Currently Reading Poetics of Relation By Edouard Glissant see related

Case Dismissed

Currently Reading Culture and Imperialism By Edward W. Said see related

From Within You, It Consumes

From within you, it consumes.

Sibyl once told me, "I don't think there's anything that could interrupt our friendship." Nice thought; apparently, not entirely accurate. My point in mentioning her statement, however, isn't to demonstrate some nostalgic yearning for the relational cartography of the past. Instead, I'm pointing toward the sinister and dehumanizing ramifications of pursuing power over someone else, even in everyday life.

Power is seductive. Power itself is neither good nor bad, and can be wielded to promote beneficent or destructive ends - sometimes conterminously. One the most salient characteristics of power is its ability to reproduce itself. While these so-called "truths" are self-evident on a macropolitical scale, their regulatory existence in more quotidian events is abrogated through a particularly virulent from of selective amnesia that, much to our own chagrin, is predicated upon the perpetual consent of anyone, or rather everyone, affected.

While remaining invisible to the naked analytical eye, the micropolitics of power (for what is "politics" but the enactment of power) are embedded in nearly all aspects of everyday life, from crossing the street to eating antipasto. Accordingly, people perceptive enough to recognize the potential for influence imbricated within aspects of social intercourse that are typically taken for granted can exert effortless control over others, if they’re conniving. Or imprudent. Or both.

What happens when you add hubris to mix? Chaos ensues. Power is predicated upon the principles of binary opposition; its execution presupposes an expansion of the space centered within the walls of the dichotomy around which power dynamics are constructed. When supercilious people purport to wield power over others, however, the aforementioned expansion accelerates at an artificial rate. As with any uncontained experiment, this acceleration soon extends beyond the control of the catalyzing agent, eventually collapsing in on itself or exploding in an emotional supernova, burning everyone within striking distance.

Unfortunately, containment is antithetical to the pursuit of self-interest, at least in the minds of the overconfident. Containment entails acquiescence to normative moral frameworks or to reason, neither of which are implicated within modern conceptualizations of power and its employment. Put differently, containment doesn’t necessarily demand the application of one form of power over another, but instead requires negotiation, or at the very least an agonistic respect for difference, as William Connolly contends. Containment involves a willingness to hold back, especially when challenged, in order to foster fidelity to the common good, and an incredulous attitude toward impetuous deduction, which only exacerbates the preexisting hostilities which are often its cause.

In case you hadn’t figured it out yet, I’m running again.

It’s difficult to prove conclusively that Sibyl has been deliberately defaming my character over the course of the last two years. While certain manifestations of her anger, misguided though it may be, are recorded on public record and, when considered cumulatively, insinuate her culpability in all manner of illicit actions, it’s also possible, albeit remotely, that she’s lifted only a few fingers in the direction of disparagement. She’s smart, she’s savvy and she rarely leaves an incriminating trail of breadcrumbs. That doesn’t mean, however, that she’s innocent. It only means that she’s careful, exceedingly careful, and, to put it bluntly, a master of manipulation. For Sibyl, exploitation is an art, and one that she’s practiced for many years now. Am I upset by her actions? Of course. But I’m also impressed.

We loved each other then; I care for her now. I respect those who are currently caught up in, and perpetuating, the current charade that prompted this composition. I’m tired of games, though. I’m too successful for picayune pettifogs these days; I’m too composed for sleight of hand. Illusions don’t interest me, and neither do misapprehensions. When I’m threatened, I cogitate, and then respond. When I’m harassed, I contemplate the most diplomatic measure of diffusing the tension. When I’m blasphemed against, I explicate the logical fallacies upon which any generalized calumny is based. Why not vituperate? Why not engage in battle with an opponent? Why not descend into a paroxysm of rage and argue ferociously against the allegations that are persistently leveled against me? Because I believe in people’s inherent decency. I have faith in people’s ability for forgive. I find hope in people’s magnanimity. I take shelter in people’s rationality and the compassion it engenders.

Abrogating the vehicles of suppressed operated by others allows me to avail myself of my own integrity, which is fundamental to the continued functioning of my character. I separate myself the ethical malaise that’s suffocating our society. In other words, I fight back with an aggressive and unrelenting diplomacy that, in the end, prevails over the hollow desperation of performative delinquency. It’s not about winning, it’s not about victimization, it’s not about consecrating my apprehending rage in a single glower.

It’s about power. 

