"Man is a rope, tied between beast and overman - a rope over an abyss. A dangerous across, a dangerous on-the-way, a dangerous looking-back, a dangerous shuddering and stopping"
Friedrich Nietzsche - Thus Spoke Zarathustra
In this aphorism, we are the tightrope walker. In the darkness behind us a beast. In our fearful imaginations we are pursued by it. In fact it has been dead for ages, and it is only a ghost that haunts us. Our historical memory, a human conscience.
Moment by moment we balance impossibly upon the world of objects. It is taut beneath our clinging feet. Along the way is uncertainty, and death. There is not an end to this rope as far as we can see. Before us, the blinding light of possibility. Its form for us to imagine. An apocalypse lurks behind some future moment, or something of such exceptional quality that our minds are not capable of its comprehension. This future is for us to decide.
The overman that is referred to in the quotation is not easily conceived. It would not be a culmination of human efforts, as it would not be terminal. Neither would it be some perfection of our species, biologically or intellectually or spiritually, as then that too would have to be overcome. The essence of this being exceeds our capacity to comprehend. It must be left as an uncertain and always distant beacon. How then would one chart a course to such an uncertainty? What Nietzsche suggested is that we have direct access to our nature, and to the nature of the world. This world must be our guide, and he pleaded with his readers to look no further for the clues to divining the way forward.
The critical concept is that what we know today as human civilization, is a way station along the path between our ancestral origins as a subconscious beast, to a high being beyond our current capacity to understand. It is this concept that replaces God in Nietzsche’s philosophy.
The concept of Eudaimonia, developed by the ancient Greek philosophers Plato and Aristotle, is a very similar idea. It literally means ‘benevolent spirit’. Aristotle defined it as ‘Living and doing well.’ Humble as it may seem, it is the greatest of all ideals. The final outcome of Virtue.
The Good (God) is the thing that we arrange our metaphysical furniture around. Good, like the fire at the center of our camp, or the television in the living room. Virtue is the gaze that we fix on this fire. According to the Greek philosophers mentioned above, we have a compass that reliably directs its needle to the good, and so inversely indicates its opposite. To them, this compass is a core element of our human nature. In this way the late nineteenth century German agrees with his progenitors the ancient Greeks.
In this age it seems critical that we envision ourselves on the way to somewhere. Our greatest danger; the stagnation of grim satisfaction. Our future is threatened by the profound nihilism of our era, that rejects progress in the name of ideological certainty, and dismisses hope as false.
It is not enough for us to resist the desire to annihilate, or defend ourselves from it when it threatens. We must offer a concept of greater power, that is not a reaction but a ‘first movement, a self propelled wheel’.
As we divest ourselves from particular outcomes, and empower ourselves by rejecting the notion of ideological certainty, we still must retain a vision for our future. A vision that allows us to exceed our expectations, and expresses our great potential. A vision that does not reflect the ancient fears and uncertainties that haunt our human conscience.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
On the Nature of Human Identity
From the first assemblage of DNA, a curious phenomenon sprung. In all of its splendid vulnerability it leaped into existence. As these infinitesimal proteins wound their marvelous way, something grew. Surrounding itself, channeling in, excreting out. Every corpuscle doing its part to sustain the whole growing organism. Grow it did. It was not long before it could generate its own heat and motor its own muscle, moisten its own glistening eye and clench its opposing digits. Yes, something truly miraculous had come into existence; identity.
How was this different than the stone or the tree? What made this such a unique development? Well beyond the less obvious, the most obvious addition to the land of predicament is the special condition; perspective. Predicament itself had long existed, but the for-itself, much later observed by a frenchman named Sartre, was novel indeed. All of these individually lovely motorized cells had conjoined and created a glorious oneness. Something to work for and contribute to. Something to invest in and model around. Something to act on behalf of and even defend. Oh how this junction of object and subject changed everything. The mind like a prism to the white light of objectivity, divided the world into the myriad facets of infinite possibility; ideas.
Now the world had exceeded the miracle of simple existence, and compounded itself an infinite number of times. The newly conceived identity would not be limited to a single being, as it rose biologically, ever nearer perfection. Soon it would spread from the few to the many. As each of the cells had collectively assembled the individual, so these novel beings composed a clan or a tribe and soon a nation. The same forces applied, and the motives remained. Self interest and expanded powers. A wider array of skills could develop, and art and science were not far behind. As biology dictated, procreation continued identity into successive generations. History became an element of identity; memory.
With the development of nations came homelands and borders. Farmland supplanted forest as the source of sustenance. Land and memory became intertwined in identity. The body expanded itself to include the predicament earth itself. Soon conflict would arise, as resources were sought. The national body would have to be sustained, and the identity did not extend beyond the familiar ones. The competitor emerged, the opponent, the other, the enemy. Around a flag identity grew, forged further in merciless battle. Great crimes were committed that tempered the bonds. The nation grew stronger when tested.
