In the country where I live there is a pervasive idea that everyone has a right to their opinion on any topic, that as a result opinions are essentially equal, that there must be equal time and respect for differing opinions. This is most noticeable on news programs in which the most common method for the discussion of a topic is to get two people with different views and then give them equal time to give their opinion. However, this idea has spread throughout society so that I frequently hear people with no qualifications in a subject knowingly declaim positions that are flatly at adds with the opinion of experts in the field. Examples are: support for protectionism (rejected by economists throughout the entire spectrum of political beliefs), rejection of global warming (supported by every national scientific body in the world), rejection of evolution (the scientific theory with the largest amount of supportive data).
To argue against these positions, particularly if you bring forth the problem of ignorance, that the person doesn't even understand the thing which they say is wrong, is considered rude. However, to state your own opinion is fine, you are entitled to your own opinion. This doesn't make any sense. If you state an opinion that differs from another person's opinion you are stating the opinion that they are wrong. In all the specifics that differ between two opinions each opinion is saying the other opinion is wrong on specifics. If you say that you have your opinion based on what experts say, you are saying the other opinion is ignorant. It makes no sense, but the framing of a position can change how it is perceived from harmless to deeply insulting without changing the position.
I suspect that this position is rooted in the concept of universal human rights. Human rights are about treating everybody equally and I think you have to be a pretty awful person to be against the basic concept. However, extending the concept of rights to everything can become ludicrous. Does everyone have the right to be thought of as equally attractive? Does everyone have the same right to win the 110 metre Olympic hurdles? There is a difference between everyone having the right to think what they want and thinking that all thoughts are equally right. The advent of modern communications has now vastly increased the validation for any idea. On the internet you can find numbers of people who agree with you, regardless of how idiotic your opinion might be.
The scientific method has produced a greater number of truths, at a greater precision, than all the rest of humanity's intellectual efforts put together. Essentially how the scientific method works is that someone produces an opinion about something and then a large group of other people try to find anything in that opinion that they can demonstrate is false. Only once those efforts have failed is the opinion considered to be valid. This stringency with regard to valid opinions is such that only people who have demonstrated through extensive work that they actually understand such opinions are allowed to comment on the subject. In order to even rise to the level where an opinion can be considered for discussion it must be formulated in such a manner that it is supported by other valid opinions and a very large amount of data precisely quantified. The scientific method is as far away from the concept that opinions are of equal merit as you can get, and it produces the largest amount of truth.
Opinions are not of equal merit. This very post is not as valid an opinion as a published paper in a social science on beliefs about opinions. Some people are more informed, more intelligent, and produce opinions that are actually closer to the truth. This is so self-evident that the only way that I can understand this phenomenon, that "My opinion is as valid as yours", or "He's entitled to his opinion", is by thinking that it is more important to people to feel right than to be right.
If it hurts you to be wrong (and I think that is probably universal, it hurts me) then the idea of the right to an opinion is a way of lying to yourself to stop feeling bad. It is self-protection through self-deception. The anger and perceived insult of being told you are wrong is a reaction to the perception of being attacked. Someone is making you feel bad.
So, it comes down to whether you care about the truth, or feelings. Or does it? We all have ways that we know we can improve ourselves. One of those methods can be to try to be honest with ourselves, to admit when we are wrong, to realize that criticism is educational. The method that I try to employ, with admittedly mixed results, is to realize that the greatest intellectual achievement a person can have is to change one's opinion. It means that you have not respected your own opinion, have internally subjected it to testing and criticism, and found that it is wrong. It is quite possible to feel a great sense of pride in having been wrong, as long as you acknowledge it.
Opinions should not be respected. They should be treated with suspicion and assaulted with every honest thought available. The ones that survive are almost always good opinions. The opinions that are respected simply for being opinions are usually bad opinions. I'm sorry, but some opinions are stupid, and if the truth matters it should be alright to tell people so, even if it is someone telling you.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Withdrawal.
When I was a teenager I was very shy. I think this was mostly because I went to an all-boy's school and started puberty late. I essentially lagged behind in becoming interested in music, fashion, coolness, sex, and therefore didn't fit in with cool people. The other factor was that I lived in the countryside with no-one of my age that I knew within three miles. There is also the English culture, which raises embarrassment to the most powerful social force. The English love their eccentrics, those who manage to be brilliant and strange, but if you don't make it to brilliant then all of society will laugh at you.
Shyness is simply this fear of public humiliation. All of us make predictions, models of the future, all the time. These models range enormously, from predicting where the ground will be under our feet to what it will feel like to go on vacation next year. They happen consciously and unconsciously, the vast majority unconsciously. Shyness is what happens when your predictive models come up with humiliation as the most likely outcome. If you think saying something will make you look like a fool you will become terrified of saying things, and will try not to do so. If you think you will be rejected you will try not to meet people. Of course, being shy is an excellent way of being rejected and making a fool of yourself.
