Miscellaneous Debris
Friday, May 30, 2003 | 0 Comments
Free Speech? Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times reporter Chris Hedges, author of War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning, was heckled recently during a commencement speech at Rockford College. It's a shame that, amidst all of the shit-meets-fan hullaballoo, the actual content of Hedge's message has gone largely unreported. Here's a complete transcript and some noteworthy snippets:
"Modern western civilization may perish," the theologian Reinhold Niebuhr warned, "because it falsely worshiped technology as a final good." The real injustices, the Israeli occupation of Palestinian land, the brutal and corrupt dictatorships we fund in the Middle East, will mean that we will not rid the extremists who hate us with bombs. Indeed we will swell their ranks. Once you master people by force you depend on force for control. In your isolation you begin to make mistakes.
Fear engenders cruelty; cruelty, fear, insanity, and then paralysis. In the center of Dante's circle the damned remained motionless. We have blundered into a nation we know little about and are caught between bitter rivalries and competing ethnic groups and leaders we do not understand. We are trying to transplant a modern system of politics invented in Europe characterized, among other things, by the division of earth into independent secular states based on national citizenship in a land where the belief in a secular civil government is an alien creed. . . .
We have lost touch with the essence of war. Following our defeat in Vietnam we became a better nation. We were humbled, even humiliated. We asked questions about ourselves we had not asked before. We were forced to see ourselves as others saw us and the sight was not always a pretty one. We were forced to confront our own capacity for a atrocity — for evil — and in this we understood not only war but more about ourselves. But that humility is gone.
War, we have come to believe, is a spectator sport. The military and the press — remember in wartime the press is always part of the problem — have turned war into a vast video arcade came. Its very essence — death — is hidden from public view. There was no more candor in the Persian Gulf War or the War in Afghanistan or the War in Iraq than there was in Vietnam. But in the age of live feeds and satellite television, the state and the military have perfected the appearance of candor.
And, as usual, Joan Chittister is one of the few people who makes any sense to me. From "Is There Anything Left That Matters?":
This is what I don't understand: All of a sudden nothing seems to matter.
First, they said they wanted Bin Laden "dead or alive." But they didn't get him. So now they tell us that it doesn't matter. Our mission is greater than one man.
Then they said they wanted Saddam Hussein, "dead or alive." He's apparently alive but we haven't got him yet, either. However, President Bush told reporters recently, "It doesn't matter. Our mission is greater than one man."
Finally, they told us that we were invading Iraq to destroy their weapons of mass destruction. Now they say those weapons probably don't exist. Maybe never existed. Apparently that doesn't matter either.
Except that it does matter. I know we're not supposed to say that. I know it's called "unpatriotic." But it's also called honesty. And dishonesty matters. . . .
If Bill Clinton's definition of "is" matters, surely this matters. If a president's sex life matters, surely a president's use of global force against some of the weakest people in the world matters. If a president's word in a court of law about a private indiscretion matters, surely a president's word to the community of nations and the security of millions of people matters.
And if not, why not? If not, surely there is something as wrong with us as citizens, as thinkers, as Christians as there must be with some facet of the government. If wars that the public says are wrong yesterday - as over 70% of U.S. citizens did before the attack on Iraq - suddenly become "right" the minute the first bombs drop, what kind of national morality is that?
June is Indian cinema month on Turner Classic Movies. All of these will be new to me. How exciting.
- Dilwale Dluhania Le Jayenge (1995, Aditya Chopra)
- Bombay (1995, Mani Ratham)
- Amar Akbar Anthony (1977, Mammohan Dasai)
- Rangeela (1995, Ram Gopal Varma)
- Dil Chahta Hai (2001, Farhan Akhtar)
- Sholay (1975, Ramesh Sippy)
- Pakeezah (1971, Kamal Amrohi)
- Junglee (1961, Subdoh Mukherji)
- Awaara (1951, Raj Kapoor)
- Mother India (1957, Mehboob Khan)
- Do Bigha Zamin (1953, Bimal Roy)
- Pyaasa (1957, Guru Dutt)
The new banner and background image were grabbed from this poster for Fritz Lang's Metropolis. I've been staring at it all day, mesmerized by that face. German Expressionism. Art-Deco. Man, I wish I could paint.
