I vividly recall traversing the threshold from mainland China into Hong Kong and its environs, because it was as though we slammed into this wall of Christmas. The scarcity of the holiday in the former is hardly surprising -- even setting their wariness of globalization aside, this is after all a country that requires you to renounce faith in God for membership in its sole political party -- but you hit a free-market economy and whoop, there it is.
I had a similar experience around the same time last year, as I returned to the States from another trip overseas to find the airport decked out in full Christmas regalia as early as November fourth. (I also narrowly avoided stepping into a pile of human excrement sitting in the middle of my departure gate, which I observed lying unattended for no less than a full half-hour before I boarded my next flight -- as startling a "welcome home" as I've ever received.)
The season is so relentlessly cheerful that it's hard for contrarians like me to avoid using it as an excuse to brood on all the things missing from our lives.
A lot of people complain that our emotional attachment to the holiday is simply something that was manufactured by advertising agencies. Well, yeah -- but a lot of our attachments are manufactured. In fact, that's what I do for a living -- economically speaking, I create fictional constructs that you develop an emotional attachment to in order to encourage you to continue buying my product. (Of course, artistically speaking, it's somewhat more complicated than that.) But surely that doesn't diminish the validity of the emotion. So what's the sin? That the attachments were created by Big Evil Corporations, rather than struggling artists? If that's the case, God forbid I should ever achieve anything like success.
"But it's such a commercial holiday!" people cry. Well, yeah, but that's obviously not going to be a big barrier to somebody like me. I love capitalism, its hyperactive desire to entertain, its breathless, scizophrenic attempts to capture your attention. The economy booms around Christmastime. "But what about the little guy?" This is when private charity peaks. (Of course, the little guy desperately needs more, not to mention more often -- my point is simply that the season doesn't *damage* us economically.)
"Remember that Jesus is the reason for the season!" cry Christians. Well, we all recognize that for the bullshit argument it is, surely? There's no historical basis for Jesus of Nazareth having been born around this time of year -- it was a co-opting of a number of pagan festivals, which, I'm sure, cannibalized the traditions preceding them, as well. "But what about other winter festivals, like Hannukah, or Kwanzaa?" Oog. I can't speak for the Jews -- whose dates aren't determined by the Gregorian calendar -- but Kwanzaa was invented in 1966 by a Marxist who claimed that Jesus was psychotic. Then people start calling me a racist, and then I curl up into a fetal position and start rocking.
It hardly matters though, does it? After all, they're all made-up holidays, at least in terms of the time of year that they take place. The reason we have a winter festival is because we all get so fucking depressed that we need a socially acceptable excuse to get recklessly drunk and start frantically groping each other beneath exotic vegetation. And that, I can get behind.
---
Just got back from seeing Santa Man, another zinger of a one-man show from the prolific Rik Reppe. I know this is a backhanded compliment, but it's the most enjoyable holiday show in recent memory. It follows the same predictable arc that so many Christmas stories do -- cantankerous individual discovers holiday cheer through the spirit of charity -- with the significant twist that this story is a true one; Rik, depressed over an impending divorce, set out on a road trip across America last year to hand out toys to Katrina victims.
Towards the beginning of the show, as he was talking about things like snowball fights and road music, I found myself thinking: "His strength as a storyteller is his ability to attach profound significance to events most of us wouldn't consider twice." But no, that's wrong, and I quickly corrected myself. His strength as a storyteller is the fact that he's a man of action, that he aggressively pursues his stories, rather than passively allowing them to happen to him. After all, while most of us (okay, me) were sitting at home feeling sorry for ourselves, he hopped in his car and actually did something beneficial to somebody else.
In an enjoyable twist, the nature of the show became an interactive one, as Rik and his cronies over at Liberal Media Elite conducted a toy drive in conjunction with the performance, which he'll be taking out to kids who lost their parents in the Immigration and Customs Enforcement raid in Worthington. It's a swell cause, and one that contributes a level of immediacy to his storytelling. Highly recommended, if it wasn't obvious already, and it gets the phil low stamp of approval(TM).
---
What is libertarianism about? It seems like I've asked that question in every post since I started this thing, and come up with a different answer every time. (To paraphrase an old joke, put five libertarians in a room together and you'll get six opinions.) But it's a worthwhile question: what is it all about?
It's not about greed, or selfishness (contrary to popular opinion, or what Ayn Rand and her acolytes may assert) -- at least, not for me; it's about the power of choice, and assuming personal responsibility for those choices.
Christmas is an emotional time, and it's easy to lash out at the world around you: to blame corporations, or government, or Christians, or secularists, or the idiots who put up nativity scenes, or the idiots who vandalize them. But libertarianism demands that you take responsibility: that you take responsibility for your Christmas. The season can be about whatever you choose it to be: about greed, or compassion, or Jesus, or family, or alcohol. (The best Christmas, I imagine, would be one that managed to combine all of the above.)
So, rather than dishing out yet another saccharine "Merry Christmas!", allow me to articulate a truly libertarian holiday sentiment:
(clears throat)
"I hope that you choose to have a Merry Christmas, and that you choose to share that spirit with those around you."
Amen, brothers and sisters. And to all a good night.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Department of Insecurity
"It's not my fault," he went on harshly. "I didn't do any of this. None of it. But I'm the cause. Even when I don't do anything. It's all being done because of me. So I won't have any choice. Just by being alive, I break everything I love." He scraped his fingers through the stubble of his beard; but his eyes continued staring at the waste of Andelain, haunted by it. "You'd think I wanted this to happen."
"No!" the First protested. "We hold no such conception. You must not doubt. It is doubt which weakens -- doubt which corrupts. Therefore is this Despiser powerful. He does not doubt. While you are certain, there is hope." Her iron voice betrayed a note of fear. "This price will be exacted from him if you do not doubt!"
