When I return to grad school, I hope to study British Modernism, a literary period that corresponds with the rise of European fascism. There was a time, before WWII, when "fascism" wasn't just a catch-all for whatever action of government you didn't like, but was in fact considered a viable alternative to aristocracy, communism, and democracy. Democracy in particular was seen to have failed, due to its tendency to elect weak, substance-less leaders, to elevate mediocrity, to play to its citizens' basest tendencies, and for its governmental deadlock, waste, and inefficiency--all things we still rail against the U.S. govt. today.
Fascism was seen to resolve all those problems inherent to democracy--Adolph Hitler, for example, really did fix the failing German economy; Benito Mussolini is to date the only Italian head-of-state to successfully challenge the mafia and make the trains run on time; General Franco did in fact stamp out communism in Spain.
In sum, the fascists fixed the economy, eliminated govt. inefficiency and waste, battled communism, cut down on crime, increased prosperity, patriotism and national unity--and committed some of the most horrific atrocities in human history.
I bring this all up because, more so than usual, America's govt. is lately bogged down in deadlock and indecision, amid accusations of massive govt. waste and inefficiency. If we had a strong, decisive, uncompromising leader, (so goes the argument on both sides), we wouldn't have this problem--no, we'd instead have far worst problems, those of fascism.
For you know why America is deadlocked right now? Because we disagree; because in America, dissenting voices are in fact heard. Deadlock is ironically a sign of a healthy democracy. Whatever else America's sins may be, freedom of expression is still real here. This freedom is at once our greatest strength and greatest weakness.
I sometimes see asinine window stickers sporting eagles in front of American flags, reading "freedom ain't free." I merely offer that perhaps deadlock and inefficiency is in fact that price we pay for freedom.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
SLC Punk
I've been told by those I describe them to that I have interesting roommates. Briefly, my roommates since I've lived in SLC have been the following:
- A Physics PhD student Jewish-Atheist from Boston who bikes, skis, jogs, and had a heart-attack and pace-maker surgery at age 27 due to undiagnosed Lyme disease. He currently owns a house he rents out, and has a live-in girlfriend who is the daughter of the former mission-president of Puerto Rico (the one before my mission pres). He sagely sold his stocks before the crash of '08, prompting me to 1) question his socialist bona fides, and 2) jokingly ask if there really is some secret Jewish Cabal running the world's banks, and if so, could he give me stock tips.
- A Computer Science PhD student Atheist from Baltimore, and an accent to match. In spite his Atheism, he has a strong Protestant work-ethic. He enjoys the hookah. While Prop 8 seemed the main sticking point about the LDS Church for the former roommate, coffee by contrast appeared to be his. From both these first two roommates I heard many a diatribe against Utah's liquor laws, and consequently they loved John Hunstman, despite their liberalism.
- Another Jewish roommate, just graduated from Utah, originally from the south-side of Chicago. He dressed all G'd-out and thugged-out, but it never felt like posturing from him; rather, it seems that's just how a normal human being dresses where he's from. He's proudly Chicagoan, but has no plans to move back, the main adjective he uses to describe Utah being "calm," implying that that's the opposite of Chicago. His life's goal is to retire either to the Avenues or Florida.
- A true freshman hispter-ish trendy kid who had to learn the hard way that selling steak-knives is a crock. A fastidiously clean roommate who twice gave the whole apt. a deep-clean, majored in Drama even though he's pre-Med, and would occasionally have girls sleep over in his bed but not have sex (one girl even claimed to be LDS and would probably die a virgin). Draw your own conclusions.
- An inactive Mormon who gets hammered drunk on weekends; great sociable, likeable guy; served mission in Texas; dealing with the aftermath of an unfaithful wife so don't judge; once, this girl passed out after only 4 shots while pre-gaming (I've learned more about drinking here than from even my roommates in Denver), and she puked all over his mattress. He just threw out the bedding. When one Atheist roommate heard his sad story, even he said, "Dang dude, you need to go to Church!"
