Yesterday my Facebook newsfeed was full of status updates about the bombing in Boston. People expressed their shock and sadness, put their thoughts out to those in Boston, condemned the perpetrators, sympathised with the victims and lionised those that tried to help out in the crisis. That the Boston Marathon bombing was a tragedy is not in question. But as I asked in my own facebook status yesterday, where was the public outcry about the similar bombings in Iraq that same morning, in which over 30 people have been confirmed dead? As a flurry of blog about Boston appear this morning, I feel it is necessary to answer with my own.
Why do people care more about Boston than Baghdad? I discussed this with a number of people yesterday and three answers came up with varying frequency. One small group claimed that it was because of the "normality" of such events in Baghdad, one person even calling Iraq a warzone. The suggestion here is that Boston, not being involved in a war, is not expected to suffer such tragedy while Baghdad, involved in a war, is expected to. The bombing in Baghdad fits what we expect, while Boston does not, hence our shock and outrage over Boston and apparent indifference to Baghdad.
Baghdad is not a warzone. Foreign intervention in Iraq ended when the US pulled out its troops in 2011. The US notably is a country at war, with active military forces engaged in combat in Afghanistan. But perhaps by "warzone" the Facebook commenter meant the regularity of terrorist attacks, especially those enacted by Sunni radicals in Iraq, and not actual involvement in international combat. This has a little more weight to it: we perceive Iraq as a country in which bombings are relatively commonplace, while this is not so in the US. In the first three months of 2013 over 1,000 Iraqis have been killed by terrorist attacks, and so it is perhaps understandable that yet more deaths are less shocking than those of the two in a country that we do not expect to suffer such tragedy.
Second was the suggestion that we (and here I refer to my own extended group of Facebook friends, who are largely based in New Zealand, Europe and America) identify much more strongly with American culture than we do with Iraqi. We consume American products, watch American media and adopt American cultural norms. An attack on Americans is an attack on people just like us, and so we take it a lot more personally than an attack on "other" people, who are not like us, who live far away from us, who we would never otherwise interact with in any way. It is easy to forget about Iraq and its people because they are not relevant to our everyday lives, while America and Americans we see as our own.
One final suggestion, that thankfully only came up once, was that we are only shocked by certain tragedies because we deliberately associate with a select few at the expense of all others. The argument was made that if we were to allow ourselves to be shocked and horrified by every death around the globe, from terrorist attacks to malnutrition, we would be incapable of functioning in everyday society. This Facebook commenter suggested that we must (whether consciously or not) tune out of all but a select few atrocities, with the unspoken criteria for those that we pay attention to presumably those given above: Americans are like us, and Americans are not expected to die in mass bombings, while Iraqis are both unlike us and expected to die in violence.
The question that arises for me, given the argument that we should only be shocked at the deaths of those who are both like ourselves and not expected to die in such a manner, comes from violent death rates in the USA. The USA has a violent death rate of 6.5 violent deaths for every 100,000 citizens. Iraq's violent death rate is 2.8 (both of these numbers are from 2011 WHO data). Boston in 2011 suffered 63 homicides, bumping the violent death rate up to an incredible 10.1 deaths for every 100,000 citizens.
Given these numbers, why do we not expect violent death in Boston when we do in Iraq? I suggest that another factor in our recognition of tragedies around the globe must that the event itself is indiscriminate and easily sensationalised. Straight murder is not as interesting to us because it tends to be discriminate; we can discern a reason for it: jealousy, rage, material benefit. Mass bombings have no such reasoning behind them. Their victims could be anyone, and the victims themselves are not as relevant to the bomber as the concepts that they represent (America itself, personified in its citizens for example). We have a level of personal investment in terrorist activity that we do not have in murder: while we cannot imagine anyone in our own lives hating us enough to murder us, any one of us could conceivably fall victim to a terrorist attack. Couple that with the prominence of terrorism in the media (even though murder is much more common in the US than terrorism, the Washington Post has published 19130 articles on "murder" since 2005 and 29357 articles on "terrorist" and "terrorism") and it is not hard to see why we ignore actual rates of violent death in countries and focus only on bombings when conceptualising our expectations of who is and is not likely to be killed.
So this is our shock over the Boston bombing: we relate to those who died, we did not expect them to die in such a way and the manner in which they died is one that naturally attracts our attention. We do not afford the same sympathy or shock to the victims in Baghdad because even though they too died in terrorist attacks, we do not so easily see ourselves in the victims' places and indeed we seem to almost expect the violent deaths of those who live in countries like Iraq, even when the rate of violent death is lower than that in the USA.
The outpouring of sympathy over Boston is an interesting opportunity to reflect on how we perceive other cultures, and the incredible emotional difference we can create, to the point where we can ignore the deaths of 30 innocents in one series of events but be shocked and saddened by the deaths of 2 elsewhere. That the Boston bombing is a tragedy is not in question, but perhaps while sympathising for those who lost loved ones in the US we can spare a thought or two for all those suffering in Iraq, no matter how far away they seem from us.