Covenant looked at her for a moment. Then he rose stiffly to his feet. His muscles and his heart were knotted so tightly that Linden could not read him.
"That's wrong." He spoke softly, in threat or appeal. "You need to doubt. Certainty is terrible. Let Foul have it. Doubt makes you human." His gaze shifted toward Linden. It reached out to her like flame or beggary, the culmination and defeat of all his power in the Banefire. "You need every doubt you can find. I want you to doubt. I'm hardly human anymore."
-Stephen R. Donaldson, White Gold Wielder
I don't own a gun.
I'm a fan of the Bill of Rights. I'll always defend your right to possess one, and to use it in your own defense if necessary. I'm surprised that people aren't more alarmed by the prospect of a government that attempts to forcibly disarm its own citizens. I'm also surprised that the Democrats -- who claim to be the supporters of individual liberty -- are the ones most engaged in trying to repeal that right.
So, politically? Yeah. An unarmed populace is completely *dependent* upon the state. I get that. But that doesn't alter my great personal distaste for them. In fact, "distaste" is too mild a word -- I have an active *revulsion* for the fucking things. Why?
I can conjure up a few possible reasons. For one thing, my background in martial arts: a form whose sole function is to prepare you for the moment of confrontation with your own mortality. If I attempt to kill a man with my bare hands, that takes some goddamn *work* on my part. A gun is a tool designed with the sole function of making killing *easy*.
Of course, I recognize that fine ideals like that won't defend me from a bullet speeding toward my face at 3000 feet per second. And I recognize that that's groping after a rational explanation for an emotional state that is fundamentally irrational.
Because ultimately, it isn't violence I fear: it's *power*.
---
If I distrust power in others, then it's at least partly because I distrust it so deeply within myself. I'm all too aware of my own capacity for harm.
This, I think, is the area that differentiates me from so many other libertarian writers: that so many of them seem to be trying to re-invent themselves as the Randian "ideal man", preaching with the same brash self-assurance that -- forgive me -- characterized the socialists of many decades ago.
Well, I'm the first to admit that I've got more than my share of preachiness and self-righteous indignation. But though I'm a Libertarian, I'm no Objectivist. And maybe it's all of my clowning training, but that kind of assertiveness just doesn't come easily to me. I look in the mirror, and my reflection doesn't present an ideal *anything* -- I'm not physically imposing, I have no fashion sense -- I'm so hamstrung by my neuroses half the time it's a miracle I can even manage to leave my apartment. If libertarianism offers us the promise of the self-created man, the man who confidently seizes his destiny and conquers his opposition, well, I ain't it. If life is a circus, I'm not the ringmaster; I'm the guy scraping up the elephant shit after the audience goes home.
In fact, the only thing I'm confident of is my right to indecision. The ideal to which I've devoted my life is the pursuit of (t/T)ruth. Perhaps it's that spirit of inquiry that's led me to the libertarians -- because, in my view, they're the ones who are most likely to defend it.
Or, perhaps not. Or...well...maybe...hmm...
"INDECISION NOW!" isn't a battle cry that's going to rouse anybody's blood. But I sometimes wonder if it isn't the sanest one.
---
The quote at the beginning of this post comes from my favorite modern fantasy work, "The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever." (Have I mentioned I'm kind of a geek?) It relies upon a fairly cliched fantasy setup -- unlikely hero is given a ring of unimaginable power to overthrow a dark lord, yadda yadda yadda -- with two twists: one, a compelling moral ambiguity; and two, the fact that the "hero" is writer who suffers from chronic illness, and consequently believes that his own capacity for creation will kill him. I'm reminded of one passage in particular:
"...innocence is a wonderful thing except for the fact that it's impotent. Guilt is power. All effective people are guilty because the use of power is guilt, and only guilty people can be effective. Effective for good, mind you. Only the damned can be saved."
Amen to that, brother.
"No!" the First protested. "We hold no such conception. You must not doubt. It is doubt which weakens -- doubt which corrupts. Therefore is this Despiser powerful. He does not doubt. While you are certain, there is hope." Her iron voice betrayed a note of fear. "This price will be exacted from him if you do not doubt!"
Covenant looked at her for a moment. Then he rose stiffly to his feet. His muscles and his heart were knotted so tightly that Linden could not read him.
"That's wrong." He spoke softly, in threat or appeal. "You need to doubt. Certainty is terrible. Let Foul have it. Doubt makes you human." His gaze shifted toward Linden. It reached out to her like flame or beggary, the culmination and defeat of all his power in the Banefire. "You need every doubt you can find. I want you to doubt. I'm hardly human anymore."
-Stephen R. Donaldson, White Gold Wielder
I don't own a gun.
I'm a fan of the Bill of Rights. I'll always defend your right to possess one, and to use it in your own defense if necessary. I'm surprised that people aren't more alarmed by the prospect of a government that attempts to forcibly disarm its own citizens. I'm also surprised that the Democrats -- who claim to be the supporters of individual liberty -- are the ones most engaged in trying to repeal that right.
So, politically? Yeah. An unarmed populace is completely *dependent* upon the state. I get that. But that doesn't alter my great personal distaste for them. In fact, "distaste" is too mild a word -- I have an active *revulsion* for the fucking things. Why?
I can conjure up a few possible reasons. For one thing, my background in martial arts: a form whose sole function is to prepare you for the moment of confrontation with your own mortality. If I attempt to kill a man with my bare hands, that takes some goddamn *work* on my part. A gun is a tool designed with the sole function of making killing *easy*.
Of course, I recognize that fine ideals like that won't defend me from a bullet speeding toward my face at 3000 feet per second. And I recognize that that's groping after a rational explanation for an emotional state that is fundamentally irrational.
Because ultimately, it isn't violence I fear: it's *power*.
