Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Bibliophile: Returning Full Circle At University of Waterloo
“Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?”
― Henry Ward Beecher
First: I wrote something this week that got published at First Person Scholar. Funny how often a site where you sit on the editorial board publishes your stuff. Check it out!
Second, have I got a surprise for you. This week, we'll be looking at the new books from.... my home town university! Yes, after many, many months, my alma mater has updated its new books page. After so many trips to universities so far away, we may finally return home. And now, since we've eased up on the rules, I can even grant it a name: welcome, everyone, for a very special Bibliophile, in which we examine the new books at the University of Waterloo. After the break.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Bibliophile: Doing Something About the Weather at Trinity Western
“I find television very educating. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go into the other room and read a book.”
― Groucho Marx
After a brief hiatus, Bibliophile is back. After the break, we have discussion of some new books available at Trinity Western University.
― Groucho Marx
After a brief hiatus, Bibliophile is back. After the break, we have discussion of some new books available at Trinity Western University.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Bibliophile: Restoration Comedy and the Scottish Sci-Fi at Capilano U
I spit my truth as I say my rhyme,
Sit back, fool, it's book talking time.
I call people fools a lot.
This is Bibliophile.
This week, we're moving from Alberta to British Columbia, with Capilano University. Talk on their library's new books, after the break.
Sit back, fool, it's book talking time.
I call people fools a lot.
This is Bibliophile.
This week, we're moving from Alberta to British Columbia, with Capilano University. Talk on their library's new books, after the break.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Reflections on Jack Layton
The Internet is full, at the moment, with news of Jack Layton, leader of the NDP, and his death from cancer. I thought I'd take a moment from my lack of meaningful content to ruminate on what he's meant to me as a Canadian, an NDPer, and a person.
I still remember the 2003 NDP election where he took over the party from Alexis McDonough. I'll admit, for the longest time, I had a slight aversion to him. He was still the leader of "my team," so he had a certain level of support as a given, but a lot of his actions at the time seemed overly flashy, and downright embarrassing. He seemed more interested in showboating, to me. But over time, I came recognize that the showboating was more showmanship, and that there was a statesman under it, and a man who had a lot of deeply ingrained beliefs--many of which I shared.
I don't know what his death will mean to the future of the NDP. It's clearly a blow to it, as it is a blow to all of Canada when someone who has been a part of the debate on our future for so long passes. I hope the party will be able to take what he's taught and what he's created and build on it. Time will tell, I guess.
On a personal level, his death reminded me of my own parents. My father is the same age as Layton (celebrated his birthday last week, in fact), and I can't imagine what I'd do without either of my parents. While I haven't depended on them financially for a while, emotionally and spiritually, they're still big pillars in my personal foundation. I'm really lucky to have them in my life.
No catchy endphrase. Just take a moment and appreciate your home country and family today.
Later Days.
I still remember the 2003 NDP election where he took over the party from Alexis McDonough. I'll admit, for the longest time, I had a slight aversion to him. He was still the leader of "my team," so he had a certain level of support as a given, but a lot of his actions at the time seemed overly flashy, and downright embarrassing. He seemed more interested in showboating, to me. But over time, I came recognize that the showboating was more showmanship, and that there was a statesman under it, and a man who had a lot of deeply ingrained beliefs--many of which I shared.
I don't know what his death will mean to the future of the NDP. It's clearly a blow to it, as it is a blow to all of Canada when someone who has been a part of the debate on our future for so long passes. I hope the party will be able to take what he's taught and what he's created and build on it. Time will tell, I guess.
On a personal level, his death reminded me of my own parents. My father is the same age as Layton (celebrated his birthday last week, in fact), and I can't imagine what I'd do without either of my parents. While I haven't depended on them financially for a while, emotionally and spiritually, they're still big pillars in my personal foundation. I'm really lucky to have them in my life.
No catchy endphrase. Just take a moment and appreciate your home country and family today.
Later Days.
Friday, July 15, 2011
One Hundred Pages of Solicitude #6: You and the State
"Indeed, there is a paradox here. Insofar as you actually use the force you threaten, you fail to get what you wanted, which was for the other person to do your bidding. If you don't use it but merely threaten it, you might succeed in that. But if the other person thinks through it, he could alternatively just refuse, and then where are you? This is the classic game theorist's situation known as 'chicken.'" --Jan Narveson
If you're having reading problems, I feel bad for you, son. I read 99 pages, plus a whole 'nother one. Hit me!
Today's book is Jan Narveson's You and the State: A Short Introduction to Political Philosophy. This reading introduces another element as of yet unseen in my series: bitter, vehement disagreement between reader and author. Essentially, Narveson's book is on the utility of the state, and whether some other models (read: anarchism and libertarianism) may be more useful, or at least open for discussion. The first hundred pages doesn't really get to this argument. What we get instead is an introduction on political philosophy, a discussion of the need for government in the face of (or sometimes, created by) those who would claim rule through brute force, a discussion of conservatism in light of the guardian state, and the first half of a run-down of classic liberalism.
For the first half of the hundred pages, my main argument with the book is also my main praise: its accessibility. I know from hard experience how easy it is to let a discussion of any philosophy, political or otherwise, get bogged down in overladen terminology and discipline-staking jargon. That Narveson avoids this jargon is to his credit; that he embraces simplicity in his prose is even more so to his credit. My problem, however, is two fold. First, and we'll deal with this complaint more fully in a moment, speaking simply sometimes lends itself to speaking broadly, and that in turn leads to overgeneralizing. Second, there's a fine line between speaking plainly and patronizing, and I think Narveson, in his commitment to the former, passes over to the latter, as evidenced by the quotation above. But really, that's a minor quibble; I imagine the book was written for an undergraduate audience, and it's ideally accessible for a first year political science class.
Where things get a little more disagreeable for this Person of Consequence is the chapter on conservatism. Again to his credit, Narverson starts off with the recognition that conservatism is a much misused word, as it refers to political parties that don't really practice it in any traditional sense, and it refers to a common use that makes it equivalent with "slow to change," which can be ascribed to virtually any political system. Rather, he defines it as any political system that forces values on its people, and the contrast is liberalism as the view that individuals are the authorities of their own good. And thus we range through the historical "conservative" leaderships: aristocracies, martial rule, hereditary aristocracy, oligarchy, rule by priests, slavery, and--here's where the trouble starts, Marxism. Basically, I disagree fully with Narveson's characterization of the problems with Marxism, and his discussion on the other side of things, the value of capitalism and the free market. Allow me to explain, in arduous, hippy-laden detail.
First the disclaimers: I don't really consider myself either a Marxist. I've read too much lit theory to ascribe to theoretical Marxism, as I find it rather boring, and I've read too much history to ascribe to Marxism as it was put into practice, as I find that rather terrifying. If you had to boil my philosophy down into a clear statement, it would be, after much hand-wringing, that each individual person has a personal and moral responsibility to help out their fellow human beings (and, sometimes, just fellow beings), or, at the very least, avoid doing anything that actively harms them. The avoidance part leads to a liberalism in social issues, and the helping part leads to a governmental system of support in other issues. So if you know of a pithy term that encapsulates both those aspects, let me know.
And now that I've poured my political heart out, and bared my socialist(?) soul, my actual complaints against Narveson are fairly mundane. He argues that Marx was wrong for three reasons. 1)The theory of value doesn't work because it's trumped by the reality of market value--that is, the market determines what work is, not the amount of labor put into it. 2) Labor is not exploitative because the worker gets something out of it. 3) The polarization of the classes never happened. Responding to Marx's claim of growing inequality, Narveson says: "Uh-huh--so say we now, as our highways are crowded with proletarians equipped with SUVs, hauling their powerboats to vacation sites, and so on. What, we must ask, went wrong (or, better, went right!)?". And later, he argues that free market is better than socialism for obvious reasons: "Twentieth-century socialist States, for example, were prize polluters, and its chiefs wholesale thieves of their citizens' money." His chief example of a model socialist being, in this case, Fidel Castro.
My problem with Marx's argument is that it is overly reductive; my problwm with Narveson's is that it magnifies the reduction and swings it the other way. Both reduce their respective cases to all-or-nothing binary cases. Yes, I'd agree with Narveson that there's no such thing as pure labor value, narrow class divide, or entirely exploitative labor. But to dismiss Marx's arguments entirely on those grounds is equally as wrong. Market value isn't the only way to value things, and some scholars, such as Negri and Hardt, have made a reasonable academic name arguing for other models.
To use the American middle class as evidence that there is no class divide or exploitation of workers is a stretched comparison at best, and disingenuous at worst. First, exploitation CAN still take place even if the worker is apparently getting what they immediately desire out of the situation; one of the core tenets of ideology is that it masks the true state of affairs from those who are entrenched in it. Second, owning a powerboat and SUV is still something of a class divide if your boss owns a half dozen Corvettes and a private yacht. More to the point, Narveson is ignoring the evidence that this middle class is steadily shrinking, and that the appearance of wealth and the reality of wealth are two different things, as anyone with a mortgage can tell you. Finally, his example also elides the fact that exploitation and class divide often moves to where the upper class folk don't have to look at it, overseas in factories with subhuman work conditions and lax labor laws.