- Another Atheist, former-tight-end for BYU football, completing his degree at the U, married but amicably separated (the first time she visited, I asked if she was his girlfriend, and she responded "I'm his wife" and I just nodded), his wife's an ex-mormon and he's read the Book of Mormon and taken all the missionary discussions--twice. Keeps the Word of Wisdom more faithfully than his wife, but for purely health reasons. Would go to divinity school if he wasn't an atheist. Trained with Navy Airborne, but now is entering the Peace Corp.
Extracts From The Book of Amos
And for the big finale, the Politician raise his arms in the air, flashes his million-dollar smile (total assets valued roughly $190 million), and declared, “My friends, a glorious future awaits us, if only we will rely on the values that make this nation great! These are values I make no apology for, I ask no pardon for them, for these values that have made our nation prosperous. And I promise you that when I am elected, I will bring back the values that made our nation great, and use them to make our great nation even greater than ever!” The crowd roared and cheered, and the Politician made many other promises: to end the evils of dole with welfare reform that suppresses an ethic of hard work among our nation’s poor; to combat the tyranny of socialism; and to improve the economy by providing free market incentives that increase wealth and prosperity.
The crowd roared its approval once more, and the Politician strode confidently off the stage. Yet what was his surprise, but as he exited, yea verily, he was miraculously transported away by the Holy Spirit; wherefore, instead of encountering his advisers and pollsters and hair-stylists, he instead found himself standing on the stone steps of an ancient pyramid, high among the lush rain forests of Central America. The Politician loosened his tie instinctively in the humidity, as he stared on in bewilderment.
Immediately he was approached by a humble figure, an old man with a long beard, white hair, and modest robes: “Behold, I am Amos,” said the figure, “Son of Amos, who was son of Nephi, who was son of Nephi, even that same Nephi who was ordained disciple by our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ at the time of his appearance among us after his resurrection in Jerusalem, the land of our fathers. I have charge of the records that have been kept since the times of our father Nephi, son of Lehi, when they were guided by the Lord God out of Jerusalem to here, the Promised Land.”
“Ah, so then you are a Nephite!” exclaimed the Politician reverently, for indeed he was a faithful Mormon since his youth (though he tended to downplay such in the national media).
“Nephite?” said Amos, “Ah, yes, once we called ourselves Nephites, before the time of the visitation of our Savior. But behold, now we have abandoned such distinguishing, for there are no manner of Nephites, nor Lamanites, nor any manner of –ites among us, for we are all one, the children of Christ, and heirs of the kingdom of God.”
“Come, come now, brother!” said the Politician, “Don’t let anyone make you ashamed of your beliefs: offer no apology, ask no pardons for your values. If you are a good Nephite and a conservative, than exclaim it so!”
“Conserve…ative?” asked Amos, perplexed.
“Ah, yes, you of course cannot openly announce your party affiliation, I understand, for the Church’s official stance has always been one of political neutrality,” said the Politician, “I understand your position, and your need to keep quiet on certain…sensitive…issues. I myself dance sensitively around certain topics, in the interests of politics.”
“You have been brought here, by the hand of the Lord,” said Amos, attributing these strange, incomprehensible comments of the Politician to the doubtless foreign customs of his own land, “To behold the doings of his people in the Promised Land, at a time when there could not have been a happier people among all the people who had been created by the hand of God. I am given to know that you currently seek the chief judgeship of the great gentile nation—”
“And a great nation it is!” exclaimed the Politician.
“—that has inherited the land of promise in the latter days,” continued Amos, “wherefore, the Lord doth seek to instruct you in the ways of a truly great nation, the one that was established by his own hand when he visited us, and has stayed consistent for nearly two centuries.”
“Two centuries of stability!” exclaimed the Politician, ‘Brother Amos, I am overwhelmed! Why, surely there is so much that mine own nation can learn from yours! Amos, I will gladly receive instruction from you, so that I might bring about the salvation of my own country.” And indeed he was overwhelmed, yet even as he shook Amos’s hand firmly, the Politician seemed to dimly remember from his youth reading the Book of Mormon, and it was roughly at about the two century mark, he remembered, when the Nephites fell into apostasy, eventually being destroyed by God for their wickedness. And in fact, the more he thought about it, the more the Politician pondered if such sustained stability could only signify a controlled economy, one that refuses to release the full power of the free market economy, and prevents the people, no matter how well-intentioned, from fully living up to their privileges. Quite frankly, such a lack of free-market volatility seemed to imply, socialism…perhaps even…communism.