Currently Reading Nihilism & Emancipation: Ethics, Politics, & Law (European Perspectives: A Series in Social Thought & Cultural Criticism) By Gianni Vattimo see related

A Somewhat Utilitarian Interpretation of the Matrix

The Matrix narrative is well known. The trilogy describes a dystopian future in which the everyday world is actually a simulation constructed by sentient machines in order to pacify, subdue and make use of the human population as an energy source. Neo, a computer programmer, is awakened from his cybernetic slumber in order to help a group of rebels overcome the tyranny of the hyperreality imposed upon humans by the machines. Along the way, Neo discovers that the central problem faced by machines in creating and maintaining control is the human inclination toward free will, or choice. Thus, a dichotomy is proposed that continues through all three films – namely, the creation of world based upon individual choice (and reason) versus the creation of a world based on control (presumably of irrationality, or "passion").

The concept of choice is an essential component of utilitarian justifications of power. Put simply, utilitarianism is concerned with maximizing the sum total of a given utility within society, whatever that utility may be (security, happiness, etc.). Thus, utilitarianism requires an individual to perform, or rather choose to perform, the action that will create more of a utility in society than would any other action available at the time. This immediately gives rise to two problems: first, the problem of finding a way to quantify or compare a given utility, known as the problem of "interpersonal comparisons of utility"; and second, how to decide upon which utility is most appropriate for a society to strive toward and how that utility is to be defined. Neither problem is easily dismissed. In order to compare units of a utility, one must not only be able to state who has more (or less) of the utility, but how much more (or how much less). Furthermore, utilities such as happiness or security are abstract and difficult to quantify, largely because they are difficult to define. What constitutes a feeling of happiness or security for me is probably different, both in substance and degree, from what constitutes security and happiness for someone else. Even if we successfully generalize and define a utility for all society, that definition will certainly not be all-encompassing. Thus, those whose definitions differ from the generalized norm will likely be suppressed or forced to assimilate. In regards to justice, this would seem to precipitate a particularly virulent form of Aristotelian barbarism, whereby those who disagree with the generalized definition, in either substance or degree, are rendered speechless because the manner in which they describe the utility differs from the definition that has been proscribed for society. Subsequently, dissenting views would be considered "unintelligible" and external to realm of justice.

Even if we resolve the problems of quantification and definition, we are left with the question of how much authority a system of government should have when administering policies designed to maximize the amount of a given utility within a society. In his seminal work On Liberty, John Stuart Mills proposes an answer, known as the liberty principle, which states, "The only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant." For Mills, the advancement of liberty contributes more to happiness within society than any other competing policy might. In On Liberty, Mills cities three reasons justifying his belief: 1) Individuals are more likely to be right about what makes them happy than anyone else because they pay more attention to their own happiness than anyone else; 2) Freedom of choice is essential for the full development of human nature; and 3) human progress is advanced through experimentation, by which the ramifications of individual choices form models of behavior for the rest of society to follow. This view assumes that humans are capable of learning from experience, and that this learning will facilitate social progress. According to some theorists, history suggests the opposite – that humans are reluctant to learn from the mistakes of others, either through laziness or egocentrism, and are therefore destined to repeat the same mistakes perpetually. 

Each of the aforementioned utilitarian dilemmas is presupposed by the problems faced within the Matrix, most notably the problem of choice. At the end of Matrix Reloaded, Neo meets with the Architect, the designer of the matrix itself. The architect informs Neo that the matrix has been recreated six times due to failure, and that Neo is the product of the systemic anomaly which has led to the downfall of he matrix each time is has been resurrected – namely, the problem of choice. From a utilitarian perspective, it can be said that the Architect, or the machines more generally, attempted to impose a universal utility upon the human population which was acceptable to most people, even "if the choice is made at a near unconscious level." The utility embedded within the matrix is that of happiness, which is similar to the utility proposed by most utilitarian philosophers. However, the form of happiness distributed by the machines is dissimilar from that of most utilitarians in that it relies on a resolute lack of awareness. Thus, the matrix utility is not so much happiness, as blissful ignorance. Unfortunately for the machines, humans do not all ascribe to the same definition of "bliss." That being the case, the machines could not produce an equation (and it is fairly evident from Neo's conversation with the Architect that the machines think strictly in terms of equations, which is later reaffirmed by the Oracle in Matrix Revolutions) that would satisfy the need for an equitable distribution of happiness (if my version of happiness is different than yours, it follows that the difference in degree between one level of happiness and the next will be different for me than for you). As a result of the machines' inability to account for discrepancies in definition of the utility of happiness, they could not universally quantify the proscribed utility, which led to the formation of the anomaly of which Neo is the by-product.