And don't get me started on the problems of using Castro as a socialist leader. Suffice to say, as Naverson himself acknowledges, no market is entirely a free market. Placing socialism and capitalism as binary opposites is a false comparison; they're more two ends of a spectrum, with the actual market fluctuating between the two ends.
I'll fully admit that what I don't know about political theory can fill entire libraries (and, in fact, does). But Narveson's book, as it stands at 100 pages, ignores as many questions as it answers.
Verdict: It's certainly a good book for generating political discussion; your personal preference for it will depend largely on your stance towards his version of liberalism.
Would read the rest?: I'm of two minds. On the one hand, I'm not too eager to continue on a book that I disagree with on so many levels. But at the same time, I am curious to see exactly where Narveson's argument is going, and I believe that pursuing things you feel strongly about is an important part of intellectual development, whether you're pursuing something you agree with or not. But I should probably focus on things more directly related to my subject area first.
Final Word: I feel like "You and the State" should be the title for a buddy comedy.
Later Days.
If you're having reading problems, I feel bad for you, son. I read 99 pages, plus a whole 'nother one. Hit me!
Today's book is Jan Narveson's You and the State: A Short Introduction to Political Philosophy. This reading introduces another element as of yet unseen in my series: bitter, vehement disagreement between reader and author. Essentially, Narveson's book is on the utility of the state, and whether some other models (read: anarchism and libertarianism) may be more useful, or at least open for discussion. The first hundred pages doesn't really get to this argument. What we get instead is an introduction on political philosophy, a discussion of the need for government in the face of (or sometimes, created by) those who would claim rule through brute force, a discussion of conservatism in light of the guardian state, and the first half of a run-down of classic liberalism.
For the first half of the hundred pages, my main argument with the book is also my main praise: its accessibility. I know from hard experience how easy it is to let a discussion of any philosophy, political or otherwise, get bogged down in overladen terminology and discipline-staking jargon. That Narveson avoids this jargon is to his credit; that he embraces simplicity in his prose is even more so to his credit. My problem, however, is two fold. First, and we'll deal with this complaint more fully in a moment, speaking simply sometimes lends itself to speaking broadly, and that in turn leads to overgeneralizing. Second, there's a fine line between speaking plainly and patronizing, and I think Narveson, in his commitment to the former, passes over to the latter, as evidenced by the quotation above. But really, that's a minor quibble; I imagine the book was written for an undergraduate audience, and it's ideally accessible for a first year political science class.
Where things get a little more disagreeable for this Person of Consequence is the chapter on conservatism. Again to his credit, Narverson starts off with the recognition that conservatism is a much misused word, as it refers to political parties that don't really practice it in any traditional sense, and it refers to a common use that makes it equivalent with "slow to change," which can be ascribed to virtually any political system. Rather, he defines it as any political system that forces values on its people, and the contrast is liberalism as the view that individuals are the authorities of their own good. And thus we range through the historical "conservative" leaderships: aristocracies, martial rule, hereditary aristocracy, oligarchy, rule by priests, slavery, and--here's where the trouble starts, Marxism. Basically, I disagree fully with Narveson's characterization of the problems with Marxism, and his discussion on the other side of things, the value of capitalism and the free market. Allow me to explain, in arduous, hippy-laden detail.
First the disclaimers: I don't really consider myself either a Marxist. I've read too much lit theory to ascribe to theoretical Marxism, as I find it rather boring, and I've read too much history to ascribe to Marxism as it was put into practice, as I find that rather terrifying. If you had to boil my philosophy down into a clear statement, it would be, after much hand-wringing, that each individual person has a personal and moral responsibility to help out their fellow human beings (and, sometimes, just fellow beings), or, at the very least, avoid doing anything that actively harms them. The avoidance part leads to a liberalism in social issues, and the helping part leads to a governmental system of support in other issues. So if you know of a pithy term that encapsulates both those aspects, let me know.
And now that I've poured my political heart out, and bared my socialist(?) soul, my actual complaints against Narveson are fairly mundane. He argues that Marx was wrong for three reasons. 1)The theory of value doesn't work because it's trumped by the reality of market value--that is, the market determines what work is, not the amount of labor put into it. 2) Labor is not exploitative because the worker gets something out of it. 3) The polarization of the classes never happened. Responding to Marx's claim of growing inequality, Narveson says: "Uh-huh--so say we now, as our highways are crowded with proletarians equipped with SUVs, hauling their powerboats to vacation sites, and so on. What, we must ask, went wrong (or, better, went right!)?". And later, he argues that free market is better than socialism for obvious reasons: "Twentieth-century socialist States, for example, were prize polluters, and its chiefs wholesale thieves of their citizens' money." His chief example of a model socialist being, in this case, Fidel Castro.
My problem with Marx's argument is that it is overly reductive; my problwm with Narveson's is that it magnifies the reduction and swings it the other way. Both reduce their respective cases to all-or-nothing binary cases. Yes, I'd agree with Narveson that there's no such thing as pure labor value, narrow class divide, or entirely exploitative labor. But to dismiss Marx's arguments entirely on those grounds is equally as wrong. Market value isn't the only way to value things, and some scholars, such as Negri and Hardt, have made a reasonable academic name arguing for other models.
To use the American middle class as evidence that there is no class divide or exploitation of workers is a stretched comparison at best, and disingenuous at worst. First, exploitation CAN still take place even if the worker is apparently getting what they immediately desire out of the situation; one of the core tenets of ideology is that it masks the true state of affairs from those who are entrenched in it. Second, owning a powerboat and SUV is still something of a class divide if your boss owns a half dozen Corvettes and a private yacht. More to the point, Narveson is ignoring the evidence that this middle class is steadily shrinking, and that the appearance of wealth and the reality of wealth are two different things, as anyone with a mortgage can tell you. Finally, his example also elides the fact that exploitation and class divide often moves to where the upper class folk don't have to look at it, overseas in factories with subhuman work conditions and lax labor laws.
And don't get me started on the problems of using Castro as a socialist leader. Suffice to say, as Naverson himself acknowledges, no market is entirely a free market. Placing socialism and capitalism as binary opposites is a false comparison; they're more two ends of a spectrum, with the actual market fluctuating between the two ends.
I'll fully admit that what I don't know about political theory can fill entire libraries (and, in fact, does). But Narveson's book, as it stands at 100 pages, ignores as many questions as it answers.
Verdict: It's certainly a good book for generating political discussion; your personal preference for it will depend largely on your stance towards his version of liberalism.
Would read the rest?: I'm of two minds. On the one hand, I'm not too eager to continue on a book that I disagree with on so many levels. But at the same time, I am curious to see exactly where Narveson's argument is going, and I believe that pursuing things you feel strongly about is an important part of intellectual development, whether you're pursuing something you agree with or not. But I should probably focus on things more directly related to my subject area first.
Final Word: I feel like "You and the State" should be the title for a buddy comedy.
Later Days.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Friday Quotations: And All of A Sudden, John was all , like, "And now I will Tear This Man a New Orifice." True story, yo.
“I don’t ridicule freedom. I ridicule the idea that it’s a slogan and a platitude and not a reality and that government is the only impingement on freedom." John Stewart on the Daily Show, Oct 12th.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Book Review: Ender in Exile by Orson Scott Card
"Monogamy is what works best for any society in the long run. That's why half of us are born male and half female--so we come out even."
--Ender in Exile, 2008
"Laws against homosexual behavior should remain on the books, not to be indiscriminately enforced against anyone who happens to be caught violating them, but to be used when necessary to send a clear message that those whoflagrantly violate society's regulation of sexual behavior cannot be permitted to remain as acceptable, equal citizens within that society." Orson Scott Card, 1990
" If America becomes a place where the laws of the nation declare that marriage no longer exists -- which is what the Massachusetts decision actually does -- then our allegiance to America will become zero. We will transfer our allegiance to a society that does protect marriage. We will teach our children to have no loyalty to the culture of the American elite, and will instead teach them to be loyal to a competing culture that upholds the family. Whether we home school our kids or not, we will withdraw them at an early age from any sense of belonging to contemporary American culture." Orson Scott Card, 2004
This is going to be a long one, folks. I'm going to spend some time on my feelings of Card's politics, my history in reading his books, the series as a whole, and, at the end, just for the novelty, I'll look at the book itself. To start:
I believe that Orson Scott Card fits under what I'd define as homophobic. I recognize that he is far more tolerant than some, and that his position now may not be the same position he took 7 and 20 years ago (though I don't have any reason to believe it's different, either). But when you imply that sedition is an appropriate response to government sanctioned same-sex marriage and you compare an adult homosexual to a sweaty teenager who can't control his urges, you've entered a mindset that I wouldn't, under any circumstances, support.
Unfortunately, from my perspective, at least, Card is also a pretty damn good sci-fi writer. The question is, if I'm really so deadset against his politics, how do I justify continued reading of his work?
