So I've been asked to be a guest writer (curiously enough, considering my particular political background) for Liberal Media Elite, where I will function as something of a dissenting voice, except in those cases where I'm in agreement with them. (See? I'm already mastering the diplomatic art of using a lot of words to say nothing at all.) I've been a fan of the site since it went up, and they've begun to achieve a reasonably high profile, so it's an honor to be asked. In the meantime, I'll probably be cross-posting most of what I write over here, if only to keep it archived in one place.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Monday, March 5, 2007
Uncivilized
After veritable minutes of careful research, I'm come to the conclusion that the world is divided into two kinds of people: those who are addicted to Sid Meier's Civilization, and those who have never played it.
For the uninitiated: the game is a kind of "God simulation" in which you guide the fortunes of a struggling civilization, founding cities, establishing trade and diplomatic ties, waging war when necessary (and perhaps when it isn't). Your goal is to win the game in one of two ways: either by wiping out all other civilizations (almost impossible without developing nuclear arms), or successfully developing space travel and colonizing other worlds.
The real genius of the game, I think, is its unique combination of challenge and accessibility. It's remarkably easy to sit down and start pushing elements around: what's this? oh, I'll just move my settlers here, click this "found city" button -- what technology should we be developing? whoops, I've been wiped out by barbarian tribes, silly mistake, one more quick play-through -- and then it's three in the morning and your civilization is still getting wiped out by the French.
The system of inventing cultural advances is by far the most interesting part of the game, and the one that produces the most amusing absurdities -- it's possible to develop nuclear weapons without having cracked the secret of pottery, for example. The invention of democracy enables you to discover recycling, because, y'know, one inevitably leads to the other, I guess. The invention of communism allows you to build the United Nations (tee hee), and so forth.
But the thing that struck me the most on my most recent play-through is the fact that the world of the game presents no role for the inspired individual: *all* cultural advances are solely the role of government research, requiring a specific number of "resource points" which, once alotted, will produce the desired invention. This isn't how history works, although the idea's a disturbingly prevalent one -- we hear it now with scientists talking about stem-cell research, confidently claiming that this amount of research over this amount of time will yield this result. (Uh, has science *ever* worked this way? I mean, ever?)
Anyway, the point is that, sure, it's possible for you to build Shakespeare's theatre in the game -- but that achievement is meaningless without a Shakespeare to inhabit it. And a government can't create a Shakespeare. (You could justifiably argue that a government can -- and did -- *facilitate* a Shakespeare. I yield the point, but my own stands.)
So, yeah. I realize that I'm attacking the underlying mechanic of the game, and that altering it would suck a lot. It's a great game, even if I can't help raising an eyebrow at most of its basic assumptions. And it's definitely one of the most ambitious, certainly politically, that's ever been created. Why don't they make 'em like this anymore?
For the uninitiated: the game is a kind of "God simulation" in which you guide the fortunes of a struggling civilization, founding cities, establishing trade and diplomatic ties, waging war when necessary (and perhaps when it isn't). Your goal is to win the game in one of two ways: either by wiping out all other civilizations (almost impossible without developing nuclear arms), or successfully developing space travel and colonizing other worlds.
The real genius of the game, I think, is its unique combination of challenge and accessibility. It's remarkably easy to sit down and start pushing elements around: what's this? oh, I'll just move my settlers here, click this "found city" button -- what technology should we be developing? whoops, I've been wiped out by barbarian tribes, silly mistake, one more quick play-through -- and then it's three in the morning and your civilization is still getting wiped out by the French.
The system of inventing cultural advances is by far the most interesting part of the game, and the one that produces the most amusing absurdities -- it's possible to develop nuclear weapons without having cracked the secret of pottery, for example. The invention of democracy enables you to discover recycling, because, y'know, one inevitably leads to the other, I guess. The invention of communism allows you to build the United Nations (tee hee), and so forth.