The Politician suddenly realized that he had been granted a chance by God to save the Nephites from themselves; indeed, he did in that moment take it upon himself to build the Nephites into a great nation that would outlast their own destruction, and perhaps even defeat the wicked Spanish when they came in a thousand-odd years, and ally themselves with the righteous Protestant English when they arrived a few centuries later. Why, such a defeat of the Spanish could even retroactively resolve the Mexican immigration crisis his own great nation was experiencing! His capacity to effect good in both times could be unlimited.
The Politician felt humbled by his calling.
“I am humbled by this calling,” he told Amos, “When do we start?”
Amos first showed him the surrounding city of Zarahemla. The Politician could do nothing but admire the health and friendliness of all the people he met, and he began to despair that he would have nothing to do to improve their lot. “Amos, this city is charming!” he confessed, “Why, your wealthiest must truly be investing in industry to keep so many of your poor so gainfully employed!”
“Wealthy? Poor?” said Amos, once again confused by these strange terms, “No, no, my friend, here we have not rich nor poor, nor bond nor free, but we are all made free, and partakers of the heavenly gift. We have all things common, you see.”
“All things common?!” exclaimed the Politician, his worst fears realized.
“Yes, all things common,” smiled Amos, “We seek first the kingdom of God, and then we seek wealth, and then only to cloth the naked, and to feed the hungry, and administer relief to the sick and the afflicted.”
“No re-investment?” said the Politician in disbelief, “You mean you sink your public funds and revenue streams into such government expenses as welfare relief and health care? My, my, my, brother Amos, you cannot grow GDP through such wasteful expenditures! Don’t you know that such smacks of diabolical socialism?”
“Socialism?” said Amos, again confused and now getting annoyed, “You did hear me earlier when I said that there are no manner of –ites among us, right? As in, your very concept of political ideologies and divisions is foreign to us.”
“So much the easier to control the populace when there are no dissenting voices,” the Politician reasoned to himself, “I must seek to liberate this people from this tyranny of socialism, and I must do so without Amos to hinder me, for clearly even he, the very elect, have been here deceived! No, no, I see here clearly enough: God has sent me here to overthrow the scourge of socialism, so that I can return to the Latter days and do again likewise!”
The next day, the Politician began making his rounds among the local farmers, his jacket and tie off and his French-cuffed sleeves rolled up to the elbows, to show he was one of them and ready to work. “Brethren!” he declared, “Why do ye waste the bountiful harvests with which God has blessed you? He gives you all you need and surplus to spare, and how do ye repay his bounteous blessings? Why, you waste it all by just giving it away, keeping the economy stagnant and slow! Waves of waves of the poor and idle live off the sweat of your hard labor, becoming indolent, and slothful, like unto the Lamanites of old. Be it any wonder that there be Lamanites in the land again, with such an indolent economy as this? Behold, why do ye not preserve the increase of your surplus unto yourself?”
“It is our way,” responded one, “Established by the Savior Himself at the time of his appearance unto us.”
“Brethren, brethren,” he said, smiling indulgently, “We shall all surely be living the United Order at the Millennium; but in the meantime, we must live in the present, and deal with things as they actually are!”
“United…Order?” said another, confused by this name for an order he didn’t know needed a name.
“Brethren, behold, I say unto you!” the Politician continued, pumping his fists, “Remember that our Heavenly Father has given us free agency! Freedom is what this great land is founded upon, and if we have not the freedom to sell our surpluses, why, then, our gifts are not gifts at all, but extortions! This redistribution of wealth stagnates the market, which in turn slows the economy, prevents job creation, and hinders innovation. It keeps the masses dependent upon the government, and therefore subjugated, such as unto the plan of Satan himself!”
He was starting to get to them. “Would not such a system of sales make some richer than others?” ventured one.
“And what’s so wrong with that?” asked the Politician sincerely, “Do we not read in the scriptures that some must increase more than others, that some are worthier of a better inheritance? Ye farmers, you know quite literally that as we sow, so shall we reap: Should not the industrious receive more than the indolent and lazy? Should not those who sow receive all that they reap? Are not the poor so because they have so reaped by their indolence?”