---
If I distrust power in others, then it's at least partly because I distrust it so deeply within myself. I'm all too aware of my own capacity for harm.
This, I think, is the area that differentiates me from so many other libertarian writers: that so many of them seem to be trying to re-invent themselves as the Randian "ideal man", preaching with the same brash self-assurance that -- forgive me -- characterized the socialists of many decades ago.
Well, I'm the first to admit that I've got more than my share of preachiness and self-righteous indignation. But though I'm a Libertarian, I'm no Objectivist. And maybe it's all of my clowning training, but that kind of assertiveness just doesn't come easily to me. I look in the mirror, and my reflection doesn't present an ideal *anything* -- I'm not physically imposing, I have no fashion sense -- I'm so hamstrung by my neuroses half the time it's a miracle I can even manage to leave my apartment. If libertarianism offers us the promise of the self-created man, the man who confidently seizes his destiny and conquers his opposition, well, I ain't it. If life is a circus, I'm not the ringmaster; I'm the guy scraping up the elephant shit after the audience goes home.
In fact, the only thing I'm confident of is my right to indecision. The ideal to which I've devoted my life is the pursuit of (t/T)ruth. Perhaps it's that spirit of inquiry that's led me to the libertarians -- because, in my view, they're the ones who are most likely to defend it.
Or, perhaps not. Or...well...maybe...hmm...
"INDECISION NOW!" isn't a battle cry that's going to rouse anybody's blood. But I sometimes wonder if it isn't the sanest one.
---
The quote at the beginning of this post comes from my favorite modern fantasy work, "The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever." (Have I mentioned I'm kind of a geek?) It relies upon a fairly cliched fantasy setup -- unlikely hero is given a ring of unimaginable power to overthrow a dark lord, yadda yadda yadda -- with two twists: one, a compelling moral ambiguity; and two, the fact that the "hero" is writer who suffers from chronic illness, and consequently believes that his own capacity for creation will kill him. I'm reminded of one passage in particular:
"...innocence is a wonderful thing except for the fact that it's impotent. Guilt is power. All effective people are guilty because the use of power is guilt, and only guilty people can be effective. Effective for good, mind you. Only the damned can be saved."
Amen to that, brother.
Thursday, December 7, 2006
A Strained Homonym
I guess that you could say that I've always had an issue with capitals.
My name, for example -- I haven't capitalized it since I was sixteen years old. The affectation started with an obsession with e. e. cummings, a pretentious act of adolescent rebellion, the linguistic equivalent of dying one's hair green. When I entered show business, it struck me that a memorable quirk could be professionally advantageous -- so I hung onto it. (Besides, I suppose that I have some objection to my name being classified as a proper noun. There ain't nothin' proper about me, thank you very much.)
Likewise, I've never had much fondness for capitols, either, those industry towns whose industry happens to be the government. I infinitely prefer the bustling nightlife and exuberant cultural scene of Minneapolis to the staid, static wasteland that is St. Paul. I've always distrusted the consolodation of power.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that those are both reasons why I've long resisted making the jump from being a small-"l" libertarian to a large-"L" party supporter. While I align myself with them philosophically -- I find their platform to be just about the most coherent and ethical political ideology I've ever encountered -- I was never quite able to bring myself to join up.
Ironically, one of the main forces that led me to the party -- a profound distrust of authority -- is also one of the things that's kept me from signing on the dotted line. I'm not a joiner by nature. I'm too damned stubborn, too damned skeptical, and Lord knows I've been burned too goddamned many times by just about every organization I've aligned myself with, religious, political, or professional. I mean, Christ, I supported the Democrats for most of my teen years, and that didn't exactly have stellar results.
There's a professional concern, too. I've commented that the greatest casualty of 9-11 was decent comedy writing, as countless skilled comedians eschewed punchlines in favor of trying to re-invent themselves as tiresome political pundits. I've come to believe that my status as an outsider has been advantageous to me as an artist -- since I'm not invested in either of the two major political parties, I'm free to heckle both from the sidelines. Once you swear yourself to an Absolute Truth, you lose some of your unpredictability, some of your effectiveness, some of your, dare I say it, individuality -- not to mention taking the first tiny step to becoming a dictator yourself.
But this afternoon, I finally signed up. Why?
Well, a number of reasons. It's true that I'm in agreement with the bulk of their philosophy, but more importantly, they're in agreement with mine. It's not that I read the literature and tried to conform my opinions to theirs, it's that I read the literature and realized that they were saying things that I'd been thinking -- not to mention writing about, and performing -- for years. There's also the fact that we're coming off of midterm election season, and that's always a pretty emotional time for me. But I think the greatest reason is my return from three countries (or two, or one, depending on how you define it) -- Taiwan, Hong Kong, and, most notably, China.
Seeing China up close was a -- troubling experience. Of course, there were the obvious things -- the state-sponsored propaganda, the omnipresence of the police -- but what really disturbed me, I think, was how effectively they were able to put up a smiling face -- that I could be sitting at a table with men and women earnestly discussing the failure of capitalism of democracy.
On November 24, the day I left, Wan Yanhai, the country's leading AIDS activist, disappeared under mysterious circumstances -- almost certainly murdered by the police. The thing is, within the country itself, I would have had absolutely no way of knowing about this -- it was only after I left that I found it reported. And that's just one destroyed life among many.
It's been correctly ascertained that China is now a Communist country in name only. Their leadership was able to realize that that path would lead them to certain economic self-destruction. So we're seeing the rise of private enterprise, under the control of an authoritarian government. Stalin coined a term for that merger of state and corporate power -- he called it corporatism.
But in the West, we had a different name for it. We called it fascism, and in its day, it nearly brought the free world to its knees.
