I've gone quiet for the past few months, for a variety of reasons. I've placed a lot of focus on my job search, and I am feeling a little apathetic about the current political situation, but apathetic isn't quite the right word--I still care, but the arguments never change. We are watching a soap opera in which I could stop watching for a given length of time, and come back only to find that the same things are still happening. We only get ever more mired into these stupid debates (Issa's hearing on contraception, for example) with every single half-step toward progress. If something good happens, we fight endlessly over it and break something else. It's World War 1 all over again: we are gassing each other over a couple hundred feet at a time and we have constructed vast networks of ideological trenches in which we encapsulate our inconsistencies. Nobody wins.
Mitt Romney is not even on my radar: He is irrelevant. Even Republicans admit the focus is negative: They are voting against Obama, rather than for Romney; he in himself doesn't mean much to them, either.
Last week, the Affordable Care Act was upheld by the Supreme Court in a 5-4 decision, with Justice Roberts carrying the swing vote for the majority. I haven't had time to read up on his reasoning (something about the government's power to tax), but this only galvanized John Boehner to commit once again to the act's repeal. Conservatives are trying to figure out if it was Roberts' epilepsy medication, his respect for the New York Times, his trying to keep up his rapport with Obama, or the possibility of Obama delegitimizing the Supreme Court itself that caused him to experience this supposed extreme lapse in judgment1. This is almost worse for them than Justice John Jones III ruling for the "evolutionists" in Kitzmiller v Dover Area School District (2005). That's twice now that supposed conservative stalwarts have jumped ship in critical cases. Must be something in the water they serve at these courthouses, eh?
I want here to break and talk about something I have never talked about before: The job search. My philosophical self-education is immediately relevant to my own life. I don't like my situation, beyond not having access to the resources required to be a full-fledged member of society. Despite 10-16% unemployment and the still very real recession (only 30% of teens have summer jobs, according to CNN), unemployed people are still looked upon as aliens, primarily because in America, a person's worth as a human being, as a subject, is based solely upon how much money s/he possesses; how productive s/he is; any judge of character, of moral worth, is irrelevant if the person who asks the question, "What do you do [for a living]?" is not satisfied by the answer you give. For example, in my own situation, it doesn't matter at all that I am a youth mentor (something that fills my life with meaning and from which I derive personal satisfaction) because it does not result in making money.
A few weeks ago, I attended a networking meeting, and the presenter spoke about doing something for others "because it feels good," but underneath all of the altruistic language many of these career coaches use is a much darker, and much more selfish truth: The flowery language is merely intended to mask the fact that we are only helping each other so that the other person will in turn be obligated to help us. I may be naive, but I am not comfortable knowingly using another person as a means to an end. I find it incredibly deceptive and disingenuous, and I am not willing to compromise my ethical standard; human beings are not objects for my amusement; nor am I an object for the amusement of others. The coach(es) speak of an ideal relationship between networkers, but such an ideal built upon mutual deception and corruption (on which I will speak of in a minute) is only possible if both parties understand and are willing to accept that they are being used as objects and only feign to care about one another on a substantial level.
Finally, at this same networking meeting, the presenter spoke of the efficiency of his system by writing people off. I brought up an experience in which I was at another networking meeting, and a woman made a sardonic comment about how the piles of resumes were killing the rainforest. The magnanimous presenter suggested that my newfound acquaintance "didn't get it" and should be avoided. I expressed disappointment, and put up weak resistance to his suggestion she be ostracized, but now it really bothers me. I appreciate people who take social risks, and considered her remark as an indication that she would be an interesting person to talk to at a meeting at which I feared everyone would be exactly the same. On a deeper level, I find the presenter's willingness to quickly write people off for the sake of the efficiency of his system not only a complete reversal of his "altruistic" intent, but also extremely Foucauldian: The use of micro-power to enforce social mores in the endless struggle of Us vs Them. This is doubly problematic because we are all unemployed, and it distracts us from the necessity of collective action. Unemployed people, particularly those who have been in the system before but were callously spit out of it largely ignore the greater reality of their situation, and view themselves as individuals with entirely separate experiences, when the fact is that there are millions of us who, if (in an ideal circumstance) gathered together, would be capable of political action to help solve the problem for the greater group. But by willing to so quickly and easily decide not to talk to someone who shares your experiences, especially because they talk funny, you are actually hurting everyone in the long run.
Some people on Facebook might notice that I use the term "Corporate Bogeyman" whenever someone mentions a "professional FB page" with their real name and few (if any) pictures, friends, or posts. I may have even used the term here. In Eastern European folklore, the Bogeyman (popularly known as the Boogieman) is a monster mentioned often by desperate parents that takes away children who misbehave. My "Corporate Bogeyman" describes the people (or phantoms) that supposedly comb job seekers' Internet footprints looking for incriminating material. It is worse than censorship, because it indirectly, through scare tactics, self-imposes silence and limits creative expression; its impact extending far beyond the intoxicated Facebook pictures from that party at your friend's house two years ago. "Careful what you put on the Internet" is an adage I have heard far more than I would like, extends to pages like this that, were my identity ever found out, I would probably be damned to perpetual unemployment for the next decade. It scares me, despite my strong belief that what I have to say needs to be said. What makes it so terrifying is that it isn't the government that is censoring us, but the corporations, which have no accountability and whose impulses are entirely subjective, can discriminate against more or less anyone they please with little consequence. Have you ever called up a company regarding a position you applied for and tried to ask them why you weren't interviewed, (or, if you were interviewed, why you weren't chosen)?
I promised I would discuss the corrupt part of it, and it has been, I believe, more than a few minutes. On the one hand, there exists the job boards, the email addresses, and the myriad accounts created to access them. On the other hand, we have our networks of people who might know other people who might know other people, ad infinitum. You can submit your application to stand among 30 other applications, or you can call your friend who knows another friend who knows another friend who knows another friend who happens to work at the company you're trying to get into and might be able to put in a good word for you. You have skipped the "proper channels" and moved right in. They might have spoken to some of those applicants, but they picked you because you're a friend of a friend of a friend..., perhaps even independent of your qualifications. I am not saying that this isn't something I will have to do, because I know it is. But I also know that it is extremely manipulative and wrong. With the scarcity of full-time--and even part-time--positions, this rotten system is liable to endure because it is easy for the employer: It allows them to quickly select an applicant from the cesspool of unwashed heathens with a minimal guarantee of his or her ability to fit into the company culture and/or fulfill the requirements of the position. It is the law of supply and demand at work. But its existence in actual reality does not preclude me from calling it what it is.
Another unpleasant result of the current economic situation for the unemployed is the mistreatment of applicants by recruiters and actual employers. When you are unemployed, "professionalism" is a one-way street: The burden of professional behavior rests upon the applicant only, and the power ascribed upon employers by virtue of their position grants license to behave as they please toward the filthy masses of lumpenproletariats. This, in my experience, involves behaving relatively callously (such as not returning your phone calls after establishing some mutual interest and suggesting a possible interview, and then making it worse by calling back a week later (you had called several times without answer by this point) and saying that he was busy at a conference and the company is not interested in you), having the interviewer walk out of an interview in order to push a sale upon a prospective customer (and then telling you they hired someone else when you call them back), and blatantly lying about not being interested in speaking to the applicant ("Your application is blocked by Corporate"). I am sure many unemployed people have endured worse than this, but these instances are bad on their own.
1) http://gawker.com/5922416/john-roberts-medication-made-him-stupid-and-other-right+wing-explanations-for-the-obamacare-ruling
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
How Badly We Need Campaign Finance Reform
I know I haven't written in a while, and with (at least, I think) good reason: I am terrified of repeating myself. I realize that my writing has been, more or less, single-minded, which isn't bad in itself, but I find myself writing about the same exact topics over and over: Atheism, the evils of the conservative Christians, etc. But surely, there is much material in the current Republican primary!
There is a lot of material, certainly. But even still, I don't even want to. I have been of voting age for six years, and have paid attention to politics since the campaign to impeach Bill Clinton. I have seen the Christian Right dematerialize and materialize again, after assured annihilation: Homosexuality, infidelity, and other juicy tales of sexual escapades from deep within their ranks. And they keep coming back: They don't even need Jesus anymore; they are miraculous enough.
I am torn: I know what they are doing is awful, the full-scale assault on women's rights (not a single woman was able to testify on behalf of a pharmaceutical product so ubiquitous and so integral to women's autonomy as the birth control pill), but I know that these dirty old men so intent upon turning attention away from themselves, so wrapped up in their own arrogance, are not ever going away. The problem isn't, finally, with our politicians: Our politicians are greedy, stupid, and bigoted, sure, but why are we electing them?
