Good morning everyone:
There were two parts in the book that I wanted to bring up, and see what other people thought. The first part that really struck me was around page 200 or so, when the process by which Subliming was explored is described by a narrator of some sort. The specific part I refer to is near the bottom of page 200 itself, where sporting events are lumped in with religious sites, and then further delineated with a parenthetical. The fact that the bank of dead Chelgarians would interfere in multiple different ways to the get the attention of the living seems like it could be the case, but I find the methods they use to do so fascinating. I feel as though "personality" isn't the right word for a large electronic bank of amalgamated souls of the deceased, but for the sake of writing here, I find the personality of Chel-Puen to be highlighted here in a way that foreshadows the rest of the plot (except for the very last turnaround, which I didn't see coming). If these/this being(s) interfered and interacted with people at religious sites, in government, to find artifacts, and apparently at sporting events (...) in order to get the people to streamline the process of admitting souls into the Chel-Puen, they probably mean business. In fact, this level of work and preparation they put into making the souls able to enter almost seems to be their own guiding bit of "morality" (as much as such a being can have morality), and this is how it foreshadows the rest of the story. Not really caring who or what they influence, as long as the souls keep coming in.... its almost like Walmart, really (doesn't matter how many mom and pop stores shut down, doesn't matter how poorly they treat their suppliers, as long as they keep profiting).
And, the other part of the book that stood out at me was the speech by the avatar of Hub to Ziller, around page 376 (both before and after that page, as well) - the portion where Hub talks about its role in the massive killing of Idirian civilians during the war. The entire book, I'm picturing this nice computer that watches over everyone and makes everything run smoothly (something like Mike, actually), and then it turns out the computer is like the combination of Rambo and the Terminator, with a bit of housekeeping subroutines programmed in. Thats a fairly noticeable change in perceived character, and I was surprised at the mostly calm reaction of Ziller. And then at the end of the book, it commits suicide and takes Quilian with it, which also surprised me a whole bunch - how many computers commit suicide? I say this acknowledging the fact that this specific bit of AI recorded the deaths of all the people it killed individually, and then studied them all the time, and felt kind of bad, but still - thats some level of programming that implies "this isn't science fiction AI, this is thematic point/a disguised difficult-to-grapple-with question as a computer." I'm curious to hear what other people thought of the Hub.
It has been a pleasure taking this course with all of you; to thee I say Adieu
-Mike
Showing posts with label Mike. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mike. Show all posts
Friday, May 2, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Les enfants de Dieu, apres-classe
Bonsoir tout le monde:
I have to say that I felt much better about the book having sat through the discussion. I really enjoyed Chris' points about the literary issues in several areas (that kind of helped me assign "blame" for some of my dislike for the book) - even though I might not dislike it as strongly as he did. On the other hand, I rather enjoyed some of the upsets in the book (not too many because of the foreshadowing, but still): the Carlos kidnapping of Emilio made me unhappy, but was still well played through and through; I may have even tipped my proverbial hat at the author when I got to that point.
Now, there was a seeming consensus about Emilio getting a really rough deal and not too much in return; if you'll allow me to play Devil's advocate for a moment, I might disagree. I feel that although Emilio had an extremely difficult time, it is almost exclusively the dealing with and/or finding meaning in these more difficult times in life that truly allow a person to grow, and defines their character. By no means am I saying that this level of difficulty is needed by any person in order to show strength of character; however, based on both the explicit reactions of DW and other Jesuits about the probability of Emilio's status as a saint, and then taking his actions and thoughts in the aggregate, I would argue that he does in fact make some meaning out of his suffering. The music as a consolation prize is one of the things we spoke about today that I didn't find myself agreeing with; rather, his saving of the Jana'ata child and later reunion with his own daughter strike me as divine intervention into a soul marred and tarnished by so much death, through the very personal circumstances of bringing about and saving the lives of children (also the soothing factor, given the fate of Askama). I also think that both Issac and Nico played roles in this rehabilitation of Emilio's humanity [again, given his removal from his to-be-wife]. Overall, I still liked the Sparrow much more, thats for sure.
En francais, parce que je peux
-Mike
I have to say that I felt much better about the book having sat through the discussion. I really enjoyed Chris' points about the literary issues in several areas (that kind of helped me assign "blame" for some of my dislike for the book) - even though I might not dislike it as strongly as he did. On the other hand, I rather enjoyed some of the upsets in the book (not too many because of the foreshadowing, but still): the Carlos kidnapping of Emilio made me unhappy, but was still well played through and through; I may have even tipped my proverbial hat at the author when I got to that point.
Now, there was a seeming consensus about Emilio getting a really rough deal and not too much in return; if you'll allow me to play Devil's advocate for a moment, I might disagree. I feel that although Emilio had an extremely difficult time, it is almost exclusively the dealing with and/or finding meaning in these more difficult times in life that truly allow a person to grow, and defines their character. By no means am I saying that this level of difficulty is needed by any person in order to show strength of character; however, based on both the explicit reactions of DW and other Jesuits about the probability of Emilio's status as a saint, and then taking his actions and thoughts in the aggregate, I would argue that he does in fact make some meaning out of his suffering. The music as a consolation prize is one of the things we spoke about today that I didn't find myself agreeing with; rather, his saving of the Jana'ata child and later reunion with his own daughter strike me as divine intervention into a soul marred and tarnished by so much death, through the very personal circumstances of bringing about and saving the lives of children (also the soothing factor, given the fate of Askama). I also think that both Issac and Nico played roles in this rehabilitation of Emilio's humanity [again, given his removal from his to-be-wife]. Overall, I still liked the Sparrow much more, thats for sure.
En francais, parce que je peux
-Mike
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Interspecies-DNA: My favorite genre of music
Sipaj everyone:
Having finished the sequel, I am surprised to say that I don't know how I feel about it. Having felt so strongly about the first book, and actually still feeling strongly about it, I am oddly in the position of feeling ambivalent about this one. I am not sure if it is the change in temporal narration, or perhaps the characters are not as easy for me to identify with; I am not sure, and I hope to take some meaning out of these characters come class on Tuesday.
Regardless of my aggregate opinion on the book, I have to say that the unexpected method by which Emilio was taken to Rakhat again was something I did not foresee, even with the Camorra ties constantly being thrown in my face as the reader. I was expecting some sort of miraculous event to change his mind, and that never happened until he heard the music discovered by Isaac. On this subject, I would have to say that Isaac was one of my least favorite characters, mostly due to the narrative always having him insist on his mother coming to him. Something about the repetitive use of that demand wore on me after a while, due to its infernal screaming that Sofia would in fact move, thanks for the heavy-handed foreshadowing... On the other hand, I thoroughly enjoyed Nico's character above and beyond any other in either book, probably because of his combination of love for opera and his expert use of salami to redeem a destroyed man's humanity. In seriousness, the way the author used this character seemed to me as one of the anchors for the title of the book (the conversation amongst Hana'la and her family aside), because for all intents and purposes Nico was a child, and being D'angeli, perhaps was a bit of a reference to this by the author. He took people at their word, tried to do the right thing, always honestly apologized for what he had done wrong, and in the end was arguably the most morally upright of anyone on the second mission. I feel as though his presence on the mission was the most important of any of the others, yet again for reasons that are currently not clear to me (perhaps some of this "sleep" would do me some good....).
In any event, have a good evening, and I feel like "Interspecies-DNA" could go places as a band name...
-Mike
Having finished the sequel, I am surprised to say that I don't know how I feel about it. Having felt so strongly about the first book, and actually still feeling strongly about it, I am oddly in the position of feeling ambivalent about this one. I am not sure if it is the change in temporal narration, or perhaps the characters are not as easy for me to identify with; I am not sure, and I hope to take some meaning out of these characters come class on Tuesday.
Regardless of my aggregate opinion on the book, I have to say that the unexpected method by which Emilio was taken to Rakhat again was something I did not foresee, even with the Camorra ties constantly being thrown in my face as the reader. I was expecting some sort of miraculous event to change his mind, and that never happened until he heard the music discovered by Isaac. On this subject, I would have to say that Isaac was one of my least favorite characters, mostly due to the narrative always having him insist on his mother coming to him. Something about the repetitive use of that demand wore on me after a while, due to its infernal screaming that Sofia would in fact move, thanks for the heavy-handed foreshadowing... On the other hand, I thoroughly enjoyed Nico's character above and beyond any other in either book, probably because of his combination of love for opera and his expert use of salami to redeem a destroyed man's humanity. In seriousness, the way the author used this character seemed to me as one of the anchors for the title of the book (the conversation amongst Hana'la and her family aside), because for all intents and purposes Nico was a child, and being D'angeli, perhaps was a bit of a reference to this by the author. He took people at their word, tried to do the right thing, always honestly apologized for what he had done wrong, and in the end was arguably the most morally upright of anyone on the second mission. I feel as though his presence on the mission was the most important of any of the others, yet again for reasons that are currently not clear to me (perhaps some of this "sleep" would do me some good....).
In any event, have a good evening, and I feel like "Interspecies-DNA" could go places as a band name...