But the thing that struck me the most on my most recent play-through is the fact that the world of the game presents no role for the inspired individual: *all* cultural advances are solely the role of government research, requiring a specific number of "resource points" which, once alotted, will produce the desired invention. This isn't how history works, although the idea's a disturbingly prevalent one -- we hear it now with scientists talking about stem-cell research, confidently claiming that this amount of research over this amount of time will yield this result. (Uh, has science *ever* worked this way? I mean, ever?)
Anyway, the point is that, sure, it's possible for you to build Shakespeare's theatre in the game -- but that achievement is meaningless without a Shakespeare to inhabit it. And a government can't create a Shakespeare. (You could justifiably argue that a government can -- and did -- *facilitate* a Shakespeare. I yield the point, but my own stands.)
So, yeah. I realize that I'm attacking the underlying mechanic of the game, and that altering it would suck a lot. It's a great game, even if I can't help raising an eyebrow at most of its basic assumptions. And it's definitely one of the most ambitious, certainly politically, that's ever been created. Why don't they make 'em like this anymore?
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Nike-Eighty-Four
http://mmdnewswire.com/content/view/862/
AAAGGGHHH OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY FUCKING GOD
I have nothing further to add.
AAAGGGHHH OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY FUCKING GOD
I have nothing further to add.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Oh, Right
After the last election, I wrote the following:
"In a national level, Democrats have picked up the House, while it looks like Republicans will maintain their hold on the Senate. A divided government once again, and I have to confess, it couldn't come too soon. Hopefully a split between the various branches will render our government completely ineffective, unable to take a shit without going through reams of bureaucracy first, and a paralyzed government is exactly the kind of government I like."
The bickering over the Democrats' recent non-binding resolution has brought my attention to the fact that -- while a power squabble rendering both parties ineffective is all well and good -- one of the things that a legislative branch *can* be effective at is, say, serving as a check on the executive. Which doesn't seem to be happening.
"In a national level, Democrats have picked up the House, while it looks like Republicans will maintain their hold on the Senate. A divided government once again, and I have to confess, it couldn't come too soon. Hopefully a split between the various branches will render our government completely ineffective, unable to take a shit without going through reams of bureaucracy first, and a paralyzed government is exactly the kind of government I like."
The bickering over the Democrats' recent non-binding resolution has brought my attention to the fact that -- while a power squabble rendering both parties ineffective is all well and good -- one of the things that a legislative branch *can* be effective at is, say, serving as a check on the executive. Which doesn't seem to be happening.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Absolutely Negative
Couple of random thoughts, which may or may not form part of a coherent whole:
-I'm a moral absolutist. This means that I believe that there is an objective good and evil that operates within human society. I don't believe that morality is something solely defined by the society or the family that you were raised in; I believe that there are certain beliefs and actions which are fundamentally damaging for human beings to practice, and damaging to those around them.
-Saturdays are pretty heady for me. I have Tai Chi classes in the afternoon, church in the evening, and cabarets at night. It's a good day for thinking about stuff.
-There are those who characterize absolutism as simplistic point of view. To my way of thinking, the relativistic view -- that words and deeds carry no objective moral weight -- is the simplistic one. My belief is not that mankind is divided into good and bad people, but that each man's soul is a daily battlefield between the two -- that every word and action we deliver carries significance.
-I've started going to church again. People tend to roll their eyes a lot when I talk about light and darkness at work in the world, and the conflict between the two , but sitting through the homilies is reminding me where I got it from. It's place where people talk about that conflict -- and take it very seriously indeed. The church views itself, rightly or wrongly, as a bastion of light in a world of darkness. This is, perhaps, why I've always attempted to characterize theatre the same way -- that I want my profession to serve a similar function in the world.
-I think that the greatest work of twentieth-century literature -- and the one that will be regarded as such by future generations -- is Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings." People scoff at this, because the books are very popular, and people believe that things that are popular can't be great art. They're wrong, and it is.
-One of the things I find so effective about the books is their complex portrayal of evil -- that evil is characterized both as an external force to be resisted physically, and an internal force to be resisted morally.
-The external force -- as embodied by Sauron -- I find effective, because it's so faceless, so chillingly bureaucratic. It's a single animating consciousness with no individual personality behind it. The face of Sauron is in his works.