One of my fellow Minnesotans, Sinclair Lewis, famously said "When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross." Now our reliance on a two-party system has left our government vulnerable to a takeover by religious fundamentalists. This is one of the most alarming -- not to mention unprecedented -- events in our political history.
I'm equally alarmed by the rise of the religious left, who are trying to adopt the language and tactics of their opposition, apparently dismissing Christ's injunction to "render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's, render unto God that which is God's" -- perhaps the most eloquent call for the separation of church and state in history. The first priority of Jesus of Nazareth was saving souls (in fact, as I recall it, he was crucified in part for his refusal to enter the politics of the day). He urged men to give of themselves to the poor, because it was spiritually good for them to do so. He did not urge men to create a government that would forcibly redistribute other people's wealth amongst the populace.
So why did I join the party? And why am I writing this blog? In part, because I've come to realize how small I am in relation to that, how limited I am as a single voice -- and, perhaps, a foolish desire to measure myself against the rising darkness of our time. I recognize that you can't fight collectivism with collectivism. But that doesn't mean that you have to stand alone.
I believe that the key question of all politics was posed nearly two thousand years ago, by a satirist named Juvenal: "Quis custodiet ipso custodies?" or, "Who watches the watchmen?" Glancing around at the American political landscape, the answer, I believe, *is* the libertarians. The digital revolution, and the rise of the internet, is changing the way we access information. That's easily the topic of an essay in and of itself, but the point is that voices that have traditionally gone unheard are gaining a larger and larger audience.
I'm still struggling to figure out what my role in contemporary politics is. Even if the nature of military life wasn't in diametric opposition to my disposition, my physical disability would presumably keep me from the battlefield. I know myself too well to believe that I could ever pose as a credible electoral candidate. It's true that I have certain abilities, and that most of my work has an expressly political subtext (not to mention, something of an overbearing, preachy streak) -- but I find the bulk of explicitly political plays to be offensively condescending. I have no intention of becoming a party shill in my work -- I recognize that that would be both financial and artistic suicide.
I'm still trying to figure it out. But for now, I'll be doing it as a (l/L)ibertarian. Capit(a/o)ls and all.
My name, for example -- I haven't capitalized it since I was sixteen years old. The affectation started with an obsession with e. e. cummings, a pretentious act of adolescent rebellion, the linguistic equivalent of dying one's hair green. When I entered show business, it struck me that a memorable quirk could be professionally advantageous -- so I hung onto it. (Besides, I suppose that I have some objection to my name being classified as a proper noun. There ain't nothin' proper about me, thank you very much.)
Likewise, I've never had much fondness for capitols, either, those industry towns whose industry happens to be the government. I infinitely prefer the bustling nightlife and exuberant cultural scene of Minneapolis to the staid, static wasteland that is St. Paul. I've always distrusted the consolodation of power.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that those are both reasons why I've long resisted making the jump from being a small-"l" libertarian to a large-"L" party supporter. While I align myself with them philosophically -- I find their platform to be just about the most coherent and ethical political ideology I've ever encountered -- I was never quite able to bring myself to join up.
Ironically, one of the main forces that led me to the party -- a profound distrust of authority -- is also one of the things that's kept me from signing on the dotted line. I'm not a joiner by nature. I'm too damned stubborn, too damned skeptical, and Lord knows I've been burned too goddamned many times by just about every organization I've aligned myself with, religious, political, or professional. I mean, Christ, I supported the Democrats for most of my teen years, and that didn't exactly have stellar results.
There's a professional concern, too. I've commented that the greatest casualty of 9-11 was decent comedy writing, as countless skilled comedians eschewed punchlines in favor of trying to re-invent themselves as tiresome political pundits. I've come to believe that my status as an outsider has been advantageous to me as an artist -- since I'm not invested in either of the two major political parties, I'm free to heckle both from the sidelines. Once you swear yourself to an Absolute Truth, you lose some of your unpredictability, some of your effectiveness, some of your, dare I say it, individuality -- not to mention taking the first tiny step to becoming a dictator yourself.
But this afternoon, I finally signed up. Why?
Well, a number of reasons. It's true that I'm in agreement with the bulk of their philosophy, but more importantly, they're in agreement with mine. It's not that I read the literature and tried to conform my opinions to theirs, it's that I read the literature and realized that they were saying things that I'd been thinking -- not to mention writing about, and performing -- for years. There's also the fact that we're coming off of midterm election season, and that's always a pretty emotional time for me. But I think the greatest reason is my return from three countries (or two, or one, depending on how you define it) -- Taiwan, Hong Kong, and, most notably, China.
Seeing China up close was a -- troubling experience. Of course, there were the obvious things -- the state-sponsored propaganda, the omnipresence of the police -- but what really disturbed me, I think, was how effectively they were able to put up a smiling face -- that I could be sitting at a table with men and women earnestly discussing the failure of capitalism of democracy.
On November 24, the day I left, Wan Yanhai, the country's leading AIDS activist, disappeared under mysterious circumstances -- almost certainly murdered by the police. The thing is, within the country itself, I would have had absolutely no way of knowing about this -- it was only after I left that I found it reported. And that's just one destroyed life among many.
It's been correctly ascertained that China is now a Communist country in name only. Their leadership was able to realize that that path would lead them to certain economic self-destruction. So we're seeing the rise of private enterprise, under the control of an authoritarian government. Stalin coined a term for that merger of state and corporate power -- he called it corporatism.
But in the West, we had a different name for it. We called it fascism, and in its day, it nearly brought the free world to its knees.
One of my fellow Minnesotans, Sinclair Lewis, famously said "When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross." Now our reliance on a two-party system has left our government vulnerable to a takeover by religious fundamentalists. This is one of the most alarming -- not to mention unprecedented -- events in our political history.