Note, first, that I'm not questioning Card's right to have these views; free speech for a free society, and so forth. I'm questioning my own potential hypocrisy in supporting the works of someone whose views I find morally repellent. Further note that, technically, I didn't buy the book. I took it out from a public library. That's not a way out, though; rather than contribute finances directly, I'm contributing to a set of statistics that suggests the book and the ideas behind it are popular. It's a different level of complicity, but not really a different kind.
For the counterview, I think one of the best arguments can be found here: http://www.gamasutra.com/php-bin. /news_index.php?story=24627. It's for another Card product entirely--the video game Shadow Complex, loosely based on his Empire novel (but not loosely enough that Card doesn't collect royalties from the game). The game's adaptation was written by veteran comic book/sci-fi writer Peter David, who, as a left-leaning Jew, is about as far from Card, the right-leaning Mormon, as you can get. And in this article's comment section, he presents a compelling case against boycotts. He argues that a boycott is just financial censorship, that it valorizes the people you're boycotting among their core supporters. And if the larger company backs down, then the boycott is another step to making products that are as bland and self-sanitizing as possible. Rather, he argues, the best way to fight an idea is with a better one.
Like I said, it's a compelling argument. It appeals to democratic, community-based principles, and it's unflagging in its support of free speech. And it's not even an argument that I disagree with. In my comp defense, one of the examining professors asked me how I'd respond to someone who objects to game studies on the grounds that games promote violence, and my response was--after some hemming and hawing--that if they did cause violence, it's all the more reason to understand their effects, and that banning isn't a solution, because the ideas just go underground. But my professors weren't really satisfied with that answer (largely because I stalled for the time to come up with that argument by giving another argument, that the "magic circle" allows people to tell the difference between games and real life, an argument that contradicts a third, previous argument), and neither am I. Engaging with an argument changes it, and changes the way people view it--by blogging about and reading Card's books or studying violent games, I'm in part complicit in their perpetuation. Neither view, to me, presents a clear moral ground.
To sum up, then: How do I feel about continuing my reading of his work? I AM DEEPLY AMBIGUOUS.
Part of the issue for me is that I've been reading his books for a long, long time. There's a history there; more precisely, they're a part of my history. I came across the book in my grade 10 English class; we were doing a "sci-fi novel" unit, and we had to choose a novel to do a group book report on. Card's "Ender's Game" was my choice. It was one of the longer books, so I was prepared to do it alone; I remember being quite gratified that some other kids were willing to give it a chance just because I was reading it--I thought they valued my opinion on what makes a good book. Considerably later, I figured out that what they really wanted was someone to do their work for them--which I did, since I was the only one who actually finished the damn book in the group, and I wanted to pass, thank you very much. Luckily, the teacher realized that I was the only one who'd read it, and did everyone else's work for them. Or unluckily, if you consider the result of that revelation to my social status. High school is a complicated time.
The point of this anecdote, however, is that the premise of the book struck me immediately as appealling: children are chosen at a young age to train at a military facility to fight a race of alien invaders, and they train through the use of war games. Recall that I read this book about 10 years ago, and at the tender age of 16, I already found game-based sci-fi narratives to be pretty interesting (which bodes well for my future career). I didn't actually read any of the subsequent books in the series; Speaker for the Dead, Xenocide, Children of the Mind all came much later. But I do remember that Ender's Shadow came out during my last year of high school, and for a long time, it held the status of my favorite book. The idea was that it told the exact same events of Ender's Game--but from the point of view of a different character, Bean, rather than Ender. Every conversation both are present for turns out the same way, but with a vastly different interpretation. The transformative power that a change in perspective could bring to a narrative struck me, and left a longstanding mark. (Sidenote: I was so enthused about the book that I blabbed about it at length during a book report project that year. And opened old wounds, as one of the students who had attempted to read the original with me thought I was rubbing his failure to complete it in his face. High school PoC could NOT catch a break.)
Further investigations into Card's writings never quite reached the same level of quality for me. There's a few reasons for that. First, the sequel works mentioned above, Speaker for the Dead, and so forth, are all very different from Ender's Game, though they star the same protagonist. Essentially, in the end (spoiler alert), Ender gets tired of his war memories and guilt and commits a sort of psychic suicide. After a few thousand pages and four books, that's a downer ending. His other two main series--Homecoming, in which colony of people returning to Earth after years of being away; and the Tales of Alvin Maker, an alternate reality 19th century America where magic, or "knacks" are commonplace--are much more overtly influenced by Card's religion, Mormonism. In Homecoming, the characters discover scripture written on buried gold tablets, and Alvin Maker is very obviously an analog of Joseph Smith, the founder of the religion. It probably reflects my own feelings towards Mormonism than anything else, but when these influences are more overt, I find it harder to take the books at face value--or rather, I'm a lot more uncomfortable with what those face values are. The other major series is the sequel to Ender's Shadow; in general, the Shadow books are more politically based than religious, and I find them fairly entertaining, if a little revisionist in their white-washing of Peter Wiggin. Somehow, despite being a genetically-altered super genius mutant, Bean manages to be a more relatable protagonist than Ender.
So, if there's anyone still reading, it's time to say a few words about the book itself. It's another book that fleshes out the between-scene events of Ender's Game--specifically, it happens, as Card tells us in the afterword--between Chapter 14 and Chapter 15 of the original book. It starts nearly immediately after Ender defeats the aliens, follows through his exile to Earth, his discovery of the dormant hive queen of the aliens, and the beginning of his search for a new home for her. And if that sounds like a spoiler, then frankly, I'm about 25 years too late; this is exactly what happened in the original book, only in twenty so pages rather than 450. The question is, then, what the new version brings to the table. There's essentially three plot climaxes: Ender's confrontation with the admiral conveying him to the Shakespeare colony, Ender's guilt over committing xenocide and confusion about why the aliens let themselves be killed, and Ender's confrontation with Bean's lost son, wrapping up some loose threads from the Shadow series. The first element subsumes the first 300 odd pages of the book, only to get wrapped up in an almost perfunctory manner (it also unbalances the book fairly severely, as the climax and colony sections seem almost like afterthoughts in comparison). The second element, which bears much of the emotional drive of the book, is a fairly moot point; those who've read the first book already know that the aliens allowed themselves to be killed because they'd already planned to hide their last queen. And they also know that Ender's guilt will be overcome because he has to find the queen a safe place to live. And those who've read the entire Ender series know a much more depressing answer, that Ender never gets over his guilt, and eventually sacrifices himself over it. You could argue that not every reader will have read Ender's Game and know how things turn out but... first, why would you start a series with the sequel? Second, if you haven't read at least Ender's Game, Ender's Shadow, Shadow of the Hegemon, Shadow Puppets, and Shadow of the Giant, then the third element, the supposed climax of the story won't really mean much, because it's all things happening to characters you don't know.
So the interesting part, then, is less the plot than how it's told and what themes it draws on. The book is heavy on dialogue, which has always been a draw for Card's work. It's not an easy task to write really witty dialogue. It's even harder, I think, in the scenario Card has set up; Battle School is supposedly a compilation of the greatest child geniuses the world has ever known. That means you've got a full cast of children to write for, and children who are supposed to radiate intelligence in everything they say. And they have to sound intelligent in such a manner that the reader doesn't find them ingratiating. It's a difficult balance to get right, and to his credit, Card does it well. In terms of themes, the book has two major ones: survivor's guilt, and the need for family roots, both genetically and physically. Survivor's guilt--or maybe killer's remorse-- has always been Ender's issue; I honestly don't have a lot to say about it, other than it's so ingrained in his character that I didn't even notice it until Card brings it up at the end, at which point it seemed both thunderously obvious that it was there, and that it was absolutely essential to the story. The other theme is family, which shows up over and over again: in the drive to perpetuate the species, in Ender's parents' emotional struggle over forcing their son into exile, in Bean's son's warping at the hands of his surrogate mother, and even in small things such as Graff's repeated statement that his children are the colonists and the children of Battle School, rather than any of his own.
Essentially, Card presents the case that the best actions are those that are predicated in what's best for the human, or sentient, family, and those that are motivated for promoting the individual are selfish, and immature--an idea easily reflected in his views on homosexuality.
So we're back we've started. Rather than run in circles, I'll just draw to a close. To sum up, then: Ender in Exile doesn't tell anything that's absolutely new; it really can't, as a piece that fits between other parts of a vast tapestry. I'll fully admit that there are two specific moments--when Ender writes a letter to his parents after years of silence, and when he acknowledged the role Bean played in Ender's Shadow--when I actually sighed out loud in satisfaction, as literary tensions that are over a decade old are resolved. I think that's the key thing here. The book is, at its core, for people such as me, who have grown up reading the series, and, for better or for worse, grown up engaging the morality it presents.
Later Days.