-The internal force -- as embodied by the Ring -- I find effective, because it corrupts, not by appealing to the worst impulses in mankind, but to the best. Boromir is corrupted by his nobility, his patriotism, his desire to defend his nation. Gandalf was tempted by its potential to heal.
-Is such exercise of power inevitably corrupting? If you told me I could be absolute dictator of America for one week, I'd be tempted. Think of all the good I could do in that time! But would I really be able to step down after a week? After all, I would have to make sure that my changes could be maintained for an adequate period of time. And I'd stay for another week, and another -- until I ended up trying to reshape the country into my own image.
-This is part of why Superman's such a great metaphor for American power. I've joked that he's a man with the powers of a god, who uses them to defend the property of middle-class white people. But would he be wiser to use them more broadly? He could win any war single-handedly, but the source of his authority would be nothing more than brute strength. But to *not* intervene in a war, and to end it quickly, makes him responsible for the lives that are lost. It's America's dilemma, isn't it? We simply have too much power to wield responsibly.
-Tai Chi is interesting because -- like many Chinese arts -- it's defined largely by its duality: that it functions both as a kind of moving meditation and a form of self-defense. It has a "Yin" aspect, a soft, internal one, an embracing of the void, a desire to cleanse oneself; and a "Yang" aspect, a hard, external one, a bright, powerful form of physical resistance. It, too, recognizes the need to confront evil both internally and externally, through that poetic contradiction of resistance and submission.
-This, ultimately, is why I believe that the invasion of Iraq is doomed to failure: because we've been fighting it as an *external* war, and not an *internal* one. We have enough physical power crush any opponent; but our own moral position is too hollow to inspire, to lead. We've built a throne of blood with nobody to place upon it.
-I'm a moral absolutist. This means that I believe that there is an objective good and evil that operates within human society. I don't believe that morality is something solely defined by the society or the family that you were raised in; I believe that there are certain beliefs and actions which are fundamentally damaging for human beings to practice, and damaging to those around them.
-Saturdays are pretty heady for me. I have Tai Chi classes in the afternoon, church in the evening, and cabarets at night. It's a good day for thinking about stuff.
-There are those who characterize absolutism as simplistic point of view. To my way of thinking, the relativistic view -- that words and deeds carry no objective moral weight -- is the simplistic one. My belief is not that mankind is divided into good and bad people, but that each man's soul is a daily battlefield between the two -- that every word and action we deliver carries significance.
-I've started going to church again. People tend to roll their eyes a lot when I talk about light and darkness at work in the world, and the conflict between the two , but sitting through the homilies is reminding me where I got it from. It's place where people talk about that conflict -- and take it very seriously indeed. The church views itself, rightly or wrongly, as a bastion of light in a world of darkness. This is, perhaps, why I've always attempted to characterize theatre the same way -- that I want my profession to serve a similar function in the world.
-I think that the greatest work of twentieth-century literature -- and the one that will be regarded as such by future generations -- is Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings." People scoff at this, because the books are very popular, and people believe that things that are popular can't be great art. They're wrong, and it is.
-One of the things I find so effective about the books is their complex portrayal of evil -- that evil is characterized both as an external force to be resisted physically, and an internal force to be resisted morally.
-The external force -- as embodied by Sauron -- I find effective, because it's so faceless, so chillingly bureaucratic. It's a single animating consciousness with no individual personality behind it. The face of Sauron is in his works.
-The internal force -- as embodied by the Ring -- I find effective, because it corrupts, not by appealing to the worst impulses in mankind, but to the best. Boromir is corrupted by his nobility, his patriotism, his desire to defend his nation. Gandalf was tempted by its potential to heal.
-Is such exercise of power inevitably corrupting? If you told me I could be absolute dictator of America for one week, I'd be tempted. Think of all the good I could do in that time! But would I really be able to step down after a week? After all, I would have to make sure that my changes could be maintained for an adequate period of time. And I'd stay for another week, and another -- until I ended up trying to reshape the country into my own image.