Why do we need nothing less than a SuperPAC, an engine devised to raise incredible amounts of money, only half separated from the political process and wholly unaccountable, to get elected? Something is wrong with our system, not necessarily with our government, but our election process, when the only way that a candidate can compete is to amass millions (not yet billions, but we'll be there soon) in private funds to even be considered not just by the people, but by the conglomerates that are our two parties.
And once in office, what is it that they care about? How do we get access? Lobbyists [read, companies] get access by enabling the politician to continue his or her political career: By giving money or gifts to his or her campaign fund. We voted them in, and now they have to be guaranteed to stay before they will listen, but they only listen to those who bring them money. The votes, therefore, are secondary, a given.
What ends up happening is that the ads get them elected: They tell us what a candidate may or may not think about a given issue, make generally short arguments for or against candidates, and our participation is taken as granted. The campaigns are largely not funded through public money, and the candidates must more or less buy the support of the wealthy, which is precisely why the work that a candidate originally wanted to do is never done.
Would I be crazy to begin seeing Jack Abramoff as a sympathetic figure? What if, leaving the question of his authenticity aside for a minute, Abramoff is providing an invaluable service to our political process by telling us what is actually going on in our government. "The problem," Abramoff said to Lawrence Lessig, whose book greatly influenced this essay, "isn't what's illegal; the problem is what's legal"1.
I have painted a picture of blatant corruption in this essay, but the truth, as Abramoff and Lessig pointed out, isn't so simple: It starts small, sometimes a return on the "investment" isn't immediately expected: The candidate, grateful for the gift, might feel compelled to return the favor as a gesture of gratitude, perhaps hoping that, pending success, a second gift may be received. Eventually, the candidate begins to depend on these gifts, and is no longer even considering the needs of those who cast the votes.
What I think, as I am writing this, is that we have several factors working against us: Beyond the election cycle, we have almost no say in what goes on in Washington (unless we are willing to start a massive movement, and endure police brutality). Our collective memories are exceedingly short, meaning that many of us cannot keep track of the actions of our representatives, and the political ads are intoxicating to us in the worst possible way. The blazing speed of our political process, combined with its extremely long duration (the presidential primaries drag on at 1,000 mph for about six to eight months, and then the general election goes on for another six at the same speed), makes it exceedingly difficult for most people to make any kind of educated decision, especially when it comes to choosing between candidates of the same party.
We have about as much control over Washington's business as we would have in a nondemocratic political system because candidates and incumbents only listen to us between terms (ironically, when there is very little business being done). What happens beyond the election cycle is entirely out of our control, save, again, if we undertake massive movements, but even then, results are mixed.
Why, for example, was SOPA [Stop Online Piracy Act] put up for vote? Chris Dodd, ex-Senator who vowed not to become a lobbyist at the end of his time in Congress, became a lobbyist for the MPAA, and was interviewed on CNN. The founder of Reddit.com, remarked that Congress was paid $94 million by the MPAA to pass SOPA(2). The kicker is that when SOPA did not pass (due to massive protests by Wikipedia and Reddit, among other popular websites), Chris Dodd issued this threat:
Again, I return to the question of why progressives have such a hard time getting what they want in government. Perhaps it isn't the message, or the agenda, or depressed resignation. It is the money. The people's business doesn't get done because the people don't pay. The people are a given: Run enough ads, and we will vote for you. The progressive platform gets people excited, but it doesn't fill party coffers. Union contributions only account for less than 20% of total contributions by major players. 80% is private interest, interests whose interests, therefore, are not your or my interests.
Ron Paul is the only plausible GOP presidential candidate. He gets people excited, but the party and the media only pay scant attention to him. Why? Because, again, his ideas don't fill party coffers because they scare the interests on whose behalf the GOP operates. The concept of a free market in which a given firm cannot legislate its own hegemony is as terrifying to those who own our representatives as a popular socialist system (socialism for the people, not for corporations).
The Culture War, therefore, is a deliberate distraction. It doesn't matter if Rick Santorum really believes all of the terrible things he says, nor does it matter that his candidacy is extremely expensive in terms of the future of our political landscape in the future. The only thing that matters is that he gets the people who are hurting most to stop talking about the fact that they are hurting. This has been going on for forever, and it works. Every. Single. Time. It turns out that I am wrong: The pool from which the GOP draws support is actually an infinite resource, one that, while it changes shape, the content remains the same and the people who comprise that resource cannot ever see how badly they are being screwed, nor, if they ask, will they ever figure out that they are being lied to. Just today, I read that Americans For Prosperity in Florida are paying $2 per signature to Tea Party organizers4. As China had the Fifty-Cent Party, we have the $2 Party. Just how authentic is our political system?
Lessig, Lawrence. Republic, Lost. Twelve Books. Copyright 2011. New York, NY.
1) Lessig interviews Abramoff (1h 20 mins)
2) http://www.mediaite.com/tv/reddits-alexis-ohanian-calls-internet-blackout-geekiest-protests-ever/
3) http://www.theatlanticwire.com/technology/2012/01/chris-dodd-needs-work-messaging/47697/
4) http://www.sunshinestatenews.com/story/americans-prosperity-taps-tea-party-volunteers-tuesday
There is a lot of material, certainly. But even still, I don't even want to. I have been of voting age for six years, and have paid attention to politics since the campaign to impeach Bill Clinton. I have seen the Christian Right dematerialize and materialize again, after assured annihilation: Homosexuality, infidelity, and other juicy tales of sexual escapades from deep within their ranks. And they keep coming back: They don't even need Jesus anymore; they are miraculous enough.
I am torn: I know what they are doing is awful, the full-scale assault on women's rights (not a single woman was able to testify on behalf of a pharmaceutical product so ubiquitous and so integral to women's autonomy as the birth control pill), but I know that these dirty old men so intent upon turning attention away from themselves, so wrapped up in their own arrogance, are not ever going away. The problem isn't, finally, with our politicians: Our politicians are greedy, stupid, and bigoted, sure, but why are we electing them?
Why do we need nothing less than a SuperPAC, an engine devised to raise incredible amounts of money, only half separated from the political process and wholly unaccountable, to get elected? Something is wrong with our system, not necessarily with our government, but our election process, when the only way that a candidate can compete is to amass millions (not yet billions, but we'll be there soon) in private funds to even be considered not just by the people, but by the conglomerates that are our two parties.
And once in office, what is it that they care about? How do we get access? Lobbyists [read, companies] get access by enabling the politician to continue his or her political career: By giving money or gifts to his or her campaign fund. We voted them in, and now they have to be guaranteed to stay before they will listen, but they only listen to those who bring them money. The votes, therefore, are secondary, a given.
What ends up happening is that the ads get them elected: They tell us what a candidate may or may not think about a given issue, make generally short arguments for or against candidates, and our participation is taken as granted. The campaigns are largely not funded through public money, and the candidates must more or less buy the support of the wealthy, which is precisely why the work that a candidate originally wanted to do is never done.
Would I be crazy to begin seeing Jack Abramoff as a sympathetic figure? What if, leaving the question of his authenticity aside for a minute, Abramoff is providing an invaluable service to our political process by telling us what is actually going on in our government. "The problem," Abramoff said to Lawrence Lessig, whose book greatly influenced this essay, "isn't what's illegal; the problem is what's legal"1.
I have painted a picture of blatant corruption in this essay, but the truth, as Abramoff and Lessig pointed out, isn't so simple: It starts small, sometimes a return on the "investment" isn't immediately expected: The candidate, grateful for the gift, might feel compelled to return the favor as a gesture of gratitude, perhaps hoping that, pending success, a second gift may be received. Eventually, the candidate begins to depend on these gifts, and is no longer even considering the needs of those who cast the votes.
What I think, as I am writing this, is that we have several factors working against us: Beyond the election cycle, we have almost no say in what goes on in Washington (unless we are willing to start a massive movement, and endure police brutality). Our collective memories are exceedingly short, meaning that many of us cannot keep track of the actions of our representatives, and the political ads are intoxicating to us in the worst possible way. The blazing speed of our political process, combined with its extremely long duration (the presidential primaries drag on at 1,000 mph for about six to eight months, and then the general election goes on for another six at the same speed), makes it exceedingly difficult for most people to make any kind of educated decision, especially when it comes to choosing between candidates of the same party.
We have about as much control over Washington's business as we would have in a nondemocratic political system because candidates and incumbents only listen to us between terms (ironically, when there is very little business being done). What happens beyond the election cycle is entirely out of our control, save, again, if we undertake massive movements, but even then, results are mixed.