I'm equally alarmed by the rise of the religious left, who are trying to adopt the language and tactics of their opposition, apparently dismissing Christ's injunction to "render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's, render unto God that which is God's" -- perhaps the most eloquent call for the separation of church and state in history. The first priority of Jesus of Nazareth was saving souls (in fact, as I recall it, he was crucified in part for his refusal to enter the politics of the day). He urged men to give of themselves to the poor, because it was spiritually good for them to do so. He did not urge men to create a government that would forcibly redistribute other people's wealth amongst the populace.
So why did I join the party? And why am I writing this blog? In part, because I've come to realize how small I am in relation to that, how limited I am as a single voice -- and, perhaps, a foolish desire to measure myself against the rising darkness of our time. I recognize that you can't fight collectivism with collectivism. But that doesn't mean that you have to stand alone.
I believe that the key question of all politics was posed nearly two thousand years ago, by a satirist named Juvenal: "Quis custodiet ipso custodies?" or, "Who watches the watchmen?" Glancing around at the American political landscape, the answer, I believe, *is* the libertarians. The digital revolution, and the rise of the internet, is changing the way we access information. That's easily the topic of an essay in and of itself, but the point is that voices that have traditionally gone unheard are gaining a larger and larger audience.
I'm still struggling to figure out what my role in contemporary politics is. Even if the nature of military life wasn't in diametric opposition to my disposition, my physical disability would presumably keep me from the battlefield. I know myself too well to believe that I could ever pose as a credible electoral candidate. It's true that I have certain abilities, and that most of my work has an expressly political subtext (not to mention, something of an overbearing, preachy streak) -- but I find the bulk of explicitly political plays to be offensively condescending. I have no intention of becoming a party shill in my work -- I recognize that that would be both financial and artistic suicide.
I'm still trying to figure it out. But for now, I'll be doing it as a (l/L)ibertarian. Capit(a/o)ls and all.
Sunday, December 3, 2006
More Notes from China Journal
Last filler post before I get back to something with a little more substance.
---
Concluded our visit to Guilin with a visit to a tiger zoo, and maybe it's because I was in such a foul mood at the time, but I thought it was the just about the most miserable, depressing place I've ever been. I don't know what it says about us as a species that we take delight in caging such raw power for our entertainment. The animal act was the worst -- watching them being whipped and yelled at to literally jump through hoops for me is not something I can derive a lot of enjoyment from.
Watching the act, it's almost absurd to see two or three unassuming men so easily cowing a cage full of tigers. It would be so easy -- it would be the simplest thing in the world -- for the animals to overcome them, and yet they don't.
I read a book a while ago that claimed the Chinese have something worse than whips -- they have whips in the soul, an ingrained compulsion to cringe before authority. This idea disgusts me enough that I found myself longing for a fit of Jurassic-Park-like rage, in which the animals would burst free from their captivity and messily devour us, except I know that the government would draw exactly the wrong conclusion from this and start discussing how to build better cages.
After all, isn't that exactly what politics are all about? Building better cages?
---
Concluded our visit to Guilin with a visit to a tiger zoo, and maybe it's because I was in such a foul mood at the time, but I thought it was the just about the most miserable, depressing place I've ever been. I don't know what it says about us as a species that we take delight in caging such raw power for our entertainment. The animal act was the worst -- watching them being whipped and yelled at to literally jump through hoops for me is not something I can derive a lot of enjoyment from.
Watching the act, it's almost absurd to see two or three unassuming men so easily cowing a cage full of tigers. It would be so easy -- it would be the simplest thing in the world -- for the animals to overcome them, and yet they don't.
I read a book a while ago that claimed the Chinese have something worse than whips -- they have whips in the soul, an ingrained compulsion to cringe before authority. This idea disgusts me enough that I found myself longing for a fit of Jurassic-Park-like rage, in which the animals would burst free from their captivity and messily devour us, except I know that the government would draw exactly the wrong conclusion from this and start discussing how to build better cages.
After all, isn't that exactly what politics are all about? Building better cages?
Friday, December 1, 2006
Notes from China Journal
Still struggling to catch up with a life that's racing out of control, so I thought I'd toss out some pages from a journal I kept while I was travelling in China.
---
So stop me if you've heard this before. A group of political and religious refugees flee an oppressive regime and found a new nation overseas. After some initial conflict with the indigenous peoples, they establish themselves for several generations and soon regard themselves as independent. Despite an increasing tendency towards democracy, the citizens of this nation are still regarded as citizens of the regime they've fled. A seemingly inevitable conflict is delayed by those who urge reconciliation on both sides.
Now, here's the ten thousand dollar question -- am I talking about America in 1776, or Taiwan nearly 230 years later?
---
There's been a lot of concern and discussion lately about the possibility of China becoming the next global superpower. This seems to me to represent a fundamental misunderstanding of the issue at hand. The question is not whether or not China will achieve this power; the question is what China is going to do with the power it already has. China could be the most powerful nation in the world tomorrow if they had the focus and the leadership.
This may not be a politically correct observation to make -- since, after all, everybody's exactly the same and nobody's better than anybody else -- but I believe that the Chinese have more potential than any other race of people on earth. In every discipline, their society, and the individuals within it, have completely redefined our understanding of what the human race is capable of. Our best defense is, perhaps, the fact that many of them do not realize this -- but one day, and one day soon, the Chinese will awaken and realize that they are strong. And the earth will tremble.
In fact, the only credible threat they face may well be the Americans, whose emphasis on the value of the self, and individual creativity and inventiveness, produces its own extraordinary achievements -- and renders them an ideological polar opposite to the thinking of the Chinese. The conflict between the two would be fascinating to watch, if it wasn't me and family getting caught in the crossfire.
---
Currently on our way out of Taiwan, and even from my (admittedly narrow) outsider's viewpoint, the country has thoroughly charmed me, particularly the bustling metropolis of Taipei.