When I first came to the USA if anyone wanted to talk to me, if the phone rang, if I thought someone was going to ask me a question, my heart rate rose, I started to sweat, adrenaline poured into my body. I became frightened. However, as a freshman with an English accent people wanted to meet me and talk to me as I was different and interesting based purely on being English. Most 18 year old Americans have never met an Englishman. As an aside, my accent was often called a "British accent" which is marvelously evocative of the ignorance many US people have about foreign parts. The difference between a Glaswegian and a Cockney accent is greater than between any two accents in the USA. Every American can understand any other American's speech, almost nobody can understand a Glaswegian, and a full-on Cockney isn't far behind. The decline of the regional accent in the UK is a sad thing.
Anyway, as a freshman in college I would meet many people everyday. This wouldn't be one person a day, but many people. The numbers were enough that most days someone would say, "Hi' to me on the street, remember my name and start a conversation but I would have no idea who they were. When you meet one Englishman a month you remember him. When you meet 100 Americans a month you will not remember most of them. After a very short time I realized that all of these people were interested in the same things, asking the same questions, finding the answers interesting, and trusting me implicitly to have the right answers. This is about the most perfect way possible to develop confidence in meeting new people, have predictable conversations in which you will be interesting and have authority. In psychological terms this is called flooding, and is an acknowledged treatment for some phobias.
As a result of this period I became a very confident person, very outgoing, very socially active. I made friends easily, comfortably talked to strangers, and looked forward to new situations and new people. This has been generally the case ever since. That is until possibly now.
My social interactions in Texas have been generally poor. Or at least any interaction that goes into any depth. Superficially there is no problem. I can smile at people in a store, have a brief exchange in a bar, or make small talk about sport. However, as soon as the topic wanders away from these social niceties there becomes trouble. I disagree with most people around here on everything from politics to religion, to art, to environment (both generally and the suburbs). My exercise is different, my clothes are different, my education is different, my conversation style is different, how I think is different. If there is one thing I have learned about Texas (or at least the bits I have encountered) it is that difference is not liked.
My other social interactions outside of the home have been on the internet. The internet is particularly disposed to expressing opinions, and particularly disposed to people being displeased, upset and angry. I can't remember the last time I was called a liar or dishonest in real life, but it happens regularly on-line.
This means that for the last couple of years my environment has taught me that social interactions are probably going to go badly. I have been taught that I can either fake it, or be disliked. I am bad at faking it, or at least I really, really dislike it. Perhaps that is what makes me a "genuine person. The result is the opposite process that happened to me my freshman year of college. I am becoming more withdrawn, nervous at the prospect of meeting people, less interested in social interaction. When I do meet people I am becoming less animated, less involved, less confident.
I can feel this process happening even with this blog. This blog is supposed to be me expressing myself freely. It feels like this has annoyed people that I know to the point that they don't wish to comment or even read it, hence my request for people saying "Hi" in the last post. This impression might well be false. I was just shocked to discover that this blog has had nearly 700 views this month. I think that actually it is my feelings about social interactions that color this impression more than the actual situation.
I do not like this. I think my greatest chance of changing this state is to move to a more supportive environment, a place populated by "my tribe." Until then I should attempt to tell myself stories about my being an interesting, kind, empathic, intelligent person. A person that interesting, kind, empathic, intelligent people would like to meet. One thing Texas has taught me, it feels better to be confident and wrong than to be dispirited and right.
Shyness is simply this fear of public humiliation. All of us make predictions, models of the future, all the time. These models range enormously, from predicting where the ground will be under our feet to what it will feel like to go on vacation next year. They happen consciously and unconsciously, the vast majority unconsciously. Shyness is what happens when your predictive models come up with humiliation as the most likely outcome. If you think saying something will make you look like a fool you will become terrified of saying things, and will try not to do so. If you think you will be rejected you will try not to meet people. Of course, being shy is an excellent way of being rejected and making a fool of yourself.
When I first came to the USA if anyone wanted to talk to me, if the phone rang, if I thought someone was going to ask me a question, my heart rate rose, I started to sweat, adrenaline poured into my body. I became frightened. However, as a freshman with an English accent people wanted to meet me and talk to me as I was different and interesting based purely on being English. Most 18 year old Americans have never met an Englishman. As an aside, my accent was often called a "British accent" which is marvelously evocative of the ignorance many US people have about foreign parts. The difference between a Glaswegian and a Cockney accent is greater than between any two accents in the USA. Every American can understand any other American's speech, almost nobody can understand a Glaswegian, and a full-on Cockney isn't far behind. The decline of the regional accent in the UK is a sad thing.
Anyway, as a freshman in college I would meet many people everyday. This wouldn't be one person a day, but many people. The numbers were enough that most days someone would say, "Hi' to me on the street, remember my name and start a conversation but I would have no idea who they were. When you meet one Englishman a month you remember him. When you meet 100 Americans a month you will not remember most of them. After a very short time I realized that all of these people were interested in the same things, asking the same questions, finding the answers interesting, and trusting me implicitly to have the right answers. This is about the most perfect way possible to develop confidence in meeting new people, have predictable conversations in which you will be interesting and have authority. In psychological terms this is called flooding, and is an acknowledged treatment for some phobias.