-This is part of why Superman's such a great metaphor for American power. I've joked that he's a man with the powers of a god, who uses them to defend the property of middle-class white people. But would he be wiser to use them more broadly? He could win any war single-handedly, but the source of his authority would be nothing more than brute strength. But to *not* intervene in a war, and to end it quickly, makes him responsible for the lives that are lost. It's America's dilemma, isn't it? We simply have too much power to wield responsibly.
-Tai Chi is interesting because -- like many Chinese arts -- it's defined largely by its duality: that it functions both as a kind of moving meditation and a form of self-defense. It has a "Yin" aspect, a soft, internal one, an embracing of the void, a desire to cleanse oneself; and a "Yang" aspect, a hard, external one, a bright, powerful form of physical resistance. It, too, recognizes the need to confront evil both internally and externally, through that poetic contradiction of resistance and submission.
-This, ultimately, is why I believe that the invasion of Iraq is doomed to failure: because we've been fighting it as an *external* war, and not an *internal* one. We have enough physical power crush any opponent; but our own moral position is too hollow to inspire, to lead. We've built a throne of blood with nobody to place upon it.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Ancient Chinese Secret
“Rule a nation with justice.
Wage war with surprise moves.
Become master of the universe without striving.
How do I know that this is so?
Because of this!
The more laws and restrictions there are,
The poorer people become.
The sharper men’s weapons,
The more trouble in the land.
The more ingenious and clever men are,
The more strange things happen.
The more rules and regulations,
The more thieves and robbers.
Therefore the sage says:
I take no action and people are reformed.
I enjoy peace and people become honest.
I do nothing and people become rich.
I have no desires and people return to the good and simple life.”
I’ve been taking Tai Chi classes lately, and it’s my first in-depth exposure to a soft style of martial arts. Most of my training has been in hard styles – I’m a red belt in Tae Kwon Doe – which consist largely of direct force, of muscle against muscle, bone against bone. And I have a lot of respect for that philosophy – if I’m in a fight with someone, it makes sense for me to hit someone as hard as I can, as fast as I can.
A couple of classes ago, one of the instructors did that thing that every martial-arts instructor does, y’know, where the scrawny old guy stands in front of you and says, “Okay. Come at me as hard as you can.” And you know you shouldn’t, because you know something fucking awful is going to happen to you if you do, but you just can’t help yourself, y’know?
First, he demonstrated the resistance of a hard style – pushing against me with all his strength, and we were about evenly matched. Then, he showed the resistance of a soft style – where I would lunge against him and just somehow fall *through* him or *past* him.
It was like pushing a noodle – because *it’s impossible to push against something that isn’t resisting you*. The more force you exert, the more damage you do to yourself. It’s the perfect illustration of Lao Tzu’s philosophy – that beautiful contradiction of resisting without resisting.
Unsurprisingly, the philosophy of Confucius ended up becoming the philosophy of the state, ultimately establishing four thousand years of varying degrees of tyranny. Lao Tzu, it is said, fled society altogether – his great work, the Tao Te Ching, was supposedly dictated to the gatekeeper of the Han Gu pass, who would not let him depart without leaving some tangible legacy behind.
That seems to be the response of so many of those who fear and despise state power – to abandon civilization altogether, from the Taoist monks, to the survivalist nuts running around in the woods today. And they’re an easy target of ridicule, but I can’t help wondering if there isn’t some merit to their approach. After all, talking about societal collapse isn’t paranoia, it’s history -- *every* society collapses, it’s just a question of *when*.
For my part, that kind of retreat is unthinkable, for at least three reasons. One, because I’m incapable of surviving outside of the boundaries of civilization. Hell, if I can’t get a pizza at three in the morning, I feel like I’m trapped in Lord of the Flies.