What the Chinese have built here is extraordinary -- they've managed to preserve their ancient history and roots while simultaneously progressing forward into a more democratic state. They've achieved what mainland China so dramatically failed to do -- they've entered the modern world without sacrificing their own unique identity.
I find the mainland's insistence of ownership to be deeply troubling, and despite conciliatory voices on both sides, I find it impossible to credit that they will simply leave Taiwan alone indefinitely. If I have learned any fundamental truth about politics, it is that greedy and stupid is always finding new ways to be greedy and stupid. One day -- maybe tomorrow, maybe in twenty years -- they're going to make a move, and the real question then for Taiwan will be -- do they resist? Or do they submit?
---
So stop me if you've heard this before. A group of political and religious refugees flee an oppressive regime and found a new nation overseas. After some initial conflict with the indigenous peoples, they establish themselves for several generations and soon regard themselves as independent. Despite an increasing tendency towards democracy, the citizens of this nation are still regarded as citizens of the regime they've fled. A seemingly inevitable conflict is delayed by those who urge reconciliation on both sides.
Now, here's the ten thousand dollar question -- am I talking about America in 1776, or Taiwan nearly 230 years later?
---
There's been a lot of concern and discussion lately about the possibility of China becoming the next global superpower. This seems to me to represent a fundamental misunderstanding of the issue at hand. The question is not whether or not China will achieve this power; the question is what China is going to do with the power it already has. China could be the most powerful nation in the world tomorrow if they had the focus and the leadership.
This may not be a politically correct observation to make -- since, after all, everybody's exactly the same and nobody's better than anybody else -- but I believe that the Chinese have more potential than any other race of people on earth. In every discipline, their society, and the individuals within it, have completely redefined our understanding of what the human race is capable of. Our best defense is, perhaps, the fact that many of them do not realize this -- but one day, and one day soon, the Chinese will awaken and realize that they are strong. And the earth will tremble.
In fact, the only credible threat they face may well be the Americans, whose emphasis on the value of the self, and individual creativity and inventiveness, produces its own extraordinary achievements -- and renders them an ideological polar opposite to the thinking of the Chinese. The conflict between the two would be fascinating to watch, if it wasn't me and family getting caught in the crossfire.
---
Currently on our way out of Taiwan, and even from my (admittedly narrow) outsider's viewpoint, the country has thoroughly charmed me, particularly the bustling metropolis of Taipei.
What the Chinese have built here is extraordinary -- they've managed to preserve their ancient history and roots while simultaneously progressing forward into a more democratic state. They've achieved what mainland China so dramatically failed to do -- they've entered the modern world without sacrificing their own unique identity.
I find the mainland's insistence of ownership to be deeply troubling, and despite conciliatory voices on both sides, I find it impossible to credit that they will simply leave Taiwan alone indefinitely. If I have learned any fundamental truth about politics, it is that greedy and stupid is always finding new ways to be greedy and stupid. One day -- maybe tomorrow, maybe in twenty years -- they're going to make a move, and the real question then for Taiwan will be -- do they resist? Or do they submit?
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Letter from a Lone Conservative
Hi. My name's phillip low. I'd really love to sit down and compose some kind of eloquent introduction -- who I am, why I'm doing this, what this blog is for -- but I've just returned from a trip to China, and I'm running behind on, well, everything. That said, I know I need to start doing this now -- I'll be able to maintain it once I get some momentum going, but I'll never get started unless I make myself. (Which probably already tells you more about me than I'm comfortable with you knowing.)
In any case, I'm going to throw up an old post from one of my other blogs. Sorry for the abrupt leap to the most intimate part of our relationship -- give me a few days and, I assure you, the post-coital part of our dialogue will be delightfully stimulating.
---
LETTER FROM A LONE CONSERVATIVE
ME: I'm a libertarian.
SOMEBODY: That's okay, I respect that.
It seems to me that whenever I reveal my political leanings, I get some variation on that response. I'm tempted to reply "I know that's okay, and I didn't ask you to respect that," but that would be less than civil. More to the point, there seems to be a kind of understated condescension to it -- it's okay for me to be a libertarian because I'm completely unthreatening to you. Y'know, I'm kind of like a Republican Lite, same conservatism without the political clout to back it up -- much like a wounded puppy pretending to be a wolf. Pat on the head, that's cute, let's get back to some legitimate political discourse now.
Furthermore, nobody seems to really believe that I actually mean it when I say it -- I'll say something like "I don't believe in government support for the arts," and people will say "Oh, yes, I see what you mean, we're too dependent on it, you want to reduce it somewhat, make a push for private funding," and, no, I mean that I don't think it should exist. Yeah, my company's struggling, just like everybody else's, but if it finally does collapse, I'll be able to look myself in the mirror and say that we didn't have to rely on money stolen from ordinary citizens under threat of imprisonment. There's just no way I can twist that around in my head and make it seem like morality to me. Some people claim that this system -- which they refer to as "taxation", and I refer to as "theft" -- is the basis of civilization. If so, not any civilization I want to be a part of. I may be persuaded that it is necessary, but if so it is a necessary evil, and not something to be championed.
There is additional level of absurdity to this in that I *am* an artist, so that a portion of the money I make entertaining people is taken by the government to fund *other* artists, my direct competition, and frequently goes to theatres that I wouldn't be caught dead in, because an elite group of people decided that their work has more socially redeeming value than mine. I find this ridiculous. If only we could devise some system whereby individual citizens could determine which theatres they wanted to survive, and -- oh, wait. We have such a system. It's called "free enterprise."
---
The alarming expansion of federal power of this particular (Republican) administration, and the long national nightmare that has resulted from it, makes an alliance with Democrats appealing. Indeed, despite our differences on, say, economics, it's a kinship that goes back decades -- the Libertarian Party in this country was founded by men and women working alongside the remnants of the hippie movement in the early 1970s. But I can never lose sight of the fact that if the Democrats do get what they want -- control of the White House -- I'm going to be turning around and coming after them just as fast and twice and hard.