Tuesday, 16 April 2013
Sunday, 31 March 2013
Straight Allies "Doing It Wrong"
An article came up today on my Facebook newsfeed with the caption "food for thought." The article was called "If You Identify Yourself As Straight While Advocating For Gay Rights, You’re Doing It Wrong."
This article is rather repugnant.
It argues that straight people should not identify themselves as such when advocating for issues like marriage equality, because in doing so they are in some way trying to defend themselves from accusations of themselves being gay. This is apparently very convincing to some, based on the comments and feedback the article (and the facebook link) received. However, let's flip that around. What if I were to write a post saying that when discussing issues of sexuality, gay people should not identify themselves as such, but should rather keep their sexuality ambiguous. No matter how sound an argument I made for this, would anyone be even get past the first paragraph of that post?
Avoiding the subject of one's own sexuality when arguing about the legal and civil status of sexuality is idiotic. If we are trying to promote a society that treats all sexualities as equal, why should we not identity ourselves? The argument that the articles makes is that straight people should not be afraid to be seen as gay when supporting gay rights, but to assume that this is the primary reason that any straight advocate of marriage equality has to identify their own sexuality is frankly condescending.
I am heterosexual, and I support marriage equality. I am not saying that I am heterosexual because I am afraid that my support will lead people to think that I am homosexual. Quite frankly, I don't care what people think about my sexuality. The people who would make judgements based on my political and moral views are probably people that I do not care to involve in my sex life. My only reason for involving my own sexuality in this debate is to show (to those who are yet to realise this) that marriage equality is not a "gay" issue, but a civil issue.
To suggest that I feel the need to hide from allegations of homosexuality is scaremongering and seeing shadows in corners. I am comfortable with my sexuality, and I want to live in a society in which everyone else is equally comfortable. So I am very happy to tell people that I am heterosexual, just as I hope that the writer of that article is happy telling people that she is homosexual, and no matter our sexuality we both support marriage equality. Telling me that I am "doing it wrong" is doing nothing but hurting that cause.
This article is rather repugnant.
It argues that straight people should not identify themselves as such when advocating for issues like marriage equality, because in doing so they are in some way trying to defend themselves from accusations of themselves being gay. This is apparently very convincing to some, based on the comments and feedback the article (and the facebook link) received. However, let's flip that around. What if I were to write a post saying that when discussing issues of sexuality, gay people should not identify themselves as such, but should rather keep their sexuality ambiguous. No matter how sound an argument I made for this, would anyone be even get past the first paragraph of that post?
Avoiding the subject of one's own sexuality when arguing about the legal and civil status of sexuality is idiotic. If we are trying to promote a society that treats all sexualities as equal, why should we not identity ourselves? The argument that the articles makes is that straight people should not be afraid to be seen as gay when supporting gay rights, but to assume that this is the primary reason that any straight advocate of marriage equality has to identify their own sexuality is frankly condescending.
I am heterosexual, and I support marriage equality. I am not saying that I am heterosexual because I am afraid that my support will lead people to think that I am homosexual. Quite frankly, I don't care what people think about my sexuality. The people who would make judgements based on my political and moral views are probably people that I do not care to involve in my sex life. My only reason for involving my own sexuality in this debate is to show (to those who are yet to realise this) that marriage equality is not a "gay" issue, but a civil issue.
To suggest that I feel the need to hide from allegations of homosexuality is scaremongering and seeing shadows in corners. I am comfortable with my sexuality, and I want to live in a society in which everyone else is equally comfortable. So I am very happy to tell people that I am heterosexual, just as I hope that the writer of that article is happy telling people that she is homosexual, and no matter our sexuality we both support marriage equality. Telling me that I am "doing it wrong" is doing nothing but hurting that cause.
Tuesday, 19 March 2013
Tattoos
This post is a reply to an editorial I read in North & South magazine last week, in which the editor criticised tattoo culture as ill-thought out and ripe for regret. Unfortunately I cannot find the original editorial online, and I apologise for any errors I make in response to this argument.
Traditional Maori belief held that every person had a soul, and that their soul had a distinct form. To bring a person closer to the image of their soul, Maori carved moko into their faces and bodies. The process here is one of transformation, from a profane human form into the form of the sacred. This transformation was paralleled by a transitory period in traditional Maori life, as moko were often given as part of a coming-of-age ceremony. The transformation then is not just profane to sacred, but also boy to man, child to accepted member of the community. The moko symbolised both the inner soul and the recipient's identification with his community.
Tattoo today is certainly no longer such a sacred art, but still the core elements of tattooing remain and hint at a universal drive behind what would otherwise be bodily mutilation Tattooing is not just the carving of attractive images into one's skin, but rather a quasi-ritualistic means of transforming the body and identifying with the community. This can be seen in anything from the tattooing of a Yakuza initiate in Japan to a group of friends getting matching tattoos on their 21st birthday; both represent a transition in life and both identity the recipient with a wider group. For more on the idea of ritual as a means of self-identification Durkheim is an essential read.
