A reader’s comment mentioned how music, specifically songs from her youth, can bring back the same sense of hope and happiness that many of us were lucky enough to enjoy as children. That got me thinking: smell (it is said) is the sense that has the greatest power to trigger memories; sometimes very intensely and from far away. Given that…
Would the average American’s memory of policy and politics be improved if politics – literally, rather than figuratively – stank to high heaven?
One of the most fist-clenching catalysts of my political angst is the extreme wings constantly re-writing history to fit their agenda, coupled with everyone else’s total inability to remember what actually happened. The result is that only the most politically extreme control political history – and political memory. How can a society make people pay attention and remember political history so that we won’t be as prone to repeat it? Can the smell of politics be the saving grace that ends the extreme wings controlling our political narrative?
We spend a lot of our lives stuck in memory. It might be in a dream, or it might be in a daze while stirring tomato soup with extra sharp cheddar cheese. It might be in cookies or a Christmas ornament. Our memory is our map. It reminds us which way to happiness, and which turns to avoid emotional traffic jams of pain and embarrassment.
Our memories in the history book of politics, however, are embarrassingly weak. We forget the causes and remember only the aftermath, which destines us to repeat our follies over and over. Read any old newspaper from 30-100 years ago and the issues, arguments, and justifications are all basically the same as today. Very little at the core changes. American political identity gets a new coat of paint every now and again, but the cycle rolls on. Every new generation lacks the stench of generations past… we force ourselves to forget the smell by scrubbing vigorously and hoping no one notices the abrasions. And so we fall into the bad-decision cesspool in a repeated, Buster Keaton fashion.
Smell and Realness of History
We forget that memory is a reminder, not just a collection of dates and occurrences. It’s a road sign of a corner up ahead. It’s an arrow. It has a point. It’s more than just a sticky note in our grey matter. Memory helps us be better. Yet we aways forget the lessons born of political mistakes. We get incredibly upset about politics – we constantly argue about politics – but our political memory is horrendous. In ourselves we find great political passion, but a coral fish’s ability to remember implications.
The sense of smell never lets us forget…
… for example: more than a lifetime after the moment, there remains a perfume that stops me in my tracks and causes me to search tip-toed through the crowd. In truth, it’s been so long that if I were to see her I would not recognize. But the smell of her is steadfast like a Jane Austen novel. It’s a lock and key memory. Smell memory is very powerful; to the point of making a small part of us think we’re reliving a moment. I blame mastodons.
Given that aspect of human nature, is it possible that we as a society so easily pass over lessons from history because, well, we can’t smell them. Is our problem of history repeating a symptom of social anosmia? (…yes, I had to look that one up.)
Without smell, food loses taste. So, too, I think, does History. How many of us know what blood on hot asphalt smells like? The fear of a child sitting on top of a train on her way north into the unknown? The smell of bodies under buildings? Prison? War?
Too few, I think.
We are protected, as if in a HEPA-filtered bubble, from issues on which we vote. So are politicians. But humans need smell to make a thing real; just as much as touch. Printed words and the story they create become more real by the subtle smell of an old book. Smell can make concepts real. More than words or a jabber on TV. I wonder how a population might act differently if we all somehow possessed important, shared historical smell memories. Would not the smells of Gettysburg help a person remember the lessons of all that happened there?
Politicians Stink But They Don’t Smell
America has a problem: we keep sending rancid politicians to Washington. Not that I wish we all took a good sniff of our politicians prior to voting, but I wouldn’t mind pondering the smell of American politics, and in that process pine after the impossibility of linking our political mistakes to the one sense that conquers forgetfulness.
Linking unsavory smells to politicians has been attempted in the past. All of us have walked into stores and been inundated with various scents that are designed to create a specific feeling, or make us want to purchase whatever it is they might be selling. Scent marketing isn’t new, but it’s a bit limiting when it comes to changing the direction of history. Scratch-n-Sniff mailers probably won’t fix Washington… too much expensive cologne wafting in the halls of Congress… hmmm… politicians try to mask their smell… can’t say that I blame them.
The smell of politics… Politics, just the word without a scent, makes the majority of Americans scrunch up their nose as if they’ve just encountered something olfactorily offensive. But we still forget… that’s what’s killing me. Why do we so easily forget the facts, and the history, and the broken promises of politicians? Why do we always repeat the process? Politics stinks, but it still isn’t real like perfume or freshly cut grass on a summer morning. That we can’t smell it might very well be why Congress can have a 19% approval rating and yet 90% of America ignores what it’s doing (or not doing as the case may be).
How Can We Make Politics Smell, Not Just Stink?
Honestly, I’m at a loss. Call this one an idea that fell on its face like scent texting and smokeless ashtrays. Maybe we need to hook up with the scientists who designed Doritos. While I don’t advocate we have every citizen line up and smell Paul Ryan, I do believe it would be helpful if America experienced the smells of enhanced poverty that his budget would create. (I’m betting Paul Ryan is a Brut man – it’s his way to feel connected to “the little people” in his district.)
We might not be able to add smell to politics in America… but in another universe it would be nice to give it a try. Maybe in that universe, history – not just time – moves forward.
Yes… this whole thing is ridiculous, but so is politics: something that stinks but it doesn’t smell… that’s the whole gosh darn problem.
