Ace in the Pseudo-Hole

Very few things get my goat as much as being told I’m not smart enough to understand things (especially when it’s true). Even fewer things come more naturally to me than assuming I know what others can’t understand (even when that’s untrue). I’m fairly certain that’s why Lippmann’s idea of introducing a “middle man” of sorts into a democratic government system with the expressed responsibility of explaining the intricacies and minutiae of said structure both infuriates me and is maybe not such a bad idea.

“… the real environment is altogether too big, too complex, and too fleeting for direct                   acquaintance... And although we have to act in that environment, we have to                   reconstruct it on a simpler model before we can manage with it.” – Lippmann pg. 16

What Lippmann is describing is the pseudo-environment created by man’s simpler reconstruction of his actual reality. And he makes a good point. In his essay he’s referring to our relationship with politics and the democratic system. This idea, though, is easily applied to all aspects of existence from love (“shall I compare thee to a summer’s day”) to family (simplicity of family trees) to death (the Grim Reaper). The 1951 film, Ace in the Hole, illustrates the need for this pseudo-reality but also how the system can easily run amok. Chuck Tatum, a washed-up journalist waiting for his comeback story, stumbles upon Leo Minosa trapped in a cave. In the reality of the film, it is indeed a delicate predicament. Leo is in danger in the cave and in need of rescue. His parents are very concerned yet his wife is more than a bit relieved. This doesn’t sell, though. This isn’t the story that the public wants, and it’s not the story that will get Tatum back in the game. Instead, he creates a pseudo-reality and sells that. He paints the story of a poor man trapped in a cave, the grieving wife, and the excavation that might not make it in time. Family after family, car after car file into the open field to see Leo rescued. The focus begins to drift, even for the film’s audience, from poor Leo to Tatum’s ambitions, the Sherriff’s reelection, and Lorraine’s profits. Every now and then Tatum ventures into the cave to visit Leo and the audience is reminded of the actual issue at the heart of the hubbub.

In a way, the Leo-in-a-cave situation isn’t unlike Lippmann’s theory of pseudo-environments. The complexities surrounding the situation (the haunting Native Spirits, the indifference of his wife, the concern of his parents just to name a few) are far too heavy and complex to ever be fully understood, even by those experiencing them. Tatum serves as the mediator between reality and pseudo-reality. That’s what journalism is, basically: a quick summation of events for the public. Tatum’s stories aren’t the truth, though. He makes sure there is a man trapped in a cave, but the trimmings around the story aren’t necessarily factually based or even important.

                  Concerning this worry that pseudo-environments are false, Lippmann says, “By fictions I do not mean lies. I mean a representation of the environment which is in lesser or greater degree made by man himself.” Even a scientist opting to round to the nearest thousandth, he claims, is creating a pseudo-environment of sorts since it is impossible to be productive in an environment where every single digit of pi is taken into account. Tatum creates this world of which he, Lorraine, and hundreds of American spectators all become a part. But his actions produce consequences. Lippmann explains,

                 

                  “It is the insertion between man and his environment of a pseudo-environment. To that                                     pseudo-environment his behavior is a response. But because it is behavior, the                   consequences, if they are acts, operate not in the pseudo-environment where the                   behavior is stimulated, but in the real environment where action eventuates.” –                   Lippmann pg. 15

Tatum, Sherriff, Lorraine, the Federbers are all existing, thinking, feeling, and reacting in a pseudo-environment that is constructed by man, mostly Tatum. Their actions, though, take place in the real world. Tatum uses the story to get himself back to a position of power, but it also serves in alerting law enforcement and excavation contractors of Leo’s crisis. His choice to go the long way into the tunnel is helpful for his story and for producing more publicity (creating more money for Lorraine and possibly more moral support for Leo and his parents), but that choice leaves Leo in the tunnel too long and eventually kills him. Tatum’s obsession with the story and concern over Lorraine’s behavior actually leads to his own death. As Lippmann warns, even though we’re motivated to act from of our pseudo-reality, our actions take place in the real-reality.

                  This is where Lippmann’s theory falls apart. In fact, it’s where all political theories fall apart: adding the human element. There are no perfect people. Tatum helps the people of New Mexico hear about Leo’s plight, but he’s doing it for completely selfish reasons. In Lippmann’s ideal situation, there would be a morally elite class that would, out of the kindness of their hearts, help the poor, uneducated population understand the intricacies of the real world that they are forced to dilute in their pseudo-realities. Tatum proves that, although nice, this is not probable or practical. It harkens to Dewey’s observations that what is beneficial and good to one person or group, may not necessarily be good for all, but that’s another paper altogether.