-Mike
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
America Conquered
Good evening:
One of the things about today's class that stuck with me was our fairly strong consensus that Columbus was crazy. The comment about how we have Columbus Day and not Cortes Day got me to thinking about other holidays or times we commemorate, without really considering the full implications of celebrating that person. Lincoln is someone who is always celebrated as a genuinely good person, with few flaws (if any). But Lincoln also simply cut all civil liberties in the border states such as Maryland, removing habeus corpus, and having "Federally-supervised" voting booths - and then the whole "Emancipation Proclamation" was an afterthought to preserving the Union. That said, he is generally regarded as one of the best US presidents - and taken in the aggregate with the benefit of hindsight, I totally agree with that prognosis. I suppose I just find it odd that I do agree with that, because there is no sort of criteria for what mix of doing bad and good (in terms of long or short term) yields a famous figure worth commemorating. In the same manner, Cortes strikes me as perpetrating much more evil (even without knowing all of the specifics), and therefore it seems to me that no holiday commemorating him makes any sense.
So to take this post in an entirely different direction, what about that elusive set of people and groups who did mostly good and then either get no recognition whatsoever, or even only negative recognition? The group that comes to mind is the Freemasons, whose philosophy is the [unprecedented] basis for much of American government and political philosophy. These crazy ideas like spreading a vote out to each member (albeit only white land-owning men at first), and the ideas of freedom of speech and religion, all emanate directly from Masonic principles. Yet, not too long after the country was founded, the Anti-Masonic political party sprang into existence. I guess that today's class got me to thinking, overall, about how the constant fickleness of people affects even our "heroes" and how we remember them - people are weird.
Hoping that you aren't insulated in some sort of fake reality
-Mike
One of the things about today's class that stuck with me was our fairly strong consensus that Columbus was crazy. The comment about how we have Columbus Day and not Cortes Day got me to thinking about other holidays or times we commemorate, without really considering the full implications of celebrating that person. Lincoln is someone who is always celebrated as a genuinely good person, with few flaws (if any). But Lincoln also simply cut all civil liberties in the border states such as Maryland, removing habeus corpus, and having "Federally-supervised" voting booths - and then the whole "Emancipation Proclamation" was an afterthought to preserving the Union. That said, he is generally regarded as one of the best US presidents - and taken in the aggregate with the benefit of hindsight, I totally agree with that prognosis. I suppose I just find it odd that I do agree with that, because there is no sort of criteria for what mix of doing bad and good (in terms of long or short term) yields a famous figure worth commemorating. In the same manner, Cortes strikes me as perpetrating much more evil (even without knowing all of the specifics), and therefore it seems to me that no holiday commemorating him makes any sense.
So to take this post in an entirely different direction, what about that elusive set of people and groups who did mostly good and then either get no recognition whatsoever, or even only negative recognition? The group that comes to mind is the Freemasons, whose philosophy is the [unprecedented] basis for much of American government and political philosophy. These crazy ideas like spreading a vote out to each member (albeit only white land-owning men at first), and the ideas of freedom of speech and religion, all emanate directly from Masonic principles. Yet, not too long after the country was founded, the Anti-Masonic political party sprang into existence. I guess that today's class got me to thinking, overall, about how the constant fickleness of people affects even our "heroes" and how we remember them - people are weird.
Hoping that you aren't insulated in some sort of fake reality
-Mike
Monday, April 14, 2008
Conquest: an All-American pursuit
Good evening everyone:
Having just finished the book, let me begin by saying that every bit of knowledge I have ever picked up or been taught before reading this book was not particularly fair; this book attempts to present things as they occurred, without a preference or bias for either. Since objectively looking at anything is impossible, the book still comes close via interesting methodology: the author examines both the conquistadors' and Indians' side of things, and goes further into detail by trying to present all contemporary points of view.
Near the end of the book, one of the author's points struck me as extraordinary for its level of insight into the ridiculousness that is humanity. The author explains on page 248 that the extraordinarily high level of success in Westernizing the previous colonies is paradoxically due to the European ability to identify with the other. This is one theme whose passage through the book I can easily follow, because each successive conqueror and/or priest came with their own specific take on one or two bits of Aztec and other Indian culture, which allowed them to make so much progress in their endeavors. Whether it was Cortes and his very clear understanding of the necessity to constantly evoke fear and awe in the Indians (causing his godliness in their eyes to take deeper root for a time) or Duran's insistence on learning the Aztec religion in order to erase it, each of these individuals highlight this paradoxical tendency to use one's ability to understand the other towards the end of converting/subjugating/conquering that same other.
A few pages later, on page 252, the author makes a point that made me think of The Sparrow, when he is talking about sacrifice versus massacre societies. I was thinking that the Jana'ata would be a sacrifice society, because their theology sets up the original twins for duogeniture and the allowance of the Runa to breed more frequently. The people of Earth, taken as an aggregate people (which isn't really doable, but for the sake of this comparison:) are much more of a "massacrifice" society as the author coins it; they both claim membership in religion and therefore have acceptable sacrifice of life, yet at the same time are capable of killing large numbers of each other off without any religious backing. This sort of fluidity to the concepts laid out in the Conquest of America seems to be a fairly accurate look at the mindset of the Western nations, and especially as additional back-history to Stephanson's Manifest Destiny: even before the North American continent was settled, the certain type of European that enjoyed pushing their values to the exclusion of everything [but gold] were already testing out procedures in South America; these types of operating methods later worked in the North, with a lesser loss of life, but still genocidal in nature. I cannot say that I am pleased to be subjected to more of why the history of the Americas was terrible, but I am glad to have heard such a balanced account of it (something I don't usually feel when reading accounts of North American subjugation of the Indians).
your fellow conqueror
-Mike
Having just finished the book, let me begin by saying that every bit of knowledge I have ever picked up or been taught before reading this book was not particularly fair; this book attempts to present things as they occurred, without a preference or bias for either. Since objectively looking at anything is impossible, the book still comes close via interesting methodology: the author examines both the conquistadors' and Indians' side of things, and goes further into detail by trying to present all contemporary points of view.
Near the end of the book, one of the author's points struck me as extraordinary for its level of insight into the ridiculousness that is humanity. The author explains on page 248 that the extraordinarily high level of success in Westernizing the previous colonies is paradoxically due to the European ability to identify with the other. This is one theme whose passage through the book I can easily follow, because each successive conqueror and/or priest came with their own specific take on one or two bits of Aztec and other Indian culture, which allowed them to make so much progress in their endeavors. Whether it was Cortes and his very clear understanding of the necessity to constantly evoke fear and awe in the Indians (causing his godliness in their eyes to take deeper root for a time) or Duran's insistence on learning the Aztec religion in order to erase it, each of these individuals highlight this paradoxical tendency to use one's ability to understand the other towards the end of converting/subjugating/conquering that same other.
A few pages later, on page 252, the author makes a point that made me think of The Sparrow, when he is talking about sacrifice versus massacre societies. I was thinking that the Jana'ata would be a sacrifice society, because their theology sets up the original twins for duogeniture and the allowance of the Runa to breed more frequently. The people of Earth, taken as an aggregate people (which isn't really doable, but for the sake of this comparison:) are much more of a "massacrifice" society as the author coins it; they both claim membership in religion and therefore have acceptable sacrifice of life, yet at the same time are capable of killing large numbers of each other off without any religious backing. This sort of fluidity to the concepts laid out in the Conquest of America seems to be a fairly accurate look at the mindset of the Western nations, and especially as additional back-history to Stephanson's Manifest Destiny: even before the North American continent was settled, the certain type of European that enjoyed pushing their values to the exclusion of everything [but gold] were already testing out procedures in South America; these types of operating methods later worked in the North, with a lesser loss of life, but still genocidal in nature. I cannot say that I am pleased to be subjected to more of why the history of the Americas was terrible, but I am glad to have heard such a balanced account of it (something I don't usually feel when reading accounts of North American subjugation of the Indians).
your fellow conqueror
-Mike
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Reflection on the Sparrow
Hello everyone:
Oddly enough, my favorite part of the entire discussion in class was Professor Jackson explaining that "Devil's advocate" is a Jesuit expression, as part of their [close to] all-inclusive attack on their own beliefs during their training. That said, I wanted to comment on the issue of Emilio being a saint (at least according to his fellow Jesuits on the mission). One of the messages this story does a shockingly thorough job of conveying is that really, REALLY bad things happen to pretty good people. On one level, this sort of idea bothers me a lot, and I tried to convey that in class. Then again, I thought about other people in history who have been popularly labeled "saintly" or something similar: people like Ghandi or Mother Theresa. They did in fact do great things for many people; such are the criteria for being saintly. But then, consider how much hardship and suffering they actually went through while doing good, I might have to agree with DW's diagnosis of Emilio being a saint. He displayed an extraordinary amount of holiness and calling for his current situation, and then acted on it. I hate to say it, but the message of the book that terrible things happen to good people, is almost a criterion for being a saint as well; the person must exhibit holiness, especially in the face of extreme adversity.
Then, I remember what Professor Jackson was saying about how the next book turns all sorts of things upside down - this comment might not even be valid in about two weeks. I am quite curious and intrigued to see where the next book goes.