“Yes, yes, Perhaps thou shalt say: The man has brought upon himself his misery,” suddenly broke in Amos, more than a little perturbed that his guest and charge from the Lord had given him the slip that morning, “therefore I will stay my hand, and will not give unto him of my food, nor impart unto him of my substance that he may not suffer, for his punishments are just—King Benjamin warned us of such! And again, he added: whosoever doeth this the same hath great cause to repent; and except he repenteth of that which he hath done he perisheth forever, and hath no interest in the kingdom of God. For behold, are we not all beggars?”
“Precisely my point!” said the Politician gleefully, overjoyed that his next point had been prepared so splendidly, “Aren’t we all beggars, frankly, but not upon God, but upon the State that keeps them down, so that they durst not enjoy their privileges as children of God?”
“Ah, yes, for every man fares in this life according to the management of the creature; therefore every man prospered according to his genius, and that every man conquered according to his strength,” quoted Amos, now disgusted, “Such was the doctrine of Korihor, the AntiChrist, at the time he was tried before Alma for the murder of Gideon.”
“Brother Amos, please, please, let us cease the name calling and partisan politics!” pleaded the Politician, taking the high road, “Korihor, as I recall, preached fornication, adultery, and denied the Christ; I, by contrast, stand by the old Christianity that made this country great! Moreover, Gideon was a murderer, as you yourself have just confessed: he wished to enforce his doctrine upon others. I, however, do not wish to force anybody! Those who wish to continue to donate their entire surplus to the poor are still as free as ever to do so—but it will because they choose to, not because the state requires it of them.”
“Our ‘state,’ as you call it, requires no man,” said Amos, “Compulsion only occurs when men oppress the hireling in his wages, and the widowed, the orphaned, and the poor; what happens, pray tell, when men no longer give freely to the poor?”
“Why, my brethren, they be those who will actually be helping the poor!” exclaimed the Politician, “For by selling their surpluses, they will be generating wealth that can be reinvested towards job creation, fostering innovation!”
“Ah, yes, and to the wearing costly apparel and pearls and the things of the world, and lifting themselves up in the pride of their hearts!” declared Amos.
“Amos, my good brother, think of all the money that will trickle down through the increase in the market for luxury goods—does not God wish us to be happy and enjoy our blessings, after all? An expansion of luxury goods can only improve the economy, for increased consumption equals increased demand, with increased industry to meet demand. Jobs will increase, indolence decrease, wealth abound and spread around, and make this country truly great, with a military to match, able to withstand any power that threatens us!”
“God said he would preserve us,” declared Amos, “And prosper us in the land, if we will but keep his commandments.”
“Ah, but it is by grace we are saved, after all we can do,” quoted the Politician sagely, “How can we expect God to prosper us if we do try to prosper ourselves? Let us liberate the economy, and at last liberate ourselves!”
Before Amos could interject again, the Politician flew into the part of the stump he knew by heart: “My friends, a glorious future awaits us, if only we will rely on the values that make this nation great! These are values I make no apology for, I ask no pardon for them, for these values that have made our nation prosperous. And I promise you that when I am elected (for I here today declare my candidacy for the Chief Judgeship), I will bring back the values that made our nation great, and use them to make our great nation even greater than ever!” The crowd roared and cheered, and the Politician made many other promises: to end the evils of dole with welfare reform that suppresses an ethic of hard work among our nation’s poor, to combat the tyranny of socialism, and to improve the economy by providing free market incentives that increase wealth and prosperity.
Amos could only behold in despair, as the old ways were resurrected before his very eyes. Now there was no law against a man’s belief; for it was strictly contrary to the commands of God that there should be a law which should bring men on to unequal grounds. Thus, Amos did not condemn the Politician. Nevertheless, he prayed in his heart, and as the Politician strode from this rally among Nephite farmers, smiling and waving at his supporters and shaking hands and kissing babies, yea verily, what was his surprise but he found himself surrounded by his advisers and pollsters and hair-stylists, just after his rally in the present day. He pondered if perhaps he had just dreamt this entire Nephite encounter, and if perhaps the heat and the stress of constant campaigning was getting to him. That is, until one of them asked: “Sir, where is your jacket and tie? You were wearing them on stage just a minute ago.” And another: “ow did that mud get on your shoes so quickly? And where did that day-old stubble on your face come from?”
