and many have turned to "McJobs," low-paying positions such as cashier, janitor or waiter that give them more time for recreational activities.
Chuck Palahniuk captured the essence of Xers in his 1996 novel Fight Club. As Tyler Durden, a central character in the novel, proclaims: "We don't have a great war in our generation, or a great depression, but we do, we have a great war of the spirit. We have a great revolution against the culture. The great depression in our lives. We have a spiritual depression."
Like McVeigh, Xers are victims of a philosophical shift in Western culture from traditional religion's concept of absolute truth to modern philosophy's reliance on human reason and postmodernism's claim of unattainable truth. Thus, we are faced with a rootless generation seeking desperately for something to believe in. And having grown up in the midst of headlines about fallen televangelists and crooked politicians, the Xers' trust in authority figures is low. Therefore, cynicism about anything organized, such as church and political power, is high.
The Xers are a generation in search of something, and they don't want to be taken lightly. For them, it is not enough to be numbered with the grains of sand on the beach and the stars in the sky.
This search has led many to communities of submission where the person is relieved of the burdens of individuality and freedom. This is a substitute for a new form of bondage where an exclusive ideology injects meaning into an otherwise empty existence. As expressed in various religious cults and certain extremist strains of militia organizations, violence is often the result. In fact, the new revolutionaries against culture often validate their existence with violent acts.
"What you have to consider," Fight Club's Tyler Durden notes, "is the possibility that God doesn't like you. Could be, God hates us. This is not the worst thing that can happen." Thus, getting God's attention for being bad is better than not getting God's attention at all. "We are God's middle children, with no special place in history and no special attention. Unless we get God's attention, we have no hope of damnation or redemption. Which is worse, hell or nothing?"
Timothy McVeigh--the first inmate to be executed by the federal government in 38 years--seems to have chosen hell. McVeigh has shown no remorse and is determined, it seems, to go to his grave clutching his ideology of alienation and paranoia. He has asked his family to stay away and that no priest or spiritual advisor be present.
McVeigh's senseless violence and his attitude toward it baffle the psychologists and experts. However, McVeigh may be as much a victim as victimizer--a product of a society that foments a deep sense of insecurity, paranoia and apathy in a cross-section of its citizens. Thus the big questions: How do we reach out to these lost, alienated souls? How do we convince them that they do belong and there is hope to be found if only they will not give up the search? And if we cannot reach them--if it is too late--when can we expect the next devastating act of violence? And is there any way to stop it?
Two years later to the day, 27-year-old Timothy McVeigh vented his paranoid rage against the United States government, in part because of its involvement in the Koresh affair, by massacring 168 people in the Federal Building in Oklahoma City.
Then on April 20, 1999, a mere four years later, 18-year-old Eric Harris and 17-year-old Dylan Klebold walked into Columbine High School in Colorado and vented their rage by murdering 13 people.
These incidents reveal both a generational problem as well as a decidedly frustrated, alienated and often paranoid American psyche, one that predominates in some way in a broad cross-section of American culture.
This paranoia that seems to be gripping American society--particularly the younger generations--appears to increase proportionally every time government agencies mishandle certain nationally publicized crises, i.e., the Waco fiasco and the way Elian Gonzalez was snatched from his Miami home by federal agents dressed like storm troopers. However, it's not only fear of the government but the fear of multinational corporations, viruses, AIDS and the like which gets added to the matrix of cultural suspicion.
Consider, for example, the inscrutable, paranoid and remorseless Timothy McVeigh, set to die at 7 a.m. on May 16. McVeigh belongs to the large group of young people born between the early 1960s and 1980--the so-called Generation X--in other words, the next generation to assume leadership.
The Xers are the most racially diverse American generation, and they generally come from the worst home lives. Forty percent, like McVeigh, are children of divorce. Even more were latchkey kids. They grew up immersed in a culture shifting from G to R to NC-17 film ratings, amid new public health dangers and the nightmare of self-absorbed parents. Fifty-eight percent of all unmarried singles between the ages of 20 and 24 still live with their parents, and many have turned to "McJobs," low-paying positions such as cashier, janitor or waiter that give them more time for recreational activities.
Chuck Palahniuk captured the essence of Xers in his 1996 novel Fight Club. As Tyler Durden, a central character in the novel, proclaims: "We don't have a great war in our generation, or a great depression, but we do, we have a great war of the spirit. We have a great revolution against the culture. The great depression in our lives. We have a spiritual depression."
Like McVeigh, Xers are victims of a philosophical shift in Western culture from traditional religion's concept of absolute truth to modern philosophy's reliance on human reason and postmodernism's claim of unattainable truth. Thus, we are faced with a rootless generation seeking desperately for something to believe in. And having grown up in the midst of headlines about fallen televangelists and crooked politicians, the Xers' trust in authority figures is low. Therefore, cynicism about anything organized, such as church and political power, is high.
The Xers are a generation in search of something, and they don't want to be taken lightly. For them, it is not enough to be numbered with the grains of sand on the beach and the stars in the sky.
This search has led many to communities of submission where the person is relieved of the burdens of individuality and freedom. This is a substitute for a new form of bondage where an exclusive ideology injects meaning into an otherwise empty existence. As expressed in various religious cults and certain extremist strains of militia organizations, violence is often the result. In fact, the new revolutionaries against culture often validate their existence with violent acts.
"What you have to consider," Fight Club's Tyler Durden notes, "is the possibility that God doesn't like you. Could be, God hates us. This is not the worst thing that can happen." Thus, getting God's attention for being bad is better than not getting God's attention at all. "We are God's middle children, with no special place in history and no special attention. Unless we get God's attention, we have no hope of damnation or redemption. Which is worse, hell or nothing?"
Timothy McVeigh--the first inmate to be executed by the federal government in 38 years--seems to have chosen hell. McVeigh has shown no remorse and is determined, it seems, to go to his grave clutching his ideology of alienation and paranoia. He has asked his family to stay away and that no priest or spiritual advisor be present.
McVeigh's senseless violence and his attitude toward it baffle the psychologists and experts. However, McVeigh may be as much a victim as victimizer--a product of a society that foments a deep sense of insecurity, paranoia and apathy in a cross-section of its citizens. Thus the big questions: How do we reach out to these lost, alienated souls? How do we convince them that they do belong and there is hope to be found if only they will not give up the search? And if we cannot reach them--if it is too late--when can we expect the next devastating act of violence? And is there any way to stop it?
ABOUT JOHN W. WHITEHEAD
Constitutional attorney and author John W. Whitehead is founder and president of The Rutherford Institute. His most recent books are the best-selling Battlefield America: The War on the American People, the award-winning A Government of Wolves: The Emerging American Police State, and a debut dystopian fiction novel, The Erik Blair Diaries. Whitehead can be contacted at staff@rutherford.org. Nisha Whitehead is the Executive Director of The Rutherford Institute. Information about The Rutherford Institute is available at www.rutherford.org.
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