It may seem like this was long, long ago, that these elements appeared on this Earth. I ask you though whether, it seems much to you like we have come very far since then? More importantly though I ask with concern where do we go from here? It may be time, that we consciously aim to overcome the loyalties that have so far sustained us. Not to forget, as memory is fine, but to intentionally move forward together. A wider net does need to be cast, a larger skin extended. Let it encompass us all in its embrace, and enable us to imagine a common future. As those primordial cells took that chance of coordinating their efforts then, so let us propose that we do the same while before us this opportunity extends.
How was this different than the stone or the tree? What made this such a unique development? Well beyond the less obvious, the most obvious addition to the land of predicament is the special condition; perspective. Predicament itself had long existed, but the for-itself, much later observed by a frenchman named Sartre, was novel indeed. All of these individually lovely motorized cells had conjoined and created a glorious oneness. Something to work for and contribute to. Something to invest in and model around. Something to act on behalf of and even defend. Oh how this junction of object and subject changed everything. The mind like a prism to the white light of objectivity, divided the world into the myriad facets of infinite possibility; ideas.
Now the world had exceeded the miracle of simple existence, and compounded itself an infinite number of times. The newly conceived identity would not be limited to a single being, as it rose biologically, ever nearer perfection. Soon it would spread from the few to the many. As each of the cells had collectively assembled the individual, so these novel beings composed a clan or a tribe and soon a nation. The same forces applied, and the motives remained. Self interest and expanded powers. A wider array of skills could develop, and art and science were not far behind. As biology dictated, procreation continued identity into successive generations. History became an element of identity; memory.
With the development of nations came homelands and borders. Farmland supplanted forest as the source of sustenance. Land and memory became intertwined in identity. The body expanded itself to include the predicament earth itself. Soon conflict would arise, as resources were sought. The national body would have to be sustained, and the identity did not extend beyond the familiar ones. The competitor emerged, the opponent, the other, the enemy. Around a flag identity grew, forged further in merciless battle. Great crimes were committed that tempered the bonds. The nation grew stronger when tested.
It may seem like this was long, long ago, that these elements appeared on this Earth. I ask you though whether, it seems much to you like we have come very far since then? More importantly though I ask with concern where do we go from here? It may be time, that we consciously aim to overcome the loyalties that have so far sustained us. Not to forget, as memory is fine, but to intentionally move forward together. A wider net does need to be cast, a larger skin extended. Let it encompass us all in its embrace, and enable us to imagine a common future. As those primordial cells took that chance of coordinating their efforts then, so let us propose that we do the same while before us this opportunity extends.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
The Sallow Nihilist
Have you not heard of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning hours, ran to the marketplace, and cried incessantly: "I seek God! I seek God!" As many of those who did not believe in God were standing around just then, the madman provoked much laughter. Has God got lost? asked one. Did he lose his way like a child? asked another. Or is he hiding? Is he afraid of us? Has he gone on a voyage? Emigrated? Thus did they shout and jeer.
- Friedrich Nietzsche The Gay Science
Who are the characters in this morality play, created for us by one renowned for his rejection of State and Nation and God Himself? There is of course God, who seems to characteristically stand idly by. He has not had a speaking part of late. There is the madman, who’s frenetic supplication heralds the great loneliness that awaits the crowd. Then there is the crowd itself, populated with last men (der letzte Mensch), the sallow nihilists. Cynics who’s abusive condescension stands to insulate them from the threat posed by the God-seeking madman in their midst. Oh how they reject the earnest consternation of the lantern bearer, they condemn his attempts to enlighten them. They have long found comfort in their despair. For them nothing changes, nothing matters and above all nothing reigns. Were it that they had the strength to give the world new meaning, instead they conceal their vindictive motives in the guise of political aims. In the end they threaten every earnest endeavor, as sincerity is seen by them as the ultimate sign of weakness and naiveté. Beware of them, those who carry lanterns in the bright morning hours, their darkness is threatened by your light.
It would be easy to argue that what the European Nietzsche thought he saw in humanity’s immediate future was in fact, still a long way off. He though was keenly aware of the depth of this well, and the time it would take for the descent to occur. What the exceptional among us know today the entire world may indeed never know. Humanity is not a homogenous mass, and the good of one is the ill of another. These axioms are not intended to defend, though defend they may. The death of God for some has initiated a terrible, debilitating disease. The vitality that marks the ancestors of the Übermensch in our midst, is not seen in these bitter individuals. Ah to call them individuals even seems too generous. They are just sullen members of some Godless fold. Deep, gaping, weeping wounds betray the provenance of their festering resentment. That these last men could see that for them the death of God was not a victory, but a terrible defeat. They mourn the death, all is false, and they have not the power to give meaning again where none is given by God.