As a result of this period I became a very confident person, very outgoing, very socially active. I made friends easily, comfortably talked to strangers, and looked forward to new situations and new people. This has been generally the case ever since. That is until possibly now.
My social interactions in Texas have been generally poor. Or at least any interaction that goes into any depth. Superficially there is no problem. I can smile at people in a store, have a brief exchange in a bar, or make small talk about sport. However, as soon as the topic wanders away from these social niceties there becomes trouble. I disagree with most people around here on everything from politics to religion, to art, to environment (both generally and the suburbs). My exercise is different, my clothes are different, my education is different, my conversation style is different, how I think is different. If there is one thing I have learned about Texas (or at least the bits I have encountered) it is that difference is not liked.
My other social interactions outside of the home have been on the internet. The internet is particularly disposed to expressing opinions, and particularly disposed to people being displeased, upset and angry. I can't remember the last time I was called a liar or dishonest in real life, but it happens regularly on-line.
This means that for the last couple of years my environment has taught me that social interactions are probably going to go badly. I have been taught that I can either fake it, or be disliked. I am bad at faking it, or at least I really, really dislike it. Perhaps that is what makes me a "genuine person. The result is the opposite process that happened to me my freshman year of college. I am becoming more withdrawn, nervous at the prospect of meeting people, less interested in social interaction. When I do meet people I am becoming less animated, less involved, less confident.
I can feel this process happening even with this blog. This blog is supposed to be me expressing myself freely. It feels like this has annoyed people that I know to the point that they don't wish to comment or even read it, hence my request for people saying "Hi" in the last post. This impression might well be false. I was just shocked to discover that this blog has had nearly 700 views this month. I think that actually it is my feelings about social interactions that color this impression more than the actual situation.
I do not like this. I think my greatest chance of changing this state is to move to a more supportive environment, a place populated by "my tribe." Until then I should attempt to tell myself stories about my being an interesting, kind, empathic, intelligent person. A person that interesting, kind, empathic, intelligent people would like to meet. One thing Texas has taught me, it feels better to be confident and wrong than to be dispirited and right.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Chapter Six
It was while Alyami was sitting in the dust that he saw the great love of his life. Sitting in the square of the caravanserai he had been trying, with meager success, to conjure up enough pennies to purchase a meal through the kindness of strangers and the playing of his rabab. While there was money aplenty in the purses of the merchants striding across the square, the dust, the heat, and the noise rendered his playing a pretty tinkling in the background.
Upon finishing a tune he looked up, the dust and heat parching his throat, and there she was. Their eyes met and nothing else mattered. His chest thrummed and his eyes glistened. It seemed that her eyes penetrated into his mind, through his eyes and into his soul. She looked away, gave one more glance and scurried away, all grace and elegance under her robes.
She was part of the entourage of a particularly ostentatiously wealthy merchant. A peacock of silks and gold, sadly bedraggled with the journey and the dust of the square. Hulking bodyguards brooded and glared around the edges. Clerks fluttered around their master like chickens, clucking for attention while terrified of receiving it. At the back of this troop were the women, wrapped in dark robes, huddling together, only their eyes giving proof of their humanity.
Alyami was wounded. All thought of hunger, or tomorrow vanished. Those eyes! Those eyes! When he closed his eyes in sweet pain he saw them. He saw them look right into his heart. The pain swelled until there was nothing else. He must see her again.
That night he wandered the halls of the caravanserai, looking for the merchant's party. Through many a question, an outraged threat, a suspicious stare he wandered/blundered through hallways. He knew he was earning a reputation as a probable thief, and wasn't it truly earned? Was he not trying to steal love away from its rightful owner? With the moral certitude of the young artist he told himself that this was false, certainly false! You cannot cage love. You cannot own love. Love is given and taken freely, or does not exist at all.
Finally he saw a woman in robes hurrying across a hallway carrying a jug. He noticed that the robes were the same as those in the square. At last he had found where she, or wonderful she, was housed. He turned and scampered down the hall, his heart full of joy and certainty. He didn't even notice the hands moving to swords and knives. What was a running man at night in the caravanserai but a thief? The lack of cries was his only protection.
Alyami told the guards at the gate that he wanted to stroll in the night air, to play his music in the solitude of the desert. While this was clearly the act of an insane man, it was well known that musicians were insane, and so he was permitted to pass. After all, better to let a demon out of your abode should it wish to leave.
He wandered around the walls to the tiny windows of the apartments of his love's captor (or so he had begun to think of him) and quietly tuned his rabab. He thought of what to play. The Love Song of Prince Mahmoud? Nehri's Dance? The Gaoled Heart? None seemed right, as they were the loves of others, and his love was special, the grandest and most beautiful love that had ever been. He determined that he would let his heart guide his hands, and began to play.