Song of the Moment. Don't get me wrong. I like Jeff Tweedy. I like Wilco. But, given a choice, I'd much rather listen to Jay Farrar's nasal growl. "Graveyard Shift," the first cut on the first Uncle Tupelo album, absolutely works for me.
The Good Woman of Setzuan
Wednesday, May 28, 2003 | 0 Comments
I'm reading Brecht again. When I first encountered him as an undergrad — It was Galileo, I think — he was a burden and a pretentious bore. Several years later I read Mother Courage in a performance theory seminar, and his seemed to me an interesting, if too rigidly intellectual, project. Now, at 31 and with my political positions in something of a flux, I think I'm finally ready to really read Brecht. (Hopefully at 40 I'll reread this and laugh at my naivete.)
The Good Woman of Setzuan (1938-40), written during Brecht's exile in Scandinavia, tells the story of Shen Te, a young woman forced into prostitution by poverty who is rewarded handsomely after opening her home to three visiting gods. Disproving their contention that no goodness still exists on earth, Shen Te is given a small business by the deities, and from there she struggles to work honestly and to provide for the needy, earning her the moniker, "the Angel of the Slums." After falling victim to unscrupulous neighbors and a dishonest lover, however, Shen Te is forced to create an alter-ego — that of her business-savy cousin, Mr. Shui Ta. Where Shen Te is trusting, selfless, and naive, Shui Ta is fierce, manipulative, and efficient. As inevitably happens in Brecht's drama — and, by extension, in our world — the forces of capital and history eventually overwhelm Shen Te, and she is forced to surrender her goodness or starve:
Since not to eat is to die
Who can long refuse to be bad?
As I lay prostrate beneath the weight of good intentions
Ruin stared me in the face
It was when I was unjust that I ate good meat
While browsing this morning, I found a fun review of Good Woman as staged by the fine drama department at my alma mater, Florida State. I say "fun review" because it was so obviously written by a well-intentioned — and absolutely clueless — undergrad. How's this for a lead?
The FSU School of Theatre revisits the timeless feud between good and evil in its production of Bertolt Brecht's "The Good Woman of Setzuan." With a uniquely dazzling set, on-stage chemistry and a moralistic lesson, the play leaves every viewer with something to ponder.
He or she (I'm beginning to really hate trendy gender-ambiguous names like Taylor) goes on to say:
With predominantly outrageous characters, prophetic musical interludes and an amazing abstract mountainous backdrop, balance is occasionally difficult. However, the innocence of the main character, the serious nature of the love story and the open ending leave viewers poised to make logical sense of the production.
In the immortal words of Steven Hyde, "That's good stuff." Ignoring for a moment the complete lack of content here (and the misplaced modifier and the wretched abuse of adverbs), I have to take aim at that opening sentence: The chief end of Brecht's project, in fact, is to strip us (violently, if necessary) of any and all illusions of "timelessness." Timelessness (like the traditional theatre), he would argue, is a bourgeois daydream — the shiny gloss that covers over the workings and exploitations of capital.
To free us of those illusions — to expose that machinery — he distances us from the action, never allowing us to identify too closely with the characters or to suspend our disbelief. The Verfremdungseffekt takes a variety of forms: productions of Brecht's dramas often include projected slides above the stage that directly contradict or comment on the action beneath; characters occasionally address the audience directly; and in Good Woman Shen Te becomes Shui Ta simply by slipping on a mask that, in most productions, is deliberately unrealistic, deliberately theatrical. We're never allowed to forget that we're only watching a play.
Brecht also deflates dramatic tension — though his plays certainly remain tense and tragic — by focusing our attention on those literal transactions that are often elided in traditional story-telling. Money changes hands with tragic consequences. In each exchange someone profits at another's expense. Shen Te isn't destroyed by timeless forces of evil or by fate or Providence, but by specific economic systems. I love this scene from the prologue:
Wong: Everyone knows the province of Kwan is always having floods.
Second God: Really? How's that?
Wong: Why, because they're so irreligious.
Second God: Rubbish. It's because they neglected the dam.
I wonder how that would play in our current climate.
A Dangerous Admission
Saturday, May 24, 2003 | 0 Comments
"You are a living mockery of your own ideals: either that, or your ideals are too low."
— Charles Ludlam, The Theater of the Ridiculous
I'm slowly waking to the realization that I'm a socialist. Talk about a word that carries some impressive baggage. Tony Kushner has said in a number of interviews that he has found the label "gay playwright" to be less confrontational for most Americans than "socialist playwright." In America today, alternative sexualities are less transgressive, less unthinkable than alternative economics. How odd.
