Once upon a time, when my grandmother was born, man had not yet achieved powered flight. By the time she died, ninety-odd years later, we had been to the moon and back, flown the space shuttle, and developed stealth bombers and fighters. One lifetime. When I tell this to my students, I don’t think that they get what I am really telling them - that the world at the end of their lives will be different in ways that are unimaginable now. Change and obsolescence come so quickly now - think pagers and PDAs - that I’m not sure that they see it in the same way that I do. It is simply a part of the environment, the air they breathe.
.
Long, long, ago, back in the sixties and seventies when I was growing up, change was happening too. I recall that older folks thought things were changing too quickly and not necessarily in good directions, but most of us youngin’s were OK with that. New was good, though with us it had less to do with new “stuff” than what we were sure were new “attitudes” and “perspectives”. And, to a large extent, I still tend to think those attitudes and much of what they produced were pretty cool . Organic foods and ecological consciousness have held up pretty well. Inclusion and empowerment of persons long considered inferior by our culture still seems like a good idea. Apologies to everybody on this week’s “Hot 100", but Jimi, Janice, the
Beatles, Dylan, Led Zeppelin, Marvin Gaye, and Al Green could kick your
asses collectively or one at a time. Just sayin’. But I digress.
The real point is that change happens, and sometimes we see it, and sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we expect it, and then don’t see it when it shows up looking differently than expected.
When I was young, nearly everyone I knew shared a belief in a God. My family was Catholic then, and many still are today. I had friends who were various flavors of Protestant, and friends who were Jewish. I didn’t know anybody being raised Buddhist, Muslim, or Hindu back then, but the America I grew up in was pretty darn white, too. There was that one family I knew that didn’t go to church. There were three boys, two of whom were good friends of mine. I remember wondering and, at times, worrying about them. But they were and are good people, and it is a matter of pure speculation how they might have been different had they been “churchgoers”.
I think I am likely from the last American generation to have that experience. Of all of the changes that have taken place over my lifetime, the loss of a fundamental common understanding of morality may be the most significant. We did things that were good, and we did things that were bad - no shock there. People always have and people always will. I knew, just knew, that everybody could tell the difference, and if somebody couldn’t, well, there was something pretty wrong with that person. Not that they always DID the right thing, but that they could recognize it when they saw it.
We had been raised with a few common ideals - that there was right and wrong, that we had a responsibility to determine which was which, and that we would ultimately be accountable for our actions. All of these ideas, at least back then, stemmed from a believe in an active and ethical God. God liked some things, didn’t like others, there were reasons why they were good or bad, and there would be a final judgement and consequences for our actions and inaction. If this God is not present, or if God is either not ethical or disinterested in our choices, then the system collapses. If lying is not inherently bad, or stealing, or cruelty, then why would one not engage in them if one can calculate a better outcome? If one does not believe that there is a final accounting, then even if the actions are bad, so what?
Herein lies a problem. While a majority of people in the United States continue to profess a belief in a God, the nature of that God seems to have changed. The popular God today seems more interested in outcomes (lower taxes, more green space) than relationships, and certainly is more respectful of our arguments as to why we are justified in our actions. I recently read an article that places the blame for this in the exhalation of the individual that was a product of the 60s, and that may be right. I am told by some smart people that a fully functional social morality can exist without a transcendent entity that is ethical and involved. Perhaps this is true. I’ve not seen it, and if it does exist, I think it would take quite a bit of energy to construct. I think many people want to see it, but I’ve seen no actual evidence of its existence. An ethical unicorn. I am not saying that an atheist cannot act ethically - I know they can. I have seen it. My concern is that while individuals can act ethically without a shared understanding of morality, a social system, with many individual decision makers who rely on each other to act in what we used to call an “honorable” way, is another thing entirely. I tend to think that much of what is causing the incivility in society may be rooted in this phenomenon.
So there we are. Our politics is probably not less polarized than it was in times past - I remember Nixon - but the idea that we OUGHT try to get along seems to be fading. Yes, some people have always actively tried to work the system, to get as much for themselves while avoiding responsibility for people in need, but now there is virtually no shame in it. We seem to no longer have a shared sense of what is correct, and a belief that the final judgement of our behavior and attitudes lies outside of ourselves. We have substituted consistency for honor. Perhaps this new attitude is correct. Perhaps there is no right to be discerned and no incentive to do what is difficult without a personal payoff. But that would be sad. Pax.