Have a saintly evening
-Mike
Oddly enough, my favorite part of the entire discussion in class was Professor Jackson explaining that "Devil's advocate" is a Jesuit expression, as part of their [close to] all-inclusive attack on their own beliefs during their training. That said, I wanted to comment on the issue of Emilio being a saint (at least according to his fellow Jesuits on the mission). One of the messages this story does a shockingly thorough job of conveying is that really, REALLY bad things happen to pretty good people. On one level, this sort of idea bothers me a lot, and I tried to convey that in class. Then again, I thought about other people in history who have been popularly labeled "saintly" or something similar: people like Ghandi or Mother Theresa. They did in fact do great things for many people; such are the criteria for being saintly. But then, consider how much hardship and suffering they actually went through while doing good, I might have to agree with DW's diagnosis of Emilio being a saint. He displayed an extraordinary amount of holiness and calling for his current situation, and then acted on it. I hate to say it, but the message of the book that terrible things happen to good people, is almost a criterion for being a saint as well; the person must exhibit holiness, especially in the face of extreme adversity.
Then, I remember what Professor Jackson was saying about how the next book turns all sorts of things upside down - this comment might not even be valid in about two weeks. I am quite curious and intrigued to see where the next book goes.
Have a saintly evening
-Mike
Monday, April 7, 2008
The Sparrow: Terribly close to home
Hello everyone:
I just wanted to start my post in a fairly unique way: all of the Ohioan locations in this book are within 20 minutes of my house. I have been up around John Carrol, and the Jesuits there are friendly, and not even exclusively Jesuit for that matter - I know Lutherans and Methodists who work there and fit right in. That said, I feel like fact checking a secretive trip on an asteroid probably wouldn't go down at John Carrol, at least not very easily. East Cleveland is not in fact a very nice place at all; that hasn't changed from the writing of this book 12 years ago. Cleveland Heights does have an odd array of brightly colored young people that array themselves in coffee shops (by color it seems sometimes) and then take root there for 4-6 hours. That said, I know a bunch of people from there: many of them are great cooks, a fair amount are doctors, and a few even own a piano. I just needed to get my personal connection to the book out there, because it was odd reading a Science Fiction book partially set in locations right near my house; it made me connect with this book in a different way than I usually connect with any book. How many supposed trips to visit alien life have originated in YOUR part of town?
I also want to build upon what Jen said about Jesuits - having been accepted into Fordham, I went to visit that school and was amazed at the odd dichotomy of most professors and administrative staff being priests but only as a slight spice to their personality, rather than an upfront article of clothing (of course, names like Father Reinert were a give away). They were in fact able to mingle about the crowds of prospective students
All of that said, there was a point in the book that really bothered me a whole hell of a lot, much more than most books ever have (and probably ever will). On page 285, Sandoz bitterly poses to Behr that "Have you ever wondered about Cain, Ed? He made his sacrifice in good faith. Why did God refuse it?" This line haunted me for the rest of the book; I was bothered by many of the subsequent (all-too-human) atrocities that occurred, be it the murder of the children, or the forcing of Sandoz into sexual slavery, or the violence that was stirred up between the Runa and the Jana'ata because of the gardens. It was that one line that bothered me throughout, and bothers me still. The story of Cain and Abel centers around Cain's offering of the average fruits of his labor being held in lower regard by God than Abel's offering of the prime of his flock - this angers Cain, and he murders Abel out in the fields. In the context of the story itself, I detect at least two implied meanings: in the specific conversation, I believe Sandoz is referring to his willingness to be celibate and not fall more deeply in love with Sophia, and then is subsequently raped by the Jana'ata repeatedly. More generally, the sad reference here seems to be referring to Sandoz's entire life, spent doing the right thing in a veritable sea of bad things (based on his upbringing and later improvement of the part of Puerto Rico he comes from), only to have this all be apparently seemingly rejected by God. Now, a slew of images assaults me - this sentiment reminds me of every zombie movie I have ever seen, when one IDIOT in the party of survivors lets their guard down for a moment and as a result dooms several/all of the others to death: the viewer can see it coming, and it is infuriating (at least to me). Or, perhaps to reference the book itself again, the utter frustration that Sandoz experiences in the dichotomy of the starving children in Africa and then the empty-headed, self-centered and essentially inconsequential people in the coffee shops in Cleveland Heights (but you could substitute any rich suburb or urban area here) - I will end my comment alluding to a quote from the book (the page now forgotten): the effects of trying to do good and then having it not be enough and/or being surrounded by those who do not try the same is like vomiting poison. This story tires me out, almost makes me want to shake my fists in despair... but for some reason I do not.
I am looking forward to two things: tomorrow's discussion, and then reading the sequel to this wonderful, yet haunting, novel
-Mike
I just wanted to start my post in a fairly unique way: all of the Ohioan locations in this book are within 20 minutes of my house. I have been up around John Carrol, and the Jesuits there are friendly, and not even exclusively Jesuit for that matter - I know Lutherans and Methodists who work there and fit right in. That said, I feel like fact checking a secretive trip on an asteroid probably wouldn't go down at John Carrol, at least not very easily. East Cleveland is not in fact a very nice place at all; that hasn't changed from the writing of this book 12 years ago. Cleveland Heights does have an odd array of brightly colored young people that array themselves in coffee shops (by color it seems sometimes) and then take root there for 4-6 hours. That said, I know a bunch of people from there: many of them are great cooks, a fair amount are doctors, and a few even own a piano. I just needed to get my personal connection to the book out there, because it was odd reading a Science Fiction book partially set in locations right near my house; it made me connect with this book in a different way than I usually connect with any book. How many supposed trips to visit alien life have originated in YOUR part of town?
I also want to build upon what Jen said about Jesuits - having been accepted into Fordham, I went to visit that school and was amazed at the odd dichotomy of most professors and administrative staff being priests but only as a slight spice to their personality, rather than an upfront article of clothing (of course, names like Father Reinert were a give away). They were in fact able to mingle about the crowds of prospective students
All of that said, there was a point in the book that really bothered me a whole hell of a lot, much more than most books ever have (and probably ever will). On page 285, Sandoz bitterly poses to Behr that "Have you ever wondered about Cain, Ed? He made his sacrifice in good faith. Why did God refuse it?" This line haunted me for the rest of the book; I was bothered by many of the subsequent (all-too-human) atrocities that occurred, be it the murder of the children, or the forcing of Sandoz into sexual slavery, or the violence that was stirred up between the Runa and the Jana'ata because of the gardens. It was that one line that bothered me throughout, and bothers me still. The story of Cain and Abel centers around Cain's offering of the average fruits of his labor being held in lower regard by God than Abel's offering of the prime of his flock - this angers Cain, and he murders Abel out in the fields. In the context of the story itself, I detect at least two implied meanings: in the specific conversation, I believe Sandoz is referring to his willingness to be celibate and not fall more deeply in love with Sophia, and then is subsequently raped by the Jana'ata repeatedly. More generally, the sad reference here seems to be referring to Sandoz's entire life, spent doing the right thing in a veritable sea of bad things (based on his upbringing and later improvement of the part of Puerto Rico he comes from), only to have this all be apparently seemingly rejected by God. Now, a slew of images assaults me - this sentiment reminds me of every zombie movie I have ever seen, when one IDIOT in the party of survivors lets their guard down for a moment and as a result dooms several/all of the others to death: the viewer can see it coming, and it is infuriating (at least to me). Or, perhaps to reference the book itself again, the utter frustration that Sandoz experiences in the dichotomy of the starving children in Africa and then the empty-headed, self-centered and essentially inconsequential people in the coffee shops in Cleveland Heights (but you could substitute any rich suburb or urban area here) - I will end my comment alluding to a quote from the book (the page now forgotten): the effects of trying to do good and then having it not be enough and/or being surrounded by those who do not try the same is like vomiting poison. This story tires me out, almost makes me want to shake my fists in despair... but for some reason I do not.
I am looking forward to two things: tomorrow's discussion, and then reading the sequel to this wonderful, yet haunting, novel
-Mike
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Reflection on Class 10
Good morning:
I would like to do this reflective post based on the entirety of our conversation yesterday, but I would like to tie it in to a quote from one of my favorite books ever: Grendel, by John Gardener. This is the modern-era book, written from the perspective of Grendel - the antagonist in the ancient epic Beowulf. The quote goes as follows:
In this instance, Grendel, with his monstrous inhuman appearance, has not yet been detected by the human guards, and so he overhears this conversation in their camp. Both within the content of this speech, and more generally the entire tale of Grendel's persecution based on his inhumanness, the book follows what Schmitt predicts fairly closely. The various bands of human warriors are all tied together by blood in some way or another, hence Beowulf being greeted as cousin, albeit very carefully when he approaches the camp of Hrothgar. These groups are all loosely tied then by blood, but still consider each other Schmittian enemies, in that they push at each other's borders time and again and then relent; yet also Schmittian friends, in that they have some things in common and can see each other as friends. Grendel, once identified, clearly becomes the foe of Hrothgar - he cannot face him alone, so requests Beowulf (the strongest in the land) to come to his aid. He arrives, and eventually bests Grendel in one-to-one combat (which is where Grendel the novel ends up at) - but as can be gleamed from reading the poem Beowulf, Grendel the inhuman, existential threat of a monster is cut down: at this the Danes all celebrate his destruction. Although I did not read much of the [epically long] poem beyond the Grendel and his mother portion, my teacher at the time mentioned the various problems the Danes later encountered amongst themselves, when there was no other enemy such as Grendel to unite against. All in all, a story that fits well into Schmitt's ideas. It is uncanny how well that quote I picked out of Grendel fits into Schmitt's haunting vision of the future (I am not sure if Gardener actually meant to allude to it or not, but I feel like he did).