The madman may not immediately appear to be the most heroic creature. It is however sincerity that fuels his super human potential. When one is sincere, when one has hope, when one has the courage to risk conviction, when one lights lanterns in the sun and seeks, then one reaches a kind of individuation that precedes progress. There is many an instance that calls for the sacred No, the somber rejection, the tearful goodbye. Those moments too should conceal a joyful wisdom, an ecstatic embrace, a jubilant welcome. At the very core of our being this paradoxical energy resides. What is so often forgotten by the nihilist is that essence follows from existence. That it is incumbent upon us to give the meaningless world value, to hold it in high regard, to respect the ideas of our contemporaries and our predecessors, to take on the responsibilities that accompany the exceptional existence, more readily than we claim exceptional rights. The right to defy is the product of a willingness to yield, and the capacity to create is a prerequisite of the will to destroy.
- Friedrich Nietzsche The Gay Science
Who are the characters in this morality play, created for us by one renowned for his rejection of State and Nation and God Himself? There is of course God, who seems to characteristically stand idly by. He has not had a speaking part of late. There is the madman, who’s frenetic supplication heralds the great loneliness that awaits the crowd. Then there is the crowd itself, populated with last men (der letzte Mensch), the sallow nihilists. Cynics who’s abusive condescension stands to insulate them from the threat posed by the God-seeking madman in their midst. Oh how they reject the earnest consternation of the lantern bearer, they condemn his attempts to enlighten them. They have long found comfort in their despair. For them nothing changes, nothing matters and above all nothing reigns. Were it that they had the strength to give the world new meaning, instead they conceal their vindictive motives in the guise of political aims. In the end they threaten every earnest endeavor, as sincerity is seen by them as the ultimate sign of weakness and naiveté. Beware of them, those who carry lanterns in the bright morning hours, their darkness is threatened by your light.
It would be easy to argue that what the European Nietzsche thought he saw in humanity’s immediate future was in fact, still a long way off. He though was keenly aware of the depth of this well, and the time it would take for the descent to occur. What the exceptional among us know today the entire world may indeed never know. Humanity is not a homogenous mass, and the good of one is the ill of another. These axioms are not intended to defend, though defend they may. The death of God for some has initiated a terrible, debilitating disease. The vitality that marks the ancestors of the Übermensch in our midst, is not seen in these bitter individuals. Ah to call them individuals even seems too generous. They are just sullen members of some Godless fold. Deep, gaping, weeping wounds betray the provenance of their festering resentment. That these last men could see that for them the death of God was not a victory, but a terrible defeat. They mourn the death, all is false, and they have not the power to give meaning again where none is given by God.
The madman may not immediately appear to be the most heroic creature. It is however sincerity that fuels his super human potential. When one is sincere, when one has hope, when one has the courage to risk conviction, when one lights lanterns in the sun and seeks, then one reaches a kind of individuation that precedes progress. There is many an instance that calls for the sacred No, the somber rejection, the tearful goodbye. Those moments too should conceal a joyful wisdom, an ecstatic embrace, a jubilant welcome. At the very core of our being this paradoxical energy resides. What is so often forgotten by the nihilist is that essence follows from existence. That it is incumbent upon us to give the meaningless world value, to hold it in high regard, to respect the ideas of our contemporaries and our predecessors, to take on the responsibilities that accompany the exceptional existence, more readily than we claim exceptional rights. The right to defy is the product of a willingness to yield, and the capacity to create is a prerequisite of the will to destroy.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The Exception
No, such people aren't made like that. The real master to whom all is permitted storms Toulon, commits a butchery in Paris, forgets an army in Egypt, wastes half a million men on his Moscow campaign, and gets off with a pun at Vilna. And when he dies they dedicate monuments to him. So it follows that all is permitted. No, it's clear, such people are made of bronze, not flesh and blood!
- Raskolnikov Crime and Punishment Fyodor Dostoyevsky
"To every rule let there be an exception." These words the goddess spoke on the first day in the life of the universe, and her voice still echoes today through creation. Now what is the nature of this most curious rule? Would it apply to the ethic in question? That is that even this rule should have an exception, and occasionally there are rules that should not be broken? I ask this in relation to many things, maybe first on the list would be killing and war. Is war the exception to the commandment thou shalt not kill? The most curious case of this particular rule being broken I believe, is Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. You may remember this character for his theories about the exceptions and the rules. He believed himself to be the exception in matters of life and death. That is, if he could create some greater good with a terrible deed, he may not only effect that good, but further demonstrate himself to be an exceptional being. You may also remember that he came to a terrible end, as much a consequence of an accident as because he was not up to the original intent. In this case he had to kill to protect himself from the repercussions of his action. An innocent standing by became a collateral death. It haunted him to the extent that he was broken by it, only to be rescued by a pious woman who secures his salvation with her own devoted forgiveness.