Tuesday, 17 July 2012
Tuesday, 19 June 2012
Comments Section
So no shit, there I was, ignoring my own rule about reading the comment section. I suppose it’s only fair that I occasionally beak my own rules - don’t want to discriminate after all. Nevertheless, I generally like my own rules, and I put them there for very good reasons. In this case, it has to do with hygiene and self-respect. Reading what some people write makes me feel wrong, like I have been slamming back distilled ignorance aged in barrels of condescending vitriol. Varying opinions I can take. I like them in fact. But reading the comments section leaves me with a sour taste in my mouth and a general disorientation.
Years ago when I first went online, the web was just beginning. Gopher was the king of the internet (ten points if you know what Gopher is). I first became interested in figuring out what this internet thing was by seeing letters in Rolling Stone which, instead of giving a name and a city, gave a name and a strange set of symbols: xxxx@xxx.edu (virtually all users had an .edu account back then). I thought it fascinating that people were beginning to identify themselves not by where they were in space, but by where they could be reached. People were beginning to, essentially, BE their own geography. Kind of interesting. When I got online and saw what was happening, I thought that this new way of interacting would eventually create new means of expression, new genres, if you will. And it did. The webpage, for example. The blog, obviously. And, inhabiting the lower reaches of the Digital Frontier, the comment section.
I love the idea of the comment section, but the actuality makes me queasy (oddly, the exact opposite of my reaction to Wikipedia). Marketplace of ideas, free exchange, etc. - sounds so good in theory, and, in some formats, in reality. But the comments sections have just gone wrong, like there is something lurking in there that infects potentially useful attempts to communicate, and, like some alien bacteria or fungus from a bad sci-fi movie, transmutes them into festering blobs of mucus.
Except I don’t think that it is actually alien. What it really feels like is very human impulses unrestrained by convention. We are a species with massive variation in temperament, motivation, sense of aesthetic, values and, for want of a better term, source of jollies. In our actual lives, in our jobs and careers, in our families and with our friends, we express much of what we are. I wonder, though, if there are bits of us that are begging to be let out, but which we wisely keep leashed and muzzled so as to keep ourselves in the company of gentle people who have agreed to leash and muzzle themselves as well. Our society can handle quite a bit, but it does ask for a great deal of restraint in return, and the acceptable spectrum of behaviors, attitudes, and beliefs is narrowing all the time. This is not ideology specific - conservatives, liberals (or “progressives”, if you prefer), punks, rock and rollers - most groups seem to be pulling their boundaries in a bit more tightly these days.
And it irritates us. This is why the term “politically correct” has developed. In actuality, the term really just means “polite”. Try substituting the words sometime, and see if I’m right. “Politically correct” allows us to recognize the anger and/or frustration that comes from feeling that there are all those “others” out there that we need to be polite to. It makes “polite” a negative, which is how we sometimes feel.
The comments section blows all this up. The anonymity, the lack of a personal community to offend, and the opportunity speak without being accountable for ideas, attitude, or spelling make for a perfect storm, creating a space for disgorging all the half-digested ideas and feelings that have been simmering in our more acidic juices, seeking an outlet. A new genre indeed, but one expressing old truths. I suppose this is, on some levels, a healthy thing, reminiscent of a medieval medicinal purge - a psychic high colonic. I suppose there will be some, and this is the danger, who find meaning in what is spewed there, but I think sifting through the vomitorium that is the comments section is more likely to leave one infected rather than enlightened. Sometimes breaking a rule reminds us of why it was made in the first place. Pax.
Years ago when I first went online, the web was just beginning. Gopher was the king of the internet (ten points if you know what Gopher is). I first became interested in figuring out what this internet thing was by seeing letters in Rolling Stone which, instead of giving a name and a city, gave a name and a strange set of symbols: xxxx@xxx.edu (virtually all users had an .edu account back then). I thought it fascinating that people were beginning to identify themselves not by where they were in space, but by where they could be reached. People were beginning to, essentially, BE their own geography. Kind of interesting. When I got online and saw what was happening, I thought that this new way of interacting would eventually create new means of expression, new genres, if you will. And it did. The webpage, for example. The blog, obviously. And, inhabiting the lower reaches of the Digital Frontier, the comment section.
I love the idea of the comment section, but the actuality makes me queasy (oddly, the exact opposite of my reaction to Wikipedia). Marketplace of ideas, free exchange, etc. - sounds so good in theory, and, in some formats, in reality. But the comments sections have just gone wrong, like there is something lurking in there that infects potentially useful attempts to communicate, and, like some alien bacteria or fungus from a bad sci-fi movie, transmutes them into festering blobs of mucus.
