Redeeming Value

The elections in the States are mostly decided, now, with Patty Murray having locked up Washington and clearing up some of that unsettling picture: we have, as a nation, shifted the balance of (especially financial) power in government to a party which seems to have no platform. I do know what their platform isn't, but a lot of stuff isn't. Like Louis C.K. would advise, "Some things are, and some things are not. Because you can't have 'everything is'--then, nothing wouldn't be. You'd have giant ants in top hats, tap dancing, all sort of crazy shit." And as a result of what we now don't know anything about, I have discovered something.

First, what we do know. Most clearly, we do know that we have elected three new congressmen who are categorically opposed to abortion, and one in particular from Kentucky, who is against it even in the case of the mother's life being compromised. I don't agree with it, not least of all because it's logically inconsistent--if you're for small government and for government charge over women's right to choose, your brain is either non-functioning, or you just don't like women very much, or you're religious, which fervently compels you to both. And speaking of inconsistency--and incompleteness, while we're at it--we know that there is a huge groundswell--a thing whose type I quite like--which has an aim that I very much do not, to the point of being scared of it. This is one of the principle points I am planning to come to in a later post, concerning the Contract from America. One pervasive theme that seems to exist in a lot of the rhetoric I read or see indicates that we, as a nation, are falling away from both deontological ethics and empirically-based utilitarian ethics, and we are starting to embrace a virtue-based system of ethics. By no means is this switch embodied by one part and not by another; nearly everyone with a microphone or under a spotlight seems to be guilty of this, and the only variance is the degree to which those ethics are supportable a priori or, which is more convincing in government, by way of precious evidence. This is deeply concerning to me; virtue ethics are a turret whose gunman does not require training to operate it.

When you embrace the fundamental truth of virtue ethics, that intrinsic and instrumental value are relative and individually determined, you necessarily trust everyone to make his or her own judgements about the common good and about the production of happiness against a rubric that you admit does not exist. In other words, you could equally defend selfishness and charity, and you can do either one as often and as vibrantly as you feel is appropriate. The kickback, and really the only check against being inconsistent or heinous, is that people eventually just stop hanging out with you, if you are horrible. But what if everyone behaves this way? Where is the check? And how can you tell who is more horrible, if that is all you are used to; or you are given a choice between equally vapid, detrimental options; or you are too ignorant to know the difference between horrible and nourishing? If you refuse to outline a cogent and consistent moral outline, as with deontology, then you lose even an attempt at rigidity or predictability. If you refuse utilitarianism, you admit that past evidence is not sufficient to persuade you that some action or attitude or stance is, or can be, more likely to cause happiness in people than another. And, having shrugged off those two structures, you embrace the whirlwind of relativism which has snapped up virtue ethics, and which can drop that system on its head, in a field a thousand miles away from where it was standing seconds earlier. All the systems have their flaws, and I have written a handful of papers on these; but I don't understand why, when the consequences of the decisions made by our politicians routinely govern our air, our bodies, our privacy, and our futures, we would so quickly abandon the idea that predictability is precious. It seems that we would rather vote for who we think a person is, and we want to leave behind what a person does and why a person chooses what he does.

I am confused by almost every politician who exists, because it seems as though they are either bad at thinking, bad at empathizing, or bad at feeling shame. To be worse is to be all three, and therefore to be the vast majority of suited grinners who we would see in newspapers, if we read them enough to know that you are doing us a disservice even by shaking our hands. I am confused by the people who are allowed to vote in our country, because of exit poll data and because of quotes in media. I am confused by priorities inculcated by most adults, in most states of the union, most of the time. I feel as if my future, or at least my satisfaction with it--my sense of confidence--is standing in front of a pillbox, and I am already looking down at my chest, touching the tear in my scorching jacket, knees weak and teetering, breathing smoke.

City Lights

The newest punctuation in my life is a brand new living situation, which is fantastic and enervating in a couple of ways. I used to hate San Francisco, because I figured it was basically a confusing and intensely dirty version of San Jose. I remember feeling uncomfortable about the notion, which seemed to be more true every time I visited The City, that the rules that apply everywhere else are void anywhere on the windy peninsula. It's a strange thing to feel like your instincts are irrelevant. But now I'm comfortable with the feeling, which, as it turns out, is reducible to a much more simple, and somewhat more pleasing maxim: everyone gets to act like an adult, and eclectic is encouraged.