Why, for example, was SOPA [Stop Online Piracy Act] put up for vote? Chris Dodd, ex-Senator who vowed not to become a lobbyist at the end of his time in Congress, became a lobbyist for the MPAA, and was interviewed on CNN. The founder of Reddit.com, remarked that Congress was paid $94 million by the MPAA to pass SOPA(2). The kicker is that when SOPA did not pass (due to massive protests by Wikipedia and Reddit, among other popular websites), Chris Dodd issued this threat:
"Those who count on quote 'Hollywood' for support need to understand that this industry is watching very carefully who's going to stand up for them when their job is at stake. Don't ask me to write a check for you when you think your job is at risk and then don't pay any attention to me when my job is at stake"3If that isn't corruption, I don't know what is.
Again, I return to the question of why progressives have such a hard time getting what they want in government. Perhaps it isn't the message, or the agenda, or depressed resignation. It is the money. The people's business doesn't get done because the people don't pay. The people are a given: Run enough ads, and we will vote for you. The progressive platform gets people excited, but it doesn't fill party coffers. Union contributions only account for less than 20% of total contributions by major players. 80% is private interest, interests whose interests, therefore, are not your or my interests.
Ron Paul is the only plausible GOP presidential candidate. He gets people excited, but the party and the media only pay scant attention to him. Why? Because, again, his ideas don't fill party coffers because they scare the interests on whose behalf the GOP operates. The concept of a free market in which a given firm cannot legislate its own hegemony is as terrifying to those who own our representatives as a popular socialist system (socialism for the people, not for corporations).
The Culture War, therefore, is a deliberate distraction. It doesn't matter if Rick Santorum really believes all of the terrible things he says, nor does it matter that his candidacy is extremely expensive in terms of the future of our political landscape in the future. The only thing that matters is that he gets the people who are hurting most to stop talking about the fact that they are hurting. This has been going on for forever, and it works. Every. Single. Time. It turns out that I am wrong: The pool from which the GOP draws support is actually an infinite resource, one that, while it changes shape, the content remains the same and the people who comprise that resource cannot ever see how badly they are being screwed, nor, if they ask, will they ever figure out that they are being lied to. Just today, I read that Americans For Prosperity in Florida are paying $2 per signature to Tea Party organizers4. As China had the Fifty-Cent Party, we have the $2 Party. Just how authentic is our political system?
Lessig, Lawrence. Republic, Lost. Twelve Books. Copyright 2011. New York, NY.
1) Lessig interviews Abramoff (1h 20 mins)
2) http://www.mediaite.com/tv/reddits-alexis-ohanian-calls-internet-blackout-geekiest-protests-ever/
3) http://www.theatlanticwire.com/technology/2012/01/chris-dodd-needs-work-messaging/47697/
4) http://www.sunshinestatenews.com/story/americans-prosperity-taps-tea-party-volunteers-tuesday
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
The Political Philosophy of Ferris Bueller
I just saw Ferris Bueller's Day Off for the first time today (shocking!), and I noticed some things that got me thinking about the film from a philosophical standpoint.
Primarily, Ferris Bueller is about power and the subversion of it. A lot of movies are about power (Office Space comes to mind), but Bueller stands out, for a few reasons.
Ferris himself is a de facto revolutionary: He overtly usurps the power of the Dean of Students and the school system at large, this is obvious enough. But his sister, Jeanne, is the key.
For the whole movie, Jeanne is jealous of Ferris and his ability to do what he wants and get away with it (as she reveals to Charlie Sheen in the police station), but in her jealousy, she attempts to support the power structure precisely because she knows that Ferris himself is in fact not sick at all. The point is that when she tries to notify the Dean, she herself is dubbed an "asshole" and told to get back to class. No one will believe her, and all attempts to foil her brother blow up in her face.
In the final scene in the movie, Jeanne is confronted with two choices, when the Dean accosts Ferris by the back door: Which does she hate more, her brother's ability to subvert the machine, or the machine itself? Ultimately, Jeanne chooses to save her brother because of the way the machine abused her when she tried to aid the power structure in stopping her brother.
This was the correct thing to do, from Jeanne's point of view, and her story demonstrates succinctly why people become revolutionaries in the first place: They play by the rules as best they can, but their good deeds only get them in more trouble, and they see that there is no way to succeed in the labyrinth in which they find themselves. They conclude that the only chance for happiness and/or success (or whatever it is that they are after) is the complete destruction of the system of power under which they exist.
No real reason is given as to exactly why Ferris is a revolutionary; he is more or less taken for granted, but if we follow the lietmotif of his sister's complaint, he does because he can (or, from the point of view of Kant, he must, because he can).
The "Save Ferris"campaign, while just a humorous subplot, actually plays an important role in the subversion of authority, in that people truly believe that he is sick, which makes it much more difficult for the machine to exercise its power. It is through this campaign that we have a complete picture: We have the primary Revolutionary (Ferris), his allies in school who have joined the cause and launched the larger campaign, and we have the counterrevolutionary who eventually joins his cause.
Power itself is portrayed in the figure of the Dean of Students, Mr. Rooney, who makes it his personal crusade to stop Ferris Bueller. Mr. Rooney himself is an absurd, comical figure who, in his almost blind pursuit of Bueller, is the cause of his own undoing. The thoughtless overreaction of power only makes it less trustworthy, and eventually it will collapse (the Dean of Students breaking and entering a student's home!?). It could be argued that Ferris Bueller did nothing: that if Mr. Rooney had simply allowed Ferris his ninth day off (ten days is failing; anything below that is acceptable, which makes the situation of Mr. Rooney that much more absurd), everything would have gone on as normal.
Cameron remains an anomaly in this context, but his story is much more reminiscent of The Stranger by Albert Camus: He just so happened to be friends with Ferris, and more or less did whatever he was told to do for most of the film. Yet, his experience with Ferris led him to a new-found greatness, and through it he was able to assert his own agency. Much like Mersault asserts his agency when he is sentenced to die, Cameron only asserts himself when he is totally liberated from responsibility, when there is absolutely nothing he can do to hide the fact that he used his father's beloved Ferrari. Was there any kind of choice open to Cameron? Recall when he is desperately trying to decide whether or not to pick up Ferris and join in his revolutionary shenanigans: "If I don't go, he's going to keep calling me. If I do go, we're going to get into trouble." Why was he sick (Cameron was truly sick, whereas Ferris was just faking it)? Because he could not choose: he was "afraid of everything." Being with Ferris, however, opened him up to real possibility, despite his weak protests, and ultimately, through the inevitability of punishment by his father, he was able to assert himself as a free agent.
Some people boast of being able to "play the game" (cooperate with the system and get what I want), and, frequently notify me of my abject failure to "play the game". But, obviously, that isn't what is going on here: This is pure revolution, a full-scale dismantlement of the power structure (what do you think happened to Mr. Rooney after the credits rolled? How could he possibly remain at his job?). Even more than that is the ability of our protagonists to undertake their project without arousing the suspicion of lesser agents of the power structure, namely, Ferris's parents. They were preoccupied by Jeanne, whose erratic behavior was consistently misinterpreted, leading to her defection to her brother.
Primarily, Ferris Bueller is about power and the subversion of it. A lot of movies are about power (Office Space comes to mind), but Bueller stands out, for a few reasons.
Ferris himself is a de facto revolutionary: He overtly usurps the power of the Dean of Students and the school system at large, this is obvious enough. But his sister, Jeanne, is the key.
For the whole movie, Jeanne is jealous of Ferris and his ability to do what he wants and get away with it (as she reveals to Charlie Sheen in the police station), but in her jealousy, she attempts to support the power structure precisely because she knows that Ferris himself is in fact not sick at all. The point is that when she tries to notify the Dean, she herself is dubbed an "asshole" and told to get back to class. No one will believe her, and all attempts to foil her brother blow up in her face.
In the final scene in the movie, Jeanne is confronted with two choices, when the Dean accosts Ferris by the back door: Which does she hate more, her brother's ability to subvert the machine, or the machine itself? Ultimately, Jeanne chooses to save her brother because of the way the machine abused her when she tried to aid the power structure in stopping her brother.
This was the correct thing to do, from Jeanne's point of view, and her story demonstrates succinctly why people become revolutionaries in the first place: They play by the rules as best they can, but their good deeds only get them in more trouble, and they see that there is no way to succeed in the labyrinth in which they find themselves. They conclude that the only chance for happiness and/or success (or whatever it is that they are after) is the complete destruction of the system of power under which they exist.