It occurs to me that we as a nation are in the throes of just such a transformation in relation to Afghanistan and Iraq. Regarding the latter we, I believe, are deep in the agonies of self conscious realization of the terrible sin we have committed. All our plans best laid have been misdirected, and met with the realities of a resistant world. If only the minds in think tank chambers had considered the risk to our collective sanity when they sought a greater good by breaking sacred rules. Not only have we killed those who stood in the way, but we have killed very many who could not get out of the way. It seems this is a pattern formed in this modern world, of nations sacrificing their souls to effect greater goods that never seem to be the consequence anyway in the end. In Afghanistan more blood will be shed, and no greater greater good is to be had in that land than in the other. Instead we will only reap more anger and resentment. Soon the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan will all but cease to exist. Or at least much of what exists to the north of it, will exist equally to the south. Can we then as a nation further bankrupt ourselves to pursue with ever more high priced weapons and priceless human lives, those who threaten us from that mysterious land? Is there not instead an alternative?
What would the world be like if some rules applied without exception? Would there be fewer gruesome examples of mans inhumanity to man if as a nation we lived by an exceptional creed? If certain rules applied to all, equally, and without aberration. If those who were guilty were civilly treated and sanctioned in ways that did not violate our oath. Would not there be a degree of fairness that bound us together as an exceptional nation? I understand the need in the world we are emerging from for might to prevent the malign from trampling the meek. Although, it is hard to find examples of our use of force to prevent such atrocities. Rather we have most often used force to defend our financial interests, or our interests in other people’s resources. I propose that it is now that the transformative power of peace can be an alternative to our failed foreign policy of dominance and force. May our aspirations to equality, assuring every person the respect they deserve, enable the inspirational uniqueness of each one of us to be freely expressed at liberty, and let justice prevail when human nature does not compel us to do good. This I do believe would be the true exception to the rule, and it may even restore our sanity in time.
Monday, February 16, 2009
The Present Age
If someone were to overhear what people said ought to be done, and then in the spirit of irony, and for no other reason, proceeded to act accordingly everyone would be amazed. They would find it rash, yet as soon as they had talked it over they would find that it was just what should be done.
- Soren Kierkegaard The Present Age
The age in which we live is the age beyond invention, the age in which everything has a reference, and nothing stands uniquely alone. It is an age in which institutions from political parties to religions have become cowardly simpering caricatures of what they might have been in some deeper more sincere age. The towering American edifice lay in smoldering, belching, stinking ruin. From baseball to automobiles to agriculture to motherhood the age is replete with tawdry, hollow imitation. It is of course not a condition limited to America, we are very much a global society in a stupor. I think of China’s hollow communist party and still more hollow capitalism, Russia’s gilded iron fist and India’s hidden castes. There is not the courage among them to embrace fully their own ideologies, everything must be tempered so as not to upset the markets. The great armies of the earth built on noble principle are ranked with corruption. We fail to even respectfully elevate war to its demigod station.
It seems as though we sometimes achieve great things in spirit, but in practice we fail to manage the really exceptional outcomes. Not long after the stimulus package began to gel around a particular monetary value, the critics including those voices on the economy I most respect, began to warn that it simply was not big enough. The moment had come to pass legislation that could remake the American economy, retool our energy infrastructure and modernize our public facilities and institutions, and we had not (yet) seized it. The calm rational voices reassured us that we could not likely have gotten more, considering the slim victory in the US Senate and the opposition in the House. The remnants of the Republican party in Washington were going to reinforce their positions and obstruct to the last congressperson. The media was going to play the advocate of the diabolical, and after all, no one was sure it would work. It is here that I will introduce the idea that there is nothing necessary for the legislation to do beyond all of the particulars. I mean the tangible projects directly undertaken. I think it is clear to most by now that we should not be attempting to restore the economy as we knew it. On the contrary, the intention should be to initiate the creation of something new. If instead the efforts are judged by their ability to reinvigorate the broken system of exploitation and greed we are now emerging from, then I do sorely hope that they fail. Here we are, at this point of opportunity, not unlike the one we stood upon on September twelfth in 2001. May we not see this moment in the same light from some future vantage point.
I wonder about this present age, and about what is possible for us. So much of what we dared not imagine emerges momentarily. It is in these times when it seems there is something in fact to seize, that contemplation may become the subtle obstructor. It will not be a sound excuse to claim that we faced opposition, or that there were doubts, or that the media misled us in a most naive and innocent way. In fact we are now compelled to reach for the exceptional. The exception of which I speak is not a further perfection of something that already exists, it is the invention of some thing entirely novel. Nietzsche refers to “great” individuals or ideas, and how one either exists before or after them. An element of the exceptional is an exceptional impact. Before there can be that impact, we must act. This exceptional action cannot be left to the governments or the institutions that loom above us, but it must be how we all proceed from here.
