Scratchpad

Positioning

cosmopolitanism, democracy, plurality, stoicism, virtue —

6 Apr 2010

Have we lost a recognition of the position from which we apply values with the turn to democracy? Question prompted by Marcus Aurelius' Meditations.

In other words, in the past, it was taken as given that those in power (emperors, patricians, etc) needed certain virtues in order to rule, while those who were ruled needed others. A just judge was impartial, and his impartiality was his fairness. This was a mixed blessing—it was easy for those who maintained total impartiality to others to become frigid or cruel, impartiality slipping into disinterest or isolation from others. To combat it, we cue up notions of shared humanity, fellow feeling, camaraderie with all as humans and brothers. But it is, by definition, abstract and not particular. The leader must universalize to be fair, but in doing so he creates a barrier between himself and those he rules, and he creates a different set of rules for himself and for others. This is understood as a paradoxical answer to a paradoxical question. To erase the paradox is not possible. The question was in maintaining the proper balance between two competing needs—identifying with others, but not so much as to cloud our judgment. Refusing to connect with the particular, but not so much that we lose the ability to connect altogether.

But with democracy, we are all judges, and we are all leaders, and we are all equally citizens (that's the story anyway...the reality would involve a much longer set of musings). As such, we are expected to maintain a judicious distance from one another. We are to see all as equal, and yet as the personal sovereign we stand apart. That is what we do if we are good leaders and citizens anyway. Those who do not exercise this self-control and objective distance are, one must assume, crappy at their jobs. They are not as good at being citizens as we.

It is a holdover. An atavism. As mini-sovereigns, we exercise our duty with care and understand that those around us will not have the same needs, beliefs, or responsibilities. We accept the plurality which we rule over and live amidst, and this is a requirement of the job. But now those around us are not merely our subjects (as subjects, we forgive them their different virtues, for those virtues are appropriate to subjects and they do their jobs well). But we judge them harshly as fellow rulers, for they've got it all wrong. When our fellow citizens are beneath us, we forgive them. When they are equal to us, we despise their failings and judge their values as inappropriate. In other words, they may rule as they wish, but only so long as it is as we.

We believe in the ideal type of democracy and equality so deeply that we no longer see the possibility of these different positions. There's no distinction between them anymore, so the bourgeois (psuedo-leader) adherents to notions like cosmopolitanism assume that it simply makes sense for everyone to be a cosmopolitan, and that that will mean the same thing, and serve the same purpose, for everyone. It is a virtue for all. The virtue. But what does it mean to be a cosmopolitan as a leader, and what does it mean to be one as a citizen? What does it mean to be both at the same time? Is it self-defeating and antithetical to plurality when separated from corresponding conceptions of hierarchy, which temper its inherent tendency to be universalizing?

Or is it, instead (or in addition to), that the Stoics were quiescent? One could act against Nature, or against another man, but the harm done was not important, indeed, could be imagined away. Today, however, our dignity is brittle and fragile, and any affront presents a terrible danger which compels immediate action. Those who do not agree thus pose a much greater threat than in the past, so, again, there is little to temper the demand that all must concur on this point.

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Freedom House

activism, democracy, freedom, white man's burden —

10 Feb 2009

Came across the website for Freedom House today [via the MESH (Middle East Strategy and Harvard) blog]. The mission statement for the group is as follows:

Freedom House is an independent nongovernmental organization that supports the expansion of freedom in the world. Freedom is possible only in democratic political systems in which the governments are accountable to their own people; the rule of law prevails; and freedoms of expression, association, and belief, as well as respect for the rights of minorities and women, are guaranteed.

Freedom ultimately depends on the actions of committed and courageous men and women. We support nonviolent civic initiatives in societies where freedom is denied or under threat and we stand in opposition to ideas and forces that challenge the right of all people to be free. Freedom House functions as a catalyst for freedom, democracy and the rule of law through its analysis, advocacy and action. [emphasis mine]

Now, those that know my current interests know that, first and foremost, I'm fascinated by certainty and ideology and what it leads people to do, but what I don't make as explicit is my very closely intertwined interest of freedom. Specifically, how does certainty and ideology lead people to affect the freedom of others? Organizations like Freedom House are endlessly fascinating to me, because, in essence, what they are saying is, "We believe all people must have freedom, to the extent that we will fight vigorously to make sure they get it even if they do not want it!" This is, grossly, how I interpret the logical conclusion of the phrase I highlighted above ("freedom is possible only in democratic systems").

Is that really true, though? Is freedom really only possible in democratic systems? I have my doubts, but I admit that my understanding of political systems is still very, very weak and I could well be swayed as I learn more. But, even so, is it not a paradox to say "we will fight to bring freedom to others?" Wouldn't the definition of freedom require that others fight to earn it for themselves, through their own choices and desires? I always understood the "beacon on the hill" metaphor to draw its strength from this inherent quality of freedom — that it cannot force anything on a person, even if it perceives that they are making a mistake.

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Okay, okay! Damn.

democracy, diversity, extremism, freedom, grand unified theory of everything, truth —

5 Sep 2008

Okay, fine. I can't help but notice some readers would like some actual content. Here is the terrible ugly mess that is my brain, put down to paper. Or computer. Whatever.