I say I'm a "socialist" fully aware of the problems, both practical and theoretical, inherent in the term. Not to mention the problems of the term itself: In our murky, ideologically informed, sound-bite political discourse, socialism is Communism is Stalinism is (someone explain this last one to me) liberalism. So, with apologies to any political scientists who might be reading (doubtful), here is what I mean when I say that I'm a socialist (in 90 words or less):
- Although many of his specific predictions have yet to materialize (and likely won't), Marx was absolutely correct when he demanded that our current situation always be understood in hard historical and economic terms.
- Capitalism is, by necessity and by design, exploitive. (I say that with the realization that market competition has resulted in obvious and radical societal benefits as well.)
- The championing of individualism over collective action and social justice is (in a word that I use with some trepidation) anti-Christian.
An example. Today Nike announced that the shoemaker will be paying LeBron James — the teen phenom who has yet to play a single basketball game in either college or the NBA — $90 million over the next seven years. We've becomed deadened to figures like this, learning to expect that top athletes are entitled to top salaries. It's capitalism at its finest. James is, after all, only exploiting an existing, highly competitive market. That he is able to do so is, in a very real and very sad sense, the American Dream. But read coverage of the story and you'll stumble upon passages like this:
The “marquee” basketball category — hoops shoes that sell for more than $100 at retail — is home to perhaps the sexiest battle in all of footwear. It brings massive margins, approaching 50 percent, as these cheaply made shoes fetch prices up to $140. (Nike tried to get $200 for a recent Air Jordan model, but kids balked at forking out that much.) Nike has traditionally owned this category, due in large part to the phenomenal sales of Air Jordans, but with MJ retiring this year there seems to be a chink in the armor.
So competitors have lined up young guns. Reebok has Allen Iverson; Adidas has Tracy McGrady (and, until last year, Kobe). And Nike has tried to turn Toronto Raptors guard Vince Carter into its new Michael Jordan. Carter at first seemed the real deal, but he’s lost luster over the years as he has been felled by numerous injuries, and it doesn’t help that he plays up in Canada. Right now, Iverson, McGrady, and Jordan are the only guys who really move product, and Jordan’s on the way out. In short, Nike’s desperately searching for a new Michael.
Is LeBron James the one? That’s up to the market, but Nike clearly thinks that LeBron is its cup of tea. Marquee shoes are aimed at black, inner-city kids who are willing to spend huge amounts of money every time the new, hot shoe hits shelves. An Adidas exec once told me that “the day after payday” is the biggest sales day in this category (the way he said it, you could tell that exploitation was not really an issue for him). To ring these kids’ consumer bells, endorsers need to be just a little bit flashy and a little bit dangerous. Iverson fits the bill, with his tats and his slightly sketchy past; Kobe does not, with his squeaky clean demeanor (he speaks fluent Italian, for goodness’ sake). McGrady’s athletic, street-ball moves on the court do the trick; Shaq’s oafish approach to the game, though perhaps the most dominant in the NBA, doesn’t sell shoes. What about LeBron? Already put under investigation for receiving “throwback jerseys” (stylish, vintage team wear) and a Hummer SUV while still an amateur, he has the controversy angle sewn up, and anyone who’s seen him dunk knows he’s got all the moves.
There's so much to marvel at here — that a single product will routinely return a 50% margin (at whose expense and to whose benefit?); that having a "slightly sketchy past" is now an asset to a company spokesperson (what cultural and economic forces are responsible for this change?); that executives deliberately target already impoverished "demographics" (how are profit motives complicit in the maintenance of that poverty?); and, most damning of all, that we've come to accept this as not only the "best we can do" but as the only system imaginable (even waging wars so that we might impose the "freedoms" of capitalism on other cultures).
The deep, deep cynicism that marks my generation is, I think, the inevitable by-product of this distorted value system. Here's a haunting snippet from an interview with Susan Sontag. Leading into this paragraph, she had been talking about the value of art, whose job, she feels, is "keeping alive people’s capacity for feeling, feeling in a responsible rather than a facile way." Sound familiar? It reminds me of a certain poem: "The poets must give us / imagination of peace, to oust the intense, familiar / imagination of disaster." Anyway, here's the snippet:
After all, if advertising works, and it does, then so does art, and in the same way. These images and stories influence us; they create legitimacy and credibility. They make things which used to be central marginal, difficult to defend. I’d go back to an earlier point I was making: That though many people I know actually are capable of acting on principle, most of them could not defend what they’re doing as acting on principle. They no longer have a language of ethical action. It’s collapsed, it’s dropped away. Whereas new forms of cynicism and cruelty, of indifference to violence, have become central in the culture. And that’s a change. I think that’s a big change.