And in fact, he had day-old stubble, his jacket and tie were nowhere in sight, and there was Central American mud on his otherwise-immaculately-polished Oxfords. It was then that he knew that his trip was real, contained all in that split-second that he left the stage (for all is as one day with God, and time only is measured unto man). At his wonderment at this miracle, he dared request out loud for that which he only asked in the privacy of hotel rooms: “A Book of Mormon! Quick, get me a copy of The Book of Mormon!”
After a moment’s confusion, and several more minutes of scrambling, his aides finally scrounged up for him a paper-copy, such as missionaries hand out. In the quiet of his stylist’s chair, he searched through it, to see if he had indeed changed Nephite history through his efforts and his eloquence, and thus if the Book of Mormon had been rewritten as a result. He scoured and scoured, but there was no reference to his own name, nor his visit, and only a half-a-verse acknowledging the existence of Amos. Instead, he found only references to how “they had all things common,” and “There were no manner of –ites” and “there could not be a happier people” and the “one hundred and ninety and fifth year” when Amos took charge of the sacred records; and shortly after was recorded only the following by Mormon:
And now, in this two hundred and first year there began to be among them those who were lifted up in pride, such as the wearing of costly apparel, and all manner of fine pearls, and of the fine things of the world.
And from that time forth they did have their goods and their substance no more common among them.
And they began to be divided into classes; and they began to build up churches unto themselves to get gain, and began to deny the true church of Christ.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Infinite Jest: initial impressions
All other of our you say free choices follow from this: what is our temple
-David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest
Alas, poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest
-Shakespeare, Hamlet
I am currently tackling David Foster Wallace's 1996, thousand-odd page novel Infinite Jest. I'm roughly a 150 pages in, and thus far it appears to be an extended meditation on America's addiction to entertainment--whether to sports, drugs, technology, movies, etc, and how this addiction is caused by and causing our crippling inability to connect and communicate with each other, both metaphorically, and (in the case of at least one character) literally.
The novel takes place in the "near" future--some critics have posited the year to be 2011, so now may be the ideal time to encounter this novel. It's difficult to pinpoint the novel's years, because in Wallace's slightly-dystopic future, the traditional Gregorian calender has been supplanted by corporate "subsidized" years, e.g. the Year of the Whopper, the Year of the Depends Adult Undergarment, the (my personal favorite) Year of the Yushityu 2007 Mimetic-Resolution-Cartridge-View-Motherboard-Easy-To-Install-Upgrade For Infernatron/InterLace TP Systems For Home, Office Or Mobile, etc.
Clearly there's a fair amount of satirical humor operating here, meant more for parody than to be taken at face value (for crying out loud, in the novel, America has annexed Canada and Mexico into the Organization of North American Nations, or O.N.A.N.--I mean, the sin of Onan is a great metaphor for entertainment's self-pleasing waste and loneliness, but no one would ever name a real geo-political entity that); nevertheless, from the perspective of the real 2011, it's still tempting to critique Wallace's frankly-shaky futurism.
For example, not only are we currently doing the opposite of trying to annex Mexico, but Wallace doesn't seem to have anticipated the internet age at all, even though he published in 1996. No one in his novel's 2011 is surfing the internet or playing on home-computers (which would have fit comfortably his theme of the alienating influence of entertainment); "video-phones" are mentioned and even Bell-style land-lines, but not cell phones; and he fails to anticipate not only DVDs, but even live internet streaming, opting instead for "entertainment cartridges," as though we'd all be watching movies on the same format as Super Nintendo.
Again, these are just quibbles, since the thrust of the novel is clearly a fun-house-mirrors distortion, not hard-sci-fi; nevertheless, at least one thing he surprisingly nails just right. Namely, I just finished a chapter on the failure of the "video-phone" market bubble in the near future, and the narrator mentions off-hand how some over-eager investors lost their employees' pensions funds after investing them with Freddie Mac during this Tech Bubble.
Let me repeat: Employee pensions. Invested in Freddie Mac. Lost in a market bubble. I mean, wow, of all the things for Wallace to absolutely nail about 2011...slow clap, slow clap.