I do actually suggest that ye who read this post also pick up a copy of Grendel and read it - I could even loan it to you, so just ask me
I also request that you do not ever go to see that epic failure of a movie they attempted to make out of this..... "The American Movie Business: Ruining Good Stories from as early as 1100 AD"
-Mike
I would like to do this reflective post based on the entirety of our conversation yesterday, but I would like to tie it in to a quote from one of my favorite books ever: Grendel, by John Gardener. This is the modern-era book, written from the perspective of Grendel - the antagonist in the ancient epic Beowulf. The quote goes as follows:
"What is the state in a time of domestic or foreign crisis? What is the state when the chips are down? The answer is obvious and clear! Oh yes! If a few men quit work, the police move in. If the borders are threatened, the army rolls out. Public force is the life and soul of every state: not merely army and police but prisons, judges, tax collectors, every conceivable trick of coercive repression. The state is an organization of violence, a monopoly in what it is pleased to call 'legitimized' violence. Revolution, my dear prince, is not the substitution of immoral for moral, or of illegitimate for legitimate violence; it is simply the pitting of power against power, where the issue is freedom for the winners and enslavement of the rest." -The old peasant to Hrothulf |
In this instance, Grendel, with his monstrous inhuman appearance, has not yet been detected by the human guards, and so he overhears this conversation in their camp. Both within the content of this speech, and more generally the entire tale of Grendel's persecution based on his inhumanness, the book follows what Schmitt predicts fairly closely. The various bands of human warriors are all tied together by blood in some way or another, hence Beowulf being greeted as cousin, albeit very carefully when he approaches the camp of Hrothgar. These groups are all loosely tied then by blood, but still consider each other Schmittian enemies, in that they push at each other's borders time and again and then relent; yet also Schmittian friends, in that they have some things in common and can see each other as friends. Grendel, once identified, clearly becomes the foe of Hrothgar - he cannot face him alone, so requests Beowulf (the strongest in the land) to come to his aid. He arrives, and eventually bests Grendel in one-to-one combat (which is where Grendel the novel ends up at) - but as can be gleamed from reading the poem Beowulf, Grendel the inhuman, existential threat of a monster is cut down: at this the Danes all celebrate his destruction. Although I did not read much of the [epically long] poem beyond the Grendel and his mother portion, my teacher at the time mentioned the various problems the Danes later encountered amongst themselves, when there was no other enemy such as Grendel to unite against. All in all, a story that fits well into Schmitt's ideas. It is uncanny how well that quote I picked out of Grendel fits into Schmitt's haunting vision of the future (I am not sure if Gardener actually meant to allude to it or not, but I feel like he did).
I do actually suggest that ye who read this post also pick up a copy of Grendel and read it - I could even loan it to you, so just ask me
I also request that you do not ever go to see that epic failure of a movie they attempted to make out of this..... "The American Movie Business: Ruining Good Stories from as early as 1100 AD"
-Mike
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Schmitt's Concept of the Political
Hello everyone:
I enjoyed reading this piece, because it is the first time I have read something from Germany during the Weimar Republic period. The first important point I noticed was the interesting use of semantics by the author - he examines the linguistic background for public versus private enemies, by looking at both Plato's Republic and the books of Matthew and Luke. I suppose I implicitly understood the difference between the two, but he explains them in such a manner as to make it perfectly clear how the state deals with the two - that is to say, as the same entities (pg. 28-29). In fact, he goes on to point out the vital differences in word use regarding the German reparations following WWI. He explains that the nations being paid held it aloft as tribute from a defeated nation - this inflamed the German people, who wanted it called reparations or a pension. I have always been taught that WWI was generally one of the larger causes of WWII, and that the reparations didn't help, but it really interests me to learn that one of the major points of contention was over a bit of language.
From this one point, I started considering how this work applies to today. What is striking to me is Schmitt's argument revolves around the inherent importance of the state as the least common denominator of the political (politics being something he doesn't acknowledge unless a state is highly weakened), and how much that is no longer the case in today's world. The modern-day example that comes to mind is the dynamic between Islamic terrorist groups and the United States. In addition to actual skirmishes being fought around the world, this is both a battle of words and ideas. Bin Laden wrote extremely eloquent pieces decrying the decadence, inherent sloth, and other problems he saw within the American people. George W. Bush responded with equally polemic words, decrying the [Islamic] terrorists as extremists, enemies of freedom [the core of America], and so forth. Similar to the situation in Europe following the first world war, there are fairly large differences of opinion, but these could have been solved. The problem is (in an extremely simplified analysis for the sake of this post], leaders on both sides were unwilling to compromise or back down, and things deteriorated with such aggressive uses of language. This falls right back into a later passage of the work, on page 33: "war is the existential negation of the enemy." This holds true today - both sides are in the business of utterly eliminating "the Great Satan" and the Islamic fundamentalists, respectively. This is not a perfect match, because the soldiers on both sides are no longer clearly marked, and even more importantly, both sides are no longer states. It is just interesting to consider many of ideas by Schmitt on state-to-state interactions, in terms of recent events.
Have a good evening, England prevails, etc
-Mike
I enjoyed reading this piece, because it is the first time I have read something from Germany during the Weimar Republic period. The first important point I noticed was the interesting use of semantics by the author - he examines the linguistic background for public versus private enemies, by looking at both Plato's Republic and the books of Matthew and Luke. I suppose I implicitly understood the difference between the two, but he explains them in such a manner as to make it perfectly clear how the state deals with the two - that is to say, as the same entities (pg. 28-29). In fact, he goes on to point out the vital differences in word use regarding the German reparations following WWI. He explains that the nations being paid held it aloft as tribute from a defeated nation - this inflamed the German people, who wanted it called reparations or a pension. I have always been taught that WWI was generally one of the larger causes of WWII, and that the reparations didn't help, but it really interests me to learn that one of the major points of contention was over a bit of language.
From this one point, I started considering how this work applies to today. What is striking to me is Schmitt's argument revolves around the inherent importance of the state as the least common denominator of the political (politics being something he doesn't acknowledge unless a state is highly weakened), and how much that is no longer the case in today's world. The modern-day example that comes to mind is the dynamic between Islamic terrorist groups and the United States. In addition to actual skirmishes being fought around the world, this is both a battle of words and ideas. Bin Laden wrote extremely eloquent pieces decrying the decadence, inherent sloth, and other problems he saw within the American people. George W. Bush responded with equally polemic words, decrying the [Islamic] terrorists as extremists, enemies of freedom [the core of America], and so forth. Similar to the situation in Europe following the first world war, there are fairly large differences of opinion, but these could have been solved. The problem is (in an extremely simplified analysis for the sake of this post], leaders on both sides were unwilling to compromise or back down, and things deteriorated with such aggressive uses of language. This falls right back into a later passage of the work, on page 33: "war is the existential negation of the enemy." This holds true today - both sides are in the business of utterly eliminating "the Great Satan" and the Islamic fundamentalists, respectively. This is not a perfect match, because the soldiers on both sides are no longer clearly marked, and even more importantly, both sides are no longer states. It is just interesting to consider many of ideas by Schmitt on state-to-state interactions, in terms of recent events.
Have a good evening, England prevails, etc
-Mike
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Reflection on Ender's Game
Hello everyone:
The thing that kind of bothered me about today's class was how many people (but not all) decided that they would make the same choice as the IF, if they were in charge of the situation. I am not attacking them for their decision, but I am afraid that my understanding of the circumstances forces me to still disagree. I definitely heard where people were coming from by saying that the human-to-human conflicts are different than the human-to-bugger issue, but I must stick with the points I made in class - the underlying points remain the same. If we agree to attack some sort of other based merely on two facts - we cannot communicate with them, and they seem to be hostile - then the world will continue to not be a friendly place. I brought up the example of how the colonists treated the Native Americans (which Lena later echoed in relation to another point), so I thought I would try and bring up some additional anecdotal evidence here.