"They no longer have a language of ethical action." That line has lingered with me for more than a month now. I think of it whenever I hear good people (good Christians, in particular) talking about money or taxes or politics, in general. And good Christians talk about these things a lot, often in Wall Street's terms. Is it any wonder that a growing number of us are feeling increasingly alienated from a church that is, by most measures, indistinguishable from the culture in which it exists and from which it adopts so many of its values? As I told my parents last week, the question that plagues me is: How much of my worldview is shaped by Christ's radical theology, and how much of it is simply a reflection and reinforcement of middle class America's chief values — the worship of comfort, conspicuous consumption, and prosperity? Imagine for a moment what it might look like if America and its churches "stood united" behind something that matters instead of something like this.
Along those lines, I've recently begun studying the Rule of the Order of Saint Benedict — this rich, 1,500 year old tradition that is so remarkably and beautifully counter to our culture. Elevating selfless community over individualism, sacrifice over comfort, contemplation over distraction, the Rule captures something of the grace of the Sermon on the Mount, reminding us that a "language of ethical action" certainly exists and must be reclaimed. My friend Karen describes it like this:
I know what your saying about the Benedictines. My first book was The Cloister Walk by Kathleen Norris, which was like a breath of fresh air after the hype of evangelicalism. For once, my attraction to learning about them didn't seem to be a reactionary swing...you know, I was charismatic and I hated it so now I'm Anglican, or vice-versa. And it wasn't nostalgic because one recognizes the very human side in the rule - the warnings against authoritarianism and laziness and such. Of course, it is also inspired by Scripture so it was another way of breaking crusts off of verses I had been overexposed to. It was just something that seemed to land home for me and still does.
I'm working my way through Joan Chittister's The Rule of Benedict: Insights for the Ages and can't recommend it highly enough.
Song of the Moment
Friday, May 23, 2003 | 0 Comments
While writing this blog, I found myself singing spontaneously "The Eye of the Needle" by The Divine Comedy. The lyrics should explain why. Thanks again, Candace.
Miscellaneous Debris
Wednesday, May 21, 2003 | 0 Comments
The anti-war Left has been strangely quiet in recent weeks, which is strange considering that so many of our predictions have been realized in post-war Iraq and elsewhere. Eric Alterman has begun documenting it all: We Told You So, Part I and Part II.
I think Senses of Cinema is the best online film journal, and I'm not just saying that because they published my piece on Tsai Ming-liang today. My friends Nick and Acquarello have also written for the latest issue.
Speaking of Films. J. Hoberman is reporting from Cannes, where he is still recovering from Dogville, Lars Von Trier's latest:
A Christian allegory narrated like an 18th-century novel and set in an abstract Depression America, Dogville tips its hat to Bertolt Brecht and thumbs its nose at Thornton Wilder's Our Town, but is immediately recognizable as something new. The story of a beautiful fugitive (Nicole Kidman) who is first harbored, then exploited, and ultimately martyred by the denizens of the eponymous small town, Dogville bears a family resemblance to von Trier's 1996 Breaking the Waves and his 2000 Palme d'Or winner Dancer in the Dark; it is, however, a more mature and sustained film than either. Kidman, who gives another remarkable performance—acting "natural" in an almost absurdly diagrammatic setting—heads a terrific oddball cast (including Lauren Bacall, Ben Gazarra, and Chloë Sevigny).
Brilliantly staged on a single set, running nearly three hours without a single boring minute, Dogville builds in suffering but saves its catharsis for the end credits—a devastating juxtaposition of pop music and photographic images that blows a hole in its matrix and ours. Von Trier's timing is uncanny. America, as we are often told, is the most Christian nation on earth—Dogville wonders what exactly that means. A 5-2 favorite before it screened, von Trier's movie may well be 2-1 by the time you read this. Indeed, if originality, ambition, and passion are any measure, it will be a remarkable year if any film in competition is more deserving.