--Ender in Exile, 2008
"Laws against homosexual behavior should remain on the books, not to be indiscriminately enforced against anyone who happens to be caught violating them, but to be used when necessary to send a clear message that those whoflagrantly violate society's regulation of sexual behavior cannot be permitted to remain as acceptable, equal citizens within that society." Orson Scott Card, 1990
" If America becomes a place where the laws of the nation declare that marriage no longer exists -- which is what the Massachusetts decision actually does -- then our allegiance to America will become zero. We will transfer our allegiance to a society that does protect marriage. We will teach our children to have no loyalty to the culture of the American elite, and will instead teach them to be loyal to a competing culture that upholds the family. Whether we home school our kids or not, we will withdraw them at an early age from any sense of belonging to contemporary American culture." Orson Scott Card, 2004
This is going to be a long one, folks. I'm going to spend some time on my feelings of Card's politics, my history in reading his books, the series as a whole, and, at the end, just for the novelty, I'll look at the book itself. To start:
I believe that Orson Scott Card fits under what I'd define as homophobic. I recognize that he is far more tolerant than some, and that his position now may not be the same position he took 7 and 20 years ago (though I don't have any reason to believe it's different, either). But when you imply that sedition is an appropriate response to government sanctioned same-sex marriage and you compare an adult homosexual to a sweaty teenager who can't control his urges, you've entered a mindset that I wouldn't, under any circumstances, support.
Unfortunately, from my perspective, at least, Card is also a pretty damn good sci-fi writer. The question is, if I'm really so deadset against his politics, how do I justify continued reading of his work?
Note, first, that I'm not questioning Card's right to have these views; free speech for a free society, and so forth. I'm questioning my own potential hypocrisy in supporting the works of someone whose views I find morally repellent. Further note that, technically, I didn't buy the book. I took it out from a public library. That's not a way out, though; rather than contribute finances directly, I'm contributing to a set of statistics that suggests the book and the ideas behind it are popular. It's a different level of complicity, but not really a different kind.
For the counterview, I think one of the best arguments can be found here: http://www.gamasutra.com/php-bin. /news_index.php?story=24627. It's for another Card product entirely--the video game Shadow Complex, loosely based on his Empire novel (but not loosely enough that Card doesn't collect royalties from the game). The game's adaptation was written by veteran comic book/sci-fi writer Peter David, who, as a left-leaning Jew, is about as far from Card, the right-leaning Mormon, as you can get. And in this article's comment section, he presents a compelling case against boycotts. He argues that a boycott is just financial censorship, that it valorizes the people you're boycotting among their core supporters. And if the larger company backs down, then the boycott is another step to making products that are as bland and self-sanitizing as possible. Rather, he argues, the best way to fight an idea is with a better one.
Like I said, it's a compelling argument. It appeals to democratic, community-based principles, and it's unflagging in its support of free speech. And it's not even an argument that I disagree with. In my comp defense, one of the examining professors asked me how I'd respond to someone who objects to game studies on the grounds that games promote violence, and my response was--after some hemming and hawing--that if they did cause violence, it's all the more reason to understand their effects, and that banning isn't a solution, because the ideas just go underground. But my professors weren't really satisfied with that answer (largely because I stalled for the time to come up with that argument by giving another argument, that the "magic circle" allows people to tell the difference between games and real life, an argument that contradicts a third, previous argument), and neither am I. Engaging with an argument changes it, and changes the way people view it--by blogging about and reading Card's books or studying violent games, I'm in part complicit in their perpetuation. Neither view, to me, presents a clear moral ground.
To sum up, then: How do I feel about continuing my reading of his work? I AM DEEPLY AMBIGUOUS.
Part of the issue for me is that I've been reading his books for a long, long time. There's a history there; more precisely, they're a part of my history. I came across the book in my grade 10 English class; we were doing a "sci-fi novel" unit, and we had to choose a novel to do a group book report on. Card's "Ender's Game" was my choice. It was one of the longer books, so I was prepared to do it alone; I remember being quite gratified that some other kids were willing to give it a chance just because I was reading it--I thought they valued my opinion on what makes a good book. Considerably later, I figured out that what they really wanted was someone to do their work for them--which I did, since I was the only one who actually finished the damn book in the group, and I wanted to pass, thank you very much. Luckily, the teacher realized that I was the only one who'd read it, and did everyone else's work for them. Or unluckily, if you consider the result of that revelation to my social status. High school is a complicated time.
The point of this anecdote, however, is that the premise of the book struck me immediately as appealling: children are chosen at a young age to train at a military facility to fight a race of alien invaders, and they train through the use of war games. Recall that I read this book about 10 years ago, and at the tender age of 16, I already found game-based sci-fi narratives to be pretty interesting (which bodes well for my future career). I didn't actually read any of the subsequent books in the series; Speaker for the Dead, Xenocide, Children of the Mind all came much later. But I do remember that Ender's Shadow came out during my last year of high school, and for a long time, it held the status of my favorite book. The idea was that it told the exact same events of Ender's Game--but from the point of view of a different character, Bean, rather than Ender. Every conversation both are present for turns out the same way, but with a vastly different interpretation. The transformative power that a change in perspective could bring to a narrative struck me, and left a longstanding mark. (Sidenote: I was so enthused about the book that I blabbed about it at length during a book report project that year. And opened old wounds, as one of the students who had attempted to read the original with me thought I was rubbing his failure to complete it in his face. High school PoC could NOT catch a break.)
Further investigations into Card's writings never quite reached the same level of quality for me. There's a few reasons for that. First, the sequel works mentioned above, Speaker for the Dead, and so forth, are all very different from Ender's Game, though they star the same protagonist. Essentially, in the end (spoiler alert), Ender gets tired of his war memories and guilt and commits a sort of psychic suicide. After a few thousand pages and four books, that's a downer ending. His other two main series--Homecoming, in which colony of people returning to Earth after years of being away; and the Tales of Alvin Maker, an alternate reality 19th century America where magic, or "knacks" are commonplace--are much more overtly influenced by Card's religion, Mormonism. In Homecoming, the characters discover scripture written on buried gold tablets, and Alvin Maker is very obviously an analog of Joseph Smith, the founder of the religion. It probably reflects my own feelings towards Mormonism than anything else, but when these influences are more overt, I find it harder to take the books at face value--or rather, I'm a lot more uncomfortable with what those face values are. The other major series is the sequel to Ender's Shadow; in general, the Shadow books are more politically based than religious, and I find them fairly entertaining, if a little revisionist in their white-washing of Peter Wiggin. Somehow, despite being a genetically-altered super genius mutant, Bean manages to be a more relatable protagonist than Ender.
So, if there's anyone still reading, it's time to say a few words about the book itself. It's another book that fleshes out the between-scene events of Ender's Game--specifically, it happens, as Card tells us in the afterword--between Chapter 14 and Chapter 15 of the original book. It starts nearly immediately after Ender defeats the aliens, follows through his exile to Earth, his discovery of the dormant hive queen of the aliens, and the beginning of his search for a new home for her. And if that sounds like a spoiler, then frankly, I'm about 25 years too late; this is exactly what happened in the original book, only in twenty so pages rather than 450. The question is, then, what the new version brings to the table. There's essentially three plot climaxes: Ender's confrontation with the admiral conveying him to the Shakespeare colony, Ender's guilt over committing xenocide and confusion about why the aliens let themselves be killed, and Ender's confrontation with Bean's lost son, wrapping up some loose threads from the Shadow series. The first element subsumes the first 300 odd pages of the book, only to get wrapped up in an almost perfunctory manner (it also unbalances the book fairly severely, as the climax and colony sections seem almost like afterthoughts in comparison). The second element, which bears much of the emotional drive of the book, is a fairly moot point; those who've read the first book already know that the aliens allowed themselves to be killed because they'd already planned to hide their last queen. And they also know that Ender's guilt will be overcome because he has to find the queen a safe place to live. And those who've read the entire Ender series know a much more depressing answer, that Ender never gets over his guilt, and eventually sacrifices himself over it. You could argue that not every reader will have read Ender's Game and know how things turn out but... first, why would you start a series with the sequel? Second, if you haven't read at least Ender's Game, Ender's Shadow, Shadow of the Hegemon, Shadow Puppets, and Shadow of the Giant, then the third element, the supposed climax of the story won't really mean much, because it's all things happening to characters you don't know.
So the interesting part, then, is less the plot than how it's told and what themes it draws on. The book is heavy on dialogue, which has always been a draw for Card's work. It's not an easy task to write really witty dialogue. It's even harder, I think, in the scenario Card has set up; Battle School is supposedly a compilation of the greatest child geniuses the world has ever known. That means you've got a full cast of children to write for, and children who are supposed to radiate intelligence in everything they say. And they have to sound intelligent in such a manner that the reader doesn't find them ingratiating. It's a difficult balance to get right, and to his credit, Card does it well. In terms of themes, the book has two major ones: survivor's guilt, and the need for family roots, both genetically and physically. Survivor's guilt--or maybe killer's remorse-- has always been Ender's issue; I honestly don't have a lot to say about it, other than it's so ingrained in his character that I didn't even notice it until Card brings it up at the end, at which point it seemed both thunderously obvious that it was there, and that it was absolutely essential to the story. The other theme is family, which shows up over and over again: in the drive to perpetuate the species, in Ender's parents' emotional struggle over forcing their son into exile, in Bean's son's warping at the hands of his surrogate mother, and even in small things such as Graff's repeated statement that his children are the colonists and the children of Battle School, rather than any of his own.