And for that matter, though the rest of Wallace's sci-fi is almost-distractingly off, his central premise is uncomfortably prescient: for the "infinite jest" in question isn't just an allusion to Shakespeare's "Hamlet," but is an actual video-cartridge, that some Quebecois terrorists are trying to track down, of a movie that is so entertaining, any one watching it loses all desire to do anything else, even live. I mentioned this to a roommate while he was playing video-games, and he just straight-faced quipped, "Well, that's not realistic at all!" Indeed.
If nothing else, this novel so far has gotten me to question: what indeed is my temple? What is the center of my devotion, beyond the church I attend on Sunday? In America, for all of our much vaunted freedom of faith, Infinite Jest makes the case that entertainment may in fact be our unacknowledged state religion after all.
-David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest
Alas, poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest
-Shakespeare, Hamlet
I am currently tackling David Foster Wallace's 1996, thousand-odd page novel Infinite Jest. I'm roughly a 150 pages in, and thus far it appears to be an extended meditation on America's addiction to entertainment--whether to sports, drugs, technology, movies, etc, and how this addiction is caused by and causing our crippling inability to connect and communicate with each other, both metaphorically, and (in the case of at least one character) literally.
The novel takes place in the "near" future--some critics have posited the year to be 2011, so now may be the ideal time to encounter this novel. It's difficult to pinpoint the novel's years, because in Wallace's slightly-dystopic future, the traditional Gregorian calender has been supplanted by corporate "subsidized" years, e.g. the Year of the Whopper, the Year of the Depends Adult Undergarment, the (my personal favorite) Year of the Yushityu 2007 Mimetic-Resolution-Cartridge-View-Motherboard-Easy-To-Install-Upgrade For Infernatron/InterLace TP Systems For Home, Office Or Mobile, etc.
Clearly there's a fair amount of satirical humor operating here, meant more for parody than to be taken at face value (for crying out loud, in the novel, America has annexed Canada and Mexico into the Organization of North American Nations, or O.N.A.N.--I mean, the sin of Onan is a great metaphor for entertainment's self-pleasing waste and loneliness, but no one would ever name a real geo-political entity that); nevertheless, from the perspective of the real 2011, it's still tempting to critique Wallace's frankly-shaky futurism.
For example, not only are we currently doing the opposite of trying to annex Mexico, but Wallace doesn't seem to have anticipated the internet age at all, even though he published in 1996. No one in his novel's 2011 is surfing the internet or playing on home-computers (which would have fit comfortably his theme of the alienating influence of entertainment); "video-phones" are mentioned and even Bell-style land-lines, but not cell phones; and he fails to anticipate not only DVDs, but even live internet streaming, opting instead for "entertainment cartridges," as though we'd all be watching movies on the same format as Super Nintendo.
Again, these are just quibbles, since the thrust of the novel is clearly a fun-house-mirrors distortion, not hard-sci-fi; nevertheless, at least one thing he surprisingly nails just right. Namely, I just finished a chapter on the failure of the "video-phone" market bubble in the near future, and the narrator mentions off-hand how some over-eager investors lost their employees' pensions funds after investing them with Freddie Mac during this Tech Bubble.
Let me repeat: Employee pensions. Invested in Freddie Mac. Lost in a market bubble. I mean, wow, of all the things for Wallace to absolutely nail about 2011...slow clap, slow clap.
And for that matter, though the rest of Wallace's sci-fi is almost-distractingly off, his central premise is uncomfortably prescient: for the "infinite jest" in question isn't just an allusion to Shakespeare's "Hamlet," but is an actual video-cartridge, that some Quebecois terrorists are trying to track down, of a movie that is so entertaining, any one watching it loses all desire to do anything else, even live. I mentioned this to a roommate while he was playing video-games, and he just straight-faced quipped, "Well, that's not realistic at all!" Indeed.
If nothing else, this novel so far has gotten me to question: what indeed is my temple? What is the center of my devotion, beyond the church I attend on Sunday? In America, for all of our much vaunted freedom of faith, Infinite Jest makes the case that entertainment may in fact be our unacknowledged state religion after all.
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