Clément Pruche: Fameux Jury de Peinture. Salon de 1841
[Famous Jury of Painting. Salon of 1841] (1840, reissued 1841)

"…as if recovering innocence might prove Reassuring."

I am not a bottomless font of positive energy. I am not an infinite anything, but a painfully finite being, present without obvious purpose, faking it as best I can. I identify as a man, though I do not align with many of the expectations that come with that designation. I am not very mechanical, for instance, and never cared much for motor vehicles. I am presently engaged in analysing Decency in concept and practice, though my interest in the subject has recently been flagging. As with any search, I wonder how I might tell if I’m succeeding before I’ve finished. In the middle of anything, progress might not seem all that evident. Even at the end, the seeker might be left wondering. Searching seems no different from any occupation, except for the presumption of it ending, of reaching some conclusion.

Considering Decency has increased my sensitivity to both its presence and its absence. Finding evidence of Decency reassures me, while noticing its absence discourages me. I find these reactions curious. Am I considering Decency in the hope that I might see more of it and thereby reassure myself? Must finding it missing or noticing it diminishing discourage me? Could I not find any observation reassuring that I’m at least occupying my time with an enjoyable activity? Do I need to find Decency for my query to satisfy me? In what other realm might a similar pattern emerge? Did I start my search in hope of somehow discovering a motherlode of Decency that I could find continually Reassuring? What’s with all this apparent need for reassurance? Have I been struck insufficient?

It’s hardly headline news that the present administration exhibits little in the way of Decency—quite the opposite. I could occupy myself failing to find a single instance of Decency in any policy or proclamation this administration has produced. What might that inquiry buy me? What would I have produced as a result of that effort? I might possess definitive evidence of what was obvious before I began studying the situation. I would very likely find myself no wiser, for wisdom springs from different kinds of research than producing proofs supporting the obvious. It might be that I undertook this inquiry into Decency purely for primitive reasons, perhaps in the belief that I might somehow encourage Decency to manifest more frequently as a result of my investigation. Maybe I was merely salting an imaginary mine, hoping to coax out a vein of Decency.

My motives seem downright superstitious. This doesn’t mean that they might not be helpful for something, just that they’ll probably not prove to be useful in the way I innocently expected them to be. I could seek snipes just as productively, and it was probably always up to me to find satisfaction in whatever I chose to pursue, or in the seeking itself. Searching for Decency or confirming its absence might prove equally satisfying, depending. Depending upon whether I find the activity Reassuring. Now, of course, I’m lost somewhere near the beginning of the second third of the planned effort, which suddenly doesn’t seem to be Reassuring me.

This seems to be how inquiry works. It starts in an optimistic blaze, its own reassurance, before progressing into more profound, potentially more significant questions. The initial innocence cannot persist through very much practice. Repetition alone wears it down. Deeper questions demand ever deeper purposes, producing inevitable shortages and accompanying crises of confidence. I didn’t start out seeking reassurance. Initial innocent motivation made reassurance unnecessary then. The innocence lost after asking the question a few dozen times pines after whatever it lost. It seeks reassurance as if it were its lost innocence then, as if recovering innocence might prove Reassuring.

©2025 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Decency, #PureSchmaltz