Essentially, Card presents the case that the best actions are those that are predicated in what's best for the human, or sentient, family, and those that are motivated for promoting the individual are selfish, and immature--an idea easily reflected in his views on homosexuality.
So we're back we've started. Rather than run in circles, I'll just draw to a close. To sum up, then: Ender in Exile doesn't tell anything that's absolutely new; it really can't, as a piece that fits between other parts of a vast tapestry. I'll fully admit that there are two specific moments--when Ender writes a letter to his parents after years of silence, and when he acknowledged the role Bean played in Ender's Shadow--when I actually sighed out loud in satisfaction, as literary tensions that are over a decade old are resolved. I think that's the key thing here. The book is, at its core, for people such as me, who have grown up reading the series, and, for better or for worse, grown up engaging the morality it presents.
Later Days.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Image Rhetoric & Politics
One of the repeated subjects in my multimedia comp exam reading list has been images in general. Basically, the question is, how do you do a close reading of a picture? And, for that matter, why would you want to?
Well, here's one answer:
This image is "title page" image of the Facebook group "I hate it when I wake up in the morning and Barack Obama is President." I've been meaning to do a post about the group at large ever since I saw it. And I might still, at some point. But since it involved both religion and politics, things were going to get a little heated. So we'll stick to the picture. Because by most measures, it's a pretty effective piece of rhetoric all by itself.
As a starting point, the pic is an altered version of this movie poster:
According to Roland Barthes, there are three levels to consider in a photograph: the relationship between text and image; the photo itself, which is a "text without a code," and the cultural connotations of the image. So let's look at each of these, in turn.
1) Text and image. Taken alone, the text makes good use of loaded words. First, "political virgin" is, at the time of the election, at least, one of the more credible arguments against Obama; compared to McCain, and most of the Democratic and Republican candidates, he had significantly less political experience. At the same time, in Western culture, the term "virgin," especially when applied to males, connotes a sense that the individual is unusual and, pushed to the extreme, dysfunctional and unmasculine. This sense is further extended to the byline: "He's Come Too Soon." Though the straightforward reading is that it's supporting the previous point, that he is too inexperienced to be president, it also refers to another failure at being "truly" masculine, the premature ejaculation. The slogan takes what is usually perceived as one of Obama's previous positive points--his positive message and push for change, represented by the grin in the picture--and turns it into a sexual eagerness that prevents him from reaching full manhood.
2) The photo itself. Barthes claimed that photographs were texts without codes, because they represented reality purely. This assumption concerning the photograph's access to reality was common in 60s writing on the camera, and is just as commonly shunned now. In an age of Photoshop, reality is, at best, "reality."
However, I'd argue that this twist on reality works in the picture's favor. To borrow from another set of theorists, Grusin and Bolter, new media forms tend to work through remediation--through repurposing old media forms into new combinations. If this new form tries to appear as seamless reality, it is claiming a sense of immediacy. If it draws attention to its composite nature, it is claiming a sense of hypermediacy. I think that photoshopped images have gone all the way around. That is, an image like this one is no longer pretending to be seamless reality, but a violation of it. As such, its purpose is to draw attention to the skill of the distorter, in reappropriating the image for a new context. In this case, the image claims that its designer has a certain level of computer savvy, and is familiar enough with both Republican arguments and pop culture to be able to mix them in such a form. Typically, right-wingers in the United States have a reputation for being somewhat traditional and humourless; this sort of image allows them to state their case while defying this stereotype.
3) Cultural Connotations. I've already alluded to these elements in the previous points, but that's okay, because personally I think that one of the big problems of semiology is that it tends to become blurry when you start to distance yourself from linguistics. Anyway, the immediate context of this picture is the rest of the website. Part of the underlying joke of the site, as suggested by the title, is that Obama's presidency is (or should be)nothing but a bad dream caused by head trauma. The picture works in that context, contributing to the humor. However, there is a clear problem with the picture: if the joke is that Obama lacks experience, it becomes less and less effective the further Obama's presidency progresses. After all, he certainly has more presidential experience at this point than anyone he ran against. The discrepancy reflects something that I didn't notice until a closer inspection. As the right hand bottom corner of the picture suggests, the image is actually taken from MAD magazine.
In its original context, (that is, the original context of the photoshopped image that is already taken out of the ad-based context of the actual original image) the picture is part of a series of images in a MAD magazine published before the election. The series depicts multiple similarly distorted images satirizing both candidates, thus demonstrating that the original focus is not to support any one political agenda, but to simultaneously provide humour at the expense of politics in general, and to demonstrate the proficiency of MAD writers to create images that make political arguments.
This realization changes the elements I was arguing in favor for in point 2. The author of the site is no longer demonstrating his own savvy in being able to photoshop an image. Instead, it comes from being able to link the image to his own site, and to change its context from something nonpartisan into something partisan--a much lower accomplishment on the computer-skill level. (Hell, if I can do it...) In fact, if someone comes to the site, sees the image, and doesn't realize until later that it was a copied image (someone, say, like me), then far from being to the page's author's credit, the image's presence discredits the page. Thus, we see the full complexity of the remediation balance. While originally, it seemed like a simple matter of immediacy giving way to the hypermediacy of the photoshopped image, adding another level of hypermediacy by placing the image in a new context damages my sense of the picture's immediacy, in that I no longer feel connected to the page's author as the image's creator/distorter.
And yet, there is still another level where the image works--the level of Internet community. By sharing a picture that has been in wide circulation, the author of the page identifies himself as a member of a community that distributes the picture. A person who shares similar political beliefs sees the image, and knows that he or she has found some common ground. The image, then, is less about attracting neutral parties and more about shouting the author's position to those who already agree with him. And really, isn't that what politics are all about?
Yeah, so all this is really sort of a dry run for my object test essay for the comp exam. But when I regurgitate it in 2 months, try to look surprised.
Later Days.
Well, here's one answer:
This image is "title page" image of the Facebook group "I hate it when I wake up in the morning and Barack Obama is President." I've been meaning to do a post about the group at large ever since I saw it. And I might still, at some point. But since it involved both religion and politics, things were going to get a little heated. So we'll stick to the picture. Because by most measures, it's a pretty effective piece of rhetoric all by itself.
As a starting point, the pic is an altered version of this movie poster:
According to Roland Barthes, there are three levels to consider in a photograph: the relationship between text and image; the photo itself, which is a "text without a code," and the cultural connotations of the image. So let's look at each of these, in turn.
1) Text and image. Taken alone, the text makes good use of loaded words. First, "political virgin" is, at the time of the election, at least, one of the more credible arguments against Obama; compared to McCain, and most of the Democratic and Republican candidates, he had significantly less political experience. At the same time, in Western culture, the term "virgin," especially when applied to males, connotes a sense that the individual is unusual and, pushed to the extreme, dysfunctional and unmasculine. This sense is further extended to the byline: "He's Come Too Soon." Though the straightforward reading is that it's supporting the previous point, that he is too inexperienced to be president, it also refers to another failure at being "truly" masculine, the premature ejaculation. The slogan takes what is usually perceived as one of Obama's previous positive points--his positive message and push for change, represented by the grin in the picture--and turns it into a sexual eagerness that prevents him from reaching full manhood.
2) The photo itself. Barthes claimed that photographs were texts without codes, because they represented reality purely. This assumption concerning the photograph's access to reality was common in 60s writing on the camera, and is just as commonly shunned now. In an age of Photoshop, reality is, at best, "reality."
However, I'd argue that this twist on reality works in the picture's favor. To borrow from another set of theorists, Grusin and Bolter, new media forms tend to work through remediation--through repurposing old media forms into new combinations. If this new form tries to appear as seamless reality, it is claiming a sense of immediacy. If it draws attention to its composite nature, it is claiming a sense of hypermediacy. I think that photoshopped images have gone all the way around. That is, an image like this one is no longer pretending to be seamless reality, but a violation of it. As such, its purpose is to draw attention to the skill of the distorter, in reappropriating the image for a new context. In this case, the image claims that its designer has a certain level of computer savvy, and is familiar enough with both Republican arguments and pop culture to be able to mix them in such a form. Typically, right-wingers in the United States have a reputation for being somewhat traditional and humourless; this sort of image allows them to state their case while defying this stereotype.
3) Cultural Connotations. I've already alluded to these elements in the previous points, but that's okay, because personally I think that one of the big problems of semiology is that it tends to become blurry when you start to distance yourself from linguistics. Anyway, the immediate context of this picture is the rest of the website. Part of the underlying joke of the site, as suggested by the title, is that Obama's presidency is (or should be)nothing but a bad dream caused by head trauma. The picture works in that context, contributing to the humor. However, there is a clear problem with the picture: if the joke is that Obama lacks experience, it becomes less and less effective the further Obama's presidency progresses. After all, he certainly has more presidential experience at this point than anyone he ran against. The discrepancy reflects something that I didn't notice until a closer inspection. As the right hand bottom corner of the picture suggests, the image is actually taken from MAD magazine.