- Soren Kierkegaard The Present Age
The age in which we live is the age beyond invention, the age in which everything has a reference, and nothing stands uniquely alone. It is an age in which institutions from political parties to religions have become cowardly simpering caricatures of what they might have been in some deeper more sincere age. The towering American edifice lay in smoldering, belching, stinking ruin. From baseball to automobiles to agriculture to motherhood the age is replete with tawdry, hollow imitation. It is of course not a condition limited to America, we are very much a global society in a stupor. I think of China’s hollow communist party and still more hollow capitalism, Russia’s gilded iron fist and India’s hidden castes. There is not the courage among them to embrace fully their own ideologies, everything must be tempered so as not to upset the markets. The great armies of the earth built on noble principle are ranked with corruption. We fail to even respectfully elevate war to its demigod station.
It seems as though we sometimes achieve great things in spirit, but in practice we fail to manage the really exceptional outcomes. Not long after the stimulus package began to gel around a particular monetary value, the critics including those voices on the economy I most respect, began to warn that it simply was not big enough. The moment had come to pass legislation that could remake the American economy, retool our energy infrastructure and modernize our public facilities and institutions, and we had not (yet) seized it. The calm rational voices reassured us that we could not likely have gotten more, considering the slim victory in the US Senate and the opposition in the House. The remnants of the Republican party in Washington were going to reinforce their positions and obstruct to the last congressperson. The media was going to play the advocate of the diabolical, and after all, no one was sure it would work. It is here that I will introduce the idea that there is nothing necessary for the legislation to do beyond all of the particulars. I mean the tangible projects directly undertaken. I think it is clear to most by now that we should not be attempting to restore the economy as we knew it. On the contrary, the intention should be to initiate the creation of something new. If instead the efforts are judged by their ability to reinvigorate the broken system of exploitation and greed we are now emerging from, then I do sorely hope that they fail. Here we are, at this point of opportunity, not unlike the one we stood upon on September twelfth in 2001. May we not see this moment in the same light from some future vantage point.
I wonder about this present age, and about what is possible for us. So much of what we dared not imagine emerges momentarily. It is in these times when it seems there is something in fact to seize, that contemplation may become the subtle obstructor. It will not be a sound excuse to claim that we faced opposition, or that there were doubts, or that the media misled us in a most naive and innocent way. In fact we are now compelled to reach for the exceptional. The exception of which I speak is not a further perfection of something that already exists, it is the invention of some thing entirely novel. Nietzsche refers to “great” individuals or ideas, and how one either exists before or after them. An element of the exceptional is an exceptional impact. Before there can be that impact, we must act. This exceptional action cannot be left to the governments or the institutions that loom above us, but it must be how we all proceed from here.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The End of the Republican Party
New Struggles - After Buddha was dead, his shadow was still shown for centuries in a cave - a tremendous, gruesome shadow. God is dead; but given the way of men, there may still be caves for thousands of years in which his shadow will be shown. - And we - we still have to vanquish his shadow, too.
- Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science 108
Could the irony be any more striking? With the swearing in of Barack Obama on the bible of Abraham Lincoln, the age of the Republican party has all but come to an end. As the last foolish utterances ring out in the radio station studios, and those wise enough among the members move to join the blue dogs and centrists or welcome the new president into their states, I can see the future of the Grand Old Party and it is grim. It will be said that bitterness and self interest in the end did them in. Their frantic babble screeching over the airwaves, demanding that their sophistry be heard as truth. Ah how satisfying it is to finally see the people of America awakened by the double dealing and dirty deeds of their Republican masters. Finally aware of having been lied to and misled they seem to have awakened from some ill gotten unconsciousness.
Could this in fact be the final days of the Republican party? Their extensive free market habitat has been decimated by mismanagement and human nature. The range that once supported herds of unbridled capitalists is now populated with advocates of sensible trade policy and even a few rare specimens willing to nationalize banks. Yes, I think it will not be long before the now ancient belief in a ‘center right’ America is seen to be false, and the country is understood to be ‘center left’ as it is. Thus the fraud that has enabled the persistence of the radical ideology of Republicanism, wrapped in the guise of conservativeness, will lose its enabling mythology and drift into oblivion.
There can be no question about the associations between right wing media and rabid capitalism and exaggerated fear of foreign enemies and the amplified uncertainties of society. What was it after all that provided the Republicans with one final age of significance but foreign revolutionaries driven by religious zealotry and urban unrest in America fueled by incongruities among the people based on race and means? What was provided the capitalists if not an opportunity to exercise rampant greed and self interest? The American people, concerned for their safety fixed their eyes on uncertain enemies and entrusted the country to the Republicans. In the intervening years of corruption and unscrupulous governance, American wealth and influence has been drawn into the pockets of the sleek suited millionaires of Wall street assisted by the dimwitted nationalists of the airwaves. Their age of influence is now drawing to an undignified close.