So in response to the N&S editorial's claim that many of those who now are getting tattoos will regret them in later life, I would like to suggest two answers. Firstly, that with the increasing acceptance of tattoos in broader society, it is likely that the number of individuals who experience social stigma leading to regret will decrease dramatically. Second, that those who do feel regret in later life for the design of their tattoo (such as the teenager who gets an offensive or childish design and then later 'grows out' of it) are those who do not understand or fully participate in the ritual transformative and identifying nature of tattooing as an art form, and so are the exception rather than the rule. If tattooing is inherently transformative, then those who do not accept the transformation cannot be said to represent tattooing.
I will use my own tattoos for an example. Personally, I have never been fond of blocks of colour and large images as tattoos. This is simply a preference, my own taste in design rather than any commentary on tattooing as an art form. I also avoid tattooing on my forearms, lower legs or neck, as (given that I study East Asia) I would prefer to have the option of discretion within societies like Japan in which tattooing is not an accepted art form. Taking this into account, I have a tattoo on my shoulderblade of what is known in Buddhism as the Three Refuges. For me this tattoo symbolises my identification with the Buddhist community, and my commitment to the principles of that faith. It is transformative; these principles and that commitment are now forever a part of my body, and they are not something that I can simply wake up and ignore. In getting this tattoo, I was attempting to transform myself into a better Buddhist, one more constantly mindful of the principles that my tattoo embodies, and I was also symbolising my identification with the wider community of other Buddhists who would recognise the design. For me to regret this tattoo in later life is for me to regret my commitment to the principles of my faith, a situation that I find both unlikely and undesirable.
It is possible that an individual could regret their tattoo if they do indeed regret the transformation and identification that it symbolises. A Neo-Nazi who is tattooed with a swastika, but later sees the error of his or her ways, would very likely regret the tattoo and wish for it to be removed. However this is an extreme case, and should most certainly not be considered typical.
In response to N&S's editorial, I answer this. Tattoos are permanent, they are transformative, they are symbols of identification with a community. They are not something to be taken lightly, but for an individual who truly cares about their tattoo they should never be a cause for regret. If a person holds something so dear to them that they wish to permanently engrave it in their skin and make it a part of them forever then that tattoo serves the same function as traditional moko, transforming the body from profane to sacred in ritual.
Traditional Maori belief held that every person had a soul, and that their soul had a distinct form. To bring a person closer to the image of their soul, Maori carved moko into their faces and bodies. The process here is one of transformation, from a profane human form into the form of the sacred. This transformation was paralleled by a transitory period in traditional Maori life, as moko were often given as part of a coming-of-age ceremony. The transformation then is not just profane to sacred, but also boy to man, child to accepted member of the community. The moko symbolised both the inner soul and the recipient's identification with his community.
Tattoo today is certainly no longer such a sacred art, but still the core elements of tattooing remain and hint at a universal drive behind what would otherwise be bodily mutilation Tattooing is not just the carving of attractive images into one's skin, but rather a quasi-ritualistic means of transforming the body and identifying with the community. This can be seen in anything from the tattooing of a Yakuza initiate in Japan to a group of friends getting matching tattoos on their 21st birthday; both represent a transition in life and both identity the recipient with a wider group. For more on the idea of ritual as a means of self-identification Durkheim is an essential read.
So in response to the N&S editorial's claim that many of those who now are getting tattoos will regret them in later life, I would like to suggest two answers. Firstly, that with the increasing acceptance of tattoos in broader society, it is likely that the number of individuals who experience social stigma leading to regret will decrease dramatically. Second, that those who do feel regret in later life for the design of their tattoo (such as the teenager who gets an offensive or childish design and then later 'grows out' of it) are those who do not understand or fully participate in the ritual transformative and identifying nature of tattooing as an art form, and so are the exception rather than the rule. If tattooing is inherently transformative, then those who do not accept the transformation cannot be said to represent tattooing.
I will use my own tattoos for an example. Personally, I have never been fond of blocks of colour and large images as tattoos. This is simply a preference, my own taste in design rather than any commentary on tattooing as an art form. I also avoid tattooing on my forearms, lower legs or neck, as (given that I study East Asia) I would prefer to have the option of discretion within societies like Japan in which tattooing is not an accepted art form. Taking this into account, I have a tattoo on my shoulderblade of what is known in Buddhism as the Three Refuges. For me this tattoo symbolises my identification with the Buddhist community, and my commitment to the principles of that faith. It is transformative; these principles and that commitment are now forever a part of my body, and they are not something that I can simply wake up and ignore. In getting this tattoo, I was attempting to transform myself into a better Buddhist, one more constantly mindful of the principles that my tattoo embodies, and I was also symbolising my identification with the wider community of other Buddhists who would recognise the design. For me to regret this tattoo in later life is for me to regret my commitment to the principles of my faith, a situation that I find both unlikely and undesirable.