If that ain't enough to pique your interest, check out the official Website.
Simple Design
Tuesday, May 20, 2003 | 0 Comments
When I was hired nearly three years ago as an "Instructional Designer and Multimedia Developer," it was with the promise that our online learning venture would be "cutting edge" and "outside the box" — that it would contribute to the on-going democratization of higher education by making college degrees available to underserved and isolated student populations and by appealing to the broad spectrum of individual learning styles via new media previously unavailable to distance educators. Ah, the beautifully naive, halcyon days of 2000. Seems like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?
So I did like most educational designers: I broke open Flash and began building unnecessarily shiny, happy learning objects, some more interesting and effective than others. Nearly fifty online courses later, I don't remember the last time I built anything with a bell or a whistle or a motion tween. You know why? Nobody cares.
Last month, Jakob Nielsen posted a better than average Alertbox. In "Low-End Media for User Empowerment," he offers common sense wisdom that should come as little surprise to most designers, but it bears repeating:
Fancy media on websites typically fails user testing. Simple text and clear photos not only communicate better with users, they also enhance users' feeling of control and thus support the Web's mission as an instant gratification environment.
After cataloguing the standard gripes — bandwidth remains an issue (witness my dial-up), Webcasts almost always suck, and complex media do a number on navigation — Nielsen focuses on the strengths of simple design, particularly the importance of readable, relevant, and quality content. I especially like this point:
On average, low-end media has a higher percentage of information-rich content, while high-end media has a higher percentage of show-off content. Low-end media is certainly not fluff-free; witness the pictures of "smiling ladies" where product photos should be. High-end media, however, positively revels in embellishments and irrelevancy. Getting to the point seems to be beside the point when you invest a fortune in fat media. After all, you've got to have something elaborate to show for your money.
He also adds:
Think of Googlebot as your most important user — and one that is blind to high-end media.
For a site that has only been around for a little over a year and that gets relatively little traffic, Long Pauses shows up with surprising frequency on the first page of Google searches. That's partly because my reading and film responses fill a small niche — like, apparently not many Websites devote an entire page to Ordet or July's People. But I'd like to think that it's also because content is king, and the sharing of content is the only reason that the Internet continues to excite me.
Song of the Moment
Monday, May 19, 2003 | 0 Comments
You just haven't lived until Hedwig has stood two yards away, stared you straight in the eyes, and sung:
Last time I saw you
We had just split in two.
You were looking at me.
I was looking at you.
You had a way so familiar,
But I could not recognize,
Cause you had blood on your face;
I had blood in my eyes.
But I could swear by your expression
That the pain down in your soul
Was the same as the one down in mine.
That's the pain,
Cuts a straight line
Down through the heart;
We called it love.
— "The Origin of Love" by Hedwig and the Angry Inch
Vacation
Saturday, May 10, 2003 | 0 Comments
I'm heading to Maryland for a week of vacation. While there, I'm going to see as many Tarkovsky films as possible, and I'm also hoping to catch a performance of Hedwig & the Angry Inch. Ah, to live in a real city. Someday. Updates will resume on May 19.
Findings
Friday, May 09, 2003 | 0 Comments
Well this is kind of exciting. The Spring 2003 edition of Findings is now online. Its focus is "Christian Engagement in a Pop Culture World," and it features articles by Drew Trotter, T. M. Moore, David K. Naugle, Ken Myers, Eric Jacobson, and yours truly.
Christian Nation
Thursday, May 08, 2003 | 0 Comments
"A man cannot be a perfect Christian . . . unless he is also a communist."
— Thomas Merton
"God helps those who help themselves." When you teach freshman composition at a southern public university, you get used to hearing that expression. It's usually prefaced with, "Like the Bible says . . ." I've been thinking about that a lot lately, mostly because I've also been thinking about the words "Christian nation" and how I have no idea what they mean.
My students' favorite proverb, of course, isn't in the Bible. (You won't find it there because it's a base degradation of Christ's teachings and sacrifice.) The exact source of the phrase is a bit murky, but variants appear in the literatures of many cultures, including Aesop's fables, a play by Aeschylus, and — most significantly for us Americans — a 1736 edition of Ben Franklin's Poor Richard's Almanac. Which is just perfect.
