Copyright (c) 2000 by Michael Finley

"The Bat of Minerva" is the name of a small TV program appearing on a small cable outlet in a small market, at a late hour. It is a program about a topic few of us claim to care about -- philosophical inquiry. And yet I say to you, this little program has a message of importance for us all.

Yes, the bat of Minerva. Its name works on about eleven different levels, producer Peter Shea of Minneapolis, who has been doing the public access show for four years, says. But level one is enough for now -- Minerva being the Roman goddess of wisdom and bat being a creature of the treetops, twittering in the dark. 

It is the "Wayne's World" of philosophy. Every Friday at midnight -- Peter prefers the phrase "at the midnight between Friday and Saturday," which speaks volumes about his precision -- on Metro Cable Network, Peter interviews a single thoughtful person. "Interviews" may not be the right word -- Peter is an unprepossessing figure, and seldom appears on camera. More often, he points his single-camera technology at his subject, pushes the button, and zooms in on the thinker's face as the ideas swim out into the open. Low-budget to a fault, The Bat of Minerva is oddly compelling.

Guests are not celebrities. Peter's idea is that the people speaking are people he comes across more or less naturally in his day-to-day life -- which gives the show a feeling of peeking in on an extended community of neighbors. He has featured a nursing home chaplain, relating stories of struggle and growth, even at the end of life; a librarian overflowing with the good news of books she has recently read; a writer who, in Peter's words," blew the lid off Icelandic elvery" -- lifted the curtain of mystery from the goings-on of the invisible people who inhabit the byways of that rocky land, and occasionally, when it suits them, help out with distressed childbirths.

Peter, whom I have known for 30 years, has had me on a couple of times. I talked about the interior monologues I have walking my dog, and about the meaning of St. Patrick's Day. And I was impressed -- both by the project's humility and its grandiosity.

On the one hand, Peter's entire technology consists of a camera, a microphone, and a light. Each show costs him $5 for the blank tape, $40 for a broadcasting fee, and a buck or two for gas. He likes it that way, but he does not make a virtue of poor quality. A steady hand, and the right sounds and light levels, allow the magic of the talking face to work.

On the other hand, the topics and the people he has on address what commercial stations with million dollar budgets and corps of talented effects artists, seem unable to touch -- the hemidemisemiquaver of an idea being birthed.

"I like people who are able to reason for extended periods," Peter says. That may not sound like much, he said, but it is increasingly rare in a world of instant pleasures -- the ability to sustain a thought until its implications and contradictions play themselves out. To do it, you have to think, and so much about our age discourages this practice.

In a perfect world, Peter would be a professor of philosophy in some leafy academic grove, guiding students through the mysteries of being human. In the real world, there are few help-wanted ads for people trained in the art of thinking. In addition to a teaching gig here and there, Peter occupies his time with The Bat. He is an active proponent of introducing children to philosophy early -- children being perfect philosophers by dint of their openness, curiosity, and lack of pre-existing intellectually affiliations.

"I worry sometimes that the show isn’t amusing enough," he says. "But if it becomes too perfect, I'm afraid it will stop being what it is. And in a way, I'm blazing a trail -- a level of mediocrity that others can easily follow and surpass."

He prefers guests who are not too mouthy, but have something to say. And he doesn’t mind if guests make some viewers feel stupid. Good thinking sometimes has that effect. And face it, lots of people are stupid. And they aren't his audience anyway.

What has Peter's story got to do with the future? It reminds us that the era we are embarking on is, so far, a rough place, where dreams are not fulfilled at the click of a button. Oh, if you’re very lucky, success may come easily. But if you’re like most of us, you will suffer, like a tree in a schoolyard, through your share of humiliations and amputations.

Show courage, though -- seek counsel from the wise little bat suspended from your upper reaches -- and you may blossom back with ideas all your own.

And could there be more fragrant revenge?