The music uncoiled across the sands. It yearned, it tempted, it pleaded. It sang to the stars, it flew with the wind, it brushed the mind, the heart, and the skin. Alyami knew that it was right, that it was pure. If there was any truth or justice in the world she would hear his call and know that there could be no love like his.
Four hours later, exhausted and grimy, he returned to the gate. The guards poked and prodded him, looked for horns or forked tongue. They checked for potions, scrolls, and daggers that dripped poison. They uttered protections and incantations. Finally they grudgingly accepted that this was but a human being and admitted him. Alyami found a corner and collapsed and slept and slept. For a musician must be used to late nights, disappointment and a hard bed.
For four nights he repeated his pleas from the desert. For three nights he returned to his dusty corner. For three days he searched for those eyes but only saw them when he closed his own. On the fourth night, oh at last! He heard a whispered call, "Demon, why do you try to tempt me into the desert? I know better than to heed the call of the djinn."
"Fair lady, I am no demon. I am the musician you see in the square. I am here only because I love you, I yearn for you. My heart is full of pain without you and so I pour it out into the sands." Alyami was quite pleased with this. He had rehearsed the last sentence in his mind for hours. "Come out and see me and I will prove my love."
"I cannot leave the caravanserai, demon, nor would I if I could." His lady was clearly no fool, and her voice was like nectar even through the croaking of her whisper.
"Then my love, name the place and time, and I will be there whatever the danger." Alyami fell to his knees with his pleading. He had hope, hope rising from the ashes of his despair.
"The east tower at midnight. That is your chance demon," came the glorious words upon the desert breeze.
******
At the next midnight Alyami flitted through the shadows of the east tower in his best impersonation of an assassin. It was such a poor effort, although whole-hearted, that the merest glance from a guard would have resulted in his imprisonment. Nobody who moved like that could be involved in honest work. Only years later would Alyami learn that the surest way not to be discovered is to walk in the open certain in the propriety of your action.
At the top of the steps his heart stopped as he saw a guard slumped by the door. It beat again when the smell of alcohol and the sound of snores reached him. His love was clever. Well, of course she was, how could she be otherwise.
He opened the door with the impossibly loud creaking that all doors have in the middle of the night, and entered. There she was, outlined in the moonlight, her in the flesh. He stood, dumbfounded, rooted to the spot, his mouth dry and his hands clenched.
"Ah, demon, you are so young and pretty. So daring. Are you not afraid of being discovered? They would remove that pretty head from those shapely shoulders."
"I love you. The greater danger is to be apart from you for I cannot withstand it." Alyami could say such things and mean them, as only the young can do.
"Then come here and show me your love, my brave, bashful lover."
As if in a dream he floated across the tower floor until her hands touched him; holding, moving, searching. Her face rose and their eyes met.
"You aren't her!" blurted Alyami in surprise.
"I don't know who she is, young lover, but I am truly myself, I am here, and the world is more than you know it to be." She caressed his cheek, and then his thigh. Suddenly Alyami recognized the wisdom in this woman. He had been foolish and this marvelous woman had shown him the truth. Over the next few hours and nights Alyami learned that there was much more to true love than the meeting of eyes across a square. he also learned a great many other things that throughout the rest of his life were a delight to himself, and all of his many one, true loves.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
A Cold
I have a cold. Not as badly as Christina, and I get to stay home.
However, I am sick, and sickness makes me very tired. Christina slept for twelve hours last night and was tired when she went to work. I slept the same amount but stretched it out into different naps and snatches. We have the most comfortable bed. Sometimes I just lie in it and feel the comfort.
Sickness removes motivation, even the motivation to have empathy. Christina is working while being more sick, and I really should feel bad for her but I am more focused on lying down and being comfortable. I have these things I "should" do. I should be writing interesting stuff. I should be reading about the philosophy of the mind. I should be playing music.
I am largely writing this so that I will have written something, a should completed. A pass on a pass/fail grading system. It will actually probably be more interesting to people than most of my stuff. It's a human interest story about a lack of human interest.
The wise men of the East (they do all seem to be men, even more so than in the West) advise to look at how animals deal with sickness. They lie down and sleep a lot. They don't feel like they should be doing this, or trying that. They just rest and get better, without guilt or worry, and so sickness isn't as bad and recovery is quicker. I'm not sure if they are right or not, but I'm going to give it a try.
If you repeatedly read this blog please say "Hi" in the comments. It feels very much like everyone has gone away.
However, I am sick, and sickness makes me very tired. Christina slept for twelve hours last night and was tired when she went to work. I slept the same amount but stretched it out into different naps and snatches. We have the most comfortable bed. Sometimes I just lie in it and feel the comfort.