Except I don’t think that it is actually alien. What it really feels like is very human impulses unrestrained by convention. We are a species with massive variation in temperament, motivation, sense of aesthetic, values and, for want of a better term, source of jollies. In our actual lives, in our jobs and careers, in our families and with our friends, we express much of what we are. I wonder, though, if there are bits of us that are begging to be let out, but which we wisely keep leashed and muzzled so as to keep ourselves in the company of gentle people who have agreed to leash and muzzle themselves as well. Our society can handle quite a bit, but it does ask for a great deal of restraint in return, and the acceptable spectrum of behaviors, attitudes, and beliefs is narrowing all the time. This is not ideology specific - conservatives, liberals (or “progressives”, if you prefer), punks, rock and rollers - most groups seem to be pulling their boundaries in a bit more tightly these days.
And it irritates us. This is why the term “politically correct” has developed. In actuality, the term really just means “polite”. Try substituting the words sometime, and see if I’m right. “Politically correct” allows us to recognize the anger and/or frustration that comes from feeling that there are all those “others” out there that we need to be polite to. It makes “polite” a negative, which is how we sometimes feel.
The comments section blows all this up. The anonymity, the lack of a personal community to offend, and the opportunity speak without being accountable for ideas, attitude, or spelling make for a perfect storm, creating a space for disgorging all the half-digested ideas and feelings that have been simmering in our more acidic juices, seeking an outlet. A new genre indeed, but one expressing old truths. I suppose this is, on some levels, a healthy thing, reminiscent of a medieval medicinal purge - a psychic high colonic. I suppose there will be some, and this is the danger, who find meaning in what is spewed there, but I think sifting through the vomitorium that is the comments section is more likely to leave one infected rather than enlightened. Sometimes breaking a rule reminds us of why it was made in the first place. Pax.
Monday, 18 June 2012
Weddings
So no shit, there I was, inside a Catholic church, surrounded by very devout folk celebrating the Sacrament (definitely capital “S”) of marriage. In Latin.
Now I enjoy Latin as much as the next guy, unless we include as the next guy the folks who were in that church that afternoon. They absolutely love it. But that’s another story. This story is about the wedding, and more generally, weddings. Well, actually it's not, but that's where we'll start. Weddings are almost always delightful experiences, and this one was not an exception. It was the first wedding I had attended in quite some time where I was not the officiant, and it was pleasant to just watch.
Weddings speak volumes of people’s values and interests. A wise friend once told me that weddings are the only time in a couple’s life that they can stand up in front of their family and friends and say “This is who we are! This is what we want to be!”. It is a shame to squander that opportunity, and, bottom line, I think people almost never do. A quick trip to Vegas may well reveal that, for that couple, stepping quickly into the future is more important than a nod to older traditions or relationships. A brief civil ceremony followed by a serious party says volumes about the priorities and expectations of a couple.
The first wedding I officiated was that of my niece. We spent quite a bit of time working on exactly what they wanted to say, and how they wanted to say it. It included elements of her groom’s Jewish traditions, as well as elements that reflected her own rather unusual upbringing. We spent a lot of time on the vows. This is, to me, is what it is really all about. What, exactly, are you promising to each other? Everything else - the dress, the centerpieces, the seating arrangements, the DJ - is commentary and window dressing. They are grand fun, but the vows are where the meat is.
Over many weddings, I’ve seen vows go all over the place. In my own wedding, we included a vow to “forgive, and to accept forgiveness”, which has been very nice to have had in writing and on the record. I like vows that make a statement about the personalities, histories, and dreams of the couple. For one wedding we incorporated words from pop standard songs, and in another, there was a poem about dinosaurs. The wedding yesterday used traditional vows, with no apparent modifications at all, and that too was a statement.
Statements at the beginning of an adventure are important, and sometimes even inspiring. A coach giving a pep talk before a game, the christening of a ship, even a preamble to a constitution are statements of what we desire, what we hope, what destination we wish to travel towards. They are full of hope and expectations of success. Often the hoped for outcome is realized - but not always. The statistics are clear - half of the teams playing the game will lose, In around half of the marriages, the couple do part before death. Despite what your AYSO coach may have taught you, life is not all orange slices and Capri Sun, and not everybody gets a cookie, a trophy, a recording contract or their own TV show. Sorry if I’m the first to mention this.