Two: because I’m in love with civilization. In fact, that’s a huge part of the appeal of a free market for me. Milton Friedman has this wonderful speech he gives (well, gave, sigh) in which he holds up a pencil and makes the assertion that there is no man on earth who is capable of constructing it. And he’s right – he goes on to list the thousands upon thousands of people involved in its creation, from obtaining the raw materials, to their refinement, to their ultimate combination. There’s a poetry to that, to the specialization and collaboration that city living creates, that I honestly can’t imagine living without.
And, three, although this is by far the least logical one – there’s a part of me that wonders if that kind of retreat from society isn’t simply another kind of submission. Perhaps there is no virtue in resistance – it may simply be the product of idealism and naivete – but I’m young enough yet to be that naive. And I’m tempted to observe that our country was founded by those idealistic enough to resist.
“Why are the people starving?
Because the rulers eat up the money in taxes.
Therefore the people are starving.
Why are the people rebellious?
Because the rulers interfere too much.
Therefore they are rebellious.
Why do the people think so little of death?
Because the rulers demand too much of life.
Therefore the people take death lightly.
Having little to live on, one knows better than to value life too much.”
Friday, January 19, 2007
Confessions of a News Junkie
(Tangential rant about feminism up on my arts blog, if anybody's interested in such nonsense.)
---
My name is phillip low, and I'm a news junkie.
I don't differentiate, I'll take it in any form I can get it, television, newspapers, talk radio, blogs. LSD? PCP? Forget it. Try CNN, FOX, BBC. I'm always looking for a new high. If there was a way to inject information directly into my bloodstream? I'd be doing it right now. If they find a way for me to snort it into my nasal passages or ram it up my ass? Consumer whores like me don't get to have limits.
For the longest time, I didn't get how people could find politics boring. Actually, I suspect I largely generate my own entertainment. The television isn't on for five minutes before I start screaming profanities at the screen.
Thing is, it was around the time of the 2004 election that I think I finally figured it out. I was up all night, laptop sitting open in, naturally, my lap, television on, rapidly switching between channels and websites, following the results with bated breath as they gradually came in, state by state, and suddenly it hit me -- this is how my dad watches football.
It's not like I hate football or anything, it's just that I find it unutterably boring. But here's the thing -- the reason that I find it boring is because I don't understand it. Because I don't know the rules, I don't get the significance of things happening -- and because I don't know the players, I don't get the significance of this guy doing this thing to this other guy.
The reason people find politics boring boils down to two simple things: the fact that they don't understand the rules, and that they don't know who the players are. Once you figure those out, it's gripping. I presume football is, as well. The difference, I suppose, is that if the Vikings win the Superbowl, they don't then get to redistribute your wealth.
Of course, the fact that the media sucks may have something to do with it.
---
In continuing my steady accumulation of 9-11 memorabilia, I just received my copy of a graphic adaptation of the 9/11 Report. Adam Cadre was rather dismissive of it in his review, correctly observing that it consists, for the most part, of stating facts and then illustrating them (e.g. the text will read "President Bush said..." and then show a picture of President Bush, rather than finding a more dynamic way to visually dramatize the events). I would argue that I think he's underestimating the value of being able to attach a human face to the events in question. It's one thing to read "Three Arab nationals set off an alarm and were directed to a second metal detector, but they quickly passed inspection." Somehow, there's a more immediate, visceral impact to seeing it happen.
I spent a couple of months recently working with my students on melodrama, with a particular focus on theatre as political action. Ultimately, the realization I emerged with from this was that theatre's power, politically, is the ability to assign a human face to a problem. An economist can pull out countless charts and statistics, abstractly indicating the idea of poverty -- but an actor can give you a direct, emotional connection.
---
I recall one morning, as I was fixing breakfast, I was flipping back and forth between CNN and Fox News, respectively regarded as the bastions of the left and the right, and -- it was a surreal experience.
FOX, you see, underscored everything with a rapid, pulse-pounding beat, rapidly switching from scene to scene, offering melodramatic voice-overs and pundits screaming at me, attempting to create news as a kind of action movie.
Then I flipped back to CNN. They were in the middle of some human-interest story about, I dunno, autistic kids or something. The camera was using a soft-focus lens, and piano music was playing in the background. I saw an image of a window, and someone pressing their hand against it from the other side. And I thought, ah. If FOX is giving me the news as an action movie, then CNN is giving me the news as a bad Lifetime for Women television special.