What then is it that finally vanquished this enemy of rationalism? This counter to progress? This impostor who feigns piety and scruples in order to win the praise and loyalty of the naive devotees of the ancient religions? This murderous and despicable assemblage of compassionless and hard-hearted self interested villains of the modern age? I will answer this uncomplicated question with the most complex answer imaginable. Hope. What lies beneath this hope and elevates it to the status of dragon slayer? Courage. What bolsters this courage and enables its steadfastness? Rationalism. What fuels this rationalism and builds it into a sound and unfailing footing? Transparency. What capacitates this transparency and imparts its almost magical power to build hope upon courage and courage upon rationalism? Truth.
Here the madman fell silent and looked again at his listeners, and they, too, were silent and stared at him in astonishment.
- Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science 125
- Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science 108
Could the irony be any more striking? With the swearing in of Barack Obama on the bible of Abraham Lincoln, the age of the Republican party has all but come to an end. As the last foolish utterances ring out in the radio station studios, and those wise enough among the members move to join the blue dogs and centrists or welcome the new president into their states, I can see the future of the Grand Old Party and it is grim. It will be said that bitterness and self interest in the end did them in. Their frantic babble screeching over the airwaves, demanding that their sophistry be heard as truth. Ah how satisfying it is to finally see the people of America awakened by the double dealing and dirty deeds of their Republican masters. Finally aware of having been lied to and misled they seem to have awakened from some ill gotten unconsciousness.
Could this in fact be the final days of the Republican party? Their extensive free market habitat has been decimated by mismanagement and human nature. The range that once supported herds of unbridled capitalists is now populated with advocates of sensible trade policy and even a few rare specimens willing to nationalize banks. Yes, I think it will not be long before the now ancient belief in a ‘center right’ America is seen to be false, and the country is understood to be ‘center left’ as it is. Thus the fraud that has enabled the persistence of the radical ideology of Republicanism, wrapped in the guise of conservativeness, will lose its enabling mythology and drift into oblivion.
There can be no question about the associations between right wing media and rabid capitalism and exaggerated fear of foreign enemies and the amplified uncertainties of society. What was it after all that provided the Republicans with one final age of significance but foreign revolutionaries driven by religious zealotry and urban unrest in America fueled by incongruities among the people based on race and means? What was provided the capitalists if not an opportunity to exercise rampant greed and self interest? The American people, concerned for their safety fixed their eyes on uncertain enemies and entrusted the country to the Republicans. In the intervening years of corruption and unscrupulous governance, American wealth and influence has been drawn into the pockets of the sleek suited millionaires of Wall street assisted by the dimwitted nationalists of the airwaves. Their age of influence is now drawing to an undignified close.
What then is it that finally vanquished this enemy of rationalism? This counter to progress? This impostor who feigns piety and scruples in order to win the praise and loyalty of the naive devotees of the ancient religions? This murderous and despicable assemblage of compassionless and hard-hearted self interested villains of the modern age? I will answer this uncomplicated question with the most complex answer imaginable. Hope. What lies beneath this hope and elevates it to the status of dragon slayer? Courage. What bolsters this courage and enables its steadfastness? Rationalism. What fuels this rationalism and builds it into a sound and unfailing footing? Transparency. What capacitates this transparency and imparts its almost magical power to build hope upon courage and courage upon rationalism? Truth.
Here the madman fell silent and looked again at his listeners, and they, too, were silent and stared at him in astonishment.
- Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science 125
Friday, February 6, 2009
The Farmer or the Financier
Again I come to you with questions. The scalpel this time in my hand. For farmers are not a monolithic herd, nor financiers in matters of variety. Undoubtedly there are those who see their wealth as a means to encourage and enable. They see every dollar as a dream that can be realized by another. It has occurred to me in the past that if you have too many good ideas to develop on your own, then giving them away is the ethical course. It has also occurred to me that intellectual property will be seen very differently in the future. What one can amply develop is not only an opportunity but a responsibility. If this development is novel, and cannot be matched by another, then so much more incumbent is the task. However, should one be unable to pursue an endeavor, it seems to me that it is an ethical responsibility to make it available to others who are able and capable. A sort of licensing that is driven not by the potential for profit and control, but instead motivated by an ethical imperative. I think the twenty first century will be a century of selflessness, or a century of despair.
I myself am a farmer. I say this with some reservation, as the farmer is an iconic image and I do not measure up to the ideal. The pigs see me as a farmer I think, and the goats. The milk tastes like the milk a farmer would drink, the pork tastes like meat that a farmer would eat. The myriad fruits and vegetables in cans and burlap seems to me to be the provisions of a farmer. I think I am a peasant farmer, much like my Irish ancestors were farmers before the famine. What enables this largely is the richness of this country. Truly America is a land of plenty even today, even after so much has been extracted an abundance awaits our endeavor. So as a consequence of kindness, I am able to be a peasant farmer and rejoice in my opportunity well aware of the blessings bestowed upon me. The loans come at very fair rates, so fair in fact that I invent ways to overpay my lender. If only it were this way in the wider world.