No real reason is given as to exactly why Ferris is a revolutionary; he is more or less taken for granted, but if we follow the lietmotif of his sister's complaint, he does because he can (or, from the point of view of Kant, he must, because he can).
The "Save Ferris"campaign, while just a humorous subplot, actually plays an important role in the subversion of authority, in that people truly believe that he is sick, which makes it much more difficult for the machine to exercise its power. It is through this campaign that we have a complete picture: We have the primary Revolutionary (Ferris), his allies in school who have joined the cause and launched the larger campaign, and we have the counterrevolutionary who eventually joins his cause.
Power itself is portrayed in the figure of the Dean of Students, Mr. Rooney, who makes it his personal crusade to stop Ferris Bueller. Mr. Rooney himself is an absurd, comical figure who, in his almost blind pursuit of Bueller, is the cause of his own undoing. The thoughtless overreaction of power only makes it less trustworthy, and eventually it will collapse (the Dean of Students breaking and entering a student's home!?). It could be argued that Ferris Bueller did nothing: that if Mr. Rooney had simply allowed Ferris his ninth day off (ten days is failing; anything below that is acceptable, which makes the situation of Mr. Rooney that much more absurd), everything would have gone on as normal.
Cameron remains an anomaly in this context, but his story is much more reminiscent of The Stranger by Albert Camus: He just so happened to be friends with Ferris, and more or less did whatever he was told to do for most of the film. Yet, his experience with Ferris led him to a new-found greatness, and through it he was able to assert his own agency. Much like Mersault asserts his agency when he is sentenced to die, Cameron only asserts himself when he is totally liberated from responsibility, when there is absolutely nothing he can do to hide the fact that he used his father's beloved Ferrari. Was there any kind of choice open to Cameron? Recall when he is desperately trying to decide whether or not to pick up Ferris and join in his revolutionary shenanigans: "If I don't go, he's going to keep calling me. If I do go, we're going to get into trouble." Why was he sick (Cameron was truly sick, whereas Ferris was just faking it)? Because he could not choose: he was "afraid of everything." Being with Ferris, however, opened him up to real possibility, despite his weak protests, and ultimately, through the inevitability of punishment by his father, he was able to assert himself as a free agent.
Some people boast of being able to "play the game" (cooperate with the system and get what I want), and, frequently notify me of my abject failure to "play the game". But, obviously, that isn't what is going on here: This is pure revolution, a full-scale dismantlement of the power structure (what do you think happened to Mr. Rooney after the credits rolled? How could he possibly remain at his job?). Even more than that is the ability of our protagonists to undertake their project without arousing the suspicion of lesser agents of the power structure, namely, Ferris's parents. They were preoccupied by Jeanne, whose erratic behavior was consistently misinterpreted, leading to her defection to her brother.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Let's Not Have A Christian Left, and Say We Did
A few of my friends have on more than one occasion, in response to the current Republican vitriol, have advocated the concept of a "Christian Left," believing that this would represent Jesus more authentically. I would agree on this point, but also posit that the concept of a Christian Left would also be vulnerable to the same traps that befall the Christian Right, and this essay is intended to make these traps clear.
The concept of a Christian Left is actually in a very privileged position, something that cannot be said about the Christian Right: The policies that would be advocated under the CL platform can be endorsed by a much more diverse range of people, many of whom may not be Christian. One would, conversely, have to not only be Christian, but a certain kind of Christian, in order to find the policies advanced by the CR the least bit palatable.
What this chiefly means is that in order to sell the platform to a wider audience, it would be inadvisable to use the "Christian" part of it as justification, as it makes people who would otherwise be in support of the platform unnecessarily uncomfortable (something that the conservatives learn again and again, and attempt to compensate for by way of short-term exploitable political resources). One can certainly privately use religion to justify social good--in fact, if that were its only function, few people would have much of a problem with it--but the translation from private planning of the programs to building support should be one where the programs are justified by their own objective merits.
Because the policies are justifiable on their own merits, the "Christian" part of the label in fact may be rendered unnecessary, at least in the greater political arena. There is a step beyond "God said X was good"--Why? For example, why should we take care of the planet? Because we live here, we are responsible for it, and if we want to continue to exist, we need to take care of it. Each of these positions are similarly objectively justifiable: justifiable in a way that transcends religious, ethnic, and socioeconomic backgrounds.
On the other side, the militant atheists are equally squeamish about allying with religious groups that happen to share their views on science and education (or the two combined), despite the fact that having religious groups join them puts a limit within the framework of the conflict with Creationism/ID: It allows religious people who value science (and many of them do) a medium through which to tell their conservative counterparts that evolution (and science generally) is totally acceptable within their worldview. It is worth noting that one of the premier organizations for science education, the National Center for Science Education [NCSE], has constant contact with religious organizations that share their views.
This is the political reality--the ideological framework--within which the growing secular caucus will have to operate. They want the whole package: They demand that people renounce their traditions and adopt Naturalism (the philosophical position that empirical science is the best and only way of understanding the world. I for one am not a Naturalist). This is obviously not going to happen, and is only going to get them in trouble, because not only is it unnecessary in order to build support for science (and) education, but it is also as egregious and impossible as the Christian Right's demand that America become a Falwellian theocracy.
The concept of a Christian Left is actually in a very privileged position, something that cannot be said about the Christian Right: The policies that would be advocated under the CL platform can be endorsed by a much more diverse range of people, many of whom may not be Christian. One would, conversely, have to not only be Christian, but a certain kind of Christian, in order to find the policies advanced by the CR the least bit palatable.
What this chiefly means is that in order to sell the platform to a wider audience, it would be inadvisable to use the "Christian" part of it as justification, as it makes people who would otherwise be in support of the platform unnecessarily uncomfortable (something that the conservatives learn again and again, and attempt to compensate for by way of short-term exploitable political resources). One can certainly privately use religion to justify social good--in fact, if that were its only function, few people would have much of a problem with it--but the translation from private planning of the programs to building support should be one where the programs are justified by their own objective merits.
Because the policies are justifiable on their own merits, the "Christian" part of the label in fact may be rendered unnecessary, at least in the greater political arena. There is a step beyond "God said X was good"--Why? For example, why should we take care of the planet? Because we live here, we are responsible for it, and if we want to continue to exist, we need to take care of it. Each of these positions are similarly objectively justifiable: justifiable in a way that transcends religious, ethnic, and socioeconomic backgrounds.
On the other side, the militant atheists are equally squeamish about allying with religious groups that happen to share their views on science and education (or the two combined), despite the fact that having religious groups join them puts a limit within the framework of the conflict with Creationism/ID: It allows religious people who value science (and many of them do) a medium through which to tell their conservative counterparts that evolution (and science generally) is totally acceptable within their worldview. It is worth noting that one of the premier organizations for science education, the National Center for Science Education [NCSE], has constant contact with religious organizations that share their views.
This is the political reality--the ideological framework--within which the growing secular caucus will have to operate. They want the whole package: They demand that people renounce their traditions and adopt Naturalism (the philosophical position that empirical science is the best and only way of understanding the world. I for one am not a Naturalist). This is obviously not going to happen, and is only going to get them in trouble, because not only is it unnecessary in order to build support for science (and) education, but it is also as egregious and impossible as the Christian Right's demand that America become a Falwellian theocracy.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
How Atheists View Religion
A lot of people--on the Internet especially--encounter nothing but a mob of angry atheists, and they cannot exactly understand just why they are angry; they simply want them to go away, or liken them to their fundamentalist counterparts in order to try to simply dismiss or belittle them.
But this isn't exactly the case. Atheists view religion completely differently than religious people view it, and the experiences most atheists claim to have about coming out as an atheist to family and friends has an enormous impact upon what they think of religion, above and beyond whatever philosophy they turn to in its place.
To be an atheist--again it depends upon where one lives and goes to school, etc--is more or less the same as being a homosexual, insofar as homosexuality is actively reviled by the dominant group. When one typically comes out as an atheist, especially if one grows up in a very religious household, or attends a religious school, or lives in a small town in the south or midwest, it is not surprising if the open-atheist is ostracized or even exiled from his or her community. Jessica Ahlquist recently won a lawsuit requiring her public school to remove a sectarian banner, and is now being attacked by angry Christians1.
Religion, to the atheist, is nothing more and nothing less than a power structure, a requirement and condition for tribal membership, to the point where whatever meaning may be derived from religious belief for the believers cannot be considered authentic because,as they see it, it is imposed upon the individual by greater society. To the atheist, religion is not unlike the Matrix, the simulation built by the robots in order to pacify their human resources (literally), and as such, religion must be annihilated in order for individuals to be liberated and given the agency they need for intellectual and emotional fulfillment.