Both of them, I recognize, are struggling with the same problem -- finding a way to create that emotional connection between the information they're providing and their audience. Thing is, what we see are journalists pretending to be filmmakers, and they're doing it badly.
This, I suppose, is why I have little patience with those who complain about programs like the Daily Show and the Colbert Report -- because they're filmmakers pretending to be journalists, and they're doing it *well*.
---
My name is phillip low, and I'm a news junkie.
I don't differentiate, I'll take it in any form I can get it, television, newspapers, talk radio, blogs. LSD? PCP? Forget it. Try CNN, FOX, BBC. I'm always looking for a new high. If there was a way to inject information directly into my bloodstream? I'd be doing it right now. If they find a way for me to snort it into my nasal passages or ram it up my ass? Consumer whores like me don't get to have limits.
For the longest time, I didn't get how people could find politics boring. Actually, I suspect I largely generate my own entertainment. The television isn't on for five minutes before I start screaming profanities at the screen.
Thing is, it was around the time of the 2004 election that I think I finally figured it out. I was up all night, laptop sitting open in, naturally, my lap, television on, rapidly switching between channels and websites, following the results with bated breath as they gradually came in, state by state, and suddenly it hit me -- this is how my dad watches football.
It's not like I hate football or anything, it's just that I find it unutterably boring. But here's the thing -- the reason that I find it boring is because I don't understand it. Because I don't know the rules, I don't get the significance of things happening -- and because I don't know the players, I don't get the significance of this guy doing this thing to this other guy.
The reason people find politics boring boils down to two simple things: the fact that they don't understand the rules, and that they don't know who the players are. Once you figure those out, it's gripping. I presume football is, as well. The difference, I suppose, is that if the Vikings win the Superbowl, they don't then get to redistribute your wealth.
Of course, the fact that the media sucks may have something to do with it.
---
In continuing my steady accumulation of 9-11 memorabilia, I just received my copy of a graphic adaptation of the 9/11 Report. Adam Cadre was rather dismissive of it in his review, correctly observing that it consists, for the most part, of stating facts and then illustrating them (e.g. the text will read "President Bush said..." and then show a picture of President Bush, rather than finding a more dynamic way to visually dramatize the events). I would argue that I think he's underestimating the value of being able to attach a human face to the events in question. It's one thing to read "Three Arab nationals set off an alarm and were directed to a second metal detector, but they quickly passed inspection." Somehow, there's a more immediate, visceral impact to seeing it happen.
I spent a couple of months recently working with my students on melodrama, with a particular focus on theatre as political action. Ultimately, the realization I emerged with from this was that theatre's power, politically, is the ability to assign a human face to a problem. An economist can pull out countless charts and statistics, abstractly indicating the idea of poverty -- but an actor can give you a direct, emotional connection.
---
I recall one morning, as I was fixing breakfast, I was flipping back and forth between CNN and Fox News, respectively regarded as the bastions of the left and the right, and -- it was a surreal experience.
FOX, you see, underscored everything with a rapid, pulse-pounding beat, rapidly switching from scene to scene, offering melodramatic voice-overs and pundits screaming at me, attempting to create news as a kind of action movie.
Then I flipped back to CNN. They were in the middle of some human-interest story about, I dunno, autistic kids or something. The camera was using a soft-focus lens, and piano music was playing in the background. I saw an image of a window, and someone pressing their hand against it from the other side. And I thought, ah. If FOX is giving me the news as an action movie, then CNN is giving me the news as a bad Lifetime for Women television special.
Both of them, I recognize, are struggling with the same problem -- finding a way to create that emotional connection between the information they're providing and their audience. Thing is, what we see are journalists pretending to be filmmakers, and they're doing it badly.
This, I suppose, is why I have little patience with those who complain about programs like the Daily Show and the Colbert Report -- because they're filmmakers pretending to be journalists, and they're doing it *well*.
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