A Different Drummer

I was born a couple of years before Pearl Harbor. I was the younger sibling. (Actually I was the younger brother. They didn't talk about siblings then.) My older brother became a Cub Scout soon after the war but that didn't last long. He didn't like it. As far as he was concerned it was too regimented. It may have been popular, but it wasn't for him. So he never became a Boy Scout, and neither did I.

It shouldn't really be surprising. Scout groups have rules. They have to. We need rules – shared and agreed-upon guidelines. They're integral to doing things. They're part of the teaching process. And war and the military created a worldview of conformity, so the returning soldiers and sailors were oriented to the kind of order prized not only in the military but, as well, in the society to which they returned. They knew that there had to be someone in charge and theirs was not to reason why. They had the responsibility of doing as they were told – of following orders. (I don't mean to suggest that they followed the Nazi example and followed immoral orders. They were accountable as human beings – as we all are – to rebel at illegal demands, but short of that they maintained military discipline. [The Nazis were similarly accountable on an absolute basis, but their education told them “No”; that obedience was the highest value.])

Rules are good things. They maintain society, especially in those situations when a rapid and predictable response is mandatory. A ship must have a captain; there can be only one chief surgeon in an operating room; and, as all those who had so recently been engaged in battle knew, someone had to be in charge if they were to keep casualties down and to prevail.

And they all had to be well trained. They had to know what to do instinctively if they were to act quickly. They had to be educated to the most efficacious procedures whatever the circumstances. They weren't robots – those weren't to be in widespread use for many decades – however education and regimentation were basic to every citizen's performance.

But things change. Like unruly teen-agers who are breaking loose from parental control, society broke loose from rules and constraints. At times people's actions were nonviolent and constructive as, for example, in the peaceful demonstrations for equal rights. At times, however, this was not the case. It is hard to forget the flag burnings, the riots, and the college takeovers that followed the exhilaration and unity of the 1950s. Some of the changes were well thought-out and aimed at advancement, while others were simply expressions of the rejection of society's rules, and of rebellion. And for many, the idea of rebellion was so attractive that no reason for it was necessary. Their goal was to spurn society itself, to have their own way – even if that way was wrong, and even if they had no particular goal.

If disobedience was an end in itself, however, it was unlikely to have value. Fortunately there have been many who were estranged from societal norms but who benefited us all through their rejection of the status quo. Those who “pushed the envelope” and “thought outside of the box” (two expressions which, although they illustrate an important concept, are so hackneyed as to be remnants of the “old” thinking) showed their rejection of old ideas by creating new ones. “We've always done it that way” simply wasn't good enough if they had a better way. Nothing is gained by being conventional, by staying in style, especially when rejection is fashionable simply for its own sake.

Henry David Thoreau, a nineteenth century American philosopher, wrote “If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.” It's obvious that there will be no new thoughts if everyone follows the same drummer. And those with new ideas are invariably looked on as “queer ducks.” New thinkers are invariably out of step with the old. However that's often because they are far ahead of the rest of us.

Of course new thoughts are not necessarily good (but neither are the old). Yet they are what move us all forward and, while we should examine them thoroughly, we should welcome them. Or, as composer John Cage put it, “I can't understand why people are frightened of new ideas. I'm frightened of the old ones.” Creative people, like Cage, march to a different drummer. They have new and unconventional ideas. (I'm not sure I like Cage's, but I agree with his sentiment – if the “new ideas” are thought out.) There's a common sentiment expressed by the intellectually lazy: “Don't reinvent the wheel.” It makes sense unless the wheel is not the best solution to the problem. And that's often the case, although it may not be recognized. To a very great degree we're held back by conventional thinking, even though we all try to use our minds to solve the problems we face. But however we may feel about our individual singularity, we don't stray far from the pack. (“I'm unique, just like everybody else.”) The more things change …

Perhaps the problem is our wish for equality. Perhaps by teaching to the lowest common denominator in order that no child be left behind, we don't emphasize the value of that different drummer and the importance of independent thought. We speak of diversity but we reward conformity. We call it “peer pressure” but it is really the desire of society to understand and control all its members. It's easiest when their thoughts and their actions are predictable, and when their ideas don't change. It's hardest when they're all thinking for themselves in an unpredictable way.

Different strokes for different folks? No. Different drummers. It's the difference between variation on a theme and innovation.