Albert Camus identifies two types of political ideologues: the revolutionary and the rebel. The revolutionary is the one with a grand vision, the one who wants to tear down the dictator so that they can become the dictator. The rebel wants simply to assert his own human dignity. The world that the Democrats envision for themselves -- a world where wise, benevolent leaders make the decisions regarding who deserves what, who dream of equality by cutting down the great to lift up the weak -- seems to me to be a kind of beautiful lie. I don't want to make those decisions, and I don't trust anyone else to make them for me. I got no mind to conquer. I just want to go my way, and I want everybody else to be free to do the same.
---
George Washington was a President who believed in the restraint of the executive branch -- that true decision-making power lay with the legislative. He rarely used his veto powers, unless he believed that laws were being passed that were demonstrably unconstitutional. This is a man who, during the French Revolution, took down a portrait that had been given to him by the French government, out of fear that merely having it hanging in the White House might be construed as taking sides in the conflict. (I can't help but look at such an absolutely noninterventionist policy with a kind of melancholy longing, these days.)
In fact, there was one strong, controversial position that he adopted, passionately, and he was widely criticized for it: he warned the American people against the rise of political parties, cautioning that their reign would spell the end of everything he and his fellows had struggled to build.
I bring up this story because I'm an alternative party supporter, and it seems to me that every election year, there's countless articles by left-leaning columnists, very politely and articulately spelling out to me why I am stupid, selfish, and destroying our democracy. I would like to take a moment to respond to those, if I could.
First of all, yes, I am an idealist; yes, I follow party politics; no, I am not simply voting for the candidate who seems the coolest guy, or the one I would most like to have a drink with. I would not like to drink with any of them. Yes, it is a question of personal morality and integrity for me, as opposed to simply "the good of the state." Perhaps this makes me selfish; there are worse labels. I infinitely prefer the selfishness of voting for a cause that I believe in, to the hypocrisy of voting for a cause that I have devoted a significant portion of my life and career to fighting against.
You do not automatically have the right to my vote. If you want it, then you have to work for it. If I choose to give my vote to somebody else, then that somebody is not "stealing" my vote from you; they have competed fairly, and competed better than you did, and I would not have voted for you anyway. If I'm not on your side, then it's because you're not on mine.
I'm accused of being short-sighted; it seems to me that those who think only in terms of the battle directly in front of them are the ones thinking in the short term. I am playing for higher stakes. I am investing in a world where this bloated, inefficient monster -- the two-party system -- is nothing more than a footnote in our history texts.
To those of you voting in this Tuesday's election, I urge you to consider the following:
1) If you truly support one of the two major-party candidates -- congratulations! I can't tell you how deeply I envy you, or how I dream of the day that a candidate I believe in has a snowball's chance in hell of winning.
2) If you're considering voting for a candidate that you despise, simply out of party loyalty -- please consider the possibility that, while you are investing in a short-term triumph, you are also investing in long-term dismissal and degredation by the party that you swear fealty to. The message that you're sending is clear -- they only need to pay lip service to the principles you hold dear. They could nominate an orangutan and you would still vote for them.
(Incidentally, I am particularly exasperated with the gay community, who is so willing to blindly follow wherever the Democratic Party leads -- when it's clear that the Democratic leadership doesn't give a fuck about you. They hardly even bother to pretend to have any interest in your rights anymore. They might as well give you a careless shrug and say "Well, where else are you gonna go?")
3) To those of you who don't follow politics, who don't watch the news or read the newspaper, who get your opinions from late-night comedy shows and decide you might as well go along with the people surrounding you -- please. Don't vote. An uninformed vote is worse than no vote at all. The choice whether or not to vote is, indeed, a right of yours, a valid choice for you to make, and don't let anybody tell you differently.
4) To those Democrats who, every two years, try to bully me into voting for their party, relying on insults to my intelligence, rather than appeal through the powers of persuasion -- eat a dick.
---
One more point -- the major issue on the ballot this year is not the War on Terror, or tax cuts, or gay marriage. It's an issue that's impossible to get people excited about, because there's no shocking images or tear-jerking human interest stories to accompany it. It's nothing more than the first, tiny step in a battle that could one day topple the two-party system once and for all. That issue is Instant Runoff Voting, and far, far, far too few people know anything about it. If you haven't heard of it, I won't try to persuade you -- all I ask is that you look it up, and decide for yourself, because you're an adult, and you can make your own decisions.
That is, after all, what libertarianism is all about -- is it not?
In any case, I'm going to throw up an old post from one of my other blogs. Sorry for the abrupt leap to the most intimate part of our relationship -- give me a few days and, I assure you, the post-coital part of our dialogue will be delightfully stimulating.
---
LETTER FROM A LONE CONSERVATIVE
ME: I'm a libertarian.
SOMEBODY: That's okay, I respect that.
It seems to me that whenever I reveal my political leanings, I get some variation on that response. I'm tempted to reply "I know that's okay, and I didn't ask you to respect that," but that would be less than civil. More to the point, there seems to be a kind of understated condescension to it -- it's okay for me to be a libertarian because I'm completely unthreatening to you. Y'know, I'm kind of like a Republican Lite, same conservatism without the political clout to back it up -- much like a wounded puppy pretending to be a wolf. Pat on the head, that's cute, let's get back to some legitimate political discourse now.