There are, however some extraordinary victories. Today is Fathers Day. It is an interesting holiday, often lost in the more intense and particular celebration of graduations. The old joke, back when phone calls were expensive, was that more long-distance phone calls were made on Mothers Day than on any other day, while Fathers Day saw the most collect calls. Nowadays, with free phone calls, email, texting, and social networks, one can see a different phenomena - the public tribute. Looking at FaceBook, one can see person after person posting a note, a picture (or substituting a father’s picture for their own profile), a thank-you - something to honor their fathers.
These are statements and reflections not at the start of a relationship, but often decades into it, or after it has ended with the passing of the father. These are statements and proclamations of success, of values passed on, hope fulfilled, of destinations reached. None of these comments say that the journey was without its jolts and hiccups, but they express the gratitude and the satisfaction, nearly to a person, of having “the best Dad ever.” This is good, and I hope that everybody who is, who has had, or who has found a father can see in this a recognition that in difficult enterprises, over many years, despite setbacks and resets, if we can hold on, we can hope to be seen in the end though loving eyes. Capri Sol et aurantiaco crustae indeed. Pax.
Now I enjoy Latin as much as the next guy, unless we include as the next guy the folks who were in that church that afternoon. They absolutely love it. But that’s another story. This story is about the wedding, and more generally, weddings. Well, actually it's not, but that's where we'll start. Weddings are almost always delightful experiences, and this one was not an exception. It was the first wedding I had attended in quite some time where I was not the officiant, and it was pleasant to just watch.
Weddings speak volumes of people’s values and interests. A wise friend once told me that weddings are the only time in a couple’s life that they can stand up in front of their family and friends and say “This is who we are! This is what we want to be!”. It is a shame to squander that opportunity, and, bottom line, I think people almost never do. A quick trip to Vegas may well reveal that, for that couple, stepping quickly into the future is more important than a nod to older traditions or relationships. A brief civil ceremony followed by a serious party says volumes about the priorities and expectations of a couple.
The first wedding I officiated was that of my niece. We spent quite a bit of time working on exactly what they wanted to say, and how they wanted to say it. It included elements of her groom’s Jewish traditions, as well as elements that reflected her own rather unusual upbringing. We spent a lot of time on the vows. This is, to me, is what it is really all about. What, exactly, are you promising to each other? Everything else - the dress, the centerpieces, the seating arrangements, the DJ - is commentary and window dressing. They are grand fun, but the vows are where the meat is.
Over many weddings, I’ve seen vows go all over the place. In my own wedding, we included a vow to “forgive, and to accept forgiveness”, which has been very nice to have had in writing and on the record. I like vows that make a statement about the personalities, histories, and dreams of the couple. For one wedding we incorporated words from pop standard songs, and in another, there was a poem about dinosaurs. The wedding yesterday used traditional vows, with no apparent modifications at all, and that too was a statement.
Statements at the beginning of an adventure are important, and sometimes even inspiring. A coach giving a pep talk before a game, the christening of a ship, even a preamble to a constitution are statements of what we desire, what we hope, what destination we wish to travel towards. They are full of hope and expectations of success. Often the hoped for outcome is realized - but not always. The statistics are clear - half of the teams playing the game will lose, In around half of the marriages, the couple do part before death. Despite what your AYSO coach may have taught you, life is not all orange slices and Capri Sun, and not everybody gets a cookie, a trophy, a recording contract or their own TV show. Sorry if I’m the first to mention this.
There are, however some extraordinary victories. Today is Fathers Day. It is an interesting holiday, often lost in the more intense and particular celebration of graduations. The old joke, back when phone calls were expensive, was that more long-distance phone calls were made on Mothers Day than on any other day, while Fathers Day saw the most collect calls. Nowadays, with free phone calls, email, texting, and social networks, one can see a different phenomena - the public tribute. Looking at FaceBook, one can see person after person posting a note, a picture (or substituting a father’s picture for their own profile), a thank-you - something to honor their fathers.
These are statements and reflections not at the start of a relationship, but often decades into it, or after it has ended with the passing of the father. These are statements and proclamations of success, of values passed on, hope fulfilled, of destinations reached. None of these comments say that the journey was without its jolts and hiccups, but they express the gratitude and the satisfaction, nearly to a person, of having “the best Dad ever.” This is good, and I hope that everybody who is, who has had, or who has found a father can see in this a recognition that in difficult enterprises, over many years, despite setbacks and resets, if we can hold on, we can hope to be seen in the end though loving eyes. Capri Sol et aurantiaco crustae indeed. Pax.
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