When the financiers reverted to some wild state of being, crept back into the jungle and cultivated the predatory spirit, they sought soft prey to exploit. It was the plump juicy flesh of the tender consumer that they sought, led into a condition of being beyond their means. Ripe for entrapment, they followed the voices on their televisions. They listened to the voices from the radio in their sport utility vehicles. They obeyed the waving and dancing fool beside the road who sufficiently enticed them into wanting things, things upon things. Awe what a trap we have laid for ourselves, and now we will indemnify the beast and damn the gentle lamb. Let it be said of us at least that we saw the crimes committed, even lamented, although we did nothing to stop it.
So, to the question. Who is it we will revere, who will have our solace in these trying times? Will it be the farmer? Whether she sits in a massive machine, tending a thousand acres in a day, or creeps from row to row on her knees speaking in hush tones to each seed, the farmer today embodies an ancient spirit. One that seeks to multiply and understand and adapt and produce. Or will it be the financier? Whether he bends his knees beneath a mahogany desk, or sits on squeaky wheels with elbows on formica, the financier is too an icon in America. One that seeks to calculate and amortize and dictate terms and profit. I above all things seek to appreciate the world in its entirety. I read the first commandment from my childhood to demand this of me, worship no single thing above the unity of all things. Yet in this case I ask myself and I ask you who shall it be; the farmer or the financier?
I myself am a farmer. I say this with some reservation, as the farmer is an iconic image and I do not measure up to the ideal. The pigs see me as a farmer I think, and the goats. The milk tastes like the milk a farmer would drink, the pork tastes like meat that a farmer would eat. The myriad fruits and vegetables in cans and burlap seems to me to be the provisions of a farmer. I think I am a peasant farmer, much like my Irish ancestors were farmers before the famine. What enables this largely is the richness of this country. Truly America is a land of plenty even today, even after so much has been extracted an abundance awaits our endeavor. So as a consequence of kindness, I am able to be a peasant farmer and rejoice in my opportunity well aware of the blessings bestowed upon me. The loans come at very fair rates, so fair in fact that I invent ways to overpay my lender. If only it were this way in the wider world.
When the financiers reverted to some wild state of being, crept back into the jungle and cultivated the predatory spirit, they sought soft prey to exploit. It was the plump juicy flesh of the tender consumer that they sought, led into a condition of being beyond their means. Ripe for entrapment, they followed the voices on their televisions. They listened to the voices from the radio in their sport utility vehicles. They obeyed the waving and dancing fool beside the road who sufficiently enticed them into wanting things, things upon things. Awe what a trap we have laid for ourselves, and now we will indemnify the beast and damn the gentle lamb. Let it be said of us at least that we saw the crimes committed, even lamented, although we did nothing to stop it.
So, to the question. Who is it we will revere, who will have our solace in these trying times? Will it be the farmer? Whether she sits in a massive machine, tending a thousand acres in a day, or creeps from row to row on her knees speaking in hush tones to each seed, the farmer today embodies an ancient spirit. One that seeks to multiply and understand and adapt and produce. Or will it be the financier? Whether he bends his knees beneath a mahogany desk, or sits on squeaky wheels with elbows on formica, the financier is too an icon in America. One that seeks to calculate and amortize and dictate terms and profit. I above all things seek to appreciate the world in its entirety. I read the first commandment from my childhood to demand this of me, worship no single thing above the unity of all things. Yet in this case I ask myself and I ask you who shall it be; the farmer or the financier?
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Life by a Thousand Breaths
I remember how I felt upon returning to Washington State in September of 2004. I had completed an incredible journey that had taken me to the Democratic and Republican national conventions, in Boston and NYC respectively. I returned hopeful that Bush would be defeated, it seemed then that everything I had learned on that trip pointed to a Bush defeat. It is hard to say what really happened a month or so later, but even if Kerry had won, my enthusiasm for him had been limited to the speech he had given to congress as a young Vietnam War veteran. Beyond that I found him to be practically free of character, he was a man without qualities.
It seemed like days after the election, in a hopeless gloom that I believe will be unmatched by any future period of my life, the phrase “He’s ready. Why wait?...” first entered my ear. I had missed his speech to the convention in Boston, I was outside in the streets. When I found my way to the exceedingly lovely home of a good friend’s parents outside of the city that night, it was all they were talking about. Later when I saw the speech, heard it first and then later watched it online, I saw a nervous man, who was anything but tenuous. It was the urgency in his tone, it was the clear recognition by him of the weight of his responsibility to his message. I always said that I liked it best when Jerry Garcia stepped to the microphone to sing a lyric after a long mystical jam that had exceeded his own expectations of it. He appeared to me to be ‘at gunpoint’ he had no choice but to step forward and sing. His life depended on it. That is what I saw in Barack Obama when I watched that speech from the convention.