Furthermore, nobody seems to really believe that I actually mean it when I say it -- I'll say something like "I don't believe in government support for the arts," and people will say "Oh, yes, I see what you mean, we're too dependent on it, you want to reduce it somewhat, make a push for private funding," and, no, I mean that I don't think it should exist. Yeah, my company's struggling, just like everybody else's, but if it finally does collapse, I'll be able to look myself in the mirror and say that we didn't have to rely on money stolen from ordinary citizens under threat of imprisonment. There's just no way I can twist that around in my head and make it seem like morality to me. Some people claim that this system -- which they refer to as "taxation", and I refer to as "theft" -- is the basis of civilization. If so, not any civilization I want to be a part of. I may be persuaded that it is necessary, but if so it is a necessary evil, and not something to be championed.
There is additional level of absurdity to this in that I *am* an artist, so that a portion of the money I make entertaining people is taken by the government to fund *other* artists, my direct competition, and frequently goes to theatres that I wouldn't be caught dead in, because an elite group of people decided that their work has more socially redeeming value than mine. I find this ridiculous. If only we could devise some system whereby individual citizens could determine which theatres they wanted to survive, and -- oh, wait. We have such a system. It's called "free enterprise."
---
The alarming expansion of federal power of this particular (Republican) administration, and the long national nightmare that has resulted from it, makes an alliance with Democrats appealing. Indeed, despite our differences on, say, economics, it's a kinship that goes back decades -- the Libertarian Party in this country was founded by men and women working alongside the remnants of the hippie movement in the early 1970s. But I can never lose sight of the fact that if the Democrats do get what they want -- control of the White House -- I'm going to be turning around and coming after them just as fast and twice and hard.
Albert Camus identifies two types of political ideologues: the revolutionary and the rebel. The revolutionary is the one with a grand vision, the one who wants to tear down the dictator so that they can become the dictator. The rebel wants simply to assert his own human dignity. The world that the Democrats envision for themselves -- a world where wise, benevolent leaders make the decisions regarding who deserves what, who dream of equality by cutting down the great to lift up the weak -- seems to me to be a kind of beautiful lie. I don't want to make those decisions, and I don't trust anyone else to make them for me. I got no mind to conquer. I just want to go my way, and I want everybody else to be free to do the same.
---
George Washington was a President who believed in the restraint of the executive branch -- that true decision-making power lay with the legislative. He rarely used his veto powers, unless he believed that laws were being passed that were demonstrably unconstitutional. This is a man who, during the French Revolution, took down a portrait that had been given to him by the French government, out of fear that merely having it hanging in the White House might be construed as taking sides in the conflict. (I can't help but look at such an absolutely noninterventionist policy with a kind of melancholy longing, these days.)
In fact, there was one strong, controversial position that he adopted, passionately, and he was widely criticized for it: he warned the American people against the rise of political parties, cautioning that their reign would spell the end of everything he and his fellows had struggled to build.
I bring up this story because I'm an alternative party supporter, and it seems to me that every election year, there's countless articles by left-leaning columnists, very politely and articulately spelling out to me why I am stupid, selfish, and destroying our democracy. I would like to take a moment to respond to those, if I could.
First of all, yes, I am an idealist; yes, I follow party politics; no, I am not simply voting for the candidate who seems the coolest guy, or the one I would most like to have a drink with. I would not like to drink with any of them. Yes, it is a question of personal morality and integrity for me, as opposed to simply "the good of the state." Perhaps this makes me selfish; there are worse labels. I infinitely prefer the selfishness of voting for a cause that I believe in, to the hypocrisy of voting for a cause that I have devoted a significant portion of my life and career to fighting against.
You do not automatically have the right to my vote. If you want it, then you have to work for it. If I choose to give my vote to somebody else, then that somebody is not "stealing" my vote from you; they have competed fairly, and competed better than you did, and I would not have voted for you anyway. If I'm not on your side, then it's because you're not on mine.
I'm accused of being short-sighted; it seems to me that those who think only in terms of the battle directly in front of them are the ones thinking in the short term. I am playing for higher stakes. I am investing in a world where this bloated, inefficient monster -- the two-party system -- is nothing more than a footnote in our history texts.
To those of you voting in this Tuesday's election, I urge you to consider the following:
1) If you truly support one of the two major-party candidates -- congratulations! I can't tell you how deeply I envy you, or how I dream of the day that a candidate I believe in has a snowball's chance in hell of winning.
2) If you're considering voting for a candidate that you despise, simply out of party loyalty -- please consider the possibility that, while you are investing in a short-term triumph, you are also investing in long-term dismissal and degredation by the party that you swear fealty to. The message that you're sending is clear -- they only need to pay lip service to the principles you hold dear. They could nominate an orangutan and you would still vote for them.
(Incidentally, I am particularly exasperated with the gay community, who is so willing to blindly follow wherever the Democratic Party leads -- when it's clear that the Democratic leadership doesn't give a fuck about you. They hardly even bother to pretend to have any interest in your rights anymore. They might as well give you a careless shrug and say "Well, where else are you gonna go?")
3) To those of you who don't follow politics, who don't watch the news or read the newspaper, who get your opinions from late-night comedy shows and decide you might as well go along with the people surrounding you -- please. Don't vote. An uninformed vote is worse than no vote at all. The choice whether or not to vote is, indeed, a right of yours, a valid choice for you to make, and don't let anybody tell you differently.
4) To those Democrats who, every two years, try to bully me into voting for their party, relying on insults to my intelligence, rather than appeal through the powers of persuasion -- eat a dick.
---
One more point -- the major issue on the ballot this year is not the War on Terror, or tax cuts, or gay marriage. It's an issue that's impossible to get people excited about, because there's no shocking images or tear-jerking human interest stories to accompany it. It's nothing more than the first, tiny step in a battle that could one day topple the two-party system once and for all. That issue is Instant Runoff Voting, and far, far, far too few people know anything about it. If you haven't heard of it, I won't try to persuade you -- all I ask is that you look it up, and decide for yourself, because you're an adult, and you can make your own decisions.
That is, after all, what libertarianism is all about -- is it not?
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