The paramount example of that attitude is located about sixteen man-sized steps from my front door, and is actually much closer than that: the window that opens into my living room exposes the upper hill and playground of Dolores Park, the stoic jewel of the Mission District. Fifteen square blocks of rolling green, freckled with palm trees and a footer of basketball courts, are the most attractive option I have found for any day that needs filling. Everything is relaxed there: the attitude, the pace, the rules, the music that flows from novelty stereos and the tin drums of whoever is paddling away. A woman waddles by our strewn-about blanket, offering tamales. A man visits later, selling pot truffles. Old men with cheeks like the palm of a baseball glove collect recyclables and stuff them into muddy burlap sacks. A whiffleball game has started on the south hill, and a speck of plastic lofts across the 74 degree sky. The world teems here, but calmly, and on its own. Time seems to skirt away fluidly, while we lie under the sun and cars flit down the curvy streets lining the park. The earth bumps underneath our ripped cotton comforter, conversation snapshots dance themselves along the wind, and you can fall asleep before you stop smiling.

A Heartbreaking Work

The decision which was made on May 26th by the California Supreme Court was in every way a concussion to the hope that I have for my future. The decision to uphold Proposition 8, passed in November of last year by a 5% margin, was extremely divisive. I can remember the intense despair that many of my friends and I felt, not because it hampered our ability to marry, but because it spoke so poorly of the tolerance common to the meagerly rational electorate. My view of that degree of hateful discrimination was, as it is ever more, simply this: I cannot bear the thought that so many people who are so bad at thinking are given so much power.

For me, ethical decisions are almost entirely logical processes which, while frequently stressing because of their ability to produce several rationally supported answers, are at the very least justified, arguable on some basis common to opponents, and amenable to scrutiny and revision. I will revisit this point often in this blog entry, in the debates which will inevitably follow it, and indeed throughout my life, owing to the maddening insistence of a worldview that almost any pain is a better option than intellectual numbness. The first part of my criticism stems from the way that people voted on the initial ballot; it is an issue of predictability. Deplorably, the voter data speaks volumes about the way in which lifestyle, not logic, informs the way that people vote.* I thought that in the supreme court, a body whose title trumpets the gravity of its purpose, there must be a tendency to get it right. In other words, I do not have confidence that any random majority will choose the right thing most of the time, but I do hope that a trained and rigorous council of experts will do just that. Today, that sentiment is proved worthless.

Briefly, for those of you who have not had time to read the public content the 6-1 majority decision, or about any of the defenses for either side, here is an unbiased recapitulation of the reason that the appeal was denied. After Proposition 8 was passed, the opponents to the proposition alleged that the vote amounted to a revision, which necessitates that two-thirds of the legislature rule in favor of its ratification. The corollary of this argument is that the law which would be enacted as a result of passing Proposition 8 is not simply an amendment to the state constitution, and therefore not available to the public to decide based on opinion. It is inaccurate, although understandable given the intense frustration prompted by the CASC decision, to suggest that the court ruled that a ban on same-sex marriages is constitutional. In fact, they have done the opposite of this only last year, whereupon over 18,000 same-sex couples were legally married. Rather, the CASC ruled first, in 2008, that marriage should extend to same-sex couples, and has ruled now, in 2009, that the public does indeed have a right to vote that it wants an amendment to the state constitution which would disallow this sort of union. Attorney General Jerry Brown also asserted in his appeal that the proposition would violate a Californian citizen's right to privacy, and that it rescind an inalienable right. The CASC flatly denied both of these appeals, stating simply: "No authority supports the attorney general's claim."

I say categorically that if you have voted in favor of Proposition 8, if you do favor its sentiment, or if you support the efforts of anti-appeal campaigns in that vein, I have an overwhelming and unmatched disdain for your position. There are many opinion-related matters in a wide variety of fields in which I may oppose a certain view in the argument for which I can see some sort of merit. That is to say, it is absolutely the case that I have disagreements with people, but I can almost always see that my opponent has some reasoning. Gay marriage is one instance which is not governed by this general rule of understanding. In my research of the initial proposition and of the recent court decision, I have encountered dozens of criticisms of gay marriage and of the position supporting gay marriage. Every tiny word of it is nonsense, and wholly unsupportable by any mind with the slightest portion of decency, modesty, or honesty. Not only do I firmly revile the desire to ban gay marriage, but I can see absolutely no evidence to support the assertion that is it either ethically supportable or utilitarian. The anti-gay marriage position is small, it is disgusting, and it embarrasses me every last second that it is allowed to be propagated.