Admittedly, the Architect attempted to account for the anomaly (choice) by recreating the matrix according to human history. However, this gives rise to a paradox: the creation of a world that simulates individual volition as a means of controlling a population. Underlying the simulation paradox is the question of how to balance administration of a utility with an individual's freedom to make choices about his or her own experiences – i.e., control versus liberty. It is important to note that any simulation of choice contained within the matrix that is based upon human history (and an adaptation, or interpretation, of history at that) would necessarily be incomplete. One of the functions of historical interpretation, according to Mills, is that it allows us to learn from our collective mistakes. Therefore, concurrent with the events of history is an analytical reasoning of future consequences that cannot be simulated, since reason itself is not a teleogical event (the event being considered has not actually occurred). Thus, a simulation of volition limits the number of alternatives an individual may choose from to those that can be extrapolated teleogically, eliminating those based upon the ratiocination that provides a context for an individual's choice. This "event horizon", at which point the simulation of reason stops because such reason has yet to be given expression, works to undermine the system the same way that Mills believes an excess of state authority would undermine a democracy – by curtailing human progression based upon reflection. In essence, the matrix forces its inhabitants to comply with a simulated meta-narrative, severely inhibiting an individual's ability to make choices that would place them outside the meta-narrative. People that do choose to live outside the meta-narrative, i.e. the inhabitants of Zion, are persecuted for their choice much the way people espousing the narrative of the "other" within modern society are persecuted for promoting dissensus. Just as the oppression of liberty causes Mills' conception of the state to crumble by preventing the progressive expansion of happiness, simulation of volition inherently prohibits individual liberty within the matrix, creating an escalating number of dissenting, or secondary narratives which, if left unchecked, will eventually challenge the prevailing meta-narrative for supremacy and overturn the system.

Currently Reading Consumed: How Markets Corrupt Children, Infantilize Adults, and Swallow Citizens Whole By Benjamin R. Barber see related

Going Postal

The reason for the post-smile is simple: postmodernists, like all other postists, are never satisfied. For them, the world is characterized by irresolvable contradictions and complexities. Discarding the organizing principles that governed prior intellectual discourse, postists maintain that the meaning of an experience (whether it’s the experience of viewing a painting, being an American or reading this article) can only be understood in relation to previous experiences, both individual and communal. Universal absolutes are derided as superficial, and ideas are defined by what they aren’t as much as by what they are (via a process known as binary opposition). If you’re feeling a little dizzy at this point, you’re probably on the right track.

When the underlying assumptions of postmodernism wrap their tentacles around a theory, they tear it to pieces, leaving behind a muddled jumble of hypotheses and conjectures. Essentially a reaction to modernist thought, which emphasized the ubiquity of form and function, postmodernism seeks to expose the multiple meanings buried within a text by deconstructing the way a text’s features sabotage its message. Since virtually everything is a text, according to postmodern theory, everything gets shredded with equal determination. The resulting chaos is less postmodern than postmortem; it would be hardly recognizable to the illustrious thinkers whose work it engulfed. No wonder postisms are often expressed as the death of their subjects.

Following postmodernism’s success in academic circles, deconstructive analytical techniques spread like wildfire to other theoretical disciplines, begetting, amongst others, post-structuralism (culture is dead), post-positivism (knowledge is dead), and post-historicism (history is dead). These days, it seems like every theory is accompanied by a competing postism; I keep track of them all on post-it notes, though I don’t use the fluorescent ones, since they seem like a post-post-it-notism critique of the color yellow. While many of these philosophies posit legitimate criticisms of prevailing beliefs, I draw the line at post-postmodernism (I wish I were dead), which is simply a reaction to a reaction. That much reacting usually causes an explosion, sometimes right next to my frontal lobe.

At some point, you have to realize that enough is enough. At some point, you begin to notice that the proliferation of postisms is representative of an academic culture that’s become so critical, so negative as to be anti-intellectual. For me, this revelation occurred while I was standing in a kitschy art gallery, staring at what appeared to be a massive blank canvas, discounting the lone stripe that trickled imperceptibly down the painting’s - and I use that term loosely – left side. Interrupting my daze, the gallery’s curator asked what I thought of the work.

“It’s not very creative,” I replied.