In its original context, (that is, the original context of the photoshopped image that is already taken out of the ad-based context of the actual original image) the picture is part of a series of images in a MAD magazine published before the election. The series depicts multiple similarly distorted images satirizing both candidates, thus demonstrating that the original focus is not to support any one political agenda, but to simultaneously provide humour at the expense of politics in general, and to demonstrate the proficiency of MAD writers to create images that make political arguments.
This realization changes the elements I was arguing in favor for in point 2. The author of the site is no longer demonstrating his own savvy in being able to photoshop an image. Instead, it comes from being able to link the image to his own site, and to change its context from something nonpartisan into something partisan--a much lower accomplishment on the computer-skill level. (Hell, if I can do it...) In fact, if someone comes to the site, sees the image, and doesn't realize until later that it was a copied image (someone, say, like me), then far from being to the page's author's credit, the image's presence discredits the page. Thus, we see the full complexity of the remediation balance. While originally, it seemed like a simple matter of immediacy giving way to the hypermediacy of the photoshopped image, adding another level of hypermediacy by placing the image in a new context damages my sense of the picture's immediacy, in that I no longer feel connected to the page's author as the image's creator/distorter.
And yet, there is still another level where the image works--the level of Internet community. By sharing a picture that has been in wide circulation, the author of the page identifies himself as a member of a community that distributes the picture. A person who shares similar political beliefs sees the image, and knows that he or she has found some common ground. The image, then, is less about attracting neutral parties and more about shouting the author's position to those who already agree with him. And really, isn't that what politics are all about?
Yeah, so all this is really sort of a dry run for my object test essay for the comp exam. But when I regurgitate it in 2 months, try to look surprised.
Later Days.
Friday, March 26, 2010
This One's For the Saskatchewan Folk
Recently, my youngest brother, currently residing in Alberta, posted on his Facebook status that he felt out of the loop and wanted to get the news on what's going on in Saskatchewan. Since I'm even further away than he is, I felt the obligation to make something up. And since the other brother thought there was some value in what I came up with, I thought I'd post it here. It's random nonsense, but I kind of like it.
By popular demand, Brad Wall has been replaced by an actual Wall. While Wall has provided valuable infrastructure to the current parliament as a whole, people doubt Wall's long term planning ability. Further, Wall's leadership capability has been called into question; whenever quick action is called for, Wall is reputed to just stand there, blankly. When questioned about this lack of activity, Wall stood silently for 45 minutes until all the reporters felt embarrassed and went home to spend more time with their families.
Later Days.
By popular demand, Brad Wall has been replaced by an actual Wall. While Wall has provided valuable infrastructure to the current parliament as a whole, people doubt Wall's long term planning ability. Further, Wall's leadership capability has been called into question; whenever quick action is called for, Wall is reputed to just stand there, blankly. When questioned about this lack of activity, Wall stood silently for 45 minutes until all the reporters felt embarrassed and went home to spend more time with their families.
Later Days.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Anarchist or Communist?
This is tangentially related to my last post, but separate enough that I decided to put it... separately. (Logical, right?)
When discussing the availability of books for the 18th century course, the professor remarked that it is possible to arrange it so that the name of the person who borrowed it comes up under a public search, presumably to avoid the rounds of "I recalled it, no I recalled it."
"However," he concluded, "I have to say, I'm not really comfortable with everyone being aware of my reading habits."
Which was fair enough. The interesting part was my first, off-the-cuff response: Oh, so it's so much better that your reading habits are in the hands of the ruling elite?
First of all, it's probably telling that I consider the people who work at the library as the ruling elite. Second, it raised what I'll leave as an open question: does this thought imply anarchist leanings, or communist leanings?
Discuss.
Oh, and since it's Inauguration Day and I'm all about leeching off the popularity of real people of consequence, let's start asking unfair, loaded questions:
Is Barak Obama more a communist, or a socialist?
Later Days.
When discussing the availability of books for the 18th century course, the professor remarked that it is possible to arrange it so that the name of the person who borrowed it comes up under a public search, presumably to avoid the rounds of "I recalled it, no I recalled it."
"However," he concluded, "I have to say, I'm not really comfortable with everyone being aware of my reading habits."
Which was fair enough. The interesting part was my first, off-the-cuff response: Oh, so it's so much better that your reading habits are in the hands of the ruling elite?
First of all, it's probably telling that I consider the people who work at the library as the ruling elite. Second, it raised what I'll leave as an open question: does this thought imply anarchist leanings, or communist leanings?
Discuss.
Oh, and since it's Inauguration Day and I'm all about leeching off the popularity of real people of consequence, let's start asking unfair, loaded questions:
Is Barak Obama more a communist, or a socialist?
Later Days.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
It's really Mr. Mandeville's fault for being so devilishly inscrutible.
It's been a while since the last post. Things have been busy--well, nationally, things have been busy. Yay! Canadian Politics are interesting! And the NDP matter! And though the pros and cons of that are worthy of their own post, my own busyness prohibits it. I leave on Saturday for Someplace Else, and I've been desperately trying to wrap up everything at Blank first. (Hey, typing Blank is easier than typing __________. What a shock.)
My marking for students is almost done--I've got about 8 assignments left to mark, and 5 of those are because the student in question hasn't handed them in. I can't remember the last time I was so entertained by my students' final essays. For the most part, they're a pretty sharp bunch, especially for a first year course. (Either I'm getting easy in my old age, or it's because it's a first year course full of fourth year students wanting to cross off their English elective.) And the essays have had some really, really awesome secondary sources. One managed to use Mein Kampf to draw a connection between propaganda and the US in a way that wasn't entirely inflammatory. (Just partially inflammatory, which is what happens when you mention Hitler. Ever. And I can't wait to see the interesting key-word searches this post will create.) Another used Baldwin's PETA video. I checked that out personally. I was expecting a happy-go-lucky fun-loving Baldwin, ala 30 Rock. That is not what I got. Most disturbing thing ever. Finally, one student writing about school discipline used a 1953 film designed for 8 year olds. This lead to a three hour marathon in which Person and friend watched the entire gamut of 50s educational films, from the weenie roasts in "What To Do on a Date" to the bold truth in "The Trouble with Women." Surprisingly, the male-oriented "As Boys Grow" was very accurate. The female "As Girls Grow" was not--ladies, remember that to be safe, you should avoid washing your hair when you're having your period. That's how it works, right? Sadly, since the student was using a 1953 film without either irony or historical context, it didn't really work for a university level paper.
My work for the blog class is done too; I'm ready for the presentation on Friday, slideshow and all. The slideshow will be an academic first for me, so I'm hoping it works well. I'm comparing one comic book blog that involved detailed, personal introspection and another that involved the Punisher punching a polar bear in the face. Which will the audience prefer?
The only thing not going well is my 18th century paper. It's 15-20 pages, and I've finished... um, well, I wrote an outline. *Cough*. Since I've given up on finishing that one by Saturday, the question now is how to minimize the number of books I need to take home. So far, I've winnowed it down to a mere fifteen.
...
Yeah, maybe I should go work on that instead of typing this.
Later Days.
My marking for students is almost done--I've got about 8 assignments left to mark, and 5 of those are because the student in question hasn't handed them in. I can't remember the last time I was so entertained by my students' final essays. For the most part, they're a pretty sharp bunch, especially for a first year course. (Either I'm getting easy in my old age, or it's because it's a first year course full of fourth year students wanting to cross off their English elective.) And the essays have had some really, really awesome secondary sources. One managed to use Mein Kampf to draw a connection between propaganda and the US in a way that wasn't entirely inflammatory. (Just partially inflammatory, which is what happens when you mention Hitler. Ever. And I can't wait to see the interesting key-word searches this post will create.) Another used Baldwin's PETA video. I checked that out personally. I was expecting a happy-go-lucky fun-loving Baldwin, ala 30 Rock. That is not what I got. Most disturbing thing ever. Finally, one student writing about school discipline used a 1953 film designed for 8 year olds. This lead to a three hour marathon in which Person and friend watched the entire gamut of 50s educational films, from the weenie roasts in "What To Do on a Date" to the bold truth in "The Trouble with Women." Surprisingly, the male-oriented "As Boys Grow" was very accurate. The female "As Girls Grow" was not--ladies, remember that to be safe, you should avoid washing your hair when you're having your period. That's how it works, right? Sadly, since the student was using a 1953 film without either irony or historical context, it didn't really work for a university level paper.
My work for the blog class is done too; I'm ready for the presentation on Friday, slideshow and all. The slideshow will be an academic first for me, so I'm hoping it works well. I'm comparing one comic book blog that involved detailed, personal introspection and another that involved the Punisher punching a polar bear in the face. Which will the audience prefer?
The only thing not going well is my 18th century paper. It's 15-20 pages, and I've finished... um, well, I wrote an outline. *Cough*. Since I've given up on finishing that one by Saturday, the question now is how to minimize the number of books I need to take home. So far, I've winnowed it down to a mere fifteen.
...
Yeah, maybe I should go work on that instead of typing this.