For the interceding years, I have suffered in my heart the travails of our world. I would have done that no matter what had happened regarding the executive branch of the US government. I am sufficiently skeptical of the government to not blame it for all of the worlds troubles. My pain was compounded however by the reckless, arrogant, ignorant, incurious, absent and sometimes plain malign occupant of the White House. It was not the major events, the big decisions the tremendous errors that eroded my spirit so much as the daily degradation, the ocean of despair filled with a million tears, shed for a million tragedies.
Throughout those years, the tune would ring again in my head on occasion. In fact I sang it out often. Interchanging the lines of the verse randomly, annoying the hell out of my daughter. I am sure a few people first learned who Obama was from me, singing that tune. Many of them said then that there was no way a black man would be elected president of the United States. Especially one named Barack Obama, William Jefferson maybe but... I attended our caucus in Washington State, and vigorously supported Barack Obama. I spoke on his behalf, and dismissed the concerns about too many rednecks in the country for a black president to be elected. I assured the concerned woman by citing my own red neck concealed by my own long hair, and citing my childhood in Pennsylvania as a source for evidence about why he would in fact win the state in the general. Without my encouraging, my precinct was overwhelmingly supporting Barack Obama.
Today Ruth Bader Ginsburg underwent surgery for pancreatic cancer. I breathed a sigh of relief. Utah wilderness was spared the drill bit and the hydraulic fluid spills that accompany exploration and extraction. Yesterday millionaire executives were publicly humiliated for their solipsism. An offer was made to Russia that would reduce ICBMs by 80%. An attorney general who considers torture illegal, and believes justice applies to everyone equally was confirmed. A few days earlier an envoy was sent to the middle east with instructions to listen. School children were read to by the first black president. Secret prisons were closed. Rendition was returned to its pre-Bush era criteria. Aid agencies were relieved of the fear that religious zealots would demand they return funds for discussing forbidden medical procedures with clients. Science replaced desired outcomes as the means to determine policy. A president addressed the muslim world as a coherent and sensible partner for cooperation. After what feels like many years of the steady dripping erosion of my spirit this is what life by a thousand breaths feels like.
It seemed like days after the election, in a hopeless gloom that I believe will be unmatched by any future period of my life, the phrase “He’s ready. Why wait?...” first entered my ear. I had missed his speech to the convention in Boston, I was outside in the streets. When I found my way to the exceedingly lovely home of a good friend’s parents outside of the city that night, it was all they were talking about. Later when I saw the speech, heard it first and then later watched it online, I saw a nervous man, who was anything but tenuous. It was the urgency in his tone, it was the clear recognition by him of the weight of his responsibility to his message. I always said that I liked it best when Jerry Garcia stepped to the microphone to sing a lyric after a long mystical jam that had exceeded his own expectations of it. He appeared to me to be ‘at gunpoint’ he had no choice but to step forward and sing. His life depended on it. That is what I saw in Barack Obama when I watched that speech from the convention.
For the interceding years, I have suffered in my heart the travails of our world. I would have done that no matter what had happened regarding the executive branch of the US government. I am sufficiently skeptical of the government to not blame it for all of the worlds troubles. My pain was compounded however by the reckless, arrogant, ignorant, incurious, absent and sometimes plain malign occupant of the White House. It was not the major events, the big decisions the tremendous errors that eroded my spirit so much as the daily degradation, the ocean of despair filled with a million tears, shed for a million tragedies.
Throughout those years, the tune would ring again in my head on occasion. In fact I sang it out often. Interchanging the lines of the verse randomly, annoying the hell out of my daughter. I am sure a few people first learned who Obama was from me, singing that tune. Many of them said then that there was no way a black man would be elected president of the United States. Especially one named Barack Obama, William Jefferson maybe but... I attended our caucus in Washington State, and vigorously supported Barack Obama. I spoke on his behalf, and dismissed the concerns about too many rednecks in the country for a black president to be elected. I assured the concerned woman by citing my own red neck concealed by my own long hair, and citing my childhood in Pennsylvania as a source for evidence about why he would in fact win the state in the general. Without my encouraging, my precinct was overwhelmingly supporting Barack Obama.
Today Ruth Bader Ginsburg underwent surgery for pancreatic cancer. I breathed a sigh of relief. Utah wilderness was spared the drill bit and the hydraulic fluid spills that accompany exploration and extraction. Yesterday millionaire executives were publicly humiliated for their solipsism. An offer was made to Russia that would reduce ICBMs by 80%. An attorney general who considers torture illegal, and believes justice applies to everyone equally was confirmed. A few days earlier an envoy was sent to the middle east with instructions to listen. School children were read to by the first black president. Secret prisons were closed. Rendition was returned to its pre-Bush era criteria. Aid agencies were relieved of the fear that religious zealots would demand they return funds for discussing forbidden medical procedures with clients. Science replaced desired outcomes as the means to determine policy. A president addressed the muslim world as a coherent and sensible partner for cooperation. After what feels like many years of the steady dripping erosion of my spirit this is what life by a thousand breaths feels like.
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