It is possible that an individual could regret their tattoo if they do indeed regret the transformation and identification that it symbolises. A Neo-Nazi who is tattooed with a swastika, but later sees the error of his or her ways, would very likely regret the tattoo and wish for it to be removed. However this is an extreme case, and should most certainly not be considered typical.
In response to N&S's editorial, I answer this. Tattoos are permanent, they are transformative, they are symbols of identification with a community. They are not something to be taken lightly, but for an individual who truly cares about their tattoo they should never be a cause for regret. If a person holds something so dear to them that they wish to permanently engrave it in their skin and make it a part of them forever then that tattoo serves the same function as traditional moko, transforming the body from profane to sacred in ritual.
Wednesday, 13 March 2013
Open Questions for My Christian Friends
After almost a solid two months of non-activity, I thought that I'd get back into it with something controversial.
These are some question I have for my Christian friends that I have been toying with a for a little while now. Rather than ask people in person, which could pretty quickly become confrontational and awkward, I thought I'd post them on the internet where people are free to read them, think about them privately and then (only if they really want to) post an answer in the comments. I'm not asking these to be hostile, but rather because I am genuinely curious as to how you answer them to yourselves? I suspect, based largely on conversations with certain ex-girlfriends, that many people don't even think about them, push them aside with an off-hand "God works in mysterious ways." But here's hoping I get some genuine, thought-inspiring and passionate answers on how you reconcile your faith in God with my questions.
Or, more likely, hate mail.
Firstly, I want to talk about poverty. The number of people who live below the poverty line is simply astonishing, and I've already talked about the ease with which we could change this in an earlier post. There's no lack of resources, but there are still thousands upon thousands of children dying in horrific conditions day after day. Why does God allow this? I'm not talking about AIDS, which some have tried to argue is a punishment for promiscuity and homosexuality. I'm not talking about adults, who you could (if you really wanted to) say are being punished themselves for their sins, or even for their lack of faith. I'm talking about children, children who have never been given the opportunity to sin or to be saved, children who suffer hugely simply because of the conditions of their birth. And please, although I am genuinely interested in your views, do not dare to answer that these people suffer so that we in developed nations have the opportunity to be kind, or charitable, or to become better people. I don't like moderating comments, but I will not tolerate that unspeakable presumption on this site.
Second, I want to ask about Jesus. All mankind is tainted by sin, and it is only through Jesus that we can be saved from sin, correct? Then what about all those prophets and preachers and ordinary people throughout the Old Testament? None of them accepted Jesus; not because they rejected Him, but because He had not yet died for their sins. If they lived before Jesus then they could not have accepted Him, so surely they were not saved from their sins and they burn in hell with the rest of us.
That brings me to my last question. How does a loving God judge us? If He truly loves me, then why does He allow me to go to hell for not believing in Him? Surely that is not an action of love, but one of jealousy and craving; why would we worship the man who acts as judge, jury and executioner if his only condition for our innocence or guilt was our worship? Perhaps this sounds self-serving and defensive, but let me ask you this. If God made me, and God knows me, then He knows that the manner in which He made me means that based on all the evidence that He has so far presented me with in my life, I cannot believe in Him. It is not a question of choice; I am a rational person and based on what I perceive of the world I cannot reason the existence of God. He made me in this way, He showed me all the evidence that for me does not add up, so why does He punish me?
Please do answer any of the questions that you fee comfortable with in the comments below, Christian or otherwise. I would be very interested to see what my Muslim or Jewish friends have to weigh in on this, though my questions are very much aimed at the Christian conception of God. Keep it PG, try not to insult anyone unless it's really called for... and thank you :)
These are some question I have for my Christian friends that I have been toying with a for a little while now. Rather than ask people in person, which could pretty quickly become confrontational and awkward, I thought I'd post them on the internet where people are free to read them, think about them privately and then (only if they really want to) post an answer in the comments. I'm not asking these to be hostile, but rather because I am genuinely curious as to how you answer them to yourselves? I suspect, based largely on conversations with certain ex-girlfriends, that many people don't even think about them, push them aside with an off-hand "God works in mysterious ways." But here's hoping I get some genuine, thought-inspiring and passionate answers on how you reconcile your faith in God with my questions.
Or, more likely, hate mail.
Firstly, I want to talk about poverty. The number of people who live below the poverty line is simply astonishing, and I've already talked about the ease with which we could change this in an earlier post. There's no lack of resources, but there are still thousands upon thousands of children dying in horrific conditions day after day. Why does God allow this? I'm not talking about AIDS, which some have tried to argue is a punishment for promiscuity and homosexuality. I'm not talking about adults, who you could (if you really wanted to) say are being punished themselves for their sins, or even for their lack of faith. I'm talking about children, children who have never been given the opportunity to sin or to be saved, children who suffer hugely simply because of the conditions of their birth. And please, although I am genuinely interested in your views, do not dare to answer that these people suffer so that we in developed nations have the opportunity to be kind, or charitable, or to become better people. I don't like moderating comments, but I will not tolerate that unspeakable presumption on this site.