I'm currently working on making it prettier and better defining the connections, this is just the shit I scratched out at the coffeeshop.

 		     ____god	   ____learning___intelligence_____AI
    ____________truth____science  /______play_|			|
   |		|   |		 /_rigidity_|___        _______logic
 _hope		|   |___________/		|      |	|
|		|   |___error__/|____democracy__|______|__inconsistency
|		|		|	|	|      |	|
| reformers____extremism________|	|	|      |___self-correction
| |		 |		|	|	|	    /
| |  (arrogance) |		| 	|       |	   /
| |__paternalism_|_fascism______|_______|_______|	  /
| |		 |  |	       ||	|	  	 /
|__equality_____freedom_______diversity_|_______________/
	|_________|_____________|	|
	|_________|_____________________|

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Syncretism

democracy, diversity, politics —

20 Apr 2008

I had a conversation with Tim yesterday in which I managed to repel him by admitting that I'm currently trying to wean myself off caffeine. Things quickly degenerated, ending with him grunting about the end of civilization and something about prying coffee from his cold, dead hands.

I was thinking about this conversation a few moments ago as I was walking home from the nearby bagel shop, clutching a nice, warm cup of coffee in my hands. The crux of Tim's argument was that the act of drinking coffee is so intensely pleasurable, that he feels so magnificent after having just had a cup, that he can never bring himself to give it up. I didn't actually disagree with his assessment of the sybaritic pleasure of a cup of joe (hence why I was in the middle of imbibing even as I am trying to stop), but I realized as I was walking that my disagreement with him is over which aspect is so pleasurable. It's not the caffeine. It's not even the coffee itself. It's the ritual of having a favorite drink, at a certain time of day, and allowing yourself to momentarily do nothing but wallow in the ritual. When I drank Dr. Pepper, nothing could be as heavenly as the peppery, sweet bite in the back of my throat and the mild irritant of the fizzy water. When I switched to Italian soda, the sharp bite of the bubbles continued to please. And, now that I drink coffee, I delight in its warmth when I have it hot, and its creaminess when I have it cold. And always, always through the three I have engaged in my sinful little delight at the same times of day.

As I admired this intriguing little realization, it struck me that it's not at all unrelated to the whole host of other disagreements I am currently having with a whole host of other people and ideological positions. I've struggled recently - painfully unsuccessfully, I might add - to articulate to myself and others exactly why I'm having such a nasty break with so many positions I thought I held or that others expect me to hold. Why can't I bring myself to be a feminist if I'm both a lesbian and a liberal? (This particular failing has been especially infuriating to many people I come across, as I am apparently "supposed" to be a feminist.) Why have I suddenly decided I am against the death penalty when I had no problems with it before? Why do I suddenly think Democrats are absolutely 100% full of shit even as I continue to identify as liberal?

Let me back up just a bit before going on. Although the discussion Tim and I had is finally allowing me to answer all of these questions, it was preceded several nights ago by a different conversation that laid the foundation for my coffee-inspired realization. The conversation was over whether the death penalty is acceptable or not. I was surprised that, save one, all of my friends said it was. My argument against it was twofold.

The first part was that, although at any given time we must out of practical necessity put our faith into the fact that we are right, history consistently proves us wrong. We now know that the earth is not flat. There is no such thing as the ether or the vapors. Freud was mostly wrong. Newton's been proven inadequate and Einstein's starting to look a little shaky himself. Personally, I'd go so far as to say there may not be such a thing as truth, but that's beside the point - all of those theories and beliefs have proven immensely useful while they were in vogue. They worked. They allowed us to make decisions, create worldviews, get things done. They gave us a direction and let us put our shoes on in the morning. So I'm not saying that we should discard any effort to believe things or choose a position. But I am saying that you'd have to be just plain stupid not to exercise a level of humility when it comes to your beliefs. Greater men than you or I have been proven wrong by the cruelties of time and popular opinion, and I, for one, simply cannot bring myself to believe that I will escape that fate where they did not.

The crux of the second was the same - that you'd have to be just plain stupid not to exercise a level of humility when it comes to your beliefs - although in this case substituting the words "misguided and dangerous" for "stupid." I was struck fully by the repercussions of this when watching, of all things, the movie Jesus Camp. There's a scene in which the leader of the camp is discussing how her goal is to create "God's Army." When noting how that differs from, say, Muslims teaching their kids to lay down their lives for Islam, she laughs a slight, dismissive laugh, as though she can't believe the obviousness of the answer and says incredulously, "because...excuse me...because we have the truth!"

And, in essence, this understanding of the possibility of error is what I see the entire American democratic system being based on. The system is built to mitigate error through the use of checks and balances and through heterogeneity. The idea is that an unchallenged belief system becomes extreme because there is no way to identify errors. And, god forbid that belief system happens to be wrong, the possibility for disaster is increased exponentially. In essence, America is founded on the idealism that through reason and Enlightenment we can become greater than we are, even as it also relies heavily on the practical realization that people are fallible. The system relies on the use of heterogeneity to mitigate error, given that homogeneity magnifies them.