The atheist does not commonly recognize that religion may indeed bring authentic meaning to people's lives by way of its transmission from parent to child (the master-slave relationship in which the child does not have any rights or agency under the parent; s/he is not typically given the agency or the knowledge required to make an informed choice about what it is he or she believes).
The atheist is typically right on these points, however: Most Americans have not actually read The Bible, and children--as well as adults--living in a community dominated by a given religion do not have the recourse to forfeit their faith without serious social consequences. If one looked at religious beliefs in society, one may certainly find that it serves as a social control first, and a source of meaning for individuals second.
But the people who know their religion, who know and are comfortable in what they believe, are much less likely to oppress others; the much smaller number of the religious who fit into this category--who have truly studied and care about what it is they personally believe--lends itself to the view that for most Americans, religion is more of a social control than an authentic source of meaning for individuals. They do not have any access to other philosophical or theological frameworks unless they are willing to forfeit membership to their tribes, and this says nothing about the traps built into the religions in order to keep the numbers of the faithful--namely, Hell.
On the other hand, independent of all of what I have said so far, what can be said about the atheist is that s/he has as much allegiance to his or her new group--the drive to belong is the same for all people, no matter what race/religion/sexual orientation/ethnicity/etc, etc--as the Christians do to one another, and this in itself precludes any meaningful dialogue between sides, especially for new (de)converts. This point is the same for every single belief system ever: The new initiate in any system of belief is on shaky ground, and among people in which he can confide--fellow (non)believers--s/he may be more open to exploring new philosophical/ideological ground, but to outsiders, s/he must appear sure of himself or herself, to the point of making claims s/he does not yet know how how to justify.
The Big Bang of the atheist community is leading more people to truly figure out what it is they should identify as according to what they believe: "Am I agnostic? What does that mean? Am I a 'gnostic atheist', or an 'agnostic atheist'?" (Do I know that there are no (G)od(s), or am I only to varying degrees certain that gods do not exist? Conversely, it is possible to be a gnostic theist--to know that (G)od(s) exist--or an agnostic theist--to only be certain by varying degrees that (G)od(s) exist.) This conversation is healthy and productive, to broaden the range of possibilities for belief (or non-belief).
It would, in my view, be very difficult to deny that religion does serve the purpose of social control, but at the same time, I'm not quite certain that it is specifically the fault of religion itself. The truth is that I think people would generally be quick to find some or other political or philosophical difference to fight to the death about after extinguishing all others. It is true that most human conflicts are defined in religious or ethnic terms, but the language used is often just dressing for realities that are much more banal. It is just tragic that, in our time, as globalization continues to become an ever-present reality, the only justifications available to the last bastions of isolationism are religious and nationalistic, to the point where a grotesque hybrid of the two has emerged, a phenomenon with which most of the politically-informed is already familiar.
1) http://freethoughtblogs.com/blaghag/2012/01/that-christian-compassion/
But this isn't exactly the case. Atheists view religion completely differently than religious people view it, and the experiences most atheists claim to have about coming out as an atheist to family and friends has an enormous impact upon what they think of religion, above and beyond whatever philosophy they turn to in its place.
To be an atheist--again it depends upon where one lives and goes to school, etc--is more or less the same as being a homosexual, insofar as homosexuality is actively reviled by the dominant group. When one typically comes out as an atheist, especially if one grows up in a very religious household, or attends a religious school, or lives in a small town in the south or midwest, it is not surprising if the open-atheist is ostracized or even exiled from his or her community. Jessica Ahlquist recently won a lawsuit requiring her public school to remove a sectarian banner, and is now being attacked by angry Christians1.
Religion, to the atheist, is nothing more and nothing less than a power structure, a requirement and condition for tribal membership, to the point where whatever meaning may be derived from religious belief for the believers cannot be considered authentic because,as they see it, it is imposed upon the individual by greater society. To the atheist, religion is not unlike the Matrix, the simulation built by the robots in order to pacify their human resources (literally), and as such, religion must be annihilated in order for individuals to be liberated and given the agency they need for intellectual and emotional fulfillment.
The atheist does not commonly recognize that religion may indeed bring authentic meaning to people's lives by way of its transmission from parent to child (the master-slave relationship in which the child does not have any rights or agency under the parent; s/he is not typically given the agency or the knowledge required to make an informed choice about what it is he or she believes).
The atheist is typically right on these points, however: Most Americans have not actually read The Bible, and children--as well as adults--living in a community dominated by a given religion do not have the recourse to forfeit their faith without serious social consequences. If one looked at religious beliefs in society, one may certainly find that it serves as a social control first, and a source of meaning for individuals second.
But the people who know their religion, who know and are comfortable in what they believe, are much less likely to oppress others; the much smaller number of the religious who fit into this category--who have truly studied and care about what it is they personally believe--lends itself to the view that for most Americans, religion is more of a social control than an authentic source of meaning for individuals. They do not have any access to other philosophical or theological frameworks unless they are willing to forfeit membership to their tribes, and this says nothing about the traps built into the religions in order to keep the numbers of the faithful--namely, Hell.
On the other hand, independent of all of what I have said so far, what can be said about the atheist is that s/he has as much allegiance to his or her new group--the drive to belong is the same for all people, no matter what race/religion/sexual orientation/ethnicity/etc, etc--as the Christians do to one another, and this in itself precludes any meaningful dialogue between sides, especially for new (de)converts. This point is the same for every single belief system ever: The new initiate in any system of belief is on shaky ground, and among people in which he can confide--fellow (non)believers--s/he may be more open to exploring new philosophical/ideological ground, but to outsiders, s/he must appear sure of himself or herself, to the point of making claims s/he does not yet know how how to justify.
The Big Bang of the atheist community is leading more people to truly figure out what it is they should identify as according to what they believe: "Am I agnostic? What does that mean? Am I a 'gnostic atheist', or an 'agnostic atheist'?" (Do I know that there are no (G)od(s), or am I only to varying degrees certain that gods do not exist? Conversely, it is possible to be a gnostic theist--to know that (G)od(s) exist--or an agnostic theist--to only be certain by varying degrees that (G)od(s) exist.) This conversation is healthy and productive, to broaden the range of possibilities for belief (or non-belief).
It would, in my view, be very difficult to deny that religion does serve the purpose of social control, but at the same time, I'm not quite certain that it is specifically the fault of religion itself. The truth is that I think people would generally be quick to find some or other political or philosophical difference to fight to the death about after extinguishing all others. It is true that most human conflicts are defined in religious or ethnic terms, but the language used is often just dressing for realities that are much more banal. It is just tragic that, in our time, as globalization continues to become an ever-present reality, the only justifications available to the last bastions of isolationism are religious and nationalistic, to the point where a grotesque hybrid of the two has emerged, a phenomenon with which most of the politically-informed is already familiar.
1) http://freethoughtblogs.com/blaghag/2012/01/that-christian-compassion/
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
The Best Books I Read This Year
Top 10 for both fiction and non-fiction, with a brief description of each
1) The Red & The Black by Stendhal - A young literary scholar falls in love with his employer's wife, and then falls in love with another employer's daughter. I love the book because of the drive toward authenticity amidst petty capitalist attitudes. As a political novel, although written in 1830, nearly all of it can be applied to today, and, specifically, to me.
2) Room by Emma Donague - This was a surprise Xmas gift, and I fell in love with it immediately; in fact, I read it in a span of two days. I cannot really give away anything of the plot, for fear of ruining the experience. It was a hauntingly beautiful novel that I will never forget.
3) The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen - This was a hilarious, cynical book about an old, neurotic matriarch desperately trying to coerce her dysfunctional family to get together for Christmas. I loved it.
4) A Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel Garcia Marquez - A very short account of a murder told in reverse. When it is finally laid bare, it is a sheer spectacle to behold. I was not expecting such a violent conclusion.
5) In the Beauty of the Lilies by John Updike - I remember the book more for Updike's enjoyably indulgent prose (remember, I was an English major) than its substance, but I did find the theological debates between characters and points of view quite interesting.
6) One Hundred Years of Solitude by GGM - This was a fast and engrossing read, but keeping track of the characters was somewhat difficult (coming from someone who read Russian novels for fun), probably because names of matriarchs and patriarchs are repeated in subsequent generations. Much like Island by Aldous Huxley without the LSD, it is about a small town slowly getting taken over by surrounding territories, populated with lively characters who have a lot of sex.
7) The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingslover - A Ragnarok between an ossified religious worldview, and the harsh realities of the third world in the sixties. It was a sheer pleasure to anticipate the deranged preacher's demise.