“The simplicity is deceptive,” she informed me. “It looks like an empty canvas, but the stripe betrays the emptiness. Without it, you wouldn’t see the void, just the canvas.”

“What’s its title,” I asked, afraid of the answer.

“White on white,” the curator replied. “Isn’t that just genius?”

No, it’s not. It’s vapid. And for the artist’s information, it wasn’t white on white; it was eggshell on chill. At least get the colors right.

Before you mock me as a post-post-postmodernist (I think, therefore I’m dead), let me clarify a few things. I think constructive intellectual criticism is an essential component of academic debate. Furthermore, I believe that evaluating the utility of the signifiers that comprise our discursive heritage empowers us to better understand the social constructs we commonly call reality. I don’t, however, believe that the postism rate should increase as often as the postage rate, which, by the way, is far more deserving of our collective scorn than any esoteric theory could ever hope to be.

Al Gore once said that postmodernism can be defined as a combination of narcissism and nihilism. If that’s the case, then keeping ourselves from going anymore postal than we already have is likely to trigger is serious case of post-postism depression (it’s like postpartum, only without the huge hospital bill). Hopefully, our thinking won’t remain faineant long enough for our universities to become dystopian doldrums. If anything changes, I’ll be sure to keep you posted.

Currently Reading Containment: Rebuilding a Strategy against Global Terror By Ian Shapiro see related

Publicly Anonymous

Last year, I campaigned for a seat on the Hawaii State Board of Education. Armed only with an audacious idealism and a six-point plan for improving public education, I cast myself to the wolves, confident that I could conquer any challenges that a callow first time candidate might face. Don't get me wrong; I certainly understood the rigors of running for office. I was, however, naïve enough to assume that the candidate with the stronger vision, louder message and more colorful signs would come out on top. Doesn't the better man always win?

Not in local politics. Admittedly, anointing myself the "better man" isn't politically correct (in any sense of the term), but if the title goes to the hardest working candidate, I'm certainly a contender. While I was logging miles knocking on doors, my opponent, John Penebacker – a former UH basketball star – was at home, knocking on wood. While I was hosting press conferences and giving speeches, Penebacker was artfully dodging the public eye. Fulfilling a promise to make education issues more visible, I became one of the first board of education candidates in the history of Hawaii politics to run ads on the evening news. Maybe my opponent caught one while he was channel surfing.  

Eventually, the mystery of Mr. Penebacker's whereabouts became a punch line at public forums. After preaching the merits of my proposed education revolution, the inquiry I most often fielded was not about my plan to increase teacher salaries or institute accountability, but what it was like competing against the invisible man. "Insouciance is the first rule of politics," I'd reply. "If he has nothing to say, he'll fit in with the rest of our government."

More infuriating than my opponent's speak-no-evil campaign style was the risible victory it produced. The 138,788 votes Penebacker received dwarfed my own total of 45,482. Shredding the axiom that political victories are bought and paid for, I outspent Penebacker by over $4,000, primarily on primetime media buys. When radio and television producers offered Penebacker the same opportunities to purchase air time, he impolitely declined, saying, "Why would I want to do that?"

Pejorative as his question may seem, it succinctly expresses an important electoral truism - money isn't everything. Name recognition, which Penebacker attained as a member of UH's "Fab Five", can easily compensate for a candidate's financial disadvantage. During a press gaggle I held after the primary, a reporter wryly remarked that my opponent was so well-known that he could have won the Kentucky Derby without raising so much as his hoof, let alone a war chest.

Penebacker isn't the only candidate that rode his name into office last year. Mike Gabbard, the archetype of arch-conservatism in the islands, was elected to the State Senate over Democrat George Yamamoto, a longtime member of the Kapolei Neighborhood Board and former police captain, despite spending $12,000 less than Yamamoto. Residual name recognition, accrued during Gabbard's 2004 congressional bid and days as a Hawaii's premiere gay basher (his Alliance for Traditional Marriage and Values has successfully lobbied against gay marriage for over a decade), earned Gabbard 55 percent of the vote.

Campaigns are the conscience of politics. They're an opportunity to connect with people at the grassroots level, eradicating the kind of apathy that elects slogans over substance. Accordingly, candidates must uphold their responsibility to educate the public on important issues. If my opponent had ever shown up at an event, I would have been too shocked to stammer out anything intelligible, aside from a contemptuous "What are you doing here?" He could have asked me the same thing, though in my case, it would have been more of an existential question.