Second, I want to ask about Jesus. All mankind is tainted by sin, and it is only through Jesus that we can be saved from sin, correct? Then what about all those prophets and preachers and ordinary people throughout the Old Testament? None of them accepted Jesus; not because they rejected Him, but because He had not yet died for their sins. If they lived before Jesus then they could not have accepted Him, so surely they were not saved from their sins and they burn in hell with the rest of us.
That brings me to my last question. How does a loving God judge us? If He truly loves me, then why does He allow me to go to hell for not believing in Him? Surely that is not an action of love, but one of jealousy and craving; why would we worship the man who acts as judge, jury and executioner if his only condition for our innocence or guilt was our worship? Perhaps this sounds self-serving and defensive, but let me ask you this. If God made me, and God knows me, then He knows that the manner in which He made me means that based on all the evidence that He has so far presented me with in my life, I cannot believe in Him. It is not a question of choice; I am a rational person and based on what I perceive of the world I cannot reason the existence of God. He made me in this way, He showed me all the evidence that for me does not add up, so why does He punish me?
Please do answer any of the questions that you fee comfortable with in the comments below, Christian or otherwise. I would be very interested to see what my Muslim or Jewish friends have to weigh in on this, though my questions are very much aimed at the Christian conception of God. Keep it PG, try not to insult anyone unless it's really called for... and thank you :)
Wednesday, 16 January 2013
Comparative Superhero Philosophy
After a long day on my feet, it's nice to sit back, relax with a cup of tea, and think about superheroes.
Superheroes have always fascinated me. I've never been particularly into comics, though I have read one or two in my time (Watchmen is a must even if you're not into the medium, considered by TIME to be one of the 100 greatest novels of all time). But the idea of a superhero has always been an interesting one. It does away with every notion of the social contract, placing one unelected, unrepresentative individual above his peers by virtue only of his ability and willingness to fight crime. Such a system in real life would surely collapse; vigilantism presumes too much authority on behalf of the superhero. What sort of ego could justify taking the law into one's own hands, using incredible powers to do away with due process and simply enact the law as YOU see fit?
Still, superheroes are an interesting bunch. Many exist simply to entertain, to BAM and POW the bad guy in uncompromising shades of grey. Some, particularly in the hands of skilled writers like Alan Moore, do a little more than this. They personify some of the great moral and political issues of the last century, even entire philosophy perspectives. And so, with no structure or argument, I present to you a very self-indulgent analysis of the philosophies behind five of my favourite superheroes.
Many spoilers follow.
Superman
In my opinion, the definitive superhero. The name says it all; Super-man, above other men. Superman, especially in the Silver Age of superhero comics, was essentially God in tights. He was omniscient, flying above the earth, able to see and hear any crime that happened anywhere in the world (particularly in Metropolis). He was omnipotent, with writers inventing whatever new powers for him they felt necessary until he was able to shift entire planets without breaking a sweat. And he was omnibenevolent, as Alan Moore's "Whatever Happened To The Man Of Tomorrow?" illustrates most poignantly. Superman is forced out of desperation to break his vow to never kill, and so in penance renounces all his powers and fakes his own death to live as a human; Superman cannot be Superman if he kills.
Rorschach
Rorschach is an interesting anti-hero. He has no superpowers but obsessive insanity, and exemplifies (much as Batman does) the concept of absolutism. He sees the world in black and white, sin and no sin, and unfortunately for the world he doesn't see much white. He is perfectly happy with killing those he knows to be criminals, and is so devoted to delivering justice that he doesn't fear dying in pursuit of it. In the climax of Watchmen, the heroes collectively agree to keep the horrific truth secret because doing so would prevent the sudden outbreak of peace and unity that has spread across the world, a lovely example of consequentialist morality. Rorschach disagrees, telling the others that he will tell the world what has happened even though it may tear nations apart once more, and steadfastly begins to walk towards the exit even as Dr. Manhatten sadly informs him that he will be killed to protect the truth. Rorschach is a brilliant example of a man who holds his values as absolutes, and nothing, not world peace or his own life, can compromise that.
Alucard (Hellsing)
Charles Xavier and Magneto
Prof X and Magneto basically want the same thing; and end to human oppression of mutants. They both adhere to the basic tenets of Liberalism, freedom from oppression. But where they differ is their solution and their methods. Prof X is the egalatarian, Martin Luther King jr., desiring a society where mutants and human are equals, working together with no stigma. As such, he emplys force only when necessary to protect others, which he does regardless of their race.
Magneto is a radical, Malcolm X, similar in attitude to a difference feminist. He does not see mutants and humans as equals; mutants are superior, and so should be in charge. While this justifies his use of violence in some areas, he does not envision a future where humans are slaves to mutants. In Magneto's utopia, mutants rule a benevolent dictatorship, a meritocracy for the benefit of all.
I really like the contrast in their ideas and the parallels to real life. X-men has always been compared to the Gay rights movement (or obviously the civil rights of Dr. King and Malcolm X), but I see alot of parallels to feminism. Equality or difference? The basic philosophy here is righting the wrongs of society and preventing oppression.