Sickness removes motivation, even the motivation to have empathy. Christina is working while being more sick, and I really should feel bad for her but I am more focused on lying down and being comfortable. I have these things I "should" do. I should be writing interesting stuff. I should be reading about the philosophy of the mind. I should be playing music.
I am largely writing this so that I will have written something, a should completed. A pass on a pass/fail grading system. It will actually probably be more interesting to people than most of my stuff. It's a human interest story about a lack of human interest.
The wise men of the East (they do all seem to be men, even more so than in the West) advise to look at how animals deal with sickness. They lie down and sleep a lot. They don't feel like they should be doing this, or trying that. They just rest and get better, without guilt or worry, and so sickness isn't as bad and recovery is quicker. I'm not sure if they are right or not, but I'm going to give it a try.
If you repeatedly read this blog please say "Hi" in the comments. It feels very much like everyone has gone away.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Chapter 5
While Little Mika's mother stamped on the last remains of the fire in the corner of the cottage, Old Nerwhal held Little Mika in his firm grasp while Little Mika sobbed his rage and fury at the injustice of it all. The tantrum was prolonged and violent, Mika squirming and fighting and sobbing, with the stinging smell of smoke filling the room. Old Nerwhal's dry, ancient voice whispered, "Hush, hush, hush Little Mika."
The screaming became sobbing, the sobbing became hiccups, and the hiccups became sulking. The ashes and charred blanket were taken out of the cottage by a woman with the look of contained fury that only a busy mother can manage properly. Finally Old Nerwhal asked, "Little Mika, would you like to hear a story?"
"Is, hic, is it good story?"
"Well, Little Mika, you will never know unless you hear it. I like it, but I am old and you are very young. I am old enough to remember when your mother was little like you and used to cause trouble just like you. If you tell your mother I said that she will tear your arms off and make you eat them! So let's have that as our little secret, OK?" Little Mika grinned with evil delight and settled in for the story, transferring vast amounts of snot from his face to his hands.
"A long time ago, when my grandfather's grandfather was as little as you, things were very different. Each of the villages had their own gods, and demons, and costumes. They would look at the other villages and say, 'Look at those wicked people with their bad gods, and their wicked demons. They must be very bad people, and bad people want to steal our women and crops. Let us grab out spears and stop them before they do that to us.'"
Little Mika's eyes grew wide. This might be a very good story, with stabbing and blood and killing.
"So, one day the men of the village of Nervwahla drank too much water-of-lightning.."
Little Mika chirped up, "You drink lots of water-of-lightning too!"
"Hmmph, well, um, there is the right amount of water-of-lightning, and then you can drink too much," extemporized Old Nerwhal.
"How much is too much?" asked Little Mika in that disconcerting intelligent way children have of getting straight to the point.
"Listen to the story Little Mika and you will find out,"
"So, the men of Nervwahla drank much too much water-of-lightning, not a sensible amount like a wise grandfather, and decided they would go attack the neighboring village, which was Atvwahla, and kill the men, and take their crops, and maybe the nicer women."
"Do you remember the village Atvwahla, Little Mika?"
"Is it the one by the river with the funny fish?"
"No Little Mika, that is a different story. Wait, how did you hear that story? That isn't a story a little boy should hear. When your mother tells you to stay in bed, you do what she says! I don't want to see you having to eat your own arms."
"Not little boy," grumbled Little Mika with infinite resentment.
"Atvwahla is the village where He From Whom Our Blessings Come was born. Remember the tiger? Anyway, the men of Nervwahla thought the men of Atvwahla were very wicked people who had stolen their crops instead of grown them through hard work, and the men of Atvwahla thought the same thing about the men of Nervwahla. So they both thought it was a good thing to kill the bad men, take what they had stolen, and rescue the nice women from that horrible place."
Little Mika nodded in satisfied agreement. He thought this was a very good idea indeed. Maybe when he was big he would go kill all the bad men and steal their stuff, although girls were icky, and his sister was really icky, so they could stay in the horrible place.
"So, the men of Nervwahla grabbed their spears and set off in the afternoon, because they had been drinking in the day, not like a sensible grandfather who drinks in the evening, and went to go surprise the village of Atvwahla. But! The men of Atvwala did not trust the men of Nervwala and so had a lookout ready. He saw the men coming and ran as fast as his legs could go back to Atvwahla and told all the men. They gathered up their spears and went to meet the men of Nervwahla."
This was very good news for Little Mika. This might be one of the really good stories, like the ones he heard the men telling when they had drunk the right amount of water-of-lightning at night when dumb people said he should be sleeping. Silly, dumb people.
"There on a mountain meadow, with the snow of the Roof-of-the-World in a ring around the bluest sky, the two villages met each other. Oh how they yelled, and taunted, and stuck out their tongues, and showed their naked bottoms to each other."
Little Mika giggled, "Bum. Ha ha! Bum! Bum!"
"Stop that now, Mika, stop that! Listen to the story. I'm warning you, if you don't stop saying that right now I'll send you to your mother and your bum, I mean bottom, will be as red as um, well, really really red."