8) The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson - I finished this book a few weeks ago, and have just started The Girl Who Played With Fire. It isn't much of an intellectual read by any stretch, but it does contain some history and economics to justify itself. It's a fairly decent story that reminded me of Clue, and it has a very good cast of characters. Too bad Lisbeth Salander, the real star of the series, doesn't show up until halfway through the book.
9) Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by JK Rowling - This is my favorite book in the series. One of my friends persuaded (forced) me to finish it (Goblet of Fire is the last one I read, and that was years ago). This is the book with Professor Umbridge, the juvenile version of Dostoevsky's Grand Inquisitor, and she turns Hogwarts into a totalitarian dystopia.
10) Out by Natsuo Kirino - I embarked on a quest for Japanese crime stories for a friend, but ended up finding something for myself instead. A group of women who work the night shift at a package lunch factory conspire to murder one of their abusive husbands. If you are looking for a glimpse into the lives of ordinary Japanese women, or are looking for a seriously violent novel, this is it.
1) Being & Nothingness by JP Sartre - I identify as an Existentialist; I got a TON out of this book.
2) Capital vol 1 by Karl Marx - I was compelled to read Capital because of my chronic unemployment, my swiftly waning confidence in capitalism, and my support of Occupy Wall Street. Reading Capital was difficult, but, like Being & Nothingness, I was greatly rewarded for my persistence.
3) The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir - The back of the book claims that she pissed a lot of men off, but I'm not one of them. I really enjoyed it.
4) Anti-Intellectualism in American Life by Richard Hofstadter - Thank you Richard Hofstadter for explaining how America got to be so devoid of intellectual culture, and for so beautifully illuminating the internal conflict of the intellectual between conformity and alienation.
5) Discipline & Punish by Michel Foucault - This book is more than just about the rise of the prison; it is about power, its structures, and how it operates, not only upon prisoners, but also greater society.
6) The Economics of Good & Evil by Tomas Sedlacek - I have been increasingly pressured to begin reading about economics, and so I chose this little book. Sedlacek presents economics and its history in a context to which my political/philosophical/literary brain can easily relate. I may read Adam Smith (whom Marx quoted extensively in Capital) and Keynes next year.
7) God: A Biography by Jack Miles - After reading Walter Brueggemmann last year, I found this little book that approached the Old Testament precisely from a perspective that closely matched mine. God: A Biography approached the Old Testament from a literary perspective and attempted to construct God as a full character, as a subject. Because of this book, I have a much greater respect for the Old Testament than I had previously.
8) The Savage City by TJ English - I saw the author appear on The Daily Show, and decided that I should read this book. It turned out that I made a good decision: English deconstructs the power structure of the police department and--to borrow from Foucault--its illegalities between the 60s and 70s. The book converged three vantage points to tell a complete story: That of George Whitmore, an unfortunate bystander devoured by the machine; a corrupt cop; and a Black Panther member.
9) Phenomenology of Mind by Georg W.F. Hegel - *DISCLAIMER*: I only understood about half of this book, but what I did understand, I really liked. What I did understand was about the synthesis of knowledge in the mind, but the rest of it was about the existence of Absolute Knowledge, and I had absolutely no idea what he was trying to say on that point (pun sort of intended).
10) Making Our Democracy Work by Justice Steven Breyer - I really like Steven Breyer as a SC Justice. In MODW, Breyer compares and contrasts what he considers--for lack of a better term--consequentialism/pragmatism with Originalism (Antonin Scalia's constitutional hermeneutic framework), while attempting to explain on a basic level what the SCOTUS actually does. While I was already familiar with much of what Justice Breyer had to say, it still proved to be worth my time.
Fiction
1) The Red & The Black by Stendhal - A young literary scholar falls in love with his employer's wife, and then falls in love with another employer's daughter. I love the book because of the drive toward authenticity amidst petty capitalist attitudes. As a political novel, although written in 1830, nearly all of it can be applied to today, and, specifically, to me.
2) Room by Emma Donague - This was a surprise Xmas gift, and I fell in love with it immediately; in fact, I read it in a span of two days. I cannot really give away anything of the plot, for fear of ruining the experience. It was a hauntingly beautiful novel that I will never forget.
3) The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen - This was a hilarious, cynical book about an old, neurotic matriarch desperately trying to coerce her dysfunctional family to get together for Christmas. I loved it.
4) A Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel Garcia Marquez - A very short account of a murder told in reverse. When it is finally laid bare, it is a sheer spectacle to behold. I was not expecting such a violent conclusion.
5) In the Beauty of the Lilies by John Updike - I remember the book more for Updike's enjoyably indulgent prose (remember, I was an English major) than its substance, but I did find the theological debates between characters and points of view quite interesting.
6) One Hundred Years of Solitude by GGM - This was a fast and engrossing read, but keeping track of the characters was somewhat difficult (coming from someone who read Russian novels for fun), probably because names of matriarchs and patriarchs are repeated in subsequent generations. Much like Island by Aldous Huxley without the LSD, it is about a small town slowly getting taken over by surrounding territories, populated with lively characters who have a lot of sex.
7) The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingslover - A Ragnarok between an ossified religious worldview, and the harsh realities of the third world in the sixties. It was a sheer pleasure to anticipate the deranged preacher's demise.
8) The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson - I finished this book a few weeks ago, and have just started The Girl Who Played With Fire. It isn't much of an intellectual read by any stretch, but it does contain some history and economics to justify itself. It's a fairly decent story that reminded me of Clue, and it has a very good cast of characters. Too bad Lisbeth Salander, the real star of the series, doesn't show up until halfway through the book.
9) Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by JK Rowling - This is my favorite book in the series. One of my friends persuaded (forced) me to finish it (Goblet of Fire is the last one I read, and that was years ago). This is the book with Professor Umbridge, the juvenile version of Dostoevsky's Grand Inquisitor, and she turns Hogwarts into a totalitarian dystopia.
10) Out by Natsuo Kirino - I embarked on a quest for Japanese crime stories for a friend, but ended up finding something for myself instead. A group of women who work the night shift at a package lunch factory conspire to murder one of their abusive husbands. If you are looking for a glimpse into the lives of ordinary Japanese women, or are looking for a seriously violent novel, this is it.
Nonfiction
1) Being & Nothingness by JP Sartre - I identify as an Existentialist; I got a TON out of this book.
2) Capital vol 1 by Karl Marx - I was compelled to read Capital because of my chronic unemployment, my swiftly waning confidence in capitalism, and my support of Occupy Wall Street. Reading Capital was difficult, but, like Being & Nothingness, I was greatly rewarded for my persistence.
3) The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir - The back of the book claims that she pissed a lot of men off, but I'm not one of them. I really enjoyed it.
4) Anti-Intellectualism in American Life by Richard Hofstadter - Thank you Richard Hofstadter for explaining how America got to be so devoid of intellectual culture, and for so beautifully illuminating the internal conflict of the intellectual between conformity and alienation.
5) Discipline & Punish by Michel Foucault - This book is more than just about the rise of the prison; it is about power, its structures, and how it operates, not only upon prisoners, but also greater society.
6) The Economics of Good & Evil by Tomas Sedlacek - I have been increasingly pressured to begin reading about economics, and so I chose this little book. Sedlacek presents economics and its history in a context to which my political/philosophical/literary brain can easily relate. I may read Adam Smith (whom Marx quoted extensively in Capital) and Keynes next year.
7) God: A Biography by Jack Miles - After reading Walter Brueggemmann last year, I found this little book that approached the Old Testament precisely from a perspective that closely matched mine. God: A Biography approached the Old Testament from a literary perspective and attempted to construct God as a full character, as a subject. Because of this book, I have a much greater respect for the Old Testament than I had previously.
8) The Savage City by TJ English - I saw the author appear on The Daily Show, and decided that I should read this book. It turned out that I made a good decision: English deconstructs the power structure of the police department and--to borrow from Foucault--its illegalities between the 60s and 70s. The book converged three vantage points to tell a complete story: That of George Whitmore, an unfortunate bystander devoured by the machine; a corrupt cop; and a Black Panther member.
9) Phenomenology of Mind by Georg W.F. Hegel - *DISCLAIMER*: I only understood about half of this book, but what I did understand, I really liked. What I did understand was about the synthesis of knowledge in the mind, but the rest of it was about the existence of Absolute Knowledge, and I had absolutely no idea what he was trying to say on that point (pun sort of intended).