Given that, it seems to me that the death sentence is inherently un-American. It removes the ability to come back later and say, "Oops. Heh heh. Sorry we locked you in jail for 30 years. We fucked up." The person is dead - there is no rectifying that error. The death sentence wraps the judicial system in the mantle of infallibility and removes the ability to check or balance its decisions in retrospect. Likewise (to finally, finally bring this back around to what I was talking about initially), I find that many ideological positions wrap themselves in that same cloak. It's wrong, they say, for our opposition to engage in (fill in the blank - building armies, refusing to listen to outsider voices, discriminating, refusing to pay taxes for our cause - the list is endless), but because we're right, it's okay for us to do that.

So that's the ultimate realization I've had with regards to my inability to reconcile myself with any number of positions I feel like I ought to be taking but just can't. It's not that I necessarily have any problem with the theoretical position. It's that I have a problem with the practice of carrying the ideas to fruition. The air of infallibility taken on by practitioners, the willingness to engage in inherently dangerous and fascist behavior because we're Just. So. Sure. that we're right. Our society laughs behind its hands at Machiavelli, calls him wicked and wrong and says we'd never do that, yet to our peril we live his philosophy every day.

Given this, the only position I do find myself being able to take is the one that embraces - actually, truly embraces - the fact that opinions diverging from one's own are necessary and absolutely vital to a healthy society. To that end, I do buy into a lot of the Democratic party's platform. Diversity is vital to a vibrant, progressive, secure, and robust society, one that can withstand the most pressures from the most directions at any given time. And also to that end, I can't sit in a room with a bunch of Democrats vilifying "the enemy" or belittling divergent opinions as stupid or wrong. It's hypocritical and dangerous. Democrats wonder how they manage to blow it at the 11th hour every election cycle? It's because they don't practice what they preach and everyone realizes deep down that they're full of shit, their promises mere empty rhetoric. They say all the right things, they have all the right aims, but they don't look to the heart of why they are striving to achieve those goals.

In other words, they haven't analyzed their own positions. They think they want diversity, but they fail to appreciate why, and so they fail to realize when their own actions inhibit their ability to reach that goal. And when the chance for ritual presents itself, they pass it up, holding out, wrongly, for its pale shadow - a mere cup of coffee.

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I ♥ NY

democracy, freedom, new york, oppression —

27 Feb 2008

I've been trying to pinpoint what it is that makes me so excited to be back in New York again, especially since, when I lived here years ago, I absolutely hated it. Too busy, too dirty, too active, too exhausting. Now, though, I've hit my stride and can't imagine living anywhere else. So what changed?

It could be a variety of factors. I no longer feel the need to do and see everything the way I did when I was 20, for instance, so the exhaustion element doesn't really exist any more. I got spoiled by walking when I lived in DC and crave a city that lets me continue to do that, mitigating my irritation with other, less desirable, elements. But, mostly, I think it's because as I've refined my understanding of democracy and human interaction I've come to appreciate NY as one of the few examples of the American city the way it is supposed to work. I love New York for its pure embodiment of that tenuous American dream.

I miss the South sometimes. I miss the oak trees. I miss the expansive skies and furious thunderstorms and I miss mockingbirds and mourning doves and whipporwhills. I miss the food (good Lord, do I miss the food). Ocassionally, I even miss my crazy ass family. But I don't miss the people in Texas. I don't miss getting unabashedly hateful stares because I'm not dressed right or because I don't have makeup on, or when people realize I haven't been to church on Sunday. I don't miss hearing the word nigger all day long, and I don't miss the fact that the only permitted topic of conversation is who saw the appalling hairdo Nellie Jean got and how could that man marry her anyway, seeing as how she ain't nothing but trash anyhow, but at least she'll get found out when the kids turn out to be rotten, 'cause, you know, that bad blood's got to turn up sometimes, just you wait and see. I don't miss hearing that I'll turn straight once I find the right man. I don't miss seeing a person who needs help denied it because they aren't the right sort of person. I don't miss the oppressive heat and I don't miss the oppressive rules by which a proper person lives their life, and by which other proper people make sure it happens.

New York, though. New York. Nobody gives a shit if you walk down the street wearing a pink tutu and wings. Nobody cares if you speak Tamil, or Greek, or English. You can get together with your buddies on the weekend to play poker, and nobody's gonna sit around and tell their Aunt Myrtle about it. You can be a Democrat, you can be Republican, you can be a complete bastard or a saint. It doesn't matter. Because, more than anything, New Yorkers cherish their freedom. They are free to dress, talk, think, and act as they damn well please, as long as those actions don't negatively affect someone else's ability to be equally free. New York embodies the American ideal the way no other place I've lived has. A person is free to strive towards the life they want to live, on their terms, and no one else's. You are free to fail spectacularly or suceed gracefully in New York, based on nothing but your own choices. This does not stop people from, perhaps, secretly thinking you are a complete fuckup. But they keep that information to themselves, thank you very much, and in so doing leave you open to continue living your life. Freely.

Would that the rest of the country followed New Yorkers' example. We might live forever.

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