I'm no Colonial-era scholar, but I've read most of the significant founding documents — enough of them, at least, to know that, contrary to much of public opinion, America has never been a "Christian nation," or, not the one reimagined by contemporary American evangelicals. (Googling "Christian Nation" and America turns up no shortage of opinions on this question and from a variety of, um, interesting perspectives that span the political and theological spectra.) Franklin, Adams, Jefferson, and Paine, like so many of their compatriots, were typical Enlightenment intellectuals. Which means that they were Deists whose faith was reserved largely for Reason rather than God. It also explains why they so deliberately eschewed dogma in their noble pursuit of democracy.
I say all of that to say this: there's something in this expression — "God helps those who help themselves" — that offers us, I think, a usable model for understanding the Right and the evangelical church's devotion to it. It's Manifest Destiny, rugged individualism, and vaguely-Biblical-sounding rhetoric all rolled into one. It's pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps jingoism stripped of all historical, political, and economic context. It's nostalgic and proud and intellectually lazy. It is decidedly not, in any shape or form, Christian.
Jordon Cooper recently posted a blog along somewhat similar lines. He's done us all a favor by transcribing a passage from a book by Tony Campolo (which I'm totally stealing, by the way, so go visit Jordon's site):
While teaching at the University of Pennsylvania, I became good friends with a young Jewish student who eventually made a commitment to Christ. As I tried to mentor him and give him a direction as to how to live the Christian life, I advised him to go to a particular church that was well known for its biblically based preaching, to help him get a better handle on what the Bible is all about.
When I met my friend several weeks later, he said to me, "You know, if you put together a committee and asked them to take the Beatitudes and create a religion that contradicted every one of them, you could come pretty close to what I'm hearing down there at that church.
"Whereas Jesus said, 'Blessed are the poor,' down there they make it clear it is the rich who are blessed. Jesus said, 'Blessed are they that mourn,' but the people at that church have a religion that promises happiness with no crucifixions. Whereas Jesus talked about the meek being blessed, they talk as if they took assertiveness-training courses. Jesus may have talked about the merciful and peacemakers, but those people are the most enthusiastic supporters of American militarism and capital punishment I have ever met. Jesus may have lifted up those who endured persecution because they dared to embrace a radical gospel, but that church declares a gospel that espouses middle-class success and affirms a lifestyle marked by social prestige."
As I listened to my friend's accusing words about the church, I realized it could just as well be aimed at me. Since that conversation, I've spent a lot of time reflecting on whether or not my lifestyle is really Christian. Soren Kierkegaard once said, "If you mean by Christian what the Sermon on the Mount says about being a Christian, then in any given time in history, there might be four or five such persons who would have the right to call themselves Christians."
And I say all of that to say this: Kierkegaard was right. "Christian" — if you mean by Christian what the Sermon on the Mount says — is a weighty word, and it's serious, and, most remarkable of all, it's full of grace. Please don't affix that word to this country, which, for some reason, has been blessed with the delicate gift of democracy but will never deserve it. That, also, is grace.
Finally
Wednesday, May 07, 2003 | 0 Comments
I've spent the last two weeks working on (and dreaming about) a federal grant proposal upon which my future employment depends. But now it's out of my hands. Finally. And it's making that magic trip to the hallowed halls of the U.S. Department of Education. Godspeed.
But it's a Good Pain. Sometimes The Onion is so funny it hurts. Last week it was Christopher Hitchens (I can't believe that one isn't included in their online archive); and now it's this:
Bush To Lovely Chilean Ambassador: 'I Must Paint You'
WASHINGTON, DC—After spotting Chilean Ambassador to the U.S. Natalia Verdugo at a D.C.-area café Tuesday, a smitten President Bush promptly invited the bewitching diplomat to his artist's garret in the East Wing of the White House. "I must paint you," Bush reportedly told Verdugo. "I simply must commit your beauty to the canvas immediately. Please, come away with me to my studio, where the early-evening light from my western window shall caress your undraped form." Though she eventually agreed to pose for the president, Verdugo drew the line at "an afternoon of fiery passion" among his charcoal sketches.
The Onion's crack staff of reporters have also discovered the real inspiration for the Bush Doctrine.
Song of the Moment
Wednesday, May 07, 2003 | 0 Comments
What to hear a perfect song? "Resplendent," by Bill Mallonee and Vigilantes of Love, is as close as it gets. There's the Bruce Cockburn-like guitar, that sweet snare drum shuffle, and Emmylou's harmonies. And then there's the lyrics. When Mallonee sings, "Honey, we're all resplendent," you just know that he's right. (Thanks for this song, Candace.)