V
V is an anarchist, and answers the question "when has the government gone too far?" He rather demonstratively believes that an individual can fight against an oppressive government, and is nicely validated in his belief when he is joined by the majority of the population in an uprising. He is the symbol of anonymity, the individual against the machine, fighting for freedom.
But where do we draw the line? In NZ society today, could someone put on a Guy Fawkes mask, go around blowing up public buildings and assassinating officials because he didn't like National's policies, and still expect to be the hero? V walks a rather fine line, between liberation and terrorism, and while he is thankfully correct in his stance towards the Northfire government, his story could have turned out very differently. What right did he have to judge his government deserving of violent revolution?
One man acting as judge, jury and executioner. Assuming the right to decide when a government oversteps its boundaries, and when terrorism becomes liberation. It goes wrong more often than not (hello, military coups across the world!), but Moore writes V and his world so well that we are convinced of the justice of his actions. When the Law does not Rule, V takes it upon himself to correct this. This is not the vigilantism of Batman, this is revolutionary anarchism
Superheroes have always fascinated me. I've never been particularly into comics, though I have read one or two in my time (Watchmen is a must even if you're not into the medium, considered by TIME to be one of the 100 greatest novels of all time). But the idea of a superhero has always been an interesting one. It does away with every notion of the social contract, placing one unelected, unrepresentative individual above his peers by virtue only of his ability and willingness to fight crime. Such a system in real life would surely collapse; vigilantism presumes too much authority on behalf of the superhero. What sort of ego could justify taking the law into one's own hands, using incredible powers to do away with due process and simply enact the law as YOU see fit?
Still, superheroes are an interesting bunch. Many exist simply to entertain, to BAM and POW the bad guy in uncompromising shades of grey. Some, particularly in the hands of skilled writers like Alan Moore, do a little more than this. They personify some of the great moral and political issues of the last century, even entire philosophy perspectives. And so, with no structure or argument, I present to you a very self-indulgent analysis of the philosophies behind five of my favourite superheroes.
Many spoilers follow.
Superman
In my opinion, the definitive superhero. The name says it all; Super-man, above other men. Superman, especially in the Silver Age of superhero comics, was essentially God in tights. He was omniscient, flying above the earth, able to see and hear any crime that happened anywhere in the world (particularly in Metropolis). He was omnipotent, with writers inventing whatever new powers for him they felt necessary until he was able to shift entire planets without breaking a sweat. And he was omnibenevolent, as Alan Moore's "Whatever Happened To The Man Of Tomorrow?" illustrates most poignantly. Superman is forced out of desperation to break his vow to never kill, and so in penance renounces all his powers and fakes his own death to live as a human; Superman cannot be Superman if he kills.
Rorschach
Rorschach is an interesting anti-hero. He has no superpowers but obsessive insanity, and exemplifies (much as Batman does) the concept of absolutism. He sees the world in black and white, sin and no sin, and unfortunately for the world he doesn't see much white. He is perfectly happy with killing those he knows to be criminals, and is so devoted to delivering justice that he doesn't fear dying in pursuit of it. In the climax of Watchmen, the heroes collectively agree to keep the horrific truth secret because doing so would prevent the sudden outbreak of peace and unity that has spread across the world, a lovely example of consequentialist morality. Rorschach disagrees, telling the others that he will tell the world what has happened even though it may tear nations apart once more, and steadfastly begins to walk towards the exit even as Dr. Manhatten sadly informs him that he will be killed to protect the truth. Rorschach is a brilliant example of a man who holds his values as absolutes, and nothing, not world peace or his own life, can compromise that.
Alucard (Hellsing)
Alucard is pretty damn cool. He was a vampire before Twilight made them mainstream, and is essentially the living embodiment of evil. In fact, he is a biologically re-engineered Dracula, the quintessential supervillian in half a million comic books.
But Alucard rejects his evil nature. He usually drinks blood from hospital supply bag things and hunts down other, parasitic vampires; not because of what they are, but because of how they act. Its arguable that this is because of his conditioning, as he was brainwashed to obey the Hellsing family. But put him in contrast to Iscariot, the Catholic secret service. Iscariot agents kill vampires on sight, seeing them as inherently evil creatures who must be killed before they can kill others. Alucard does not see his vampirism as inherently evil, merely inconvenient. He has no hesitation in turning Seras into another vampire to save her life. Alucard represents the idea of actions defining morality, not nature.
Prof X and Magneto basically want the same thing; and end to human oppression of mutants. They both adhere to the basic tenets of Liberalism, freedom from oppression. But where they differ is their solution and their methods. Prof X is the egalatarian, Martin Luther King jr., desiring a society where mutants and human are equals, working together with no stigma. As such, he emplys force only when necessary to protect others, which he does regardless of their race.