Later Days.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Prisoner's Dialectic
This link was brought to my attention today. Essentially, it's the strategic wing of an apparently much broader than I thought movement to galvanize the "Anyone but Harper" vote. I'm... very ambiguous about this. First of all, it shines a big ol' beacon on everything I hate about our electoral system. The idea that you have to choose between voting for the person you think is best for the job and voting against the person you don't want the most in the job seems contrary to the whole "democracy" and freedom of choice thing, and it's argument number 1 in favour of adopting some form of a proportional reprsentation system. (The typical argument against proportional representation, btw, is that it creates minority governments. What is it we have now, again?) If it came right down to it, I don't know if I could follow voting in such a pragmatic fashion; it seems contrary to the idealism that voting is supposed to represent.
On the other hand, the part of me that is really suited to academia admires the movement in an abstract sense. As a social experiment, I'd love to see the result. People are basically counting on a common desire to keep Harper out of office to overwhelm individual partisan loyalties. If you follow this process and vote against your own party in your riding, you are counting on the voters in another riding to keep the pact and balance things out. The process also calls for a surrendering of autonomy and authority; if you're fully buying into this "anyone but Harper", you are surrending your vote and relying on their word (whoever 'they' are) that voting in the manner they direct is the superior method. Of course, arguably, that's what you're already doing by voting for anyone. And so we go in circles.
Finally, the pragmatic aspect of this movement overshadows the obvious truth that it is still an ideology. I respect that people feel this strongly about Harper and the potential future of Canada, and I largely agree with them. I've got a lot of respect for anyone who honestly feels passionate about their beliefs, and for someone to go to the lengths to provide such an exhaustive amount of information, there's got to be a lot of passion there.
Extra-finally, 'cause I thought of a new point, the whole situation strikes me as fundamentally Canadian. This just isn't a problem the two-party American system would face. (Unless you're supporting an independent candidate, in which case you're already part of the crazy fringe,and should thus move to Canada anyway.) Is it weird that this observation makes me feel strangely patriotic?
The whole argument is moot for me anyway. In my riding, I wouldn't even have to make the choice between the two types of votes, because the NDP candidate is the suggested recipient. And, as y'all know, I already voted. But if there's anyone out there who's still undecided, check out the site and post your opinion back here.
On the other hand, the part of me that is really suited to academia admires the movement in an abstract sense. As a social experiment, I'd love to see the result. People are basically counting on a common desire to keep Harper out of office to overwhelm individual partisan loyalties. If you follow this process and vote against your own party in your riding, you are counting on the voters in another riding to keep the pact and balance things out. The process also calls for a surrendering of autonomy and authority; if you're fully buying into this "anyone but Harper", you are surrending your vote and relying on their word (whoever 'they' are) that voting in the manner they direct is the superior method. Of course, arguably, that's what you're already doing by voting for anyone. And so we go in circles.
Finally, the pragmatic aspect of this movement overshadows the obvious truth that it is still an ideology. I respect that people feel this strongly about Harper and the potential future of Canada, and I largely agree with them. I've got a lot of respect for anyone who honestly feels passionate about their beliefs, and for someone to go to the lengths to provide such an exhaustive amount of information, there's got to be a lot of passion there.
Extra-finally, 'cause I thought of a new point, the whole situation strikes me as fundamentally Canadian. This just isn't a problem the two-party American system would face. (Unless you're supporting an independent candidate, in which case you're already part of the crazy fringe,and should thus move to Canada anyway.) Is it weird that this observation makes me feel strangely patriotic?
The whole argument is moot for me anyway. In my riding, I wouldn't even have to make the choice between the two types of votes, because the NDP candidate is the suggested recipient. And, as y'all know, I already voted. But if there's anyone out there who's still undecided, check out the site and post your opinion back here.
Friday, October 3, 2008
I wanted to come up with a pun that worked "Ballet" against "Ballot"
So I voted today. I decided to vote in my riding out west rather than _________, because I felt I was better versed in the issues there and the people involved.
And what a complex, ridiculous affair that voting turned into...
First, when you go to the Canada Elections website and look up the info for voting by special ballot, at the end of describing the procedure, it posts the location of the advanced polls nearest you rather than where need to actually go, which is the nearest elections Canada office. So first, I assumed I had to wait to vote until the advanced polling station opened, and then once I figured out the difference, I had to look up where the elections Canada office was. In terms of distance, I now had to travel another 8 km, which is considerable when your main method of transportation is a bicycle. Added to this, the website says you need to bring a form with you (as it turns out, you don't; they had many, many copies of the form at the office). I had the foresight to print off the form the last time I was at the university, but not the memory to bring the damned thing with me, so before I started the 8 km trek to elections canada, I needed to go on the 8 km there-and-back trip to the university to get the form. The general level of frustration was significantly increased by numerous errors on the elections canada website, and more than a few breaks to conduct a monologue on the subject of how I could be so stupid and why isn't this easier and I wished I lived in communist russia anyway.
At least it wasn't raining.
Once I was at the university, I had my first good thought of the day, and found the elections canada office closest to the university rather than to my apartment, and this sped things up considerably. And once I reached the office, (with only a minimal amount of getting lost) there were five people in front of me in line, but I got to move straight to the head, because I was the only one who had filled out the right form. The woman who processed my application was impressed that I knew my riding and my candidates ahead of time, but frankly, I think if I hadn't, I had no business voting to begin with.
I got my envelope and my ballot instructions on how to send it. Thus came the next moment of embaressment: I had no idea where to buy the stamp I needed. Apparently, right up until that moment of my life, my mother had bought every single stamp I ever used. I wondered around one of those super-size grocery stores, and finally asked the woman who ran the information/cigarettes/lottery ticket counter where I could get stamps. Answer: from her. So that worked out.
The mail-in ballot, in case anyone is wondering, consists of 4 parts: the ballot, the inner envelope, the outer envelope, and the other envelope. You write your candidate's name on the ballot, seal it in the inner envelope, seal the inner envelope in the outer envelope, sign and date the outer envelope, and place the outer envelope in the mailing envelope (thus making a mockery of the outer envelope designation, but never mind.). Then you fill in the address (I still have no idea whether this should have been the resident address, or the voting address), place the stamp you just bought from the nice woman on the front, and spend the next friggin' hour looking for a mailbox.
I'd like to say that all that effort makes you appreciate the significance of your vote that much more. It really doesn't. It does, however, drive home the importance of registering for a new voting location when you move so you get a regular voting card and you don't have to put up with all this... enjoyment. Although I'd do it all again if I had to; voting's part of the patriotic duty, folks. If you don't like it, go live in Communist Russia (you might need a time machine for that, but... eh.).
Everyone remember to go vote on the 14th, and if you want to follow in my adventurous footsteps, remember that the deadline to register to vote by special ballot is the 7th (you can mail it at any time, but the later you do, the less likely that it'll reach Ottawa in time to be counted.).
Later Days.
And what a complex, ridiculous affair that voting turned into...
First, when you go to the Canada Elections website and look up the info for voting by special ballot, at the end of describing the procedure, it posts the location of the advanced polls nearest you rather than where need to actually go, which is the nearest elections Canada office. So first, I assumed I had to wait to vote until the advanced polling station opened, and then once I figured out the difference, I had to look up where the elections Canada office was. In terms of distance, I now had to travel another 8 km, which is considerable when your main method of transportation is a bicycle. Added to this, the website says you need to bring a form with you (as it turns out, you don't; they had many, many copies of the form at the office). I had the foresight to print off the form the last time I was at the university, but not the memory to bring the damned thing with me, so before I started the 8 km trek to elections canada, I needed to go on the 8 km there-and-back trip to the university to get the form. The general level of frustration was significantly increased by numerous errors on the elections canada website, and more than a few breaks to conduct a monologue on the subject of how I could be so stupid and why isn't this easier and I wished I lived in communist russia anyway.
At least it wasn't raining.
Once I was at the university, I had my first good thought of the day, and found the elections canada office closest to the university rather than to my apartment, and this sped things up considerably. And once I reached the office, (with only a minimal amount of getting lost) there were five people in front of me in line, but I got to move straight to the head, because I was the only one who had filled out the right form. The woman who processed my application was impressed that I knew my riding and my candidates ahead of time, but frankly, I think if I hadn't, I had no business voting to begin with.
I got my envelope and my ballot instructions on how to send it. Thus came the next moment of embaressment: I had no idea where to buy the stamp I needed. Apparently, right up until that moment of my life, my mother had bought every single stamp I ever used. I wondered around one of those super-size grocery stores, and finally asked the woman who ran the information/cigarettes/lottery ticket counter where I could get stamps. Answer: from her. So that worked out.
The mail-in ballot, in case anyone is wondering, consists of 4 parts: the ballot, the inner envelope, the outer envelope, and the other envelope. You write your candidate's name on the ballot, seal it in the inner envelope, seal the inner envelope in the outer envelope, sign and date the outer envelope, and place the outer envelope in the mailing envelope (thus making a mockery of the outer envelope designation, but never mind.). Then you fill in the address (I still have no idea whether this should have been the resident address, or the voting address), place the stamp you just bought from the nice woman on the front, and spend the next friggin' hour looking for a mailbox.