I remember the dark clouds raining dust for days on end
Blew all the Earth out to California
Just left us here with the wind
Desperate times, you know everbody's part
It's your own lines you'd like to forget
Till what you were meets what you've now become
And grins and says, "Hey, haven't we met?"
Lost my first born that Winter
My wife on the first day of Spring
So I poured my sweat to the Earth
To see what that harvest would bring
And I remember how the fury
Just like a plague of locusts
Egypt's punishment for sins of pride
Is that now what has come over us?
How much of this was meant to be?
How much the work of the Devil?
How far can one man's eyes really see
In these days of toil and trouble?
Honey, we're all resplendent,
Yeah, Honey, we are all thrift store
Like a wine-o with a $20 bill
Yeah, forever and eternally yours
And I can make you promises
If you don't expect too much,
Yes, and I will run the distance
If you'll please, please excuse my crutch
How much of this was meant to be?
How much the work of the Devil?
How far can one man's eyes really see
In these days of toil and trouble?
How much of this is failing flesh?
How much a course of retribution?
My, my, how loudly we plead our innocence
Long after we made our contribution
Ecocide and the End Times
Monday, May 05, 2003 | 0 Comments
Alternet is hosting an interesting piece today that examines the Bush administration's environmental policies within the context of those millenarian whackos who have made Tim LaHaye such a ridiculously wealthy man. The first half of the article is a fairly pedestrian left-leaning response to Republican policies — a litany of offenses ranging from questionable appointees and gross conflicts of interest to the systematic stripping of authority from environmental protection legislation — and it's all well worth reading. But the stuff that grabbed my attention begins at the subhead, "A Higher Power." There, we learn that Jeremy Leggett, author of The Carbon Wars, once had a frank conversation with John Schiller, a Ford Motor executive, who steadfastly refused to believe that the world is more than 10,000 years old. Glenn Scherer writes:
Then Schiller confidently declared, "You know, the more I look, the more it is just as it says in the Bible." The Book of Daniel, he told Leggett, predicts that increased earthly devastation will mark the "End Time" and return of Christ. Paradoxically, Leggett notes, many fundamentalists see dying coral reefs, melting ice caps and other environmental destruction not as an urgent call to action, but as God's will. In the religious right worldview, the wreck of the Earth can be seen as Good News!
I would shake my head in disbelief if I didn't see ample evidence of such absurd theology, both spoken and implied, in so much of the American Church that surrounds me. For Schiller and the millions of Americans like him — and Left Behind readers alone number in the millions — there is a strange syllogism at play: world devastation is an apparent harbinger of the End Times; the End Times will be to God's glory; ergo world devastation will be to God's glory. Perhaps I'm overstating my case; perhaps not. Regardless, overwhelming evidence supports this simple fact: American evangelicals vote in droves for the least environmentally-friendly candidates (while continuing to gather on Sundays and Wednesday evenings to discuss "Christian stewardship"). Scherer continues:
According to the Washington, D.C.-based Americans United for Separation of Church and State, 178 House members in the last Congress allied themselves with the religious right, earning barely a 15 percent average approval rating with [the League of Conservation Voters]. Of 44 senators given an 80 to 100 percent approval rating by the Christian Coalition, the average LCV approval rating fell below 10 percent.
In the 108th Congress, Republican leadership hails almost exclusively from the religious right, scoring a perfect 100 percent with the Christian Coalition, but getting barely a four percent average approval rating from LCV.
Among the religiously motivated leaders are Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist and Assistant Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, House Majority Leader Tom DeLay, Speaker of the House Dennis Hastert and Majority Whip Roy Blunt. DeLay has bluntly said that The Almighty is using him to promote "a Biblical worldview" in American politics, says the New York Times.
New rule: from now on, any politician who justifies his or her behavior by using the expression "Biblical worldview" must provide a handout that clearly demonstrates a direct relationship between his or her voting record and scripture. Otherwise, it's just so much noise and rhetoric. (Sidenote: Many would likely qualify, but with one qualification — they could only use the phrase, "Old Testament worldview.")