"Sometimes you are just a very naughty boy. Well, hhmmmppphh, the two groups of men taunted each other. Taunted means being mean like you are when you tease your sister. Yes you do tease her. No she doesn't deserve it. She is not icky!"
"Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, finally one young man from Nervwahla plucked up his courage (because young men talk much more about being brave than actually being brave), ran up and threw his spear."
Little Mika wriggled in excitement. This was a really good story.
"The spear hit a man in the shoulder and he fell down, and it hurt him very badly. You don't like it when something hurts you, do you Mika?" Old Nerwhal was determined to make a point but only managed to get a frown and discontented muttering.
"The men of Atvwahla were suddenly really angry. They roared and yelled so loudly, grabbed their spears and got ready to charge at the men of the other village. Just then a seven year old boy walked out of the woods carrying some flowers he had been collecting for his mother, because he was a good little boy and everyone was nice to him all the time and he never got a spanking. Do you know who that was, little Mika?"
"No," grumbled Little Mika, who could pick out a giant hint when it was dumped on him.
"It was He Who From Our Blessings Come when he was a little boy. He walked out onto the meadow carrying his bunch of flowers, and he walked right between the men of the two villages, and he wasn't afraid at all. The men of both villages stopped and looked at the boy. 'Why are you fighting?' He asked them in his beautiful voice. 'That man is hurting, and you will hurt each other a lot if you fight. Isn't hurting bad?'"
"The men of both villages suddenly felt silly. They looked at each other across the meadow and saw that the men of the other village were men just like they were. They dropped their spears, and felt much, much better. Why would they hate each other when they could be nice to each other? The young man of Nervwahla who had thrown the spear felt very sad and ran to the man he had hurt. He pulled out the spear and wrapped up the wound and said, 'I'm sorry, so sorry' and the wounded man forgave him.
"The men of the two villages sat down in that meadow together. The men of Atvwahla brought water-of-lightning and the men of Nervwahla brought meat of the mountain goat, and they had a big feast and laughed and sang and had a great time. They promised never to fight again, but to be friends and help each other out when they needed it."
"Since then they have never tried to fight each other again, or steal from each other. Each summer they meet in that same meadow and have a great feast. That is why the Blessed Ones travel around from place to place and when they come to your village you must invite your neighbors, have a big feast and promise to be friends forever." Old Nerwhal took a breath. It seemed almost as tiring to tell Little Mika a story as to be in one.
"So Little Mika, what did you think of that story?" asked Old Nerwhal, with just a little spark of hope in his heart.
"Stupid story. Should have stuck spears in each other." and Little Mika slipped out of Old Nerwhal's grasp and ran out of the house, looking for something to burn, break, or tease.
The screaming became sobbing, the sobbing became hiccups, and the hiccups became sulking. The ashes and charred blanket were taken out of the cottage by a woman with the look of contained fury that only a busy mother can manage properly. Finally Old Nerwhal asked, "Little Mika, would you like to hear a story?"
"Is, hic, is it good story?"
"Well, Little Mika, you will never know unless you hear it. I like it, but I am old and you are very young. I am old enough to remember when your mother was little like you and used to cause trouble just like you. If you tell your mother I said that she will tear your arms off and make you eat them! So let's have that as our little secret, OK?" Little Mika grinned with evil delight and settled in for the story, transferring vast amounts of snot from his face to his hands.
"A long time ago, when my grandfather's grandfather was as little as you, things were very different. Each of the villages had their own gods, and demons, and costumes. They would look at the other villages and say, 'Look at those wicked people with their bad gods, and their wicked demons. They must be very bad people, and bad people want to steal our women and crops. Let us grab out spears and stop them before they do that to us.'"
Little Mika's eyes grew wide. This might be a very good story, with stabbing and blood and killing.
"So, one day the men of the village of Nervwahla drank too much water-of-lightning.."
Little Mika chirped up, "You drink lots of water-of-lightning too!"
"Hmmph, well, um, there is the right amount of water-of-lightning, and then you can drink too much," extemporized Old Nerwhal.
"How much is too much?" asked Little Mika in that disconcerting intelligent way children have of getting straight to the point.
"Listen to the story Little Mika and you will find out,"
"So, the men of Nervwahla drank much too much water-of-lightning, not a sensible amount like a wise grandfather, and decided they would go attack the neighboring village, which was Atvwahla, and kill the men, and take their crops, and maybe the nicer women."
"Do you remember the village Atvwahla, Little Mika?"
"Is it the one by the river with the funny fish?"
"No Little Mika, that is a different story. Wait, how did you hear that story? That isn't a story a little boy should hear. When your mother tells you to stay in bed, you do what she says! I don't want to see you having to eat your own arms."
"Not little boy," grumbled Little Mika with infinite resentment.