10) Making Our Democracy Work by Justice Steven Breyer - I really like Steven Breyer as a SC Justice. In MODW, Breyer compares and contrasts what he considers--for lack of a better term--consequentialism/pragmatism with Originalism (Antonin Scalia's constitutional hermeneutic framework), while attempting to explain on a basic level what the SCOTUS actually does. While I was already familiar with much of what Justice Breyer had to say, it still proved to be worth my time.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
In Defense of Apathy, OWS
I just finished an amazing book, Anti-Intellectualism in American Life by Richard Hofstadter, for which he won the Pulitzer Prize in 1964. The book discusses the fate and impact of intellectuals in and on American society. The picture he paints is not a pretty one.
What was most interesting about the book was the conflict between intellectuals and society from the intellectuals' point of view: The idea of "selling out" is not simply a petty one, but rather the notion that through getting a comfortable position, the intellectual will eventually become docile, and no longer be in a position to function as a social critic. Alienation is a perspective from which one sees society in its stark nakedness, and yields a certain freedom to say what one truly believes, and to no longer be alienated means to be exposed to the temptation to moderate or radically shift one's views in order to maintain a position. Jean-Paul Sartre, one of the most influential philosophers of the 20th century, refused the Nobel Prize in Literature, protesting that he "did not want to become an institution." The entire dynamic hinges on the temptation of power: The intellectual values the truth as s/he sees it, and in no longer being alienated, runs the risk of falling victim to some other idol (power, fame, fortune, etc).
There were fleeting moments in which the intellectual community in America (we actually had one!) possessed some power, during Teddy Roosevelt's presidency to World War 1, and later during the Great Depression, and one might suggest also the first two years of Obama's presidency. But each of those moments was but fleeting, and followed by enormous backlash: World War 1 was by all accounts a wanton holocaust, the New Deal was followed by McCarthy era, and Healthcare Reform was followed by the Tea Party with continuous effort to kill it. I might say that Occupy Wall Street, while right, is a failed movement, born too late and will probably die too soon. The Tea Party and TARP have only further ensconced the derivative traders and the corporate bogeymen in the seat of power when they should have been duly and severely punished for their excess.
The pattern of progressive policy in the United States leaves me to wonder about how someone described Michel Foucault's action/inaction dynamic, which at first I didn't like because apathy only enables further action by oppressors, but now I am starting to realize just what kind of position educated people find themselves in, and whether or not Foucault is indeed right.
Foucault, according to this person I was talking to, suggests that any kind of protest--such as Occupy Wall Street--legitimizes the current power structure. Protest, in this view, falls far short of what could be argued necessary revolution, and in this way, does not seek to make substantial changes to the prevailing order. As an example, look at women's rights, which are never so secure. Despite sexual liberation, widespread birth control, and new economic opportunity, women are still paid substantially less than their male counterparts. Examine the wanton manner in which cases of rape and sexual harassment are handled, Herman Cain being the latest example: Here is a man who is blatantly misogynist, indicating that he is most likely to have been guilty of sexual harassment by way of his low opinion of women, and we as a society seek not to punish him for this behavior, but rather to undermine the claims of his accusers. So often, despite the enormous advances in women's rights generally (not just abortion, that is an entirely more rabid and dangerous animal), they never feel quite so secure. African-Americans, however, appear to be so secure in their status that they are more than happy to align themselves with their previous oppressors and disparage homosexuals in their struggle for equal marriage rights, when the actual reality is that they suffer economically more than other groups in the current crisis. "You can still hold the keys to the kingdom, but I want X, Y, and Z" just doesn't work; when the truth is that it may be a choice of all or nothing.
Is there a way that intellectuals could have a lasting impact on society given the pattern of brief success followed by overwhelming backlash? Is it possible for those who know anything at all about how our society operates to be heard and listened to by anyone who has real power? What happens when intellectuals do get power? The Russian Revolution was born through the intelligentsia, and only unimaginable horror followed. The American Socialist Party, for their turn, owed much to intellectuals, but were just as confused by their presence as the capitalists, despite the fact that Marxism gained ground first in academia. The gulf between theory and praxis has never been bridged; the men who act are always at odds with the men who think.
So what do the intellectuals do, putting aside the anxieties of acceptance, if they cannot have a lasting impact on the course of society because of quintessential popular American mistrust? Do they wring their hands and allow those who show themselves to be malevolent, both to society and to intellectualism, to simply take over?
After Bush left office, I was fairly optimistic that Obama could have a real positive impact on society because of his intellect; I voted for him because of it. And what happened to him has happened to every other public figure with any significant degree of intellect: He was immediately lampooned by the most ignorant, backward, and even malicious among us, and arguably his most brilliant success is still being campaigned against, and is being tried at the Supreme Court. Halfway through his presidency--a span of merely two years--he was declared a lame duck by a pseudo-movement that could be described as nothing short of rabid. His reelection chances, depending on the commitments of our electorate, are slim. Because of the backlash against his intellect by a vagrant and uncommitted voting population, our election cycles have seemed to be rapidly accelerated, leaving far less time for any responsible public official to be productive, leaving those with questionable aims and the means to sell their poison pills to the public as though they were selling candy ample opportunity to wreak havoc.
The difference is stark: The Tea Party came out with a loud, clear, anti-intellectualist and xenophobic message that, to its own demographic, would prove suicidal were it pursued. Occupy Wall Street, on the other hand, is a genuinely populist movement, taking into account a very diverse membership, had difficulty deciding on more than a few decent slogans, but anyone with half a brain could figure out exactly what OWS was trying to say, and the conversation that Occupy movements across the country have been having with greater society have been rather...insightful.
Through Occupy Wall Street, we have learned some interesting things about how much we learn from the past, the range of acceptable political debate, and where our professional press stands: With the people it was supposed to serve, or the current power structure? UC Davis students were wantonly pepper-sprayed by a thug in a uniform. Lt Anthony Bologna in New York City pepper-sprayed a young girl behind a barricade, despite the fact that she was doing nothing. Oakland Police used military action against nonviolent protestors in order to evict them, and war veteran Scott Olsen was hit in the head with a tear gas canister, and a flashbang grenade was thrown into the group of people who rushed to help him. Where police officers get flashbang grenades, I would very much like to know. The militarization of police is an issue that will surely crop up again. Police officers, I should remind everyone, are unionized, and they are fighting for a power structure that will only exploit them and diminish their rights as public employees. The only explanation for rampant and unwarranted police violence is that they don't know or don't care about this technicality, and only get off on having a gun and holding power over others (top two responses of a survey my Sociology professor conducted on a class of police recruits). This is an interesting fact because there was almost no violence when the Tea Party held their rallies, despite their strong use of revolutionary and brazenly violent rhetoric, anti-union views, and their fetish for second amendment rights.
All of these things happened in previous eras: African-Americans were attacked by police dogs, beaten, and sprayed with fire hoses. Students were shot on a campus during the demonstrations against the Vietnam War. And we know how those turned out. But with Occupy Wall Street, they are using a wholly different tactic. Those in power are indirectly undermining the movement by intentionally diluting its message, claiming that they don't know what it is. So they would have us believe that a few hundred thousand people are gathering in public space and enduring extreme police violence for no reason? Either they are have lost all capacity for critical thinking, or this apparent confusion is deliberate. Our press is failing us absolutely, regardless of which of those two options you choose.
The allegiance of the press in times of crisis is always helpful to figure out, in order to gauge the degree to which the people should trust it. There are always those who will trust the media no matter what, even if violence rages in the streets outside their windows, and only one side has the weapons and armor.
Occupy Wall Street is also about how much we can actually say in our democracy. In the wake of massive financial meltdown--as I have oft repeated--we still have prominent people who will go to their graves reciting the mantras of the virtue of free-market capitalism, while millions are starving. Many adults who have lost their jobs, whose lives fell into ruin, still love the capitalism that killed them. The True Believers will never be swayed, even as they find themselves homeless. Can Occupy Wall Street fulfill its promise? Can it consolidate its myriad voices, and scream what needs to be said? Can it rise above the crowded voices of the corporate bogeymen, speculative sycophants, and alter forever the discourse of this country?
I personally believe that as a consequence of TARP, the management teams of any and all firms that participated in the program should have been immediately fired without severance, retirement, or a "parachute". I also believe that the banks, as a consequence of their irresponsibility, should have been placed under the control of the federal government, even though this does not by itself guarantee that the firms would behave more responsibly. I also believe that the IRS should thoroughly investigate all banks that participated in the program as a necessary condition of their receiving taxpayer funds, and lastly, that all derivative trading being pursued by these banks should be stopped immediately. Lastly, I urge everyone to move their money into a smaller institution on the condition that the bank they choose has not received TARP funds.