The other biggest example that comes to mind is the manner in which the Roman empire worked- this isn't a perfect fit, but some of the ideas here apply. The Romans made it their policy to allow nations to either surrender and assimilate into Rome, or be destroyed utterly. This led to the destruction of some "barbarian" tribes in Germania, because they wouldn't comply (barbarian being a Greek word taken by the Romans and later civilizations to: the original meaning comes from "barbar" being used to describe the (seemingly) nonsense language of the outsiders). These specific instances are similar to what the IF did to the buggers. The buggers (Germanic tribes, specifically the Illyrians) attacked Earth (Rome), and did not communicate at once or in understood ways, and as a result they were crushed. As a result, the military prowess of these people (the Romans lost three full legions to them before crushing them) as a learnable skill was gone - similar to all the possible gains lost through the destruction of the buggers.
reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roman_empire
To support my ideas from a different direction, lets look at a similar phenomena that occurred twice, in completely different circumstances. During the American Civil War, brother fought brother over the issue of slavery - or to restate the problem, they could no longer communicate about the issue and one viewpoint had to be destroyed in favor of the other. Many soldiers died fighting in setpiece battles, and due to lack of medical attention or supplies. That said, General Lee eventually surrendered to Grant at Appomattox Courthouse - while this was happening, the former enemies, both Union and Confederate soldiers, played baseball together in order to pass the time. This is only one example from that war, but think about the parallels to the buggers - both sides in the Civil War definitely has avenues of communication, but they did not pursue them, and chose to fight instead.
reference: http://www.baseball-almanac.com/articles/aubrecht2004b.shtml
The other example that comes to mind is during the Christmas of 1914. during the Christmas Truce between the German and British soldiers. The common soldiers merely stopped fighting for several days, and exchanged presents and made friends with each other. There was a clear disagreement between the two sides, and they killed each other mercilessly both before and after this Truce, but when they both pursued communication, things improved. Neither side was completely fluent in the other's language, but they still shared a sense of similarity. I feel that the bugger/human conflict has a parallel: when the queen has the model of the giant's corpse built, it is an attempt to talk to a human in a way they understand (the Truce having soldiers exchange gifts and throwing snowballs, areas where they could comprehend each other).
reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmas_truce
Something to think about, I suppose.
Have a good evening.
-Mike
The thing that kind of bothered me about today's class was how many people (but not all) decided that they would make the same choice as the IF, if they were in charge of the situation. I am not attacking them for their decision, but I am afraid that my understanding of the circumstances forces me to still disagree. I definitely heard where people were coming from by saying that the human-to-human conflicts are different than the human-to-bugger issue, but I must stick with the points I made in class - the underlying points remain the same. If we agree to attack some sort of other based merely on two facts - we cannot communicate with them, and they seem to be hostile - then the world will continue to not be a friendly place. I brought up the example of how the colonists treated the Native Americans (which Lena later echoed in relation to another point), so I thought I would try and bring up some additional anecdotal evidence here.
The other biggest example that comes to mind is the manner in which the Roman empire worked- this isn't a perfect fit, but some of the ideas here apply. The Romans made it their policy to allow nations to either surrender and assimilate into Rome, or be destroyed utterly. This led to the destruction of some "barbarian" tribes in Germania, because they wouldn't comply (barbarian being a Greek word taken by the Romans and later civilizations to: the original meaning comes from "barbar" being used to describe the (seemingly) nonsense language of the outsiders). These specific instances are similar to what the IF did to the buggers. The buggers (Germanic tribes, specifically the Illyrians) attacked Earth (Rome), and did not communicate at once or in understood ways, and as a result they were crushed. As a result, the military prowess of these people (the Romans lost three full legions to them before crushing them) as a learnable skill was gone - similar to all the possible gains lost through the destruction of the buggers.
reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roman_empire
To support my ideas from a different direction, lets look at a similar phenomena that occurred twice, in completely different circumstances. During the American Civil War, brother fought brother over the issue of slavery - or to restate the problem, they could no longer communicate about the issue and one viewpoint had to be destroyed in favor of the other. Many soldiers died fighting in setpiece battles, and due to lack of medical attention or supplies. That said, General Lee eventually surrendered to Grant at Appomattox Courthouse - while this was happening, the former enemies, both Union and Confederate soldiers, played baseball together in order to pass the time. This is only one example from that war, but think about the parallels to the buggers - both sides in the Civil War definitely has avenues of communication, but they did not pursue them, and chose to fight instead.
reference: http://www.baseball-almanac.com/articles/aubrecht2004b.shtml
The other example that comes to mind is during the Christmas of 1914. during the Christmas Truce between the German and British soldiers. The common soldiers merely stopped fighting for several days, and exchanged presents and made friends with each other. There was a clear disagreement between the two sides, and they killed each other mercilessly both before and after this Truce, but when they both pursued communication, things improved. Neither side was completely fluent in the other's language, but they still shared a sense of similarity. I feel that the bugger/human conflict has a parallel: when the queen has the model of the giant's corpse built, it is an attempt to talk to a human in a way they understand (the Truce having soldiers exchange gifts and throwing snowballs, areas where they could comprehend each other).
reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmas_truce
Something to think about, I suppose.
Have a good evening.
-Mike
Monday, March 17, 2008
Ender's Game: a look into attitude
This past week is the second time I have read this book, and I caught something entirely different this time: the foreshadowing near the beginning, with the Giant game and Fairyland (pg. 60-65). At this point, Ender makes the comment that this terrible game only ever gives him the chance to kill or be killed, by drinking those shot glasses of poison, or apparently by killing the giant. This is very interesting, and I call it foreshadowing for a specific reason - I am not referring to the progression of the Giant's decay or the game throughout the book, but rather the theme of doing anything will lead to someone's pain eventually.
The other point in the book where this sentiment struck me and began to come into focus was when Graff asks Valentine to write Ender a letter (pg. 143-151). At this point, Valentine defends Ender as being nothing like Peter at all, because he was always so nice and would never do anything to hurt anybody (although his history shows otherwise). Peter is a terrible person, who enjoys playing on other's fears (and is therefore representative of people who always assume the worst case is the reality of a situation). When Graff explains that Ender feeding the squirrels would only make them easier for Peter to terrorize, this portion of the book clicked with me very well. This line of arguments follows the real world in terms of giving aid to refugees. It can seem like helping people in war-torn regions is a waste, because there will only be more refugees again when some other marauding force comes through and lays waste to their lands. Take this line of reasoning back even further, and you end up with the Myth of Sisyphus - basically, this man was sentenced to the eternal punishment of rolling a boulder up a series of progressively higher hills. If there is nothing to life but a series of more difficult tasks, what makes people keep going? Why do we keep rolling these damned stones up stupid hills and mountains? From this general viewpoint, I can relate this back to Ender's education at the Battle School - he keeps dealing with everything the teachers and Graff can throw at him, and he does so at cost to himself.
I am not despairing over this human situation (I have my own personal set of motivations that move me past the wonderful problems in life), but I thought that the book is an interesting look into the manner in which life seems to work for people. I am equally curious to hear what motivates other people in life.
-Mike
The other point in the book where this sentiment struck me and began to come into focus was when Graff asks Valentine to write Ender a letter (pg. 143-151). At this point, Valentine defends Ender as being nothing like Peter at all, because he was always so nice and would never do anything to hurt anybody (although his history shows otherwise). Peter is a terrible person, who enjoys playing on other's fears (and is therefore representative of people who always assume the worst case is the reality of a situation). When Graff explains that Ender feeding the squirrels would only make them easier for Peter to terrorize, this portion of the book clicked with me very well. This line of arguments follows the real world in terms of giving aid to refugees. It can seem like helping people in war-torn regions is a waste, because there will only be more refugees again when some other marauding force comes through and lays waste to their lands. Take this line of reasoning back even further, and you end up with the Myth of Sisyphus - basically, this man was sentenced to the eternal punishment of rolling a boulder up a series of progressively higher hills. If there is nothing to life but a series of more difficult tasks, what makes people keep going? Why do we keep rolling these damned stones up stupid hills and mountains? From this general viewpoint, I can relate this back to Ender's education at the Battle School - he keeps dealing with everything the teachers and Graff can throw at him, and he does so at cost to himself.
I am not despairing over this human situation (I have my own personal set of motivations that move me past the wonderful problems in life), but I thought that the book is an interesting look into the manner in which life seems to work for people. I am equally curious to hear what motivates other people in life.
-Mike
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Reflection on Class 8
The part of today's discussion that made me think the most was the interplay between a math teacher and V's method of opening a person up to reality. In both situations, the teacher is explaining something that most of the students are certain they don't want to learn. In both cases as well, however, the student ends up valuing what they learned (if not through verbal acknowledgment, then through their constant use of it). I feel as though there are many people who could currently use a refresher course in freedom and liberty, albeit not as harsh as V's lessons. People seem to have this annoying trait called "fickleness" - it has this annoying side effect where they forget whats actually good and not so good for them soon after learning. Its getting kind of old - "never again shall we have war." Look how that turned out. "Never again shall there be genocide." Failure. "Never again shall there be slaves." In name, this is technically true - but what about sex slaves, and child laborers and so forth? I feel like Americans, comfortably clothed and well-off, have no need to consider what our state of life really means liberty-wise. "Yeah, so theres starving people and oppressed people - but since I am doing well, its probably their fault that they're in that situation." Not even all Americans realize the extent of the problems in the world, much less in their own communities. Ignorance is no excuse - in fact, it merely reflects poorly on our nation. Land of the brave, home of the free? I feel like we've lost the meaning behind that maxim some years ago. This is unacceptable to me - I for one am not willing to let this wonderful nation with its outstanding potential to do good in the world fail and lapse into hedonistic destruction - it happened to Rome, and I will not let it happen to us. Enough complaining, enough excuses - change spending around to feed and clothe everyone. Educate all people on how to be truly free, and then only let them graduate when they clearly demonstrate understanding of the necessity to be self-responsible as well as part of the community. I am certainly not yelling at anyone in class; I am merely frustrated with the way the world is, and specifically the way our nation is poised to continue in coming years. Vote Ron Paul - all joking aside, he brings a third dimension to the political scene, whereas Democrats and Republicans argue really loud but are actually pretty similar in most ways. If not vote for him, at least go look into what he has to say - consider what politicians do from day to day, and compare that to what the Constitution sets out as their powers. Its ridiculous.
America can Prevail Again, if people started trying again (that doesn't have the same ring to it, but I stand by it)
-Mike
America can Prevail Again, if people started trying again (that doesn't have the same ring to it, but I stand by it)
-Mike
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Liberty with a side of Insanity
Hello everyone:
Having read the whole novel, I wanted to write about my favorite part of the entire thing - the scene from page 39-41. This is the point in the book where V goes to the top of the old Bailey and is talking to the statue of Justice, and filling in both parts of the conversation. Here, he is speaking to her about how he used to love her from afar, but then she cheated on him with a uniformed man in jackboots [the new facist government], so he has found another: anarchy. He then proceeds to place the heart-shaped box at the feet of the statue, and walks away. The bomb then blows up and destroys the statue and the building.
The reason this resonates with me is partially the dark humor in the situation, but also the scary parallel to the real world of today. Specifically, I am thinking of post 9/11 America, one where the average citizen meekly submits to the various things the Federal government took as "necessary changes" after that fated day. For example, every time I go into an airport, I am forced to take off my shoes and all the metal out of my pockets. I then must make sure all of the fluids, gels, etc must be beneath a certain size and stored in a ziploc bag; if they aren't, I am required by law to throw them away. Then theres the odd dynamic of the TSA video they play on loop - the bit where once you begin the process, you must continue and by law are not allowed to leave. Thats really, REALLY scary - queuing up to use the private plane ticket we paid for, and then forced to submit to Federal security (that drains tax dollars substantially) because they have outlawed private security forces from working airports? This is not the same US government I have been taught about throughout the course of my education. I would argue that many people feel the same way that I do (listen to the grumbling in line next time you fly), but what confounds me is that people aren't motivated to fight for their freedoms, one of the things that IS worth fighting for in life.
Let me focus more narrowly on the topic at hand in the scene I presented: justice. The US has never been perfect; neither has any other country. I just find it very peculiar that the way our justice system works is changing the way it is. "Innocent until proven guilty" used to be a bastion of the American legal system: now it is "guilty until proven innocent if we think you might have thought the word 'terrorist' in your life, and we won't let you have legal counsel." I am not sure about anyone else in the course, but this REALLY CONCERNS ME. These sorts of reasonings are what were used in the novel, when the Leader convinces people that giving up freedoms in order to also be free from hunger and war is worthwhile. The problem with curtailing civil liberties in wartime (even though we aren't in a conventional war) is that they aren't so easily reclaimed from the Federal government after the fact.
The specifics of this War on Terror are what confound me - we are fighting against hungry, angry peoples who the US' foreign policy has not treated fairly or even consistently, yet we wonder why they hate us? Perhaps if we didn't supply both sides in almost every armed conflict since WWII, the issues at hand wouldn't be as bad. We supplied Iraq and Saddam against Iran. We trained bin Laden against the Soviets. We supply weapons to the Israelis, and money to the Palestinians, and then wonder why they don't get along and don't like us. Perhaps if we pursued an agenda of sustainable long term aid to all people, and stopped selling weapons as often as we can, maybe there would be less wars. This current schizophrenic series of foreign policy choices certainly isn't working. In fact, this exact sentiment was expressed (albeit in different words) by a certain diety in the American pantheon, a Mr. Washington: "The duty of holding a neutral conduct may be inferred, without any thing more, from the obligation which justice and humanity impose on every nation, in cases in which it is free to act, to maintain inviolate the relations of peace and amity towards other nations." What a great idea - too bad in this century of American policing of the world, we cannot quite fathom why this is a good idea. I want to defend myself from those who might call me isolationist - I love to travel, I enjoy other nations and cultures, and I am firmly in favor of free/fair trade (depending on the specific situation) - I just don't see why we need to get ourselves tangled into millenia-old conflicts. Thats pretty arrogant of us to assume that after the Arabs and Jews have been mutually of distrustful of each other (and sometimes outright hostile) for many, many years, that we could support both sides and then make peace.
I feel as though these quotes, plus the preceding quote from Washington, cover my feelings on this matter:
I would rather be exposed to the inconveniences attending too much liberty than to those attending too small a degree of it.
-Thomas Jefferson
He that would make his own liberty secure must guard even his enemy from oppression; for if he violates this duty, he establishes a precedent that will reach to himself.
-Thomas Paine
Our history has shown us that insecurity threatens liberty. Yet, if our liberties are curtailed, we lose the values that we are struggling to defend.
-9/11 Commission Report
"Justice is meaningless without Freedom"
-V, page 41
-Mike
Having read the whole novel, I wanted to write about my favorite part of the entire thing - the scene from page 39-41. This is the point in the book where V goes to the top of the old Bailey and is talking to the statue of Justice, and filling in both parts of the conversation. Here, he is speaking to her about how he used to love her from afar, but then she cheated on him with a uniformed man in jackboots [the new facist government], so he has found another: anarchy. He then proceeds to place the heart-shaped box at the feet of the statue, and walks away. The bomb then blows up and destroys the statue and the building.
The reason this resonates with me is partially the dark humor in the situation, but also the scary parallel to the real world of today. Specifically, I am thinking of post 9/11 America, one where the average citizen meekly submits to the various things the Federal government took as "necessary changes" after that fated day. For example, every time I go into an airport, I am forced to take off my shoes and all the metal out of my pockets. I then must make sure all of the fluids, gels, etc must be beneath a certain size and stored in a ziploc bag; if they aren't, I am required by law to throw them away. Then theres the odd dynamic of the TSA video they play on loop - the bit where once you begin the process, you must continue and by law are not allowed to leave. Thats really, REALLY scary - queuing up to use the private plane ticket we paid for, and then forced to submit to Federal security (that drains tax dollars substantially) because they have outlawed private security forces from working airports? This is not the same US government I have been taught about throughout the course of my education. I would argue that many people feel the same way that I do (listen to the grumbling in line next time you fly), but what confounds me is that people aren't motivated to fight for their freedoms, one of the things that IS worth fighting for in life.
Let me focus more narrowly on the topic at hand in the scene I presented: justice. The US has never been perfect; neither has any other country. I just find it very peculiar that the way our justice system works is changing the way it is. "Innocent until proven guilty" used to be a bastion of the American legal system: now it is "guilty until proven innocent if we think you might have thought the word 'terrorist' in your life, and we won't let you have legal counsel." I am not sure about anyone else in the course, but this REALLY CONCERNS ME. These sorts of reasonings are what were used in the novel, when the Leader convinces people that giving up freedoms in order to also be free from hunger and war is worthwhile. The problem with curtailing civil liberties in wartime (even though we aren't in a conventional war) is that they aren't so easily reclaimed from the Federal government after the fact.
The specifics of this War on Terror are what confound me - we are fighting against hungry, angry peoples who the US' foreign policy has not treated fairly or even consistently, yet we wonder why they hate us? Perhaps if we didn't supply both sides in almost every armed conflict since WWII, the issues at hand wouldn't be as bad. We supplied Iraq and Saddam against Iran. We trained bin Laden against the Soviets. We supply weapons to the Israelis, and money to the Palestinians, and then wonder why they don't get along and don't like us. Perhaps if we pursued an agenda of sustainable long term aid to all people, and stopped selling weapons as often as we can, maybe there would be less wars. This current schizophrenic series of foreign policy choices certainly isn't working. In fact, this exact sentiment was expressed (albeit in different words) by a certain diety in the American pantheon, a Mr. Washington: "The duty of holding a neutral conduct may be inferred, without any thing more, from the obligation which justice and humanity impose on every nation, in cases in which it is free to act, to maintain inviolate the relations of peace and amity towards other nations." What a great idea - too bad in this century of American policing of the world, we cannot quite fathom why this is a good idea. I want to defend myself from those who might call me isolationist - I love to travel, I enjoy other nations and cultures, and I am firmly in favor of free/fair trade (depending on the specific situation) - I just don't see why we need to get ourselves tangled into millenia-old conflicts. Thats pretty arrogant of us to assume that after the Arabs and Jews have been mutually of distrustful of each other (and sometimes outright hostile) for many, many years, that we could support both sides and then make peace.
I feel as though these quotes, plus the preceding quote from Washington, cover my feelings on this matter:
I would rather be exposed to the inconveniences attending too much liberty than to those attending too small a degree of it.
-Thomas Jefferson
He that would make his own liberty secure must guard even his enemy from oppression; for if he violates this duty, he establishes a precedent that will reach to himself.
-Thomas Paine
Our history has shown us that insecurity threatens liberty. Yet, if our liberties are curtailed, we lose the values that we are struggling to defend.
-9/11 Commission Report
"Justice is meaningless without Freedom"
-V, page 41
-Mike
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Reflection upon Class 7
I must agree with the basic sentiment I have seen in other reactions: I enjoyed the discussion from class this week very much so. I feel that the topic of gender, as with many others, is much more easily approached in the medium of science fiction, and this book does a good job of doing so. I need to display my support for Jack's point about agency: the fact of the matter is, Joseph was in fact magically tied to the location he was created in order to protect. When he attempted to walk across the bridge without orders to do so, his constituent parts began to dissemble. Yod was created for the purpose of protecting the town of Tivka: mind you, Malkah changed that with her additional programming, but focus on the point at hand. With this original purpose in mind, he directly disobeyed his primary directives by accompanying Shira to rescue her child - this move in fact put Tivka in much, much more danger. I have to agree with Jack then, that Yod has an entirely different level of agency than Joseph, which I would argue places them in separate categories: Joseph in the category of magical non-human/non-person creation with a few twists, whereas the level of autonomy Yod displays throughout the book (culminating in his decision to prevent anything else like him from being created) as well as scope of action shows a strong sense of humanness/person-ness.
That said, the gender stuff in the book was interesting. I am not sure I read it quite the same as Scott, but I did in fact find parts offensive or at least of questionable fairness. They were not always up front, but they were there. In the middle of one of Shira's outpourings of emotions, you could find small phrases about Gadi's innate immaturity as a man (in addition to his specific personality), and the description of Avram was never particularly friendly either. I'm curious what other people thought about this and are willing to post here (and not discuss in class).
-Mike
That said, the gender stuff in the book was interesting. I am not sure I read it quite the same as Scott, but I did in fact find parts offensive or at least of questionable fairness. They were not always up front, but they were there. In the middle of one of Shira's outpourings of emotions, you could find small phrases about Gadi's innate immaturity as a man (in addition to his specific personality), and the description of Avram was never particularly friendly either. I'm curious what other people thought about this and are willing to post here (and not discuss in class).
-Mike
Monday, February 25, 2008
Certain gestures
I simply must post again: when the book is at the point where Gadi is holding a festival in the Commons, this is what came to mind:
Yod as being fake on the inside (in terms of human biological components) yet being more human on the outside than Gadi. To complicate things, Gadi had all sorts of artificial enhancements about him in this scene, like the metallic eyelids and so forth.
When I finished thinking that through (albeit in a more extended fashion), my mind produced an excellent visual of Professor Jackson doing that thing he does when comparing two seemingly different things; where he holds up both arms, each containing one of the entities in the comparison, and then poses the thought I just wrote out as a question, while tilting his head in consideration of the quandary he just outlined for the class. I hope my description here is accurate, but my point is serious - what do people think about the fiddling that the author is doing throughout with what is "really" human as opposed to somewhat human as compared with only seemingly human (ad nauseum). Any thoughts on this?
-Mike
Yod as being fake on the inside (in terms of human biological components) yet being more human on the outside than Gadi. To complicate things, Gadi had all sorts of artificial enhancements about him in this scene, like the metallic eyelids and so forth.
When I finished thinking that through (albeit in a more extended fashion), my mind produced an excellent visual of Professor Jackson doing that thing he does when comparing two seemingly different things; where he holds up both arms, each containing one of the entities in the comparison, and then poses the thought I just wrote out as a question, while tilting his head in consideration of the quandary he just outlined for the class. I hope my description here is accurate, but my point is serious - what do people think about the fiddling that the author is doing throughout with what is "really" human as opposed to somewhat human as compared with only seemingly human (ad nauseum). Any thoughts on this?
-Mike
The insights of Shira
There is a line in the book that I cannot pass until I have posted about it, and exclusively it. On page 239, Shira thinks to herself "Most of life was bizarre when she stopped to examine it." When I got to this line, something like 75 different tangents, themes, ideas, and other bits of thought jumped my brain and took it over for a moment. I was thinking everything from "Socrates was right; we STILL don't know what the good is, or anything for that matter" to "this is why I dislike Macs" - needless to say, a large array of things occurred to me. I suppose that the reason this passage resonates so strongly with me is that I am and have always been an individual who enjoys tinkering and taking things apart to see how they work. This is not everyone, which I understand, but I feel like many people lack the capacity to appreciate something because they don't understand its inner workings. For example, people who prefer Macs to PCs sometimes list as their reasoning "because it always works." Thats great, if you like things to work without you understanding anything. I would argue that OF COURSE their overly expensive computers work seemingly perfectly, because all the components are manufactured by the same company, and their software is designed to work on their hardware. I prefer the ability to fix my own computer and know why things work the way they do, as I can and have done with my custom desktop computer. And, for the record, Macs do break, and there are viruses they can get. Just know that my partiality does not lie with Windows. Anyways, this is a fairly small example. On a larger (and more important) scale, people suffer from not stopping to examine life: racial hatred, where people fail to stop and realize that all parties involved are imperfect humans, so everyone's race has committed a wrong at some time or other. This is a good way to get back into the text, where about a quarter of the story revolves around the parallelism between Yod the cyborg and Joseph the clay-being, and how racism against Jews in the 1600's/racism of sorts against the free cities in the future are similar. In fact, the entire setting for the book is an ecologically-destroyed world, the result of almost everyone not examining the costs of strip mining, and dumping trash in the ocean. More specifically, it is showcasing the effects of removing oil from the picture, a la bombing the Middle East totally into a wasteland. Unfortunately, as seems to be the intention of all people, short-sighted concerns rules everyone after the pseudo-Apocalypse as well: the different corporations control much of the land that is worth having, there are massive slums in between them, and then there are a few free cities on the dangerous coastlines. The slums are left as they stand (in abject poverty), and then the multis fight each other for resources and the short term advantage, while the free towns pander to different multis to stay alive. Forgive my idealism, but one might think that after the world goes down/up in flames and there are much fewer people who know have near instant access to information, they might work together to improve things? Apparently not. Nevertheless, this one line in the book seems like it might have tempered the actions of enough people who heeded its wisdom to change history as presented in this book, but instead you got Eliot's 'The Wasteland' on steroids. With lasers and more-human-than-robot cyborgs. Great.
I suppose this blog is not the best medium to plead for more critical thinking on everyone's part, but thats what happens when books (or in this case, single lines) are thought-provoking, I guess.
-Mike
I suppose this blog is not the best medium to plead for more critical thinking on everyone's part, but thats what happens when books (or in this case, single lines) are thought-provoking, I guess.
-Mike
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Reflection on Class 6
Hello everyone:
After discussing the book in class and hearing Phil's take on what Weber was shooting for, I decided to go back and read the introduction portion, followed by Science as a Vocation, and then look at the end of Politics to see if my take on the lecture changed. Needless to say, it did - finding the same thematic undertones in the Science lecture shed some light on the Politics lecture. Weber discusses that in terms of how far science has "advanced" us, the savage still knows more about how to build a cart than an enlightened person knows about how his car works (pg. 12-13). This is an interesting comparison to make, and he carries on to mention that all the political economists in the world put into one room would each give you a different answer as to why your money buys X goods today and Y goods tomorrow - the savage, meanwhile, knows how to procure his own food and other goods through practical applications. This is Weber's pushing for specialization in science, which is similar to pushing for "specialization" in any career; by having it be one's vocation. One who is called to be a scholar will be far better disposed to make good his career than one who enters it in order to make money. The same holds true for a politician.
Similarly, Weber then goes through and tears science apart as a vocation, citing the example of doctors: they mindlessly preserve the lives of their patients even if those patients would prefer release from their suffering. The doctors base their work on the presupposition that all life is worth saving all the time (pg. 18). He does this in order to attack people who believe in science without any presuppositions, which he finds hypocritical that many of these people attack religious presuppositions in the same manner - that taking something on faith is ludicrous (pg. 17-18). Weber later goes on to explain the actual benefits of scholarship as a vocation (in his opinion), but only after bringing his audience back down to Earth. In the same manner, addressing the blindly hopeful in the aftermath of
The similarity between the two that I find the most compelling is on the last page (pg. 32) of the Science Lecture, and near the end (page 92) of the Politics Lecture. Weber takes all of what he has said in each, where he splits science from morality/religion, and ethics of responsibility from ethics of conviction, and explains that a vocation in either field is only present in the person who manages a synthesis of the two attributes. For the scholar, there is the preferred mixture of taking the presuppositions of science in stride but also pursuing change in the world as a moral agent (pg. 32). This dichotomy is not made as clear as that of the politician, however: Weber is taken aback whenever he meets a mature person who manages to not only pursue political ends because he believes they are the right path to take, but is completely aware that he must take responsibility if his endeavor fails or causes evil in some manner.
I really got more out of reading this in order, with the introductions as part of my reading. I suggest the same to anyone else who has the time.
-Mike
Monday, February 18, 2008
Weber - taking a vocation from life
Hello everyone:
Still thinking about Dune, the second page of this essay paints Dune as politics through and through, as it is an exercise in the exchange of power from some parties to other parties within a given territory. Religious tone aside, it actually should be read more as THE case study in effective politics - can Muad'Dib's army be any closer to the definition of legitimized violence?
Continuing this look at Dune based on Weber's essay, I feel that Paul Atriedes does in fact have his calling, or vocation, in politics, but "in politics" rather than "from politics." By this I mean that Paul's entire meaning in life is derived from his various actions towards changing the galactic balance of power (and more specifically, on Arrakis) towards his favor. He is not seeking to gain power in order to become rich (although his new position as Emperor ought to be extremely lucrative); instead he seeks to right the wrongs done to his father as well as improving the lot of the Fremen. Speaking of the Fremen, they are not quite bureaucrats in the normal sense of the word, but they fulfill Weber's discussion of them - the lieutenants and other commanders are highly trained individuals who have parallel authority to Paul, but their authority is not religiously derived; Paul himself handed it out to these independent agents of his will.
I think this example of Paul Atreides follows Weber's essay fairly neatly, although not perfectly.
-Mike
Still thinking about Dune, the second page of this essay paints Dune as politics through and through, as it is an exercise in the exchange of power from some parties to other parties within a given territory. Religious tone aside, it actually should be read more as THE case study in effective politics - can Muad'Dib's army be any closer to the definition of legitimized violence?
Continuing this look at Dune based on Weber's essay, I feel that Paul Atriedes does in fact have his calling, or vocation, in politics, but "in politics" rather than "from politics." By this I mean that Paul's entire meaning in life is derived from his various actions towards changing the galactic balance of power (and more specifically, on Arrakis) towards his favor. He is not seeking to gain power in order to become rich (although his new position as Emperor ought to be extremely lucrative); instead he seeks to right the wrongs done to his father as well as improving the lot of the Fremen. Speaking of the Fremen, they are not quite bureaucrats in the normal sense of the word, but they fulfill Weber's discussion of them - the lieutenants and other commanders are highly trained individuals who have parallel authority to Paul, but their authority is not religiously derived; Paul himself handed it out to these independent agents of his will.
I think this example of Paul Atreides follows Weber's essay fairly neatly, although not perfectly.
-Mike
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Reflection on Dune
Hello everyone:
I am surprised at the amount of the book we covered in class the other day - we actually took a good sampling of many different themes and ideas from the book as a whole. I really enjoyed talking about the *crazy* Appendix about the Bene Gesserit, where all of our comments about the veracity/falsehood of the story as presented were kind of unraveled. There were several people in the class who felt the book was more of a historical/academic document (myself included), and people who felt it was more of a mythical-ized version of the truth, but then we talked about who the implied author actually might be. I mean, pretty much all of our notions fell apart when we spoke of parts like Dr. Yueh's happenstance confession of his crimes, both aloud and internally (which we as the readers could somehow hear) to Paul's thoughts and Jessica's thoughts at the same time. This odd sort of dynamic was kind of flopping about without direction in the discussion, and then we read the whole Appendix. And we got to the part about the higher plans being fulfilled, at which point several people either looked REALLY introspective, or made some sort of verbal acknowledgment of the sudden possibilities made by considering this statement - not things that usually happen in a 2-hour long book discussion near the end. Certainly, I was surprised by this, even though I have read the book a few times - somehow this seemingly little (but actually REALLY IMPORTANT) things slipped past me.
Overall, I think its a great book, one of my favorites; even more so having discussed it with 20 other people.
I am surprised at the amount of the book we covered in class the other day - we actually took a good sampling of many different themes and ideas from the book as a whole. I really enjoyed talking about the *crazy* Appendix about the Bene Gesserit, where all of our comments about the veracity/falsehood of the story as presented were kind of unraveled. There were several people in the class who felt the book was more of a historical/academic document (myself included), and people who felt it was more of a mythical-ized version of the truth, but then we talked about who the implied author actually might be. I mean, pretty much all of our notions fell apart when we spoke of parts like Dr. Yueh's happenstance confession of his crimes, both aloud and internally (which we as the readers could somehow hear) to Paul's thoughts and Jessica's thoughts at the same time. This odd sort of dynamic was kind of flopping about without direction in the discussion, and then we read the whole Appendix. And we got to the part about the higher plans being fulfilled, at which point several people either looked REALLY introspective, or made some sort of verbal acknowledgment of the sudden possibilities made by considering this statement - not things that usually happen in a 2-hour long book discussion near the end. Certainly, I was surprised by this, even though I have read the book a few times - somehow this seemingly little (but actually REALLY IMPORTANT) things slipped past me.
Overall, I think its a great book, one of my favorites; even more so having discussed it with 20 other people.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Dune: Thank the Maker
Having finished rereading the book, I noticed many things this time that I had not noticed before. First and foremost, I was struck by the ending. The whole book is an exploration of this messianic figure, and yet the last 7 pages bring peace and new balance to the galaxy, and are ended by the words of Jessica to Chiani: "...we who carry the name of concubine - history will call us wives."
This is a very interesting choice to end the book with (even though one must read the appendices to truly get the full picture of the events as portrayed), given the various possible meanings throughout. I wanted to discuss my take on a few of these strands of meaning, and see if this might shed some light on this ending.
A theme that becomes more clear as the book progresses is the sheer discipline of the Fremen, in many regards. They always hold true to their rules regarding water, with many underlying motives. First off is the sheer value of preserving water on a desert planet. But, while they will almost always lend water to a member of their tribe in order to survive a journey, they require that the water be paid back 10-1 upon returning home. This strikes me as an odd rule, but one of extreme fairness whats worth some now is worth infinitely more in the future. This sense of justice is generalized with their hoarding of water for the terraforming of their planet - they always put the goals of the future ahead of their present needs, once again exploring this theme of placing the value of the future ahead of the lesser needs of now. This is part of the genius of Herbert's work - how seamlessly he blends fiction with history and religion. And, going back to my first question, this seems to fit what Jessica says: the current state of being a concubine will be seen so much differently in the future.
The other theme that I was interested by was interesting issue of who is really the force of good in this book. Duke Leto seemed like a fairly moral character, but he had his clear flaws (my memory is drawn to the awkward toast he performs at dinner on Arrakis). Jessica is never the most moral of characters, always being drawn between her B.G. loyalties, her love for the Duke, and her own, inexplicable motivations. Many of the Duke's men seem to be fairly good, but they each have their flaws as well. The Harkonnens don't quite have any possibility of being seen as good. That leaves Count Fenring, and Paul. The Count is the errand boy of the Emperor, and as such performs less than moral deeds. On the other hand, his hand is stayed at the end of the book upon realizing he has found a kindred spirit in Paul - this bears further discussion. And then Paul, which could be the subject of many posts. He seems to be one of the good forces throughout the book, but how good is he, in reality? His actions as Muad'dib are not the usual actions of a good character (taking the skins of one's enemies for his drums comes to mind). This also might shed some light on the end: with morality being a bunch of progressively darker shades of gray, Jessica can make such a statement and have it conclude the story as presented? I am not sure - I am curious what others think.
-Mike
This is a very interesting choice to end the book with (even though one must read the appendices to truly get the full picture of the events as portrayed), given the various possible meanings throughout. I wanted to discuss my take on a few of these strands of meaning, and see if this might shed some light on this ending.
A theme that becomes more clear as the book progresses is the sheer discipline of the Fremen, in many regards. They always hold true to their rules regarding water, with many underlying motives. First off is the sheer value of preserving water on a desert planet. But, while they will almost always lend water to a member of their tribe in order to survive a journey, they require that the water be paid back 10-1 upon returning home. This strikes me as an odd rule, but one of extreme fairness whats worth some now is worth infinitely more in the future. This sense of justice is generalized with their hoarding of water for the terraforming of their planet - they always put the goals of the future ahead of their present needs, once again exploring this theme of placing the value of the future ahead of the lesser needs of now. This is part of the genius of Herbert's work - how seamlessly he blends fiction with history and religion. And, going back to my first question, this seems to fit what Jessica says: the current state of being a concubine will be seen so much differently in the future.
The other theme that I was interested by was interesting issue of who is really the force of good in this book. Duke Leto seemed like a fairly moral character, but he had his clear flaws (my memory is drawn to the awkward toast he performs at dinner on Arrakis). Jessica is never the most moral of characters, always being drawn between her B.G. loyalties, her love for the Duke, and her own, inexplicable motivations. Many of the Duke's men seem to be fairly good, but they each have their flaws as well. The Harkonnens don't quite have any possibility of being seen as good. That leaves Count Fenring, and Paul. The Count is the errand boy of the Emperor, and as such performs less than moral deeds. On the other hand, his hand is stayed at the end of the book upon realizing he has found a kindred spirit in Paul - this bears further discussion. And then Paul, which could be the subject of many posts. He seems to be one of the good forces throughout the book, but how good is he, in reality? His actions as Muad'dib are not the usual actions of a good character (taking the skins of one's enemies for his drums comes to mind). This also might shed some light on the end: with morality being a bunch of progressively darker shades of gray, Jessica can make such a statement and have it conclude the story as presented? I am not sure - I am curious what others think.
-Mike
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