Magneto is a radical, Malcolm X, similar in attitude to a difference feminist. He does not see mutants and humans as equals; mutants are superior, and so should be in charge. While this justifies his use of violence in some areas, he does not envision a future where humans are slaves to mutants. In Magneto's utopia, mutants rule a benevolent dictatorship, a meritocracy for the benefit of all.
I really like the contrast in their ideas and the parallels to real life. X-men has always been compared to the Gay rights movement (or obviously the civil rights of Dr. King and Malcolm X), but I see alot of parallels to feminism. Equality or difference? The basic philosophy here is righting the wrongs of society and preventing oppression.
V
V is an anarchist, and answers the question "when has the government gone too far?" He rather demonstratively believes that an individual can fight against an oppressive government, and is nicely validated in his belief when he is joined by the majority of the population in an uprising. He is the symbol of anonymity, the individual against the machine, fighting for freedom.
But where do we draw the line? In NZ society today, could someone put on a Guy Fawkes mask, go around blowing up public buildings and assassinating officials because he didn't like National's policies, and still expect to be the hero? V walks a rather fine line, between liberation and terrorism, and while he is thankfully correct in his stance towards the Northfire government, his story could have turned out very differently. What right did he have to judge his government deserving of violent revolution?
One man acting as judge, jury and executioner. Assuming the right to decide when a government oversteps its boundaries, and when terrorism becomes liberation. It goes wrong more often than not (hello, military coups across the world!), but Moore writes V and his world so well that we are convinced of the justice of his actions. When the Law does not Rule, V takes it upon himself to correct this. This is not the vigilantism of Batman, this is revolutionary anarchism
Saturday, 5 January 2013
Church of England attempts progression
Recently the Church of England's House of Bishops lifted a ban on priests in same-sex civil unions from being elected to the episcopate. This was doubtless largely an attempt to stay relevant in a progressive world, and stem the flow of resentment that began when the Church imposed the ban 18 months ago.
However, this attempt at being progressive simply serves to underline how backwards the Church's beliefs are. It goes without saying that the Anglican Church must be commended for their relatively positive stance towards homosexuality, allowing open homosexual individuals to be ordained in the priesthood and even the episcopate. However, there still exists a vast divide between the status of heterosexual and homosexual relationships. The Church recognises marriage as exclusively heterosexual, and the lifting of the ban is less an acceptance of the homosexual relationships of the Anglican priests in question and more an ignorance of them. To the Church, a priest (or now even a bishop) that is in civil union with a partner of the same sex is in the same situation as any other priest or bishop that is in no relationship whatsoever; both are bound by laws of celibacy, as (heterosexual) marriage is seen as the only acceptable sexual relationship.
So, yes, in a way the lifting of the ban on bishops in same-sex civil unions is a step forwards. But is it a cause for celebration? In essence, these men (for still only men may become bishops within the Anglican Church) have their relationships unrecognised and their sexuality denied as their heterosexual peers have not. This is not the Church being progressive; this is another reminder that homosexuality is still inferior, still unrecognised, still thrown the occasional bone like the lifting of a ban in exchange for vows of celibacy not required of any other member of the Church.
Less a step forwards and more of a reluctant shuffle.
Throughout this blog post, "Church" refers only to the Church of England.
However, this attempt at being progressive simply serves to underline how backwards the Church's beliefs are. It goes without saying that the Anglican Church must be commended for their relatively positive stance towards homosexuality, allowing open homosexual individuals to be ordained in the priesthood and even the episcopate. However, there still exists a vast divide between the status of heterosexual and homosexual relationships. The Church recognises marriage as exclusively heterosexual, and the lifting of the ban is less an acceptance of the homosexual relationships of the Anglican priests in question and more an ignorance of them. To the Church, a priest (or now even a bishop) that is in civil union with a partner of the same sex is in the same situation as any other priest or bishop that is in no relationship whatsoever; both are bound by laws of celibacy, as (heterosexual) marriage is seen as the only acceptable sexual relationship.
So, yes, in a way the lifting of the ban on bishops in same-sex civil unions is a step forwards. But is it a cause for celebration? In essence, these men (for still only men may become bishops within the Anglican Church) have their relationships unrecognised and their sexuality denied as their heterosexual peers have not. This is not the Church being progressive; this is another reminder that homosexuality is still inferior, still unrecognised, still thrown the occasional bone like the lifting of a ban in exchange for vows of celibacy not required of any other member of the Church.
Less a step forwards and more of a reluctant shuffle.
Throughout this blog post, "Church" refers only to the Church of England.
Monday, 31 December 2012
The US Fiscal Cliff and the failure of Keynesian Economics
As the Fiscal Cliff crisis hits the USA, I'm reminded again why I dislike Keynesian economics and the system with which we run our national markets. Even as we are in the midst of a recession caused by the failure of Keynesian over-spending, our main concern is maintaining government debt in the hopes that it will allow for enough economic development to stave off total system failure.
My first introduction to Keynes and Hayek was this video.* It is one of my favourite depictions of the macro-economic debate, not just because it is entertaining education but because of the brilliant introduction highlighting the relative attention paid to the competing theories. I have never understood, particularly in the USA, the reason that politicians and economists alike praise Keynes so highly. Surely in a country that so vocally champions the free market and liberal values it should be Hayek, with his reliance on the rationality of the market, that should be the posterboy. Yet instead we almost exclusively follow the advice of Lord Keynes, spending money we don't have to stimulate the economy.
When I first read about this theory, my first thought was of the South Sea Bubble. In the colonial era, the South Sea Trading Company was set up to take advantage of an English monopoly on South American trade. Given the war with Spain, the success of any such trade was improbable, but investment in the company and stock trading led to massive increases in share values. Unsurprisingly yet for many ruinously, the company collapsed and share prices plummeted. For all that investment money, there was never any real commodities supporting the shares and their only value came from continued investment.
Keynes advocates maintaining or even increasing government debt throughout a recession, taking money from the public sector and freeing it up for development and recovery in the private. To recover from the 2008 recession, the US passed several limited acts to reduce tax rates and increase government budgets, putting the government into considerable debt but pushing more money into private enterprise. The fiscal cliff that US policy-makers so fear is the expiration of these acts, which will increase taxes and slash government budgets. While this seems to be nothing more than a sound policy for government, reducing national debt (both foreign and domestic) and ensuring a more reasonable budget (not spending money that the government doesn't have), the impact of this on the economy would be extremely damaging, at least in the short term.
But is this a sound action long-term? Arguably the cause of the recession in the first place, as predicted by Hayek all along, was the very Keynesian approach of over-spending that the US Senate is clinging to now. Just like with the South Sea Company, the policy of spending money that does not exist, even for the purpose of stimulating economic growth, is one that seems doomed to not pay off. The hope is that future growth of industry, sparked by the initial investment of government over-spending, will balance out any debt that the government ends up in. In actuality, this creates a bubble that cannot be sustained forever. Every now and then, as with the 2008 crisis, the lack of real money in the system and growing government debt simply proves to be too much and the market collapses, with share prices plummeting, companies discovering that they have no free funds to pay employees or debts, and commodities growing more expensive. When more money is being spent than made, from the government downwards, the whole system turns into a delicate soap bubble, growing ever-larger by ever more unstable, filled with and supported by nothing but air.
*edit from Cassandra: "My first introduction to Keynes and Hayek was in THIS MOTHERF-CKING AWESOME VIDEO WHERE THEY RAP."
My first introduction to Keynes and Hayek was this video.* It is one of my favourite depictions of the macro-economic debate, not just because it is entertaining education but because of the brilliant introduction highlighting the relative attention paid to the competing theories. I have never understood, particularly in the USA, the reason that politicians and economists alike praise Keynes so highly. Surely in a country that so vocally champions the free market and liberal values it should be Hayek, with his reliance on the rationality of the market, that should be the posterboy. Yet instead we almost exclusively follow the advice of Lord Keynes, spending money we don't have to stimulate the economy.
When I first read about this theory, my first thought was of the South Sea Bubble. In the colonial era, the South Sea Trading Company was set up to take advantage of an English monopoly on South American trade. Given the war with Spain, the success of any such trade was improbable, but investment in the company and stock trading led to massive increases in share values. Unsurprisingly yet for many ruinously, the company collapsed and share prices plummeted. For all that investment money, there was never any real commodities supporting the shares and their only value came from continued investment.
Keynes advocates maintaining or even increasing government debt throughout a recession, taking money from the public sector and freeing it up for development and recovery in the private. To recover from the 2008 recession, the US passed several limited acts to reduce tax rates and increase government budgets, putting the government into considerable debt but pushing more money into private enterprise. The fiscal cliff that US policy-makers so fear is the expiration of these acts, which will increase taxes and slash government budgets. While this seems to be nothing more than a sound policy for government, reducing national debt (both foreign and domestic) and ensuring a more reasonable budget (not spending money that the government doesn't have), the impact of this on the economy would be extremely damaging, at least in the short term.
But is this a sound action long-term? Arguably the cause of the recession in the first place, as predicted by Hayek all along, was the very Keynesian approach of over-spending that the US Senate is clinging to now. Just like with the South Sea Company, the policy of spending money that does not exist, even for the purpose of stimulating economic growth, is one that seems doomed to not pay off. The hope is that future growth of industry, sparked by the initial investment of government over-spending, will balance out any debt that the government ends up in. In actuality, this creates a bubble that cannot be sustained forever. Every now and then, as with the 2008 crisis, the lack of real money in the system and growing government debt simply proves to be too much and the market collapses, with share prices plummeting, companies discovering that they have no free funds to pay employees or debts, and commodities growing more expensive. When more money is being spent than made, from the government downwards, the whole system turns into a delicate soap bubble, growing ever-larger by ever more unstable, filled with and supported by nothing but air.
*edit from Cassandra: "My first introduction to Keynes and Hayek was in THIS MOTHERF-CKING AWESOME VIDEO WHERE THEY RAP."
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