"Atvwahla is the village where He From Whom Our Blessings Come was born. Remember the tiger? Anyway, the men of Nervwahla thought the men of Atvwahla were very wicked people who had stolen their crops instead of grown them through hard work, and the men of Atvwahla thought the same thing about the men of Nervwahla. So they both thought it was a good thing to kill the bad men, take what they had stolen, and rescue the nice women from that horrible place."
Little Mika nodded in satisfied agreement. He thought this was a very good idea indeed. Maybe when he was big he would go kill all the bad men and steal their stuff, although girls were icky, and his sister was really icky, so they could stay in the horrible place.
"So, the men of Nervwahla grabbed their spears and set off in the afternoon, because they had been drinking in the day, not like a sensible grandfather who drinks in the evening, and went to go surprise the village of Atvwahla. But! The men of Atvwala did not trust the men of Nervwala and so had a lookout ready. He saw the men coming and ran as fast as his legs could go back to Atvwahla and told all the men. They gathered up their spears and went to meet the men of Nervwahla."
This was very good news for Little Mika. This might be one of the really good stories, like the ones he heard the men telling when they had drunk the right amount of water-of-lightning at night when dumb people said he should be sleeping. Silly, dumb people.
"There on a mountain meadow, with the snow of the Roof-of-the-World in a ring around the bluest sky, the two villages met each other. Oh how they yelled, and taunted, and stuck out their tongues, and showed their naked bottoms to each other."
Little Mika giggled, "Bum. Ha ha! Bum! Bum!"
"Stop that now, Mika, stop that! Listen to the story. I'm warning you, if you don't stop saying that right now I'll send you to your mother and your bum, I mean bottom, will be as red as um, well, really really red."
"Sometimes you are just a very naughty boy. Well, hhmmmppphh, the two groups of men taunted each other. Taunted means being mean like you are when you tease your sister. Yes you do tease her. No she doesn't deserve it. She is not icky!"
"Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, finally one young man from Nervwahla plucked up his courage (because young men talk much more about being brave than actually being brave), ran up and threw his spear."
Little Mika wriggled in excitement. This was a really good story.
"The spear hit a man in the shoulder and he fell down, and it hurt him very badly. You don't like it when something hurts you, do you Mika?" Old Nerwhal was determined to make a point but only managed to get a frown and discontented muttering.
"The men of Atvwahla were suddenly really angry. They roared and yelled so loudly, grabbed their spears and got ready to charge at the men of the other village. Just then a seven year old boy walked out of the woods carrying some flowers he had been collecting for his mother, because he was a good little boy and everyone was nice to him all the time and he never got a spanking. Do you know who that was, little Mika?"
"No," grumbled Little Mika, who could pick out a giant hint when it was dumped on him.
"It was He Who From Our Blessings Come when he was a little boy. He walked out onto the meadow carrying his bunch of flowers, and he walked right between the men of the two villages, and he wasn't afraid at all. The men of both villages stopped and looked at the boy. 'Why are you fighting?' He asked them in his beautiful voice. 'That man is hurting, and you will hurt each other a lot if you fight. Isn't hurting bad?'"
"The men of both villages suddenly felt silly. They looked at each other across the meadow and saw that the men of the other village were men just like they were. They dropped their spears, and felt much, much better. Why would they hate each other when they could be nice to each other? The young man of Nervwahla who had thrown the spear felt very sad and ran to the man he had hurt. He pulled out the spear and wrapped up the wound and said, 'I'm sorry, so sorry' and the wounded man forgave him.
"The men of the two villages sat down in that meadow together. The men of Atvwahla brought water-of-lightning and the men of Nervwahla brought meat of the mountain goat, and they had a big feast and laughed and sang and had a great time. They promised never to fight again, but to be friends and help each other out when they needed it."
"Since then they have never tried to fight each other again, or steal from each other. Each summer they meet in that same meadow and have a great feast. That is why the Blessed Ones travel around from place to place and when they come to your village you must invite your neighbors, have a big feast and promise to be friends forever." Old Nerwhal took a breath. It seemed almost as tiring to tell Little Mika a story as to be in one.
"So Little Mika, what did you think of that story?" asked Old Nerwhal, with just a little spark of hope in his heart.
"Stupid story. Should have stuck spears in each other." and Little Mika slipped out of Old Nerwhal's grasp and ran out of the house, looking for something to burn, break, or tease.
Inanity
I live in a situation where I have very little direct contact with people. I don't hang out with friends. I have my wife, and right now with her in Portland for a week I have had an excellent chance to see what that means to me (I function, but I am just treading water, not flourishing), but not really anybody else with whom I can have a conversation.
To ward off loneliness I have The Face of Evil, which works surprisingly well as loneliness doesn't care whether other people are evil or dumb, and the internet. I spend more time than would be healthy otherwise on forums and facebook. I repeatedly try to reduce my time on these places in favor of self-improvement, but find it very difficult to do so. Basically the internet works to reduce loneliness. As long as you can have a conversation, some contact between minds, there is a social interaction.