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*According to the raw data collected and aggregated by the Sacramento Bee following the poll results, those most keen to vote to restrict the legality of gay marriage were: Republican or conservative (82/85%), black (70%) or Hispanic (53%), Protestant (65%), Catholic (64%), a high school graduate (56%), older than 30 (55% for voters 30-44; 54% for voters 45-64; and 61% for voters 65 and older), gun owners (62%), supportive of the war in Iraq (85%), and supportive of Bush's policies and presidency (86%). According to the same data, those who voted to support the gay right to marriage were: registered Democrats, independents, or liberals (64/54/78%), white or Asian (51%), non-religious (90%), and post-graduate students (60%). Interestingly, 61% of the people who voted YES on Proposition 8 also said that race was a factor for their vote in the Presidential election.

Broken Wheel

"Our Great War is a spiritual war. Our Great Depression is our lives."
Chuck Palahniuk

About two weeks ago, my knee betrayed me. I have no job, and I have no dependable schedule, so I am clothed in the evils of idleness. I do nothing all day which acts as evidence that I have existed that day. I make sandwiches, I ride my bike, I watch and listen to podcast debates, and I do one-legged pushups on the floor of a cramped bedroom. In the case that I had entered a time machine and I was concerned about irreversibly altering the future by polluting the past, this is the sort of life I would have to life in order to make sure that I affect nothing. Twelve days whipped by like the leaves of a flipbook, and I have made nothing with them. I hope that I do not have to experience this fate, but if it happens that I am one day lain in bed and around me are gathered the people I love, it is possible that I will look back on days like these have been and think to myself, there is no limit to what I would give to have those days back for the doing. I should crumple up the time I waste and shoot it at the wire basket next to my desk, like so much paper that is issued from the hands of writers who are obsessed with--and constantly motivated by--attempting to produce things of merit. I am often one of these; I have not been, recently, and my mood has soured noteably as a consequence.

For the emotional price I have paid by way of this lassitude, I have accrued quite a bit intellectually. I have watched or listened to something north of 20 debates and lectures, mostly revolving around the topics of religion, international human rights policy, or freedom of speech and press. I wish I could record the massive amount of thinking that I've done about these topics as a result of the impressive discourse, but sometimes the density of the material, combined with my poor organizational skills when I'm so furious with ideas, makes it impossible to summon order, especially among the interlacing topics. Here is a very brief list of the blogs which could come as a result of my only best use of time during my convalesence. My hope is that I will be able to turn this attrocious negative into something of a positive and productive experience, although my mood tonight, which is typical of how it has been most of the week, usually fosters either vitriol which I am sad to have thought or slop which I am embarrassed to have written. Intellectually and emotionally, then, it is obvious that I have good reason to resolve both my attitude and my body, but both of them are slow-going and neither mechanism cares much about my preference for not being ill.

1. Something comprehensive about my view on the role of religion in the world. This will easily be several essays, both perscriptive and descriptive. Specific topics needs to include dogmatism of any kind, the role and import of conversation, and the stricture that religion places around the neck of the global struggle to establish and ensure human rights. In each of these instances, I'm not sure that I can manage to reduce away the terrible fear I have about the way in which history will judge the time in which I lived.

2. Something about the terrible legacy of quarreling and antagonism beset upon us by the last administration, and the events that took place in its duration. I cannot listen to a single news telecast or talking heads show anymore without wondering what percentage of the truth I'm hearing. I very regularly hear two people say opposite things about the same event or person, so I believe there is one of two things happening. Either one or both of the people is wrong, or one or both of the people is lying. In either case, the quality and quantity of information to which I have access is depressing; the horrid clumsiness of intellectual pursuit confounds me every single day of my too short life. Should I have to constantly figure out whether or not I am receiving the truth, and how much of it? How can there be partisan news? Why can I not rely on something to just relate one small set of facts in a row? Nothing could be goddamned easier than this, and none of you will do it: you must taint everything. Well this is the world we have, because of it.

3. A short story I am working on about a man whose birth date had been confused.

4. A social contract theory for backpackers.

5. There is a Tennessee Williams quote that goes like this: "Why do I write? Because I found life to be unsatisfactory." So, something about that.

6. One of my primary historical interests, and political interests for that matter, is revolution. I have begun working on a short essay, informed by the ideology present in the entry about Dublin, that revolution must be non-violent in order to be successful.


Oh, to be able to travel again.

Every New Dawn

"I am not asking you to believe in my ability to bring about 

real change. I am asking you to believe in yours." 