Also, some Fresh Air. Today, Terry Gross interviewed Dr. Charles Kimball, Head of Religious Studies at Wake Forest. An ordained Baptist minister and renowned scholar of Islam, he has some unique and refreshingly well-informed opinions concerning the recent controversies surrounding evangelical missions and the Middle East. Plus, he's been known to take some fierce jabs at Jerry Falwell, so you know it will be worth your time.
Different Perspectives
Friday, May 02, 2003 | 0 Comments
Different Perspectives. Last night I gathered with my English as a Second Language students for our final class of the semester. Before digging into another dry reading comprehension exercise, we just sat and talked, which, to be honest, is the main reason that Thursday night is often the highlight of my week. At various points over the last few months, I've learned that: my friend from Turkey is a Kurd whose parents live just north of the Syrian border (I learned this on the day that Turkey gave the U.S. permission to do fly-overs); my friend from the Sudan, a refugee, spent several weeks circumnavigating the civil war in the south, much of his trip on foot, before finally receiving his papers in Khartoum and heading north to Cairo, where he spent several more weeks waiting for asylum; and my friend from Ethiopia, a person who now works in "food service," was once a speaker in the Upper House of her country's Parliament. Unbelievable. I need to get out more.
Along (somewhat) similar lines, here's a link to Lost in Transit, a "group Weblog by expatriates and emigrants around the world, writing about their experiences."
Red Five Standing By
Friday, May 02, 2003 | 0 Comments
I subscribe to the Pop Culture Association & American Culture Association listserv, which typically fills my in-box only with announcements of calls for papers and research queries. But occasionally someone's dander will rise and an interesting discussion will follow. This week, several participants have been debating the merits of the various Cultural Studies textbooks, and from that debate has blossomed a chat about the practical impact of myth and heroes on American politics. I was only skimming the messages until I discovered this note, written by John Shelton Lawrence, co-author of The Myth of the American Superhero (2002):
I would challenge people to think about President Bush's donning of the flight suit today, engaging in flight, appearing with his flight helmet on deck of the Abraham Lincoln and place it in the context of the film Independence Day. Is the president being scripted to match the plot of a superheroic action president in the film? The question seems worth exploring.
If you're at all intrigued by this question, Dr. Lawrence has posted an interesting article on his Web server. "Post 9/11: Who Can Save the Day?" is an anecdotal but historically sensitive discussion of the "relationships between U.S. foreign policy makers and some important popular artifacts." He takes on, in short order: Teddy Roosevelt and Buffalo Bill's Wild West, FDR and William Randolph Hearst, Clinton's and Dole's celebration of Independence Day, and Dubya's affinity for Rambo. The last section, as you might have guessed, is the most relevant today. After describing the administration's push for the American Services Members Protection Act, Lawrence concludes with this fun little anecdote (and by "fun" I mean horrifying):
In February 2002 the president's pleasure in superheroic fantasy and his eagerness to use it in conveying his own political values was revealed in an incident with Germany's leading news magazine, Der Spiegel. To accompany a "Masters of the Universe" article on the Bush administration's crusade against evil, Spiegel created a satirical cover depicting each national security player in the role of a zealous destroyer from American popular culture. George W. Bush, surrounded by his advisers, received a muscular Rambo body holding an automatic weapon and ammunition belts.
Daniel Coats, U.S. Ambassador to Germany, visited Der Spiegel's editorial offices — not to protest the caricature or the article's viewpoint about reckless unilateralism — but to report that "the President was flattered," whereupon he ordered thirty-three poster-size renditions of the cover for the White House. Each policy maker on the cover reportedly wanted a copy.
[insert loud guffaw, deep sigh, profane tirade, or sarcastic insult — whichever best suits you.]
A Few Links
Thursday, May 01, 2003 | 0 Comments
The first four links are all worthy of longer responses.
- Dr. David Hilfiker on the Bush Doctrine
- Paul Krugman on the Bush Administration's "Matters of Emphasis"
- Catoptric on Lawrence V. Texas
- Joan D. Chittister on Thomas Merton, christian responsibility, and lots of other good stuff. If you have a decent Internet connection you can also watch/listen to Chittister over here. Dang, she's inspiring.
- And me on Tarkovsky's first feature, Ivan's Childhood. I figured that it's about time that I started writing formal responses to the films that inspired Long Pauses. My goal is to revisit and write about each of Tarkovsky's features over the next few months. We'll see if I find the energy to stick to it.
Darren Hughes is a web designer and freelance writer in Knoxville, Tennessee.