The difference between the internet and real world interactions is that with the internet you get time to think about your response, there is a flawless record of what was said to which you can refer, and there is distance. By distance I mean that there are no other emotional clues other than words. There is no intonation, no facial expressions, no body language, no chemical messages. We all know that you can say the same words and have two completely different meanings, and that in person those different meanings are obvious to everyone but the woman you are in a relationship with who wants to have a fight that will somehow be your fault.
I was raised in an environment where discussion meant that there was an idea that was talked about. An academic environment where disagreement was interesting and agreement was dull. Or more accurately, that environment was extremely available, which may explain why my sisters and I didn't talk a whole lot once I became a teenager. I have discovered that this is a really weird environment.
On the internet people express their opinion about something. It is very rare that I exactly agree with a position, when I do I say so and that is very brief. More commonly I differ in some way, and I have a tendency to say so. For me this is a starting point for conversation, or a pleasant diversion, a useful means of exchanging ideas and information. How it is usually taken is as a personal attack, often it is explicitly said that I am uncaring, or ignorant, or someone out to hurt people for fun. Basically I never actually insult someone, although after a while I may demean their particular opinion when they don't listen to me (nobody has to agree with me, they just need to understand what I am saying). In practice this distinction means nothing. To express a different opinion and continue to express it in the most convincing way possible is to viewed as attacking someone.
The other thing people do on the internet is safe updating, inanity. They discuss the weather. They say whether they have a cold. They say they are pleased to go on vacation. They show a picture of their children. Basically they are saying they are human, having ordinary experiences, but mostly they are just confirming they are part of a group. Part of being in a group is making noises without real meaning other than to reassure people that they are part of a group.
When I first came to the States people kept asking me "How are you doing?" I would answer this question honestly, telling them if I was happy, or sad, tired, etc.. I remember always getting these pained, baffled looks. It took me about eighteen months until I understood that people weren't interested in the answer, it was a meaningless piece of politeness, the same as saying, "Hello." the correct answer, under any circumstances is, "Fine." When I would point this out to Americans they were generally unaware of this, and about half said it wasn't true. After all, to ask how someone is doing and then not care would be terribly rude, if you were actually asking that question.
In summary, what people want is to be able to say what they think and have people agree with them. Or they want to say inane things to get along. I am very bad at these things. There are few things more excruciating in my regular life than to go to a social event because "We should" rather than because "It will be fun" and then spend the time ensuring we talk to everyone "We should" without saying "Anything that might upset them." The most fun portions of those events is to find the other people who hate it so as to talk about anything else. I am terrible at keeping my mouth shut when something is wrong. When someone says, "That socialist government health care is stupid, the government can't get anything right" I just cannot stop myself from saying "The French live longer and spend half as much money on health care."
Just about the perfect way to lose friends is to not to use small talk (because then you don't care) and to want to have a discussion with different views (because then you are rude, aggressive, insecure etc.). The perfect way to keep friends is to agree with them, tell them how capable they are, and never say anything that means anything significant. Of course, I do care about people, one of my problems is getting trapped in bars fixing the lives of perfect strangers at their request. I open my mouth to have discussions that are fun and interesting with people I think smart enough to learn and teach. it doesn't matter.
There are groups of people where my style works. They are academics, and at my level of knowledge of any particular subject, usually students. I think basically I never grew up. I have the moods, and the earnestness, and the desire to learn and then tell people what I have learned that college freshman have. Let's change the world, let's find out new things, let's really think hard about what we know, let's question orthodoxy, let's share what we know. The person I love more than anyone else has independent ideas, is smarter than I am, independently finds things out, and proves to me that I am wrong more than everyone I have ever met.
One of the goals in our plan, that seems to get more distant as time goes by (but probably isn't), is to live in a community where there are students. Students are more intelligent, more creative, more challenging, and have more energy than the general population. Mostly, they are more like me than most people. Until then I have to try to practice inanity, look for things to discover (TED talks, most interesting thing ever) and use this blog to express my thoughts. I don't expect to do well at this.
To ward off loneliness I have The Face of Evil, which works surprisingly well as loneliness doesn't care whether other people are evil or dumb, and the internet. I spend more time than would be healthy otherwise on forums and facebook. I repeatedly try to reduce my time on these places in favor of self-improvement, but find it very difficult to do so. Basically the internet works to reduce loneliness. As long as you can have a conversation, some contact between minds, there is a social interaction.
The difference between the internet and real world interactions is that with the internet you get time to think about your response, there is a flawless record of what was said to which you can refer, and there is distance. By distance I mean that there are no other emotional clues other than words. There is no intonation, no facial expressions, no body language, no chemical messages. We all know that you can say the same words and have two completely different meanings, and that in person those different meanings are obvious to everyone but the woman you are in a relationship with who wants to have a fight that will somehow be your fault.
I was raised in an environment where discussion meant that there was an idea that was talked about. