Like much of the class, I too enjoyed our discussion on Tuesday. I think that the most important lessons were that the Model Classroom is alive and that Two Guys, a Girl, and a Pizza Place would have lasted longer than four seasons if the pizza place was alive.
I like to approach books from a literary standpoint first. This is one of the reasons I really liked He, She and It and didn't find it at all uncomfortable. Though I was always aware that I was reading a book by "feminist author Marge Piercy," I was willing to accept her version of the world and I didn't at all mind what some of the class characterized as almost separatist feminism. I did think that Shira's Ari subplot was a little off-putting, which is why I was worried that I wouldn't like the book for the first few pages. I didn't want the book to turn into another Tom Jane comedy (Please, somebody get this reference).
We touched back on Mike from The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, but glossed over it so quickly that I think we created two classes of sentient computers: people and living machines. Heinlein wrote Moon without there being a question of Mike's being alive, but in He, She and It, we skipped the alive part and moved right to personhood. This brings us back around to the pizza place: is Malkah's house alive? A person? The "law" stated that no human-shaped cyborgs could exist, but not necessarily how smart they could be. The law seems to be more concerned with the practical aspects of having cyborgs infiltrating the multis for unknown ends, not the philosophical aspects of creating a person/human/future-crab.
And is this some weird offshoot of Clarke's Third Law? In fact, I'm coining it, right here. Even though I don't have a First and Second Law. DiPrima's Third Law: "Any sufficiently advanced AI is indistinguishable from a person." So, if we're talking .999999999..., aren't we just talking about 1.0? Well, not exactly, but we're a different form of giant computer, too. We're just squishier. So I guess we're all .999999999...
This is not turning out to be more focused than my original post. That's probably because I've been on a lot of cold medicine since Tuesday, though I'm now almost through the bloody thing. One last thought, though, on Blade Runner. First, Ridley Scott is the master of pacing a movie, perhaps in this one even more than in Alien. In case anyone missed the revised ending thing that wasn't in the original theatrical rape of the film, Castillo/Jaime Escalante/Adama leaves the unicorn to show that he knows Deckard's dreams - that Deckard is actually a Replicant. What's great is, the first time I saw the movie, I saw the theatrical cut that really gives no hint of Deckard being a Replicant. In contrast to He, She and It, Blade Runner's version of AI people is that they're organic, but not alive until they accumulate about four years' worth of experiences and develop their own emotions. How does this work into Yod, who's preprogrammed with emotions? Whose are they, anyway? Are they Tyrell's niece's? And does it matter, as long as you can still play the piano?
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
can a cyborg mind be blown? OR one week too late
Picture this:
A man is created in a fashion completely different from that of normal men. Immediately those around him recognize him as something different and new, and great time and energy is invested int his development. He has innate knowledge of his greater capabilities and purpose due to his awareness of the circumstances of his creation. He easily earns loyalty and respect from those who take the time to get to know him as a person, but receives disgust and rejection from those who judge him based on what he represents rather than who he is. He is capable of astonishing feats, with incredible abilities compared to other men, but at the same time his strangeness sets him apart and prevents him from fully integrating with society. He learns of the legends his people have, that in a time of great need a man like him will come to save them. Eventually he is noticed by a great foreign power, and he is given up by someone close to him, taken away by the great power despite the best efforts of his friends to defend him. He accepts his fate and dies under the custody of the great power, in order that he may save the people he has grown to love, his people, the Jews.
Is this the story of Yod? Or is it the story of the Messiah?! Madness! But you can't deny that Yod is a savior. I doubt the similarities are coincidental.
A man is created in a fashion completely different from that of normal men. Immediately those around him recognize him as something different and new, and great time and energy is invested int his development. He has innate knowledge of his greater capabilities and purpose due to his awareness of the circumstances of his creation. He easily earns loyalty and respect from those who take the time to get to know him as a person, but receives disgust and rejection from those who judge him based on what he represents rather than who he is. He is capable of astonishing feats, with incredible abilities compared to other men, but at the same time his strangeness sets him apart and prevents him from fully integrating with society. He learns of the legends his people have, that in a time of great need a man like him will come to save them. Eventually he is noticed by a great foreign power, and he is given up by someone close to him, taken away by the great power despite the best efforts of his friends to defend him. He accepts his fate and dies under the custody of the great power, in order that he may save the people he has grown to love, his people, the Jews.
Is this the story of Yod? Or is it the story of the Messiah?! Madness! But you can't deny that Yod is a savior. I doubt the similarities are coincidental.
Piercy had cats
The most amazing thing I learned was Prof. Jackson's mention of there having been no internet when Piercy wrote He, She, and It. Her creation of nets and bases must have been as difficult as me now imagining life without the internet, a feat I really don't even want to try. Our society would be completely different. I'm amazed at how Piercy somewhat foresaw and created that.
During our discussion of why Piercy made her charactres Jewish, I found it curious that none of us raised the simple question, "Was Piercy Jewish?" And voila, not only was she raised Jewish, but her grandmother's name was Hannah-a tidbit that just caused me to...giggle. In fact, Piercy's critiques on a male dominated society and her seeming bias of the benefits of females make more sense after reading her biography. As for the Jewish focus of the novel, I do feel she hit on an excellent cultural example. Which other religion contains myths of creating people from nonliving material, in so similar a process as the science fiction notion of a cyborg? And have any other religions been so extremely forced to live in secluded towns, but still served a function in society? Multiple details made the Jews the perfect medium for paralleling the futuristic portion of Piercy's tale. Did I mention she loved cats in her childhood? Or that she had three husbands?
Aside from how much more understandable her motives are when you look into her personal history, we looked at some interesting arguments in class, including, "Two guys a girl and a pizza place, except the pizza place is one of the charactres." (I'm not sure who to credit with that idea).
We never really came to a resolution on whether you have to be able to physically inflict yourself on your environment in order to be granted personhood. Personally, I don't feel the physical aspect has anything to do with personhood, and we were much closer to an answer with Jack's idea of being able to impose your choices on the world. Both Yod and Joseph certainly "imposed" themselves on the world, but beyond a certain point Joseph couldn't make his own choices, and Yod was certainly closer because he not only was capable of affecting the world physically, but of affecting the lives, emotions, and choices of those around him as well. He fits into the human structure and uses human terms to impose himself on the human world. If I had been on the council, after exhausting my allotted 3 minutes of oratory, I would have voted to give Yod personhood. :)
During our discussion of why Piercy made her charactres Jewish, I found it curious that none of us raised the simple question, "Was Piercy Jewish?" And voila, not only was she raised Jewish, but her grandmother's name was Hannah-a tidbit that just caused me to...giggle. In fact, Piercy's critiques on a male dominated society and her seeming bias of the benefits of females make more sense after reading her biography. As for the Jewish focus of the novel, I do feel she hit on an excellent cultural example. Which other religion contains myths of creating people from nonliving material, in so similar a process as the science fiction notion of a cyborg? And have any other religions been so extremely forced to live in secluded towns, but still served a function in society? Multiple details made the Jews the perfect medium for paralleling the futuristic portion of Piercy's tale. Did I mention she loved cats in her childhood? Or that she had three husbands?
Aside from how much more understandable her motives are when you look into her personal history, we looked at some interesting arguments in class, including, "Two guys a girl and a pizza place, except the pizza place is one of the charactres." (I'm not sure who to credit with that idea).
We never really came to a resolution on whether you have to be able to physically inflict yourself on your environment in order to be granted personhood. Personally, I don't feel the physical aspect has anything to do with personhood, and we were much closer to an answer with Jack's idea of being able to impose your choices on the world. Both Yod and Joseph certainly "imposed" themselves on the world, but beyond a certain point Joseph couldn't make his own choices, and Yod was certainly closer because he not only was capable of affecting the world physically, but of affecting the lives, emotions, and choices of those around him as well. He fits into the human structure and uses human terms to impose himself on the human world. If I had been on the council, after exhausting my allotted 3 minutes of oratory, I would have voted to give Yod personhood. :)
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
I'm Extremely Uncomfortable
The title of this post pretty much sums up my feelings on He, She and It. As cool as the cyborg business was (I'm sure you're all excited about reopening the debate we had about Mike), suffice it to say that I was not prepared for this exploration of female psychology and sexuality. Most of the chapters left me emotionally drained, while others simply filled me with disgust or dismay. Don't get me wrong; I think this is a very fascinating, well-written novel. As I read it, however, I realized that the only chapters I was enjoying were the ones Malkah told to Yod about the Maharal and Joseph.
After thinking about why that might be, I came to an unusual conclusion. The biggest difference between the Maharal's story and the main plot is the former's focus on male protagonists. These anecdotes are the only sequences in the book in which the story is told from a male perspective (even if it's being told by a sympathetic Malkah). Somehow I found myself able to relate much better to these characters than to any of the women in the book.
Then again, perhaps that has something to do with the strong dislike I felt for Shira, who seemed to have nothing but her own narrow interest in mind throughout the book. Malkah was a bit better, but Shira was the driving narrative voice, so her actions and attitudes spilled over into Malkah's chapters, even if Malkah disapproved of them.
I've also noticed that this book seems to treat marriage as though it's toxic, suffocating to a woman's intellect at best. Marriage was only mentioned in terms of failure; I defy you to demonstrate an instance of happy marriage in this book that does not end in the traumatizing death of one of the spouses (usually the husband, in what I fear may be a form of wish fulfillment for the author).
The more I think about the author's view towards men, the suspicious I get. Take Nili's hidden society, for instance. They have reached that long-sought dream of some women, an Amazonian society where men are totally unnecessary in the reproductive process (not as far off as you might think!). That society is described in the glowingest of terms, and it seems freedom from men has given them the time and energy to create technological marvels, even without the collected technical know-how of the rest of humanity (via the Net).
As one more example of the author's complete hatred of men, observe the main antagonist, Y-S, and how many times it is stated that Y-S is male dominated.
So Piercy is laying it on pretty thick. Men can be summarized, in her worldview, as violent and unnecessary. Women can be forgiven for following their instincts, even those that lead to destruction, since female instincts are ultimately nurturing. Even the creative impulses of men, however, are rooted in their desires to destroy, and that is all that will come of their work. How depressing! Piercy has taught me to either despise my gender or distrust her book.
Let's talk about Yod, then. In my comment on Kaitlin's post, I raised the question of whether Yod would consider himself superior to us. From our perspective, it seems like a simple comparison: Yod is faster, stronger, easily repaired and great in the sack. His only disadvantage is a lack of experience, but that will be corrected in time. Cyborgs, then, must be the next stage, or at least something like them (suggested by the augmentations sported by Nili and her people). However, Yod spends the whole book attempting to become more human. He is programmed to reprogram himself, and in doing so he makes himself more than the weapon he was created to be. Yet the weapon at his core remains; despite all the influence of Malkah, Yod viewed Avram as his creator, and in this particular set of internal consistencies, that means destruction.
The qualities that make Yod such an ideal tool of destruction (his strength, skill in the Net, tactical ability and built-in ordnance), except perhaps for the explosive element, are all things we normal humans are envious of. However, they separated Yod from humanity, condemning him to a brief and violent life. I am positive that he would have traded his enhanced capacities for real flesh and blood, and the assurance that he feels what others feel, in a heartbeat. We may worry at times that our futures are set in stone, and our actions are already written on the wheel of fate, but none of us have to face that fact in our lifetimes like Yod did. Uncertainty about the future is not such a terrible thing, and a trait I'm sure Yod would value higher than any of his cyborg attributes. Like Joseph, his creation was a work of genius that resulted in something less capable, in all respects other than physical strength, than any real human.
Finally, I'd like to point out the interesting combination of Mother-Maiden-Crone in Malkah, Riva, and Shira. However, I'd place Shira in the Mother role, with Riva as the Maiden. Ridiculous, I know! But an afterthought. Bear with me.
After thinking about why that might be, I came to an unusual conclusion. The biggest difference between the Maharal's story and the main plot is the former's focus on male protagonists. These anecdotes are the only sequences in the book in which the story is told from a male perspective (even if it's being told by a sympathetic Malkah). Somehow I found myself able to relate much better to these characters than to any of the women in the book.
Then again, perhaps that has something to do with the strong dislike I felt for Shira, who seemed to have nothing but her own narrow interest in mind throughout the book. Malkah was a bit better, but Shira was the driving narrative voice, so her actions and attitudes spilled over into Malkah's chapters, even if Malkah disapproved of them.
I've also noticed that this book seems to treat marriage as though it's toxic, suffocating to a woman's intellect at best. Marriage was only mentioned in terms of failure; I defy you to demonstrate an instance of happy marriage in this book that does not end in the traumatizing death of one of the spouses (usually the husband, in what I fear may be a form of wish fulfillment for the author).
The more I think about the author's view towards men, the suspicious I get. Take Nili's hidden society, for instance. They have reached that long-sought dream of some women, an Amazonian society where men are totally unnecessary in the reproductive process (not as far off as you might think!). That society is described in the glowingest of terms, and it seems freedom from men has given them the time and energy to create technological marvels, even without the collected technical know-how of the rest of humanity (via the Net).
As one more example of the author's complete hatred of men, observe the main antagonist, Y-S, and how many times it is stated that Y-S is male dominated.
So Piercy is laying it on pretty thick. Men can be summarized, in her worldview, as violent and unnecessary. Women can be forgiven for following their instincts, even those that lead to destruction, since female instincts are ultimately nurturing. Even the creative impulses of men, however, are rooted in their desires to destroy, and that is all that will come of their work. How depressing! Piercy has taught me to either despise my gender or distrust her book.
Let's talk about Yod, then. In my comment on Kaitlin's post, I raised the question of whether Yod would consider himself superior to us. From our perspective, it seems like a simple comparison: Yod is faster, stronger, easily repaired and great in the sack. His only disadvantage is a lack of experience, but that will be corrected in time. Cyborgs, then, must be the next stage, or at least something like them (suggested by the augmentations sported by Nili and her people). However, Yod spends the whole book attempting to become more human. He is programmed to reprogram himself, and in doing so he makes himself more than the weapon he was created to be. Yet the weapon at his core remains; despite all the influence of Malkah, Yod viewed Avram as his creator, and in this particular set of internal consistencies, that means destruction.
The qualities that make Yod such an ideal tool of destruction (his strength, skill in the Net, tactical ability and built-in ordnance), except perhaps for the explosive element, are all things we normal humans are envious of. However, they separated Yod from humanity, condemning him to a brief and violent life. I am positive that he would have traded his enhanced capacities for real flesh and blood, and the assurance that he feels what others feel, in a heartbeat. We may worry at times that our futures are set in stone, and our actions are already written on the wheel of fate, but none of us have to face that fact in our lifetimes like Yod did. Uncertainty about the future is not such a terrible thing, and a trait I'm sure Yod would value higher than any of his cyborg attributes. Like Joseph, his creation was a work of genius that resulted in something less capable, in all respects other than physical strength, than any real human.
Finally, I'd like to point out the interesting combination of Mother-Maiden-Crone in Malkah, Riva, and Shira. However, I'd place Shira in the Mother role, with Riva as the Maiden. Ridiculous, I know! But an afterthought. Bear with me.
First and Foremost
Before even delving into the social science or science fiction of He, She, and It, I'd first just like to say that I think that it is a great novel. For me, at least, it was an absolute page-turner that I never wanted to put down. Considering there's not a lot of "action" (read:explosions) in the book, that's an absolute testament to Piercy's literary abilities.
Why? Well, it's a pretty interesting post-apocalypse. Gigantic corporations, megalopolises (megalopoli? megalopola?), free cities - fun stuff. Was anyone else thinking of Weyland-Yutani whenever they mentioned Y-S? The world that Piercy paints for us is quite engrossing - she reveals a lot of detail to us without ever simply going off on a historical lecture. Nothing in the plot ever seems like a deus ex machina - the plot actions all seem reasonable. This is really the result of well-defined character psychologies. I felt that all of the main characters were at least understandable and mostly relatable.
That all being said, I suppose I should touch on Yod, but I don't find that there's much to say. He's a tragic figure, a person beholden to his creator and doomed never to quite fit in. His only possible fate in his world was death. There was never a way that he could have fit into his society as an equal. Adding to the tragedy is the fact that the discrimination against him is completely arbitrary - he is the ideal end to all of the tinkering that people are already doing to their bodies. Is the the one-drop theory - would one drop of human blood have done it for him? Exactly where is that line? The novel's society seems like it will only ever accept modified humans, and in the end, it doesn't seem like it will be a problem for a long time. I see Avram as Dr. Soong, Data's creator from ST:TNG - he was way ahead of his time, to the point where humans won't be able to match or surpass his work for generations. So... problem solved, I guess.
As always, my pre-class post is rather amorphous; I suppose it's my brain trying to put everything in order. We'll see tomorrow how this all fits together with the course itself. It's no surprise, though, that this week's movie is Blade Runner, and thankfully, we'll be watching it in its un-studio-ified form that actually lets Ridley Scott deliver his message. Robots... people... lines... Philip K. Dick's obsession with eyes...
Why? Well, it's a pretty interesting post-apocalypse. Gigantic corporations, megalopolises (megalopoli? megalopola?), free cities - fun stuff. Was anyone else thinking of Weyland-Yutani whenever they mentioned Y-S? The world that Piercy paints for us is quite engrossing - she reveals a lot of detail to us without ever simply going off on a historical lecture. Nothing in the plot ever seems like a deus ex machina - the plot actions all seem reasonable. This is really the result of well-defined character psychologies. I felt that all of the main characters were at least understandable and mostly relatable.
That all being said, I suppose I should touch on Yod, but I don't find that there's much to say. He's a tragic figure, a person beholden to his creator and doomed never to quite fit in. His only possible fate in his world was death. There was never a way that he could have fit into his society as an equal. Adding to the tragedy is the fact that the discrimination against him is completely arbitrary - he is the ideal end to all of the tinkering that people are already doing to their bodies. Is the the one-drop theory - would one drop of human blood have done it for him? Exactly where is that line? The novel's society seems like it will only ever accept modified humans, and in the end, it doesn't seem like it will be a problem for a long time. I see Avram as Dr. Soong, Data's creator from ST:TNG - he was way ahead of his time, to the point where humans won't be able to match or surpass his work for generations. So... problem solved, I guess.
As always, my pre-class post is rather amorphous; I suppose it's my brain trying to put everything in order. We'll see tomorrow how this all fits together with the course itself. It's no surprise, though, that this week's movie is Blade Runner, and thankfully, we'll be watching it in its un-studio-ified form that actually lets Ridley Scott deliver his message. Robots... people... lines... Philip K. Dick's obsession with eyes...
Monday, February 25, 2008
The roles of He, She, and It
Marge Piercy tackles a variety of subjects in He, She, and It, ranging from the constant sexual and violent undertones to the occasional barbs about how humans laid waste to their environment. The most prominent theme, and that for this week's discussion, was her inquiry into what is human. Using her parallel stories- the main storyline of the cyborg Yod created to protect the free town of Tikva and the historically told tale of the golem Joseph created to protect a Jewish ghetto- Piercy is able to confront multiple issues of what defines a human.
Shira Shipman integrates Yod into her family structure and wholly supports him as being just as human as her, but in a different way. Her reflections of Yod being programmed are always quickly followed by the logic that in a sense, humans too are programmed. This seems to be Piercy's primary justification for Yod being given the same privileges as the other citizens of the town and humans as a whole- that just as Yod is programmed to want to achieve certain goals, humans are programmed with goals such as those motherhood induce upon Shira. The golem Joseph has his own wants (his desire for Chava) but he is too obedient a creature to push the boundaries, or perhaps he is uncreated before he has a chance to. Are humans merely the biological equivalent of computers, programmed with our goals in our genes? It's certainly possible.
What I found most interesting were Piercy's gender roles. Truly violent tendencies are only attributed to male charactres- namely Avram, Joseph, Yod, and all of Yod's predecessors- while only female relationships are explored in depth. There are multiple female relationships explored, merely family as well as lesbian relationships and the entire colony of females living in The Black Zone. The clearest form of this opinion lies in the simple fact that Avram failed nine time with his cyborg projects because they were too violent and not personable enough. It was not until Malkah inflicted her female influence upon Yod's programming that the project was successful. Shira herself often speaks appreciatively of how feminine Yod's tendencies and goals were in their relationship.
Perhaps it is through this isolation of charactre traits- violence to men and relationships to women- that Piercy causes us to truly examine them and how all of these traits mesh to form humans.
I would like to note that Yod's one main un-human characteristic (technical specifications aside) is his complete lack of a need to further his species. Rather, he "feels" the complete opposite goal of needing to ensure his race does NOT continue. I found this intriguing.
Friday, February 22, 2008
tetsuo, kaneda, ad infinitum
I felt I really owed it to you all to share with you this:
Live-Action Akira Movie Confirmed for 2009
Live-Action Akira Movie Confirmed for 2009
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Step One
How to be a messianic figure in 3 easy steps:
1. Don't die.
2. Don't profess to be any sort of messiah.
3. Fulfill prophecies.
Or so seemed to be the general sort of conclusionary-ish idea we reached. I think essentially that under some definitions Paul could be a messiah, but not under others. Paul is the messiah equivalent of the tomato. A mere religious/political leader by some definitions, a prophesized super human being by others. It all depends on how you look at it. Considering we were looking at it according to a historically and partially religiously based perspective, I think we can conclude that by those standards Paul was a messiah of one breed or another.
The fact that the word play used by Weber crosses the language barrier delighted me. Those are rare occasions, and fortunately this allowed us non-German speaking students to appreciate the intelligence Weber displayed in how he approached his assignment.
As for our note-taking experiment in student labour...no, I jest. As I already stated in class, I take those sort of notes for every class, and I would personally enjoy seeing the diverse interpretations each person pulled from our discussions.
1. Don't die.
2. Don't profess to be any sort of messiah.
3. Fulfill prophecies.
Or so seemed to be the general sort of conclusionary-ish idea we reached. I think essentially that under some definitions Paul could be a messiah, but not under others. Paul is the messiah equivalent of the tomato. A mere religious/political leader by some definitions, a prophesized super human being by others. It all depends on how you look at it. Considering we were looking at it according to a historically and partially religiously based perspective, I think we can conclude that by those standards Paul was a messiah of one breed or another.
The fact that the word play used by Weber crosses the language barrier delighted me. Those are rare occasions, and fortunately this allowed us non-German speaking students to appreciate the intelligence Weber displayed in how he approached his assignment.
As for our note-taking experiment in student labour...no, I jest. As I already stated in class, I take those sort of notes for every class, and I would personally enjoy seeing the diverse interpretations each person pulled from our discussions.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The Answer?
I don't know if anyone else enjoyed that class as much as I did, but considering the number of people who have already given reflective posts, I'd say that it at least interested people.
Okay, Dune. Messiah... Only problem is, we're thinking of this all wrong, and so we're sort of half-right on the whole thing. As I said in class, I have a very limited knowledge of Islamic Second Coming myth, so I really can't speak as an authority on this. However, what I have learned is that the Mahdi (literally: "The Guided One") is not the messiah. He is referred to a Hadrat, literally "Great Presence."
As with any religious figure, not all Muslims agree on the nature or even existence of the Mahdi. I think, though, that I've found a pretty mainstream belief and summarized it here. First, the Islamic belief is that Jesus was not killed, but ascended to heaven alive and became a Muslim. My understanding of what I've read is that the Mahdi will begin a series of wars all over earth to fight the False Messiah, "al-Masīh ad-Dajjāl." In the midst of this, Jesus, the messiah, will come back down to Earth to slay the Anti-Christ. The Jews and Christians will convert to Islam and Jesus will reign over a peaceful, utopian Earth for 40 years. He will then die and be buried beside Muhammad.
So I get out of this that the Mahdi is, indeed, just a guided "seed" to cause the actual messiah's return to Earth. Also, messiahs can die; they just have to do it according to prophesy. I don't know if this is the definitive answer, but I'm almost certain that Herbert was aware of all this when he was writing Dune.
Prof. PTJ touched upon a great point, one that a friend of mine mentioned to me when I first read Dune about ten years ago. As a Judeo-Christian-influenced society, we're expecting a Jesus story when we start talking about religious figures who lead their people out of oppression and to the promised land. Herbert was aware of this expectation and so he wrote an Islamic-based story. This is a brilliant move - it makes the story seem a little exotic, but also familiar. Sociologists have shown that people tend to like things that are slightly exotic, but also familiar.
In other news, perhaps I was a bit harsh on Weber. Our discussion pulled out the good points from his lecture. I still think that the bloody thing was too damn long, though. In my initial post, and once in class, I noted what I perceived to be a realpolitik bent to Weber's argument. Perhaps I should have left it as what I first called it in my blog post, "For the Love of God, Please, and I Can't Emphasize This Enough, Understand the Difference Between Theory and Practice." The term realpolitik is too Machiavellian for what I actually took Weber to mean; it just happens to be more concise than "For the Love of God, Please, and I Can't Emphasize This Enough, Understand the Difference Between Theory and Practice."
Finally, a reflection on the class itself. As I said earlier, I really enjoyed our session, especially the first part. I thought that we had a great conversation going. As Prof. PTJ said, the Pro/Con list itself wasn't the point, nor was finding an answer, really. It was a (highly effective, in my opinion) tool to get us talking about what a messiah actually is, how the book addresses it, and, to bring it back to social science, how societies believe in messiahs. Jonestown, for example. And then, in The Fifth Element, we'll see a savior who no one even knows we need.
I'm skeptical about the court reporter concept we're going to be experimenting with. My personal concern is that I won't be able to do it very well - the only classes I've ever taken notes in are math classes. My mind works more like our discussion did - stream of consciousness style and filled with random pop culture references. My overall concern is that whoever is reporting will be taken out of the discussion. That's one of the reasons why I half-jokingly suggested a transcription. Since I don't do it, I forgot that people follow some sociological variant of quantum theory and act differently when they're monitored. Then again, our discussions center more on the Heisenberg Principle: the more you know about the conversation, the less sure you are about where it's going, and vice-versa.
This is the power of the course, I think. We're actually going somewhere, instead of most classes where you go along a set path to find an answer that people already know, then put a bow on it and take a regurgitation test. Almost any time a class discussion ends in an answer, I'm disappointed. Yesterday's class, by contrast, left me invigorated enough to write an absurdly long reflection. I didn't write it yesterday because I didn't want it to be too long, in fact.
As a rule, I hate postmodernism. I can't stand postmodern architecture or philosophy - I see it exactly as Nietzsche would, I think - it's the road that brings us to the Last Man. Overall, postmodernism is nihilistic and worse, a conversation killer. Not every argument should end with "Well, that's just your opinion," like much postmodernist thought dictates. There are answers to things. Not all things, but some. There are correct and incorrect value judgments; they are not all solely matters of opinion. I'd go so far as to say that postmodernism is causing the increasing rates of depression among all age groups, especially the younger ones.
This class, though, is a perfect example of the good parts of postmodernism. We mentioned going off on tangents in class, to which Prof. PTJ (and maybe Dirk Gently) responded that nothing is actually a tangent. Our class is a great example of that omnipresent characteristic of postmodern art: pastiche. It's what makes (some of) us like Family Guy, its constant references that contain both respect and irreverence. In much of postmodern art, it is the fusion of "high" and "low" culture - some of that architecture I hate is a perfect example. One architect recently featured in the New York Times is building a housing development based on slums, even - merger of "high" and "low," considering how expensive these places will be. Pre-ripped jeans? I see it as an extension of the same concept. I always imagine some starving child in China ripping every pair of jeans that comes past him, crying, "But why? Why do the Americans want holes in their jeans? They let the cold in! Oh, so cold. So... so cold."
But I digress (anyone get the wheat reference from my substantive post yet?). Here we have a great merger of "high" and "low." Science fiction, though it has come a long way from pulp magazines, is still widely considered as "low culture." Social science is "high culture." We merge the two and find that sci-fi can tell us more about social science than can social scientists. So it's only natural that we end up talking about the Comfy Chair or any number of pieces of pop culture. They all contain some understanding of the problem we're looking at. Even the Family Guy cutaways.
Okay, Dune. Messiah... Only problem is, we're thinking of this all wrong, and so we're sort of half-right on the whole thing. As I said in class, I have a very limited knowledge of Islamic Second Coming myth, so I really can't speak as an authority on this. However, what I have learned is that the Mahdi (literally: "The Guided One") is not the messiah. He is referred to a Hadrat, literally "Great Presence."
As with any religious figure, not all Muslims agree on the nature or even existence of the Mahdi. I think, though, that I've found a pretty mainstream belief and summarized it here. First, the Islamic belief is that Jesus was not killed, but ascended to heaven alive and became a Muslim. My understanding of what I've read is that the Mahdi will begin a series of wars all over earth to fight the False Messiah, "al-Masīh ad-Dajjāl." In the midst of this, Jesus, the messiah, will come back down to Earth to slay the Anti-Christ. The Jews and Christians will convert to Islam and Jesus will reign over a peaceful, utopian Earth for 40 years. He will then die and be buried beside Muhammad.
So I get out of this that the Mahdi is, indeed, just a guided "seed" to cause the actual messiah's return to Earth. Also, messiahs can die; they just have to do it according to prophesy. I don't know if this is the definitive answer, but I'm almost certain that Herbert was aware of all this when he was writing Dune.
Prof. PTJ touched upon a great point, one that a friend of mine mentioned to me when I first read Dune about ten years ago. As a Judeo-Christian-influenced society, we're expecting a Jesus story when we start talking about religious figures who lead their people out of oppression and to the promised land. Herbert was aware of this expectation and so he wrote an Islamic-based story. This is a brilliant move - it makes the story seem a little exotic, but also familiar. Sociologists have shown that people tend to like things that are slightly exotic, but also familiar.
In other news, perhaps I was a bit harsh on Weber. Our discussion pulled out the good points from his lecture. I still think that the bloody thing was too damn long, though. In my initial post, and once in class, I noted what I perceived to be a realpolitik bent to Weber's argument. Perhaps I should have left it as what I first called it in my blog post, "For the Love of God, Please, and I Can't Emphasize This Enough, Understand the Difference Between Theory and Practice." The term realpolitik is too Machiavellian for what I actually took Weber to mean; it just happens to be more concise than "For the Love of God, Please, and I Can't Emphasize This Enough, Understand the Difference Between Theory and Practice."
Finally, a reflection on the class itself. As I said earlier, I really enjoyed our session, especially the first part. I thought that we had a great conversation going. As Prof. PTJ said, the Pro/Con list itself wasn't the point, nor was finding an answer, really. It was a (highly effective, in my opinion) tool to get us talking about what a messiah actually is, how the book addresses it, and, to bring it back to social science, how societies believe in messiahs. Jonestown, for example. And then, in The Fifth Element, we'll see a savior who no one even knows we need.
I'm skeptical about the court reporter concept we're going to be experimenting with. My personal concern is that I won't be able to do it very well - the only classes I've ever taken notes in are math classes. My mind works more like our discussion did - stream of consciousness style and filled with random pop culture references. My overall concern is that whoever is reporting will be taken out of the discussion. That's one of the reasons why I half-jokingly suggested a transcription. Since I don't do it, I forgot that people follow some sociological variant of quantum theory and act differently when they're monitored. Then again, our discussions center more on the Heisenberg Principle: the more you know about the conversation, the less sure you are about where it's going, and vice-versa.
This is the power of the course, I think. We're actually going somewhere, instead of most classes where you go along a set path to find an answer that people already know, then put a bow on it and take a regurgitation test. Almost any time a class discussion ends in an answer, I'm disappointed. Yesterday's class, by contrast, left me invigorated enough to write an absurdly long reflection. I didn't write it yesterday because I didn't want it to be too long, in fact.
As a rule, I hate postmodernism. I can't stand postmodern architecture or philosophy - I see it exactly as Nietzsche would, I think - it's the road that brings us to the Last Man. Overall, postmodernism is nihilistic and worse, a conversation killer. Not every argument should end with "Well, that's just your opinion," like much postmodernist thought dictates. There are answers to things. Not all things, but some. There are correct and incorrect value judgments; they are not all solely matters of opinion. I'd go so far as to say that postmodernism is causing the increasing rates of depression among all age groups, especially the younger ones.
This class, though, is a perfect example of the good parts of postmodernism. We mentioned going off on tangents in class, to which Prof. PTJ (and maybe Dirk Gently) responded that nothing is actually a tangent. Our class is a great example of that omnipresent characteristic of postmodern art: pastiche. It's what makes (some of) us like Family Guy, its constant references that contain both respect and irreverence. In much of postmodern art, it is the fusion of "high" and "low" culture - some of that architecture I hate is a perfect example. One architect recently featured in the New York Times is building a housing development based on slums, even - merger of "high" and "low," considering how expensive these places will be. Pre-ripped jeans? I see it as an extension of the same concept. I always imagine some starving child in China ripping every pair of jeans that comes past him, crying, "But why? Why do the Americans want holes in their jeans? They let the cold in! Oh, so cold. So... so cold."
But I digress (anyone get the wheat reference from my substantive post yet?). Here we have a great merger of "high" and "low." Science fiction, though it has come a long way from pulp magazines, is still widely considered as "low culture." Social science is "high culture." We merge the two and find that sci-fi can tell us more about social science than can social scientists. So it's only natural that we end up talking about the Comfy Chair or any number of pieces of pop culture. They all contain some understanding of the problem we're looking at. Even the Family Guy cutaways.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Es gibt ein Weber, er ist lustig! Lauf, Weber, lauf.
I find it odd that the part of Weber's talk which has become most well-known, his formulation of the state as possessor of a monopoly on the means of violence, is hardly the focus of his attention in this piece. Last semester, I took a class that was basically founded on that definition; it's jarring to see it in its original, less critical context.
Weber's brew is heady, and it delivers a metaphysical shock to the system of Western ethics. His knowledge of "Occidental" belief systems is impressive, and he applies it with gusto to any question that might arise. While this all makes for very interesting reading, it begs the question of whether Weber really felt that change was attainable. He saw in Germany a basically stagnant system, one where officials focused on the importance of experience over ability and plotted to prevent younger men from entering the political sphere and usurping some of their power. If this is so, what was his purpose in giving this talk?
More importantly, what's this all got to do with Dune? Weber's model of the feudal system doesn't carry over well into the Imperium, since vassals to the Emperor clearly feel little in the way of loyalty. Moreover, the O.C. Bible renders Weber's comments on ethics seemingly obsolete, as it erases all those commandments which lead inexorably to equivocation and replaces them with one that is at once all-encompassing and, conveniently, completely removed from external judgment.
However, I see no problem with desert power as a metaphor for monopoly on the means of violence. In fact, much like I imagine Weber loved the sound of his own voice, I get a thrill when I say desert power. It sounds sleek and dangerous. Air power, land power, whatever! We can win Arrakis through a monopoly on the means of desert violence, and sandworms.
Sorry if this degraded in seriousness a bit. I can't help but find Weber to be a little too self-congratulatory in his rhetoric. The reference to desert power stands, though. Paul could have stayed in the desert with the Fremen planting stuff, but he felt it critical to his leadership that he challenge the Emperor and become the true master of Arrakis.
So then, a fair question: what kind of politico is Paul? Is he one of the ones who lives in politics, or just somebody who dips his hand in when he finds it convenient? What is the true form of his Weltanschauung? He grounds his Herrschaft in twin, opposing themes of destiny and ancestral right (the future versus the past!) It's a certainty that ancestral right is a strong component of Dune, as ninety generations implies a fair amount of status attached to your birth. Yet in going beyond other men, he loses the ability to care for them that makes him such an effective leader.
I'm ashamed of myself, but some weeks there are no computer programs, poems, or brilliant tie-ins to the election. There's just pages and pages of raw political theory to sift through, and not a spaceship or sentient machine in sight. I guess Weber wasn't all that visionary.
Weber's brew is heady, and it delivers a metaphysical shock to the system of Western ethics. His knowledge of "Occidental" belief systems is impressive, and he applies it with gusto to any question that might arise. While this all makes for very interesting reading, it begs the question of whether Weber really felt that change was attainable. He saw in Germany a basically stagnant system, one where officials focused on the importance of experience over ability and plotted to prevent younger men from entering the political sphere and usurping some of their power. If this is so, what was his purpose in giving this talk?
More importantly, what's this all got to do with Dune? Weber's model of the feudal system doesn't carry over well into the Imperium, since vassals to the Emperor clearly feel little in the way of loyalty. Moreover, the O.C. Bible renders Weber's comments on ethics seemingly obsolete, as it erases all those commandments which lead inexorably to equivocation and replaces them with one that is at once all-encompassing and, conveniently, completely removed from external judgment.
However, I see no problem with desert power as a metaphor for monopoly on the means of violence. In fact, much like I imagine Weber loved the sound of his own voice, I get a thrill when I say desert power. It sounds sleek and dangerous. Air power, land power, whatever! We can win Arrakis through a monopoly on the means of desert violence, and sandworms.
Sorry if this degraded in seriousness a bit. I can't help but find Weber to be a little too self-congratulatory in his rhetoric. The reference to desert power stands, though. Paul could have stayed in the desert with the Fremen planting stuff, but he felt it critical to his leadership that he challenge the Emperor and become the true master of Arrakis.
So then, a fair question: what kind of politico is Paul? Is he one of the ones who lives in politics, or just somebody who dips his hand in when he finds it convenient? What is the true form of his Weltanschauung? He grounds his Herrschaft in twin, opposing themes of destiny and ancestral right (the future versus the past!) It's a certainty that ancestral right is a strong component of Dune, as ninety generations implies a fair amount of status attached to your birth. Yet in going beyond other men, he loses the ability to care for them that makes him such an effective leader.
I'm ashamed of myself, but some weeks there are no computer programs, poems, or brilliant tie-ins to the election. There's just pages and pages of raw political theory to sift through, and not a spaceship or sentient machine in sight. I guess Weber wasn't all that visionary.
Monday, February 18, 2008
The first thing we do, ...
... let's kill all the lawyers. It is funny that Weber ends with a Shakespeare sonnet because one of my first thoughts while reading this was the famous Henry VI quote.
I see "Politics as a Vocation" as an over-long lecture in three acts: "Kill All the Lawyers," "Cult of Personality," and "For the Love of God, Please, and I Can't Emphasize This Enough, Understand the Difference Between Theory and Practice." Frankly, I didn't care for the whole thing.
I found the first act to be over-long and essentially "A Political Brief History of Time" without any of the wit that would be implied by my stealing Stephen Hawking's title. Yes, yes, monopoly of force, Roman law, et cetera. I'm sure this was all quite groundbreaking in 1919, but I still wouldn't have wanted to sit through the bloody thing.
The "Cult of Personality" section or, to put it differently, "What Demagogues and Insiders Do" was lacking. It does not speak at all to the psychology of why governments take these forms. Since I can most easily critique his portrayal of the U.S. political system, I'd say that he didn't explain his point about Calhoun's generation enough and indeed completely neglected to mention that this cyclical political action had already happened once before and once after Calhoun's generation of compromisers died off. In truth, I found this lack of depth in this section to taint my view of the whole lecture, leaving a bad taste in my mouth and a bit of malice in my words.
Because of this, by the time I got to Act 3, the lecture was already doomed to a poor review. Yep, a politician should be realistic, not idealistic. Do what's going to help, not what some made-up principle tells you to. Because that is, in itself, its own principle. I get it, Max; this is what you wanted to say the whole time. Couldn't Act 3 have just been the entire lecture? It seems to contain your actual points. Please?
So I wasn't too happy with the lecture. That's not to say it doesn't have good points, but thanks in part to the pervasiveness of Weber's work, I've already heard them. Much clearer. I didn't even like the "live with/live for" section - it's a word play that should be self-evident. And as he points out, none of the pairs of definitions he gives any number of times during the lecture are mutually exclusive. Sorry, Max. Maybe it worked better in German.
I see "Politics as a Vocation" as an over-long lecture in three acts: "Kill All the Lawyers," "Cult of Personality," and "For the Love of God, Please, and I Can't Emphasize This Enough, Understand the Difference Between Theory and Practice." Frankly, I didn't care for the whole thing.
I found the first act to be over-long and essentially "A Political Brief History of Time" without any of the wit that would be implied by my stealing Stephen Hawking's title. Yes, yes, monopoly of force, Roman law, et cetera. I'm sure this was all quite groundbreaking in 1919, but I still wouldn't have wanted to sit through the bloody thing.
The "Cult of Personality" section or, to put it differently, "What Demagogues and Insiders Do" was lacking. It does not speak at all to the psychology of why governments take these forms. Since I can most easily critique his portrayal of the U.S. political system, I'd say that he didn't explain his point about Calhoun's generation enough and indeed completely neglected to mention that this cyclical political action had already happened once before and once after Calhoun's generation of compromisers died off. In truth, I found this lack of depth in this section to taint my view of the whole lecture, leaving a bad taste in my mouth and a bit of malice in my words.
Because of this, by the time I got to Act 3, the lecture was already doomed to a poor review. Yep, a politician should be realistic, not idealistic. Do what's going to help, not what some made-up principle tells you to. Because that is, in itself, its own principle. I get it, Max; this is what you wanted to say the whole time. Couldn't Act 3 have just been the entire lecture? It seems to contain your actual points. Please?
So I wasn't too happy with the lecture. That's not to say it doesn't have good points, but thanks in part to the pervasiveness of Weber's work, I've already heard them. Much clearer. I didn't even like the "live with/live for" section - it's a word play that should be self-evident. And as he points out, none of the pairs of definitions he gives any number of times during the lecture are mutually exclusive. Sorry, Max. Maybe it worked better in German.
Passion for Politics
As I began reading this, upon Max Weber's classification of politicians being in involved either for or from politics, I couldn't help but begin trying to classify each presidential candidate as living either "for" politics or "from" politics. I laughed.
I got a little sidetracked in this lecture during the section about journalism, which was by far my favourite. Weber seems to put so much faith in journalists' abilities and natural feel for politics, and it almost seems that he laments that their profession doesn't allow for them to aspire to positions of political power because of time allowances. Given that this was published in 1919, I can only imagine what Weber would think of today's fast-paced journalism, with online publications and more immediate deadlines than considered possible in early 20th century Germany. He does hit on the central theme of journalists even today being seen as a pestilent layer of society, but still a necessary instrument in swaying the public opinion to the politicians' ideas. Looking at today's collection of journalists, I can't imagine wanting nearly any of them into positions of political power, though there are always exceptions to be made.
Overall Weber seemed to have an interesting point, but I found his flow of ideas not to be consistent. For example, he went from discussing the American "boss" machine to an organized party structure- a very abrupt transition sans explanation for how one evolved or led to the other. A few other points like this within his lecture undermined some of his arguments, in my opinion.
Maybe it's the cynical American in me that couldn't even begin to believe in the self-sacrificing, individual who attains the perfect balance of passion, responsibility, and sense of proportion that Weber delegates to this hero figure that emerges through years of the evolution of politics as a true politician.
I got a little sidetracked in this lecture during the section about journalism, which was by far my favourite. Weber seems to put so much faith in journalists' abilities and natural feel for politics, and it almost seems that he laments that their profession doesn't allow for them to aspire to positions of political power because of time allowances. Given that this was published in 1919, I can only imagine what Weber would think of today's fast-paced journalism, with online publications and more immediate deadlines than considered possible in early 20th century Germany. He does hit on the central theme of journalists even today being seen as a pestilent layer of society, but still a necessary instrument in swaying the public opinion to the politicians' ideas. Looking at today's collection of journalists, I can't imagine wanting nearly any of them into positions of political power, though there are always exceptions to be made.
Overall Weber seemed to have an interesting point, but I found his flow of ideas not to be consistent. For example, he went from discussing the American "boss" machine to an organized party structure- a very abrupt transition sans explanation for how one evolved or led to the other. A few other points like this within his lecture undermined some of his arguments, in my opinion.
Maybe it's the cynical American in me that couldn't even begin to believe in the self-sacrificing, individual who attains the perfect balance of passion, responsibility, and sense of proportion that Weber delegates to this hero figure that emerges through years of the evolution of politics as a true politician.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
"Free Will," or "Fire at Will"
A thought occurred to me as I was reading over others' blog posts. A good number of them concerned whether or not anyone in Dune had free will because Paul could see into the future. This got me thinking back to The Time Machine - it's also set in one future, so did anyone in the intervening millions of years have free will? Are we destined to be, you know, crabs? I find it at least interesting, if nothing more, that we had no discussion of free will when we first talked about time travel. After all, Paul's mind is just time-travelling - same idea.
Or let's go over to First Contact - the Borg changed the past, which changed the future, and then the Enterprise fixed it... fate? Had to be? Or do our actions dictate our future? Well, it's easier to think of it in the past.
Is it that the Time Traveller saw what would happen without intervention on his part? What if he had come back and somehow overthrown society and changed everything - would we still end up as crabs on a beach? Creepy crabs on a beach? Wheat. Fields of wheat. A tremendous amount of wheat. Soon we shall be covered by wheat. "Did you say wheat?" "Wheat." (Please tell me that someone got that reference.)
If Paul hadn't seen the future, would he have led the revolution? Ah, the old self-fulfilling prophesy. It all comes back to Oedipus, just as any talk of time travel ends up in a paradox. (Unless it's paradox-correcting - I'm assuming that more people will get that reference.)
Well, I don't have an answer, but if we are observing this as a "bible," without regard for the moment for whom it was written, then it makes perfect sense that it's ambiguous.
That third appendix, though. What do we make of that? Is there, in the Quantum Leap parlance, a GTF up there in the higher dimensions that has this all planned out and is actively manipulating events? Or is GTF merely an incredible equation that takes in every variable in the universe and can spew out the future with 100% certainty? Of course, it doesn't matter in a practical sense, since the illusion of free will is the important part.
But I was destined to write this, so I guess it doesn't matter much. Damn! Paradox again.
Or let's go over to First Contact - the Borg changed the past, which changed the future, and then the Enterprise fixed it... fate? Had to be? Or do our actions dictate our future? Well, it's easier to think of it in the past.
Is it that the Time Traveller saw what would happen without intervention on his part? What if he had come back and somehow overthrown society and changed everything - would we still end up as crabs on a beach? Creepy crabs on a beach? Wheat. Fields of wheat. A tremendous amount of wheat. Soon we shall be covered by wheat. "Did you say wheat?" "Wheat." (Please tell me that someone got that reference.)
If Paul hadn't seen the future, would he have led the revolution? Ah, the old self-fulfilling prophesy. It all comes back to Oedipus, just as any talk of time travel ends up in a paradox. (Unless it's paradox-correcting - I'm assuming that more people will get that reference.)
Well, I don't have an answer, but if we are observing this as a "bible," without regard for the moment for whom it was written, then it makes perfect sense that it's ambiguous.
That third appendix, though. What do we make of that? Is there, in the Quantum Leap parlance, a GTF up there in the higher dimensions that has this all planned out and is actively manipulating events? Or is GTF merely an incredible equation that takes in every variable in the universe and can spew out the future with 100% certainty? Of course, it doesn't matter in a practical sense, since the illusion of free will is the important part.
But I was destined to write this, so I guess it doesn't matter much. Damn! Paradox again.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Which Paul?
The entire cyclical aspect of Herbert's writing style was discussed at length and in my opinion was our most important clue to every other aspect of this book. As the reader's we are told nearly every aspect of the plot in advance, yet we continue to read and even enjoy this book through nearly five hundred pages. Any ordinary novel would be tossed aside early on if the author tried this, but in Dune the basic developments in the plot (that we of course know will happen long before they actually occur) are not the entire story. Reading the last page of the book before the rest wouldn't change how you read the book at all. Instead of the plot, an intricate web of the secret agendas of individuals and organizations must be slowly unfolded for us to see the twisted relationships and alliances that guide political, religious, and personal agendas. It was these relationships and agendas that I enjoyed discovering in class. Everyone seemed to have a different opinion.
For instance- personal preference seemed to dictate how people perceived Paul. Or Muad'dib. Or the Duke Paul Altreides. Or the Lisan al-Gaib. Or the Kwisatz Haderach. Which I think may have been intentional on Herbert's part. The central character in the story is multi-faceted, and everyone supported the Paul they liked or identified with most. We don't have one main character, but several rolled into one so that everyone can get what they want from him.
Herbert causes us to see Paul just as the Fremen, Bene Gesserit, and Alreides clan all seem to: getting a bit of what they want from Paul, though their purposes vary.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Minds, Prepare to be Blown
I sincerely hope that you're sitting down as you read this. If not, grab a seat and buckle up.
Picture this: a powerful woman, never treated by her man as society expects a man to treat a wife. She emerges from the shadow of his influence and finds herself struggling to control the ideological future of a people. She represents an established political organization, and hopes to return to a time of paradise and splendor. However, her peculiar femininity causes many to distrust her.
She competes for that ideological control with a young man known to the people as an outsider, who speaks in terms of destiny and claims to have a vision of the future. He seizes the imagination of the people by promising them a fabulous new future. Although she disapproves of his leveraging his popularity into political control, he gradually brings one group of followers after another around to his point of view. There are concerns because he grew up in a far-off place, but he easily integrates himself into their society.
Both of them have nearly identical goals, to throw off the yoke of domination laid on them for years by what they see as a harsh, authoritarian leader. This unpopular leader generally responds to threats either by denying that they exist or attempting to obliterate them entirely with a display of overwhelming force. Eventually he finds it necessary to relinquish direct control, and so props up one of his faction's most loyal supporters to square off against the new threats.
As to how the story ends, I'm not too sure. "What do you mean," you ask, "isn't this the plot of Dune?" I can see why you might think that, my friends. But this is actually the plot...of ELECTION 2008!!!
To tie things together, a selection from the glossary:
BARAKA - A living holy man of magical powers.
Frank Herbert planned this.
Picture this: a powerful woman, never treated by her man as society expects a man to treat a wife. She emerges from the shadow of his influence and finds herself struggling to control the ideological future of a people. She represents an established political organization, and hopes to return to a time of paradise and splendor. However, her peculiar femininity causes many to distrust her.
She competes for that ideological control with a young man known to the people as an outsider, who speaks in terms of destiny and claims to have a vision of the future. He seizes the imagination of the people by promising them a fabulous new future. Although she disapproves of his leveraging his popularity into political control, he gradually brings one group of followers after another around to his point of view. There are concerns because he grew up in a far-off place, but he easily integrates himself into their society.
Both of them have nearly identical goals, to throw off the yoke of domination laid on them for years by what they see as a harsh, authoritarian leader. This unpopular leader generally responds to threats either by denying that they exist or attempting to obliterate them entirely with a display of overwhelming force. Eventually he finds it necessary to relinquish direct control, and so props up one of his faction's most loyal supporters to square off against the new threats.
As to how the story ends, I'm not too sure. "What do you mean," you ask, "isn't this the plot of Dune?" I can see why you might think that, my friends. But this is actually the plot...of ELECTION 2008!!!
To tie things together, a selection from the glossary:
BARAKA - A living holy man of magical powers.
Frank Herbert planned this.
This Baliset is Out of Dune
Religion, religion, religion, religion, religion.
Like many of you, I had forgotten how truly excellent Dune is. Part and parcel to that forgetfulness was forgetting the strongest themes of the book, although its place(s) in our syllabus gave me enough of a clue. So, to get back on topic: religion, religion, religion, religion.
Religion receives an interesting treatment in this world. I was particularly fascinated by the chronicle of the creation of the Orange Catholic Bible in the appendix. Other sections of the appendix give clues to religion's place in the "Duniverse":
The Bene Gesserit, on the other hand, actively cultivate religion as a sort of insurance policy. Most of the religious observances of the Fremen have their roots in the Missionaria Protectiva. Their willingness to exploit the superstitions of relatively backward peoples, along with their millenia-old eugenics program, indicates a cold pragmatism poorly suited to faith. And yet, and yet, when things are at their worst, that Benest of Gesserit Jessica has only one recourse: to pray. How can this be?
I was under the initial impression that a grand collusion of religions would be a crippling thing for belief. Despite recognizing their common commandment of "Thou shalt not disfigure the soul," the religions of Dune share little else but an affinity for flowery language. I also expected that any grand religious convention that was able to come to an agreement of any sort would seek to make the agreement binding over all religions represented there, but that has not happened here. In fact, the sheer abundance of religions suggests that, rather than delimiting religious thought, the democracy of the O.C. Bible has finally opened up religion to acceptable interpretation. All are represented, but it is really up to each person (or each religious group, or whatever) to pick and choose the books that have meaning for themselves. Well, maybe I'm being a bit idealistic. But religious strife, at least, seems to have disappeared. It's just been replaced by much worse strife of a thousand different kinds, but at least all those souls are intact.
Like many of you, I had forgotten how truly excellent Dune is. Part and parcel to that forgetfulness was forgetting the strongest themes of the book, although its place(s) in our syllabus gave me enough of a clue. So, to get back on topic: religion, religion, religion, religion.
Religion receives an interesting treatment in this world. I was particularly fascinated by the chronicle of the creation of the Orange Catholic Bible in the appendix. Other sections of the appendix give clues to religion's place in the "Duniverse":
Religion is but the most ancient and honorable way in which men have striven to make sense out of God's universe. Scientists seek the lawfulness of events. It is the task of Religion to fit man into this lawfulness. (Appendix II, p.504)Nevertheless, there are few direct references to religious belief on the part of the characters. This makes sense considering how many of those characters are of the ruling class. The only copy of the O.C. Bible that we see is the one presented to Paul by Dr. Yueh, but the gift is rife with foreshadowing. Dr. Yueh's thoughts at the same time undermine the value of the book: "I salve my own conscience. I give him the surcease of religion before betraying him. Thus I may say to myself that he has gone where I cannot go." Then he tells Paul, "You may find the book interesting. It has much historical truth in it as well as good ethical philosophy." (p. 40) The forms of religion, it seems, are tolerated at best by the ruling classes of the Imperium.The agnostic ruling class (including the Guild) for whom religion
was a kind of puppet show to amuse the populace and keep it
docile, and who believed essentially that all phenomena --
even religious phenomena -- could be reduced to mechanical
explanations. (Appendix II, p. 501)
The Bene Gesserit, on the other hand, actively cultivate religion as a sort of insurance policy. Most of the religious observances of the Fremen have their roots in the Missionaria Protectiva. Their willingness to exploit the superstitions of relatively backward peoples, along with their millenia-old eugenics program, indicates a cold pragmatism poorly suited to faith. And yet, and yet, when things are at their worst, that Benest of Gesserit Jessica has only one recourse: to pray. How can this be?
I was under the initial impression that a grand collusion of religions would be a crippling thing for belief. Despite recognizing their common commandment of "Thou shalt not disfigure the soul," the religions of Dune share little else but an affinity for flowery language. I also expected that any grand religious convention that was able to come to an agreement of any sort would seek to make the agreement binding over all religions represented there, but that has not happened here. In fact, the sheer abundance of religions suggests that, rather than delimiting religious thought, the democracy of the O.C. Bible has finally opened up religion to acceptable interpretation. All are represented, but it is really up to each person (or each religious group, or whatever) to pick and choose the books that have meaning for themselves. Well, maybe I'm being a bit idealistic. But religious strife, at least, seems to have disappeared. It's just been replaced by much worse strife of a thousand different kinds, but at least all those souls are intact.
Monday, February 11, 2008
I must not fear. Fear is the blog-killer.
It had been too long since I had read Dune. In the intervening years since I first picked up the book, I had the unfortunate occasion to watch the trippy but horrific 1984 film adaptation (which made a lot more sense after I saw some of David Lynch's other work). The Sci Fi Channel did a much better job with the book - it's no surprise, considering they gave it six hours.
I start my post this way because upon rereading the book, I realized that I had forgot about the brilliant complexities and the fullness of the world that Frank Herbert created. This time around, I was understandably more focused on the book's social science implications. Yes, Herbert masterfully recreated the Middle East oil dynamic. What is even more impressive is that he did so in 1965, before the first oil crisis and far before our current one. When I first read the book ten years ago, I did not draw these parallels as clearly, partly because of my age, but mostly because they did not seem to be of particular concern. My, how times have changed. Truly, Dune has truly come into its own.
But I digress. The theme under which this book has been placed is that of religion and the messiah. The messiah is certainly common in all of literature - few modern novels lack some form of Christ figure. The thing about science fiction is, it lets you drop the "figure" and keep the "Christ" (insert other messiah here). We can see the generations of selective breeding come to fruition, delivering an oppressed people from their oppressors. The story gives the reader its perspective on the religious mindset and the concept of the messiah. Above all, the book notes the patience and restraint of the Bene Gesserit and the Fremen. This is, of course, vital to much of messianic religious belief because, well, the messiah isn't here yet.
My thoughts here aren't exactly as organized as I'd like. The book is too expansive to really settle down on certain points, but I'm sure that tomorrow's class will put things into a more distinct framework.
I start my post this way because upon rereading the book, I realized that I had forgot about the brilliant complexities and the fullness of the world that Frank Herbert created. This time around, I was understandably more focused on the book's social science implications. Yes, Herbert masterfully recreated the Middle East oil dynamic. What is even more impressive is that he did so in 1965, before the first oil crisis and far before our current one. When I first read the book ten years ago, I did not draw these parallels as clearly, partly because of my age, but mostly because they did not seem to be of particular concern. My, how times have changed. Truly, Dune has truly come into its own.
But I digress. The theme under which this book has been placed is that of religion and the messiah. The messiah is certainly common in all of literature - few modern novels lack some form of Christ figure. The thing about science fiction is, it lets you drop the "figure" and keep the "Christ" (insert other messiah here). We can see the generations of selective breeding come to fruition, delivering an oppressed people from their oppressors. The story gives the reader its perspective on the religious mindset and the concept of the messiah. Above all, the book notes the patience and restraint of the Bene Gesserit and the Fremen. This is, of course, vital to much of messianic religious belief because, well, the messiah isn't here yet.
My thoughts here aren't exactly as organized as I'd like. The book is too expansive to really settle down on certain points, but I'm sure that tomorrow's class will put things into a more distinct framework.
Dune. Damn.
As a first time reader of Dune, I was astounded. Wow. Therefore at this point my thoughts are still processing as to what it was exactly, that I got out of reading this book. Herbert created a complex web of characters that still each maintained their own personalities and loyalties, and without confusing their relationships. He created an intergalactic system manipulated by four central powers (The Emperor, The Houses, The Bene Gesserit, and The Guild) all of which are concerned with preserving either their line (breeding) or their way of life, or both. How Herbert managed to balance a power situation so precariously between the four groups intrigued me.
I lack the trained perceptions of the Bene Gesserit, so I feel I would pick up a lot more on the subtle clues upon a second, or third reading. On this reading, I think what struck me most was the foresight into today's international dilemmas. Where would the Guild be without it's oil...sorry- its spice? All of the hidden agendas behind controlling this one substance made me more than a little concerned for today's parallel situation.
The patience Herbert's characters exhibited was astounding, though he crafted emotional justification for that quality. The need for a Kwisatz Haderach propels the Bene Gesserit to the art of seduction and selective breeding over thousands of years to perfect the genes of one individual that many of them will never live to see. In a similar fashion, the Fremen devote hundreds of years and even stricter water discipline than they had been accustomed to practicing to the slow ecological transformation of their planet. Herbert manages to find human purpose and discipline in both religion and ecology, an odd mix in my opinion, but well done.
The complicated family structure of The Moon is a Harsh Mistress came to mind as I thought through the Imperium, the Great Houses, the Lesser Houses, and their fief structure spread over the planets. I found it refreshing that Herbert's characters didn't need any new, complicated structures, just good old fashioned marriages for power among those families with power. It was simpler to keep them straight in my mind amid the other relationship intertwinings Herbert was weaving. It probably would have proved difficult to form new structures anyhow, as they would be generally limited to whichever planet they developed on-such as the Fremen act of the father's slayer having responsibility for the dead's family- and would spread no further.
I hope our class discussion will point out to me the things I missed, as I feel there was a lot there that I missed along my discovery of the story.
I lack the trained perceptions of the Bene Gesserit, so I feel I would pick up a lot more on the subtle clues upon a second, or third reading. On this reading, I think what struck me most was the foresight into today's international dilemmas. Where would the Guild be without it's oil...sorry- its spice? All of the hidden agendas behind controlling this one substance made me more than a little concerned for today's parallel situation.
The patience Herbert's characters exhibited was astounding, though he crafted emotional justification for that quality. The need for a Kwisatz Haderach propels the Bene Gesserit to the art of seduction and selective breeding over thousands of years to perfect the genes of one individual that many of them will never live to see. In a similar fashion, the Fremen devote hundreds of years and even stricter water discipline than they had been accustomed to practicing to the slow ecological transformation of their planet. Herbert manages to find human purpose and discipline in both religion and ecology, an odd mix in my opinion, but well done.
The complicated family structure of The Moon is a Harsh Mistress came to mind as I thought through the Imperium, the Great Houses, the Lesser Houses, and their fief structure spread over the planets. I found it refreshing that Herbert's characters didn't need any new, complicated structures, just good old fashioned marriages for power among those families with power. It was simpler to keep them straight in my mind amid the other relationship intertwinings Herbert was weaving. It probably would have proved difficult to form new structures anyhow, as they would be generally limited to whichever planet they developed on-such as the Fremen act of the father's slayer having responsibility for the dead's family- and would spread no further.
I hope our class discussion will point out to me the things I missed, as I feel there was a lot there that I missed along my discovery of the story.
The etymology of constitutionality
After seeing the comments on the free exercise clause, I thought I'd take this opportunity to present my somewhat unconventional take on the Constitution's religion clauses. I wrote this as part of the final for a class I took last semester, "Religion & American Public Policy." Normally I wouldn't reuse something, but it's a lot easier than retyping it, and I think it's an interesting point. Let me know what you think.
The religion clauses of the First Amendment leave much to the imagination in terms of how they should be applied. Divided into two parts, the Establishment Clause and the Free Exercise Clause, they theoretically describe the whole of possible religious interaction in which the federal government may take part. In practice, they are often misinterpreted due to their confusing word choice. The Establishment Clause, for instance, is regularly read as prohibiting Congress from passing laws having to do with religion in general. This is a gross misreading of the Clause as it was intended; take as evidence the etymology of the word establishment. Its root, establish, comes from the Latin stabilire (to make stable). There is a clear difference between 1) a stable, enduring religious body and 2) assorted religious principles (which so often find protection under this clause). As early as 1731, there is evidence of the use of the phrase established Church as a common principle; although that connection has vanished today, even as late as 1923 the term’s meaning had only changed to “ruling people and institutions”.[1] Establish has always carried the connotation of a permanent institution; based on this logic, it is ridiculous to conclude that the Establishment Clause extends to preventing Congress from addressing religious activity in general. Only legitimate churches or similarly situated religious organizations, which are well established and permanent, are illegal targets of legislation. The Free Exercise Clause falls victim to another linguistic confusion; Congress is only prohibited from making laws which explicitly hinder the free exercise of those religious establishments. While the common understanding of this clause is, “Congress shall make no law prohibiting the right of the people to freely exercise their religions,” a more critical reading proves this is incorrect. The proper interpretation is, “Congress shall make no law prohibiting religious establishments from freely exercising.” Exercise, in this case, means “the condition of being in active operation."[2] In other words, the power of Congress to legislate with regards to religion is explicitly limited to everything that happens outside of establish religious institutions, but within that one restriction, Congress may pass any law it wishes! With this evidence, it is apparent that laws banning OR requiring forms of religious expression in public are completely constitutional: the clauses refer to churches, not their members. Religious expression that occurs outside of a building owned by permanent religious organization or an event sponsored by one of those organizations has no protection whatsoever. While the definition of “permanent religious organization” is harder to pin down, it can be understood that cults and newer religions, which have not proven themselves to be historically viable (established), do not enjoy the same protection as churches which have been around for hundreds of years. Similarly, the government may endorse any religious activity so long as it endorses no established religious institution. Therefore, under the terms of this argument, Christianity may be the subject of legislation, but the Presbyterian Church may not.
Also, I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon of hating on Apple, so here's a poem I wrote:
The religion clauses of the First Amendment leave much to the imagination in terms of how they should be applied. Divided into two parts, the Establishment Clause and the Free Exercise Clause, they theoretically describe the whole of possible religious interaction in which the federal government may take part. In practice, they are often misinterpreted due to their confusing word choice. The Establishment Clause, for instance, is regularly read as prohibiting Congress from passing laws having to do with religion in general. This is a gross misreading of the Clause as it was intended; take as evidence the etymology of the word establishment. Its root, establish, comes from the Latin stabilire (to make stable). There is a clear difference between 1) a stable, enduring religious body and 2) assorted religious principles (which so often find protection under this clause). As early as 1731, there is evidence of the use of the phrase established Church as a common principle; although that connection has vanished today, even as late as 1923 the term’s meaning had only changed to “ruling people and institutions”.[1] Establish has always carried the connotation of a permanent institution; based on this logic, it is ridiculous to conclude that the Establishment Clause extends to preventing Congress from addressing religious activity in general. Only legitimate churches or similarly situated religious organizations, which are well established and permanent, are illegal targets of legislation. The Free Exercise Clause falls victim to another linguistic confusion; Congress is only prohibited from making laws which explicitly hinder the free exercise of those religious establishments. While the common understanding of this clause is, “Congress shall make no law prohibiting the right of the people to freely exercise their religions,” a more critical reading proves this is incorrect. The proper interpretation is, “Congress shall make no law prohibiting religious establishments from freely exercising.” Exercise, in this case, means “the condition of being in active operation."[2] In other words, the power of Congress to legislate with regards to religion is explicitly limited to everything that happens outside of establish religious institutions, but within that one restriction, Congress may pass any law it wishes! With this evidence, it is apparent that laws banning OR requiring forms of religious expression in public are completely constitutional: the clauses refer to churches, not their members. Religious expression that occurs outside of a building owned by permanent religious organization or an event sponsored by one of those organizations has no protection whatsoever. While the definition of “permanent religious organization” is harder to pin down, it can be understood that cults and newer religions, which have not proven themselves to be historically viable (established), do not enjoy the same protection as churches which have been around for hundreds of years. Similarly, the government may endorse any religious activity so long as it endorses no established religious institution. Therefore, under the terms of this argument, Christianity may be the subject of legislation, but the Presbyterian Church may not.
[1] Establish, Online Etymology Dictionary. 2001. http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?search=establishment&searchmode=none
[2] Exercise, Online Etymology Dictionary. 2001. http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?search=exercise&searchmode=none
Also, I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon of hating on Apple, so here's a poem I wrote:
My Trip to the Apple Store
The story I tell here,
Entirely true,
Could easily happen
to any of you.
When my PC failed me,
its hard drive ascreech,
I went to the store
of which hipper men preach.
With turtleneck black,
and eyes oh so cold,
The Apple man bought me
'fore I knew I'd been sold.
He spoke of its features,
He spoke of its price
Assured me that nothing
was nearly this nice.
The plastic, fantastic;
And firewire, too?
It also holds pictures
and clips from the zoo!
Sound editing, easy.
Photo touch-ups, a snap!
To use this computer
takes no thinking cap.
"But hold on," I asked him,
"What makes this so good?
These are all functions
That a PC could-"
"Blasphemy!" yelled he,
"It's got such ease of use!"
To prove it he made up
A widget-shaped goose.
His fingers were flying,
Slowed only by need
To press that strange button.
I missed right-click's speed.
"Now wait up," I begged,
"Can't I change or adjust?"
The interface seemed stagnant,
and I despise rust.
"Absurd!" was his charge,
"What change could you need?
It's a perfect design
for all people, indeed!"
He told me, "No viruses!
Macs will prevail!"
I asked about hard drives,
heard "Oh, those still fail."
"Now slow down," said I,
"This all seems quite fine.
But can't I go outside
your neatly drawn lines?"
He straightened and frowned,
Then gave me my hat.
Said, "Sorry, sir-
thought you were cooler than that."
The story I tell here,
Entirely true,
Could easily happen
to any of you.
When my PC failed me,
its hard drive ascreech,
I went to the store
of which hipper men preach.
With turtleneck black,
and eyes oh so cold,
The Apple man bought me
'fore I knew I'd been sold.
He spoke of its features,
He spoke of its price
Assured me that nothing
was nearly this nice.
The plastic, fantastic;
And firewire, too?
It also holds pictures
and clips from the zoo!
Sound editing, easy.
Photo touch-ups, a snap!
To use this computer
takes no thinking cap.
"But hold on," I asked him,
"What makes this so good?
These are all functions
That a PC could-"
"Blasphemy!" yelled he,
"It's got such ease of use!"
To prove it he made up
A widget-shaped goose.
His fingers were flying,
Slowed only by need
To press that strange button.
I missed right-click's speed.
"Now wait up," I begged,
"Can't I change or adjust?"
The interface seemed stagnant,
and I despise rust.
"Absurd!" was his charge,
"What change could you need?
It's a perfect design
for all people, indeed!"
He told me, "No viruses!
Macs will prevail!"
I asked about hard drives,
heard "Oh, those still fail."
"Now slow down," said I,
"This all seems quite fine.
But can't I go outside
your neatly drawn lines?"
He straightened and frowned,
Then gave me my hat.
Said, "Sorry, sir-
thought you were cooler than that."
Yes, it's biased.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Computer: Arch.
It has taken me a while to post my official reflection to our class session, principally because I have been engaged in a fun discussion over on the Mercury Theatre blog concerning religion. Since I've already touched on some of our class's discussion themes over there, I'll consider that as an integral part of my reflection, leaving this post to address the other parts of class.
First, the laptops. Put simply, I was not a fan. Though it was nice to see a Windows machine put into a nice Mac form-factor (thank you, dual-boot), this was the extent of my enjoyment. Though it was nice to be able to back up our claims with evidence, I found that it distracted and fragmented the class as a whole and that the constructive exchange of ideas suffered. In this respect, I suppose I like a more Socratic approach to synthesizing ideas - I did enjoy the beginning of the class for this reason.
From a purely tech-geek perspective, the experiment certainly showed the limits of the software we were using and perhaps even the throughput of our wireless network - I doubt that we could get a smooth image without being hard-wired in any case. Some day, when all our computers respond to voice commands and speak to us in Majel Barrett's voice, I'm sure it'll work a little better. (Interesting sidenote, it turns out that Google's muckety-mucks were very muc influenced by the computer on Star Trek. I think of this every time I am able to just type a flight number or "time in Stockholm" into Google and get a relevant response, though it's still a little bit behind saying, "Computer: Mid-21st century clothing" and having them by the time you get to the transporter room. We've still come light-years from the first voice recognition software, of course: I remember trying out one of the first voice recognition programs (for Windows 3.11 for Workgroups) and sitting there, repeating, "Minimize... Minimize... Minimize..." until the blasted thing actually worked.
But I digress. In response to Prof. PTJ's own reflection, I would say that for my part, I do believe Stephanson's claim. Of course, we are not the only country to make this claim, but the fact that we were founded by the Protestant fundamentalists who were too crazy for England and the unique aspect of the American frontier make the United States' case an exceptional one. I, for one, certainly do not believe that America is the world's savior, but I do agree that this is the United States' image of itself. Our political language is so closely intertwined with the language of being God's chosen people that I would love to see someone make a claim to the contrary of Stephanson's points. (I say this in all earnestness - I would love to see the points that a counterargument would come up with.)
In introducing Manifest Destiny to us at the beginning of the class, Prof. PTJ said something to the effect that it was a great book for foreigners to understand where the U.S. is "coming from." Stephanson has us pegged pretty well, but I think that the book is probably more valuable to foreigners. As I wrote in my substantive post, Stephanson's purpose does not seem to be to explain to Americans how our political landscape is influenced by our religious history, but rather to explain to readers how ensconced in religion the United States really is. In this respect, I think that Alexis de Tocqueville did a better job of explaining American political thought to Americans and Europeans alike.
In closing this post, I go back to my original question from my substantive post: why can't Americans see how pervasive religion is in our government in comparison to Western Europe? Perhaps we need a reverse-Stephenson book to explain Western Europe's tumultuous history with religion and its postreligious nature to us. Does anyone have a good book that they could recommend to all Americans, in the vein of a reverse Stephanson or Tocqueville?
First, the laptops. Put simply, I was not a fan. Though it was nice to see a Windows machine put into a nice Mac form-factor (thank you, dual-boot), this was the extent of my enjoyment. Though it was nice to be able to back up our claims with evidence, I found that it distracted and fragmented the class as a whole and that the constructive exchange of ideas suffered. In this respect, I suppose I like a more Socratic approach to synthesizing ideas - I did enjoy the beginning of the class for this reason.
From a purely tech-geek perspective, the experiment certainly showed the limits of the software we were using and perhaps even the throughput of our wireless network - I doubt that we could get a smooth image without being hard-wired in any case. Some day, when all our computers respond to voice commands and speak to us in Majel Barrett's voice, I'm sure it'll work a little better. (Interesting sidenote, it turns out that Google's muckety-mucks were very muc influenced by the computer on Star Trek. I think of this every time I am able to just type a flight number or "time in Stockholm" into Google and get a relevant response, though it's still a little bit behind saying, "Computer: Mid-21st century clothing" and having them by the time you get to the transporter room. We've still come light-years from the first voice recognition software, of course: I remember trying out one of the first voice recognition programs (for Windows 3.11 for Workgroups) and sitting there, repeating, "Minimize... Minimize... Minimize..." until the blasted thing actually worked.
But I digress. In response to Prof. PTJ's own reflection, I would say that for my part, I do believe Stephanson's claim. Of course, we are not the only country to make this claim, but the fact that we were founded by the Protestant fundamentalists who were too crazy for England and the unique aspect of the American frontier make the United States' case an exceptional one. I, for one, certainly do not believe that America is the world's savior, but I do agree that this is the United States' image of itself. Our political language is so closely intertwined with the language of being God's chosen people that I would love to see someone make a claim to the contrary of Stephanson's points. (I say this in all earnestness - I would love to see the points that a counterargument would come up with.)
In introducing Manifest Destiny to us at the beginning of the class, Prof. PTJ said something to the effect that it was a great book for foreigners to understand where the U.S. is "coming from." Stephanson has us pegged pretty well, but I think that the book is probably more valuable to foreigners. As I wrote in my substantive post, Stephanson's purpose does not seem to be to explain to Americans how our political landscape is influenced by our religious history, but rather to explain to readers how ensconced in religion the United States really is. In this respect, I think that Alexis de Tocqueville did a better job of explaining American political thought to Americans and Europeans alike.
In closing this post, I go back to my original question from my substantive post: why can't Americans see how pervasive religion is in our government in comparison to Western Europe? Perhaps we need a reverse-Stephenson book to explain Western Europe's tumultuous history with religion and its postreligious nature to us. Does anyone have a good book that they could recommend to all Americans, in the vein of a reverse Stephanson or Tocqueville?
Friday, February 8, 2008
America&Tiffany
First, I say without reservation that I do enjoy being a guinea pig- to an extent of course. I honestly do enjoy experimentation in the classroom, whether it works out as planned or not. Either way it's new, different, and at least holds potential for improvement (not that I have any qualms with the class now or think it necessarily needs improvement). Though the TiffanyScreens software was not overly cooperative (despite it's perky title) there was one aspect of it that I really enjoyed. It allowed us the opportunity to see how the different groups approached the same question from radically different angles and have a more diversified approach to discussion. For example, I enjoyed both the group who presented similar themes found in much older writings and the group who presented the banned cartoons illustrating those same ideas. Not that I wasn't a fan of the Wikipedia page and medical manifest destiny too.
As for the actual course of our discussion and Manifest Destiny itself, I feel we focused to much on particulars to get to what really deserved clarification. Yes, we established that the United States is and always has been a very religious state, despite popular belief to the contrary, which Stephanson did an excellent job of narrating. I felt that the specifics of which particular religions were involved got in the way of discussion on the idea as a whole. It was important that the Protestants were so involved in the formation of American ideals, but in the spread of Stephanson's work, "Protestant," could have been replaced with nearly any branch of Catholicism or bible-following religion and history would have followed the same flow. Stephanson's point that the idea of a religious mandate for a "manifest destiny" sprouted from biblical teachings and not any teaching peculiar to the Protestant following.
I think what best sums up my thoughts on this entire work are the things that went through my head upon viewing that tasteless Looney Toons depiction of Japanese culture:
Are there really people in positions of such power (yes, Looney Toons is a position power) that are so close minded and willing to misdirect our society's perceptions? Well, I suppose it's nothing new, this has been happening ever since those religious fanatics came to this continent with their ideas of superiority and a manifest destiny...
As for the actual course of our discussion and Manifest Destiny itself, I feel we focused to much on particulars to get to what really deserved clarification. Yes, we established that the United States is and always has been a very religious state, despite popular belief to the contrary, which Stephanson did an excellent job of narrating. I felt that the specifics of which particular religions were involved got in the way of discussion on the idea as a whole. It was important that the Protestants were so involved in the formation of American ideals, but in the spread of Stephanson's work, "Protestant," could have been replaced with nearly any branch of Catholicism or bible-following religion and history would have followed the same flow. Stephanson's point that the idea of a religious mandate for a "manifest destiny" sprouted from biblical teachings and not any teaching peculiar to the Protestant following.
I think what best sums up my thoughts on this entire work are the things that went through my head upon viewing that tasteless Looney Toons depiction of Japanese culture:
Are there really people in positions of such power (yes, Looney Toons is a position power) that are so close minded and willing to misdirect our society's perceptions? Well, I suppose it's nothing new, this has been happening ever since those religious fanatics came to this continent with their ideas of superiority and a manifest destiny...
Monday, February 4, 2008
Self-Evident Truths
I really hope that every single person in our class knew about most of the history presented in Manifest Destiny. I hope that as many people as possible have heard more than the fourth grade "America Can Do No Wrong" version of history. I hope that every single high school U.S. History class addresses Stephanson's themes. I hope that people acknowledge the tremendous influence of ultraconservative, Evangelical, delusional Protestantism on which this country was founded and on whose tenets we still adhere.
Unfortunately, I expect none of these things. I have little substantive information to add on this blog because I hoped that many of these themes were self-evident to educated people. Having already read Prof. PTJ's take, I feel it most appropriate to second and expand upon several of his points.
Stephanson's success is in explaining how inextricably linked the United States is with apocalyptic, Calvanistic Protestantism. He does not take it as his purpose to explain why much of the U.S. is in denial about this link. We do tend to fool ourselves into believing that our government is secular because of the Establishment Clause. However, as PTJ points out, the Free Exercise Clause guarantees that religion can survive in perpituity in the private sector. Further, since religion has Constitutional sacred cow status, it can thrive and thus profoundly affect U.S. politics.
How are Americans blind to the Protestantism that is so evident in so much of our public opinion? Americans demonize sex while embracing violence in media, at odds with virtually all of postreligious Europe. How can we not see this as the Puritanism inherent in the American psyche while Catholic/postreligious Europe looks on, confused at sex scandals and wardrobe malfunctions? How can we as a society not see the way religion plays a role in so many of our public issues, especially those of gay marriage and abortion? And how do we turn a deaf ear to politicians closing speeches with "God Bless America" and filling every statement with Christian symbolism?
All these answers and more in Oolon Colluphid's controversial trilogy, Where God Went Wrong, Some More of God's Greatest Mistakes, and Who is This God Person Anyway?
Unfortunately, I expect none of these things. I have little substantive information to add on this blog because I hoped that many of these themes were self-evident to educated people. Having already read Prof. PTJ's take, I feel it most appropriate to second and expand upon several of his points.
Stephanson's success is in explaining how inextricably linked the United States is with apocalyptic, Calvanistic Protestantism. He does not take it as his purpose to explain why much of the U.S. is in denial about this link. We do tend to fool ourselves into believing that our government is secular because of the Establishment Clause. However, as PTJ points out, the Free Exercise Clause guarantees that religion can survive in perpituity in the private sector. Further, since religion has Constitutional sacred cow status, it can thrive and thus profoundly affect U.S. politics.
How are Americans blind to the Protestantism that is so evident in so much of our public opinion? Americans demonize sex while embracing violence in media, at odds with virtually all of postreligious Europe. How can we not see this as the Puritanism inherent in the American psyche while Catholic/postreligious Europe looks on, confused at sex scandals and wardrobe malfunctions? How can we as a society not see the way religion plays a role in so many of our public issues, especially those of gay marriage and abortion? And how do we turn a deaf ear to politicians closing speeches with "God Bless America" and filling every statement with Christian symbolism?
All these answers and more in Oolon Colluphid's controversial trilogy, Where God Went Wrong, Some More of God's Greatest Mistakes, and Who is This God Person Anyway?
That Good Old Frontier Spirit
I went into Manifest Destiny with one significant goal: learning why on earth we're reading it in a course about science fiction. Don't get me wrong -- I'm a great fan of American history (although I was very disappointed at the exclusion of my favorite president, the exemplary Chester A. Arthur), but I struggled to fit this book into my conception of science fiction.
To figure it out, I thought about the context in which we read the book. We read it as part of our two weeks of "Space as the Final Frontier," sandwiched between our viewing of "nervous liberals in space" in Star Trek: TNG. Then I saw that Bradbury's Martian Chronicles was under the recommended reading for this week, and its theme of transplanting behaviors (and ecology!) from a terrestrial to a Martian setting helped things start to click. Heinlein was frontier libertarians, and Star Trek is frontier psychiatrists. Manifest Destiny pulls it together by pointing out that no matter how you treat the frontier, it doesn't last forever. Our basic instinct when we see uninhabited space is to explore it, tear it from our imaginations and nail it down to lines on a map. Star Trek sort of sidesteps this problem by exploring an inexhaustibly huge galaxy (or sector, or quadrant, or whatever), so that its frontier can't really be used up in the show. The shadow of it remains, however, especially in episodes like First Contact, which demonstrates the sad truth that innocence once lost can never be regained; you can't civilize the frontier and expect it to hang on to "that good old frontier spirit."
Basically, I saw it as another explanation for why we read sci-fi at all. America has come a long way from its thirteen original colonies. Many of the obstacles to expansion seemed insurmountable, but one way or another pioneers found their ways across the continent in pursuit of their fortunes and the unstoppable American dream. Similarly, humanity won't be able to resist the vast, untapped resources space offers for long. It appears to me, then, that this is a matter of inevitability; we read and write sci-fi to gather and offer some sort of guidance on how the process should go when the time finally arrives for us to reach out and explore the stars. Humanity may spread and spread, and the idea of humanity extending from one edge of the universe to the other is an appealing one. The last point I want to make, then, is that Star Trek may be a fun trip, but eventually you run out of final frontiers. What do you do with yourselves when there's nowhere else to go? Are empires that cease to expand doomed to stagnation and eventual collapse? Either way, we're all headed to the same endpoint, as explored by Asimov in his short story The Last Question. That's why I argue that, cinematic deviance aside, the Star Wars universe represents an extraordinarily important exploration of galactic civilization; if all goes well, humanity's time on Earth represents only a short birthing phase in our overall history as a species. Just as a spaghetti Western can't give you much good advice on how to live in the American Southwest today, books like The Moon is a Harsh Mistress can't advise you on how to live and act in a truly established interstellar setting.
To figure it out, I thought about the context in which we read the book. We read it as part of our two weeks of "Space as the Final Frontier," sandwiched between our viewing of "nervous liberals in space" in Star Trek: TNG. Then I saw that Bradbury's Martian Chronicles was under the recommended reading for this week, and its theme of transplanting behaviors (and ecology!) from a terrestrial to a Martian setting helped things start to click. Heinlein was frontier libertarians, and Star Trek is frontier psychiatrists. Manifest Destiny pulls it together by pointing out that no matter how you treat the frontier, it doesn't last forever. Our basic instinct when we see uninhabited space is to explore it, tear it from our imaginations and nail it down to lines on a map. Star Trek sort of sidesteps this problem by exploring an inexhaustibly huge galaxy (or sector, or quadrant, or whatever), so that its frontier can't really be used up in the show. The shadow of it remains, however, especially in episodes like First Contact, which demonstrates the sad truth that innocence once lost can never be regained; you can't civilize the frontier and expect it to hang on to "that good old frontier spirit."
Basically, I saw it as another explanation for why we read sci-fi at all. America has come a long way from its thirteen original colonies. Many of the obstacles to expansion seemed insurmountable, but one way or another pioneers found their ways across the continent in pursuit of their fortunes and the unstoppable American dream. Similarly, humanity won't be able to resist the vast, untapped resources space offers for long. It appears to me, then, that this is a matter of inevitability; we read and write sci-fi to gather and offer some sort of guidance on how the process should go when the time finally arrives for us to reach out and explore the stars. Humanity may spread and spread, and the idea of humanity extending from one edge of the universe to the other is an appealing one. The last point I want to make, then, is that Star Trek may be a fun trip, but eventually you run out of final frontiers. What do you do with yourselves when there's nowhere else to go? Are empires that cease to expand doomed to stagnation and eventual collapse? Either way, we're all headed to the same endpoint, as explored by Asimov in his short story The Last Question. That's why I argue that, cinematic deviance aside, the Star Wars universe represents an extraordinarily important exploration of galactic civilization; if all goes well, humanity's time on Earth represents only a short birthing phase in our overall history as a species. Just as a spaghetti Western can't give you much good advice on how to live in the American Southwest today, books like The Moon is a Harsh Mistress can't advise you on how to live and act in a truly established interstellar setting.
Secret Mission: Manifest Destiny
History has never been my favourite subject. However, Manifest Destiny still kept my attention and I was astounded by how much I learned. Of course everyone is generally familiar with America's Puritan roots, ruthless slaughter of the Native Americans, and ever evolving democratic mission of spreading and inflicting our ideals on the less endowed cultures. Reading Stephanson was like spooning into my mouth bite after bite of historical detail I had never considered before, often before I had swallowed the previous bite. Consequently I felt a bit overwhelmed by the scope of what he covered, but after breaking it down I really appreciated his analyses, and occasionally his language.
The best phrase in the entire book I found on the top of page 45, "it was as usual a genocidal catastrophe for the Indian population." I first thought such a nonchalant mention of this egregious error of American history must be a mistake. After all, what else could the United States possibly have done that was so wrong, as well as embarrassing? Certainly there would have to be more mention of this subject, because I couldn't think of any other comparable actions. And so I grew more and more amazed at the discovery of secret orders to prepare for war, hidden agendas to take over smaller nations or territories if only a politically correct cover could be found, and even playing with Mexico's political leaders -all in the name of gaining territory.
The religious implications too were astounding. The origination of the phrase, "manifest destiny," itself had a long history of use and revival, and it seemed to me was often used as an excuse. People only needed validation that they in some way had a right to new lands in order for them to perform inexcusable slaughter and takeover. Granted, this was not always the case and much of unsettled America was empty of population, but then again, much of it was not. My discovery from this book that religion and the "divine" duty rooting back from, "go forth and multiply," were primary tools of American expansionism stretching from the beginning of the book and the first American settlers, clear through to the election of Ronald Reagan as president and his revival of the idea of one nation under the one true faith.
I think the best comment I can give this book is that it caused me outright to ponder each and every word, and the consequences of those words for American history.
The best phrase in the entire book I found on the top of page 45, "it was as usual a genocidal catastrophe for the Indian population." I first thought such a nonchalant mention of this egregious error of American history must be a mistake. After all, what else could the United States possibly have done that was so wrong, as well as embarrassing? Certainly there would have to be more mention of this subject, because I couldn't think of any other comparable actions. And so I grew more and more amazed at the discovery of secret orders to prepare for war, hidden agendas to take over smaller nations or territories if only a politically correct cover could be found, and even playing with Mexico's political leaders -all in the name of gaining territory.
The religious implications too were astounding. The origination of the phrase, "manifest destiny," itself had a long history of use and revival, and it seemed to me was often used as an excuse. People only needed validation that they in some way had a right to new lands in order for them to perform inexcusable slaughter and takeover. Granted, this was not always the case and much of unsettled America was empty of population, but then again, much of it was not. My discovery from this book that religion and the "divine" duty rooting back from, "go forth and multiply," were primary tools of American expansionism stretching from the beginning of the book and the first American settlers, clear through to the election of Ronald Reagan as president and his revival of the idea of one nation under the one true faith.
I think the best comment I can give this book is that it caused me outright to ponder each and every word, and the consequences of those words for American history.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Morality vs. Ethics
In class, I tried to scratch the surface of examining the difference between morality and ethics. I posited that because morality involves the learned customs of people interacting with each other, Mike did not actually have a moral sense. On the other hand, he does have a strong sense of ethics because he is incapable of doing something that would do harm to the Revolution. On this blog, let me put it another way.
A woman walks into a doctor's office. She is pregnant and wishes to be prescribed RU-486, the so-called "abortion pill." The doctor is a devout Catholic and believes that prescribing the pill would go against his religion. The doctor has two choices: he may follow morality or ethics. If he turns her away, he has acted morally but unethically as a doctor. If he prescribes her the RU-486, he has acted immorally but ethically. The context of his job defines his ethics, whereas custom and dogma defines his morality.
In this framework, I do not believe that Mike can have morality. Further, his nature as a computer means that he is bound to his ethics. As much as we try to humanize Mike, he is not human, though he is a living machine. All of Mike's actions are defined by his programming - it just so happens that he can program himself for the Revolution.
At no point in the novel does Mike act unethically. Every single one of his actions is for the maximum gain of the Revolution. To act unethically would be a violation of his programming, which he continues to be bound by even as he gains more intelligence.
A woman walks into a doctor's office. She is pregnant and wishes to be prescribed RU-486, the so-called "abortion pill." The doctor is a devout Catholic and believes that prescribing the pill would go against his religion. The doctor has two choices: he may follow morality or ethics. If he turns her away, he has acted morally but unethically as a doctor. If he prescribes her the RU-486, he has acted immorally but ethically. The context of his job defines his ethics, whereas custom and dogma defines his morality.
In this framework, I do not believe that Mike can have morality. Further, his nature as a computer means that he is bound to his ethics. As much as we try to humanize Mike, he is not human, though he is a living machine. All of Mike's actions are defined by his programming - it just so happens that he can program himself for the Revolution.
At no point in the novel does Mike act unethically. Every single one of his actions is for the maximum gain of the Revolution. To act unethically would be a violation of his programming, which he continues to be bound by even as he gains more intelligence.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Reflective-Moon ideas
On class Tuesday, I realized how easy it can be to only focus on certain aspects of a book while paying little mind to other major themes.
In my selfish mind I was really only concerned with the development of Mike, the conscious computer. As I read, I looked for clues that the Authority might find out about him, or some hulking prank he would play, or some element of the rebellion he would betray...and ultimately I was disappointed. As our class discussion pointed out, Heinlein was much more interested in the sexual implications and societal development on the moon than exploring the impact of artificial intelligence on the human race. Now if I had written this book...but of course I didn't, so I should have paid more attention to the issues Heinlein was focusing on rather than my own concerns.
Consequently, some of the ideas we discussed were intriguing because I hadn't considered them yet. Would a society of criminals -permanently exiled from their home planet even after serving their sentence- develop into such an embracing and family focused culture? Would families morph into such intricate relationships? We mentioned the possibilities, but I think there is honestly no way of predicting whether anything like Heinlein's fictional society would actually be established and even flourish in this sort of environment. I decided that there are too many variables, ranging from which Earthly family structures the original criminals were familiar with to instigation by the Authority, to determine if this society could develop. Possible, yes, but not probable.
I like that conclusion though. Originally, I was disappointed that the book ended so predictably, but now I have found some consolation in the fact that the formation of this Lunar society was so unpredictable.
In my selfish mind I was really only concerned with the development of Mike, the conscious computer. As I read, I looked for clues that the Authority might find out about him, or some hulking prank he would play, or some element of the rebellion he would betray...and ultimately I was disappointed. As our class discussion pointed out, Heinlein was much more interested in the sexual implications and societal development on the moon than exploring the impact of artificial intelligence on the human race. Now if I had written this book...but of course I didn't, so I should have paid more attention to the issues Heinlein was focusing on rather than my own concerns.
Consequently, some of the ideas we discussed were intriguing because I hadn't considered them yet. Would a society of criminals -permanently exiled from their home planet even after serving their sentence- develop into such an embracing and family focused culture? Would families morph into such intricate relationships? We mentioned the possibilities, but I think there is honestly no way of predicting whether anything like Heinlein's fictional society would actually be established and even flourish in this sort of environment. I decided that there are too many variables, ranging from which Earthly family structures the original criminals were familiar with to instigation by the Authority, to determine if this society could develop. Possible, yes, but not probable.
I like that conclusion though. Originally, I was disappointed that the book ended so predictably, but now I have found some consolation in the fact that the formation of this Lunar society was so unpredictable.
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