--Barack Obama

The first hours of the day always start out the same. Externally, there is always a bit of a haze, because the light has been shut out for a long while, and the sky is just being allowed to breathe again. Things begin to wake up again, to stretch their arms and to blink their sleep-stung eyes, and to extract themselves from their lethargy. There is a burst of color now, where there was once only opaque streetlight, or darkness. And now, once again, there are options. Internally, some transitions are taking place, but the most important ones are in secret. Getting out of bed because the light is breaking the curtain, everyone can see that happening. But what is different about this day in particular, when it is set against all the other early mornings which have come before it? If the calendar simply flips and another dawn comes, the day skirts away from you without notice or consideration, and then the light speeds away, then you have lost something dear and uncommon: a new chance.

Today is the occasion of the inauguration of Barack Obama, or, as most people seem to conceive of it, it is the last day that George Bush will hold office in the United States. It has been my experience that the reaction is categorically positive, but even so, there is a tremendous amount of gradation. I have spoken to some people who seem to feel that the switch can be nothing but positive, and yet are wary that the promises which have been made far exceed the degree and the quantity that will be possible in the near future. Some people are optimistic about the new president as a person, but are not confident that he, even in concert with other governmental leaders, can rectify the drastic situation in which find ourselves economically and politically. Yet others still profess total faith that Obama will rebuilt and steady the great ship which has been steered astray, torn at by the choppy sea and wrecked upon ancient boulders. For my part, I am not sure that I buy into any of these viewpoints, but that is my general position as a skeptic. I am neither sure that the drive behind any of these beliefs truly matters, considering the sort of world that I would favor. 

The concept of America as the dominant power--or maybe even as a world power--is obsolete. It is laughable, quite literally, when politicians talk about restoring the United States to supremacy: that rhetoric holds absolutely no weight with the academics I have met here, who suggest unwaveringly that the arrogance and blindness of our governmental leaders is the exact reason that what they say will happen, will not. Communitarianism and continent-nations in the vein of the EU are coming, and it is simply embarrassing: the assertion that a nation with nearly one-thousand military bases, the third-lowest opinion rating, an atrocious economy, the 15th best access to high-speed internet, and a pitiful healthcare crisis will be restored because we have the liberal thinking sufficient to have elected a half-black man to be president. With the global economic downturn and the morass in the Middle East, both of which are commonly linked to a negative perception of America specifically, the incredible animosity that most of the world otherwise feels towards our nation is immediately evident as an American abroad. A bar fight erupted in Old Town, and the Austrian student I was chatting with mentioned, upon hearing one of the combatants yelling in a Slavic language, "I'm surprised he's not American." Two students from the Fachhochschule asked me if Bush was kidding about not having decided about evolution, and then looked at each other uncomfortably when I apologized for him. It seems as if almost everyone else in the world is uneasy having the United States around.

And the academy knows it. Several of the presentations that we have seen so far have showcased some staggering statistics about the image of America in Europe and Asia. The surveys revealed that those asked cared more for North Korea and Russia than for the United States; they believed that the second biggest shame of the Bush administration, and second leading contributor to a negative view of the United States, is the response to Hurricane Katrina; they voted 97.7% for Obama in a global internet poll, while 52% of Americans did. Guantanamo, and the immaterial policies that echo that physical structure, seem to be third. It is not the case, that the American public is doing direct harm to these people who express ardently anti-American sentiments. But look at the statistics. In that global poll, McCain only carried four nations: the Sudan, the DRC, Cuba, and Iran. The United States, based on percentage of votership, would be fifth on this list. This is the crisis, not the strength of our dollar or the morale of the consumer. It is not that we have no power, it is that we have no companions.

But a new dawn breaks, as it tends to, just when things are in their darkest hue. I do not believe that a new presidency and a new year will mean a new prominence. I believe that a change means a chance, and that perhaps the most important first step is a disintegration of the vision that we project on the conditions in the world. Enough with the obsession about being the last best hope for protecting human rights: we are not that. Abandon the notion that we are deserve or achieve full spectrum dominance, politically: we have failed. The good news, though, is that these statuses are wholly irrelevant in the face of challenges that we must address together. A hegemonic attitude is a reversion, and it confounds us. Let us not permit this day to flight before our eyes; I implore you, on behalf of a youth which has a desperate hope for the success of its shared future: let us blink ourselves awake, take the new dawn into our hands, and make this occasion worthy of positive note.