I'd like to say that all that effort makes you appreciate the significance of your vote that much more. It really doesn't. It does, however, drive home the importance of registering for a new voting location when you move so you get a regular voting card and you don't have to put up with all this... enjoyment. Although I'd do it all again if I had to; voting's part of the patriotic duty, folks. If you don't like it, go live in Communist Russia (you might need a time machine for that, but... eh.).
Everyone remember to go vote on the 14th, and if you want to follow in my adventurous footsteps, remember that the deadline to register to vote by special ballot is the 7th (you can mail it at any time, but the later you do, the less likely that it'll reach Ottawa in time to be counted.).
Later Days.
Politics Talk. Worse, Canadian Politics Talk
I've noticed that my blogs have a tendency to creep towards "blessay" status (thank you, Stephen Fry; the chief difference between the blog and the blessay seems to be that the blessay assumes a great length, and is presumably more erudite. I can live with that.). Now, for readibility issues, I was considering moving towards shorter entries. That's not going to happen today. In fact, today's topic is so extensive that I'm splitting it up into two posts, so as to best keep my thoughts straight, or at least less crooked.
Have I mentioned that I'm Canadian? Well, consider this the mention then. I am Canadian, and our election is quietly gearing up for the 14th. I honestly hadn't done a lot of thinking about this election; it seems overshadowed by the one down south. Then I realised that this was exactly what was wanted; that by calling an election at this time, the Conservatives manage to slip under the radar and under public notice. (it's an uncharitable assumption on my part, but you don't want your name dragged through the mud, don't call an election before the date you promised to.) I don't like being manipulated, and I want better from my leaders. So today, I sat down and thought about the political parties.
I've already tipped my hand on what I think about the Conservatives. But accusations of shennanagins aside, take a look at their platform. The word that pops up again and again is "individual." (also notice that despite ferverent promises a few years back, the phrase "ban gay marriage" has mysteriously disappeared.) You can see their free market roots here. The basic Conservative stance is that it's the role of the government to allow the individual as much freedom as possible to do his or her own thing. And that's a good starting principle. It's a nice foundation. But it's not everything, or even the important thing.
Stripped of its niceties, this policy boils down to a sentiment that's not nice at all: look out for number one. Stop anything and everything that might intefere with the pursuit of me. I think we're better than that. I think that as a people, as Canadians, as members of the human race, we're better than that. And if we're not, we should be. And the only way we're going to get there is if we pursue not what's best for the individual but what's best for everyone. And I don't mean a blind pursuit where the one is sacrificed for the good of the many. I mean a constant discussion, even argument, from everyone involved, a never-ending state of definition and re-definition that keeps in mind the ultimate goal: help each other. That means more government, not less, more social programs, not more tax cuts. The Conservative stance is to provide (and strip down) just enough so a person can help his or herself; my stance is that greatest, most noble action is to do whatever we can to help each other.
So not voting for the Conservatives, then.
Next up: the Liberals. Here's their platform. (Really? You want to lead with your tradition of fiscal responsibility? Really?) The liberals are probably the most middle-of-the-road party Canada's got in terms of ideology. And that's what bugs me about them. I've always felt that if you had some sort of hypothetical knife that could slice open the liberal party and expose their core belief, all you'd find is a note that says "I'll believe whatever you want me to believe to get elected. And aren't the Conservatives scary?". "We're not them" may be a message that caters to their main strength, and they certainly don't bother me as much as the Conservatives and their actually existing ideology, but... it's not enough, not for me.
Finally, where the crux of my choice lies: the Green Party and the NDP. And I probably shouldn't be lumping them together, but, well, that's what the problem is. I checked up on a few forums that were discussing my home riding, and the general consensus is that the Conservatives would probably win, because the left vote was too divided. (Remember the good old days when it was the right vote that was divided? The REFOOOOOOOOORM party?) That seems to be the case nation-wide, and certainly the case in my own noggin. In terms of fundamental ideology, the big difference between the two seems to be the Green Party's rhetoric is intimately more bound up in environmental concerns, whereas the NDP's is more focused on anti-big business, which probably says more about their original roots than actual differences. So what are the differences? Well, there's this thing by former Green Party leader Joan Russow
which comes out in the NDP favour; she's against basically what she sees as a shift to the right in the party in terms of the military, GMFs, and other in what she sees as an attempt to make the party more mainstream by abandoning its original beliefs. And there's this page which seems to be arguing a different thing entirely, that the Green Party is working to transcend the notion of political spectrum, which is the sort of dichotomy-breaking thinking that I certainly approve of. (Although I wouldn't put too much faith in either of them; the creator of the latter page seems a bit sketchy and Russow certainly has an axe to grind.)
Usually, the tie-breaker for me in such cases is the individuals in the riding, but they stack up pretty evenly as well. So I went with the party I have more history with--maybe not the best rationale, I'll admit, but not an entirely unjustified one either. The NDP have deep roots with me; my parents have been heavily involved in the party for as long as I can remember, and while I respect the Green philosophy, I don't see anything they're offering that's so different as to warrant jumping ship.
So that's that off my chest. See you at the Conservative Majority in two weeks!
Later Days.
Have I mentioned that I'm Canadian? Well, consider this the mention then. I am Canadian, and our election is quietly gearing up for the 14th. I honestly hadn't done a lot of thinking about this election; it seems overshadowed by the one down south. Then I realised that this was exactly what was wanted; that by calling an election at this time, the Conservatives manage to slip under the radar and under public notice. (it's an uncharitable assumption on my part, but you don't want your name dragged through the mud, don't call an election before the date you promised to.) I don't like being manipulated, and I want better from my leaders. So today, I sat down and thought about the political parties.
I've already tipped my hand on what I think about the Conservatives. But accusations of shennanagins aside, take a look at their platform. The word that pops up again and again is "individual." (also notice that despite ferverent promises a few years back, the phrase "ban gay marriage" has mysteriously disappeared.) You can see their free market roots here. The basic Conservative stance is that it's the role of the government to allow the individual as much freedom as possible to do his or her own thing. And that's a good starting principle. It's a nice foundation. But it's not everything, or even the important thing.
Stripped of its niceties, this policy boils down to a sentiment that's not nice at all: look out for number one. Stop anything and everything that might intefere with the pursuit of me. I think we're better than that. I think that as a people, as Canadians, as members of the human race, we're better than that. And if we're not, we should be. And the only way we're going to get there is if we pursue not what's best for the individual but what's best for everyone. And I don't mean a blind pursuit where the one is sacrificed for the good of the many. I mean a constant discussion, even argument, from everyone involved, a never-ending state of definition and re-definition that keeps in mind the ultimate goal: help each other. That means more government, not less, more social programs, not more tax cuts. The Conservative stance is to provide (and strip down) just enough so a person can help his or herself; my stance is that greatest, most noble action is to do whatever we can to help each other.
So not voting for the Conservatives, then.
Next up: the Liberals. Here's their platform. (Really? You want to lead with your tradition of fiscal responsibility? Really?) The liberals are probably the most middle-of-the-road party Canada's got in terms of ideology. And that's what bugs me about them. I've always felt that if you had some sort of hypothetical knife that could slice open the liberal party and expose their core belief, all you'd find is a note that says "I'll believe whatever you want me to believe to get elected. And aren't the Conservatives scary?". "We're not them" may be a message that caters to their main strength, and they certainly don't bother me as much as the Conservatives and their actually existing ideology, but... it's not enough, not for me.
Finally, where the crux of my choice lies: the Green Party and the NDP. And I probably shouldn't be lumping them together, but, well, that's what the problem is. I checked up on a few forums that were discussing my home riding, and the general consensus is that the Conservatives would probably win, because the left vote was too divided. (Remember the good old days when it was the right vote that was divided? The REFOOOOOOOOORM party?) That seems to be the case nation-wide, and certainly the case in my own noggin. In terms of fundamental ideology, the big difference between the two seems to be the Green Party's rhetoric is intimately more bound up in environmental concerns, whereas the NDP's is more focused on anti-big business, which probably says more about their original roots than actual differences. So what are the differences? Well, there's this thing by former Green Party leader Joan Russow
which comes out in the NDP favour; she's against basically what she sees as a shift to the right in the party in terms of the military, GMFs, and other in what she sees as an attempt to make the party more mainstream by abandoning its original beliefs. And there's this page which seems to be arguing a different thing entirely, that the Green Party is working to transcend the notion of political spectrum, which is the sort of dichotomy-breaking thinking that I certainly approve of. (Although I wouldn't put too much faith in either of them; the creator of the latter page seems a bit sketchy and Russow certainly has an axe to grind.)
Usually, the tie-breaker for me in such cases is the individuals in the riding, but they stack up pretty evenly as well. So I went with the party I have more history with--maybe not the best rationale, I'll admit, but not an entirely unjustified one either. The NDP have deep roots with me; my parents have been heavily involved in the party for as long as I can remember, and while I respect the Green philosophy, I don't see anything they're offering that's so different as to warrant jumping ship.
So that's that off my chest. See you at the Conservative Majority in two weeks!
Later Days.
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