I realize that the question of apathy has not been solved, that I have spent more time on Occupy Wall Street than I intended. I have not worked out whether or not apathy is warranted, because we still live here and are still affected by the decisions of our politicians, even if we do not hold any real influence, but this could be said to be true for all Americans, intellectual or not.
What was most interesting about the book was the conflict between intellectuals and society from the intellectuals' point of view: The idea of "selling out" is not simply a petty one, but rather the notion that through getting a comfortable position, the intellectual will eventually become docile, and no longer be in a position to function as a social critic. Alienation is a perspective from which one sees society in its stark nakedness, and yields a certain freedom to say what one truly believes, and to no longer be alienated means to be exposed to the temptation to moderate or radically shift one's views in order to maintain a position. Jean-Paul Sartre, one of the most influential philosophers of the 20th century, refused the Nobel Prize in Literature, protesting that he "did not want to become an institution." The entire dynamic hinges on the temptation of power: The intellectual values the truth as s/he sees it, and in no longer being alienated, runs the risk of falling victim to some other idol (power, fame, fortune, etc).
There were fleeting moments in which the intellectual community in America (we actually had one!) possessed some power, during Teddy Roosevelt's presidency to World War 1, and later during the Great Depression, and one might suggest also the first two years of Obama's presidency. But each of those moments was but fleeting, and followed by enormous backlash: World War 1 was by all accounts a wanton holocaust, the New Deal was followed by McCarthy era, and Healthcare Reform was followed by the Tea Party with continuous effort to kill it. I might say that Occupy Wall Street, while right, is a failed movement, born too late and will probably die too soon. The Tea Party and TARP have only further ensconced the derivative traders and the corporate bogeymen in the seat of power when they should have been duly and severely punished for their excess.
The pattern of progressive policy in the United States leaves me to wonder about how someone described Michel Foucault's action/inaction dynamic, which at first I didn't like because apathy only enables further action by oppressors, but now I am starting to realize just what kind of position educated people find themselves in, and whether or not Foucault is indeed right.
Foucault, according to this person I was talking to, suggests that any kind of protest--such as Occupy Wall Street--legitimizes the current power structure. Protest, in this view, falls far short of what could be argued necessary revolution, and in this way, does not seek to make substantial changes to the prevailing order. As an example, look at women's rights, which are never so secure. Despite sexual liberation, widespread birth control, and new economic opportunity, women are still paid substantially less than their male counterparts. Examine the wanton manner in which cases of rape and sexual harassment are handled, Herman Cain being the latest example: Here is a man who is blatantly misogynist, indicating that he is most likely to have been guilty of sexual harassment by way of his low opinion of women, and we as a society seek not to punish him for this behavior, but rather to undermine the claims of his accusers. So often, despite the enormous advances in women's rights generally (not just abortion, that is an entirely more rabid and dangerous animal), they never feel quite so secure. African-Americans, however, appear to be so secure in their status that they are more than happy to align themselves with their previous oppressors and disparage homosexuals in their struggle for equal marriage rights, when the actual reality is that they suffer economically more than other groups in the current crisis. "You can still hold the keys to the kingdom, but I want X, Y, and Z" just doesn't work; when the truth is that it may be a choice of all or nothing.
Is there a way that intellectuals could have a lasting impact on society given the pattern of brief success followed by overwhelming backlash? Is it possible for those who know anything at all about how our society operates to be heard and listened to by anyone who has real power? What happens when intellectuals do get power? The Russian Revolution was born through the intelligentsia, and only unimaginable horror followed. The American Socialist Party, for their turn, owed much to intellectuals, but were just as confused by their presence as the capitalists, despite the fact that Marxism gained ground first in academia. The gulf between theory and praxis has never been bridged; the men who act are always at odds with the men who think.
So what do the intellectuals do, putting aside the anxieties of acceptance, if they cannot have a lasting impact on the course of society because of quintessential popular American mistrust? Do they wring their hands and allow those who show themselves to be malevolent, both to society and to intellectualism, to simply take over?
After Bush left office, I was fairly optimistic that Obama could have a real positive impact on society because of his intellect; I voted for him because of it. And what happened to him has happened to every other public figure with any significant degree of intellect: He was immediately lampooned by the most ignorant, backward, and even malicious among us, and arguably his most brilliant success is still being campaigned against, and is being tried at the Supreme Court. Halfway through his presidency--a span of merely two years--he was declared a lame duck by a pseudo-movement that could be described as nothing short of rabid. His reelection chances, depending on the commitments of our electorate, are slim. Because of the backlash against his intellect by a vagrant and uncommitted voting population, our election cycles have seemed to be rapidly accelerated, leaving far less time for any responsible public official to be productive, leaving those with questionable aims and the means to sell their poison pills to the public as though they were selling candy ample opportunity to wreak havoc.
The difference is stark: The Tea Party came out with a loud, clear, anti-intellectualist and xenophobic message that, to its own demographic, would prove suicidal were it pursued. Occupy Wall Street, on the other hand, is a genuinely populist movement, taking into account a very diverse membership, had difficulty deciding on more than a few decent slogans, but anyone with half a brain could figure out exactly what OWS was trying to say, and the conversation that Occupy movements across the country have been having with greater society have been rather...insightful.
Through Occupy Wall Street, we have learned some interesting things about how much we learn from the past, the range of acceptable political debate, and where our professional press stands: With the people it was supposed to serve, or the current power structure? UC Davis students were wantonly pepper-sprayed by a thug in a uniform. Lt Anthony Bologna in New York City pepper-sprayed a young girl behind a barricade, despite the fact that she was doing nothing. Oakland Police used military action against nonviolent protestors in order to evict them, and war veteran Scott Olsen was hit in the head with a tear gas canister, and a flashbang grenade was thrown into the group of people who rushed to help him. Where police officers get flashbang grenades, I would very much like to know. The militarization of police is an issue that will surely crop up again. Police officers, I should remind everyone, are unionized, and they are fighting for a power structure that will only exploit them and diminish their rights as public employees. The only explanation for rampant and unwarranted police violence is that they don't know or don't care about this technicality, and only get off on having a gun and holding power over others (top two responses of a survey my Sociology professor conducted on a class of police recruits). This is an interesting fact because there was almost no violence when the Tea Party held their rallies, despite their strong use of revolutionary and brazenly violent rhetoric, anti-union views, and their fetish for second amendment rights.
All of these things happened in previous eras: African-Americans were attacked by police dogs, beaten, and sprayed with fire hoses. Students were shot on a campus during the demonstrations against the Vietnam War. And we know how those turned out. But with Occupy Wall Street, they are using a wholly different tactic. Those in power are indirectly undermining the movement by intentionally diluting its message, claiming that they don't know what it is. So they would have us believe that a few hundred thousand people are gathering in public space and enduring extreme police violence for no reason? Either they are have lost all capacity for critical thinking, or this apparent confusion is deliberate. Our press is failing us absolutely, regardless of which of those two options you choose.
The allegiance of the press in times of crisis is always helpful to figure out, in order to gauge the degree to which the people should trust it. There are always those who will trust the media no matter what, even if violence rages in the streets outside their windows, and only one side has the weapons and armor.
Occupy Wall Street is also about how much we can actually say in our democracy. In the wake of massive financial meltdown--as I have oft repeated--we still have prominent people who will go to their graves reciting the mantras of the virtue of free-market capitalism, while millions are starving. Many adults who have lost their jobs, whose lives fell into ruin, still love the capitalism that killed them. The True Believers will never be swayed, even as they find themselves homeless. Can Occupy Wall Street fulfill its promise? Can it consolidate its myriad voices, and scream what needs to be said? Can it rise above the crowded voices of the corporate bogeymen, speculative sycophants, and alter forever the discourse of this country?
I personally believe that as a consequence of TARP, the management teams of any and all firms that participated in the program should have been immediately fired without severance, retirement, or a "parachute". I also believe that the banks, as a consequence of their irresponsibility, should have been placed under the control of the federal government, even though this does not by itself guarantee that the firms would behave more responsibly. I also believe that the IRS should thoroughly investigate all banks that participated in the program as a necessary condition of their receiving taxpayer funds, and lastly, that all derivative trading being pursued by these banks should be stopped immediately. Lastly, I urge everyone to move their money into a smaller institution on the condition that the bank they choose has not received TARP funds.
I realize that the question of apathy has not been solved, that I have spent more time on Occupy Wall Street than I intended. I have not worked out whether or not apathy is warranted, because we still live here and are still affected by the decisions of our politicians, even if we do not hold any real influence, but this could be said to be true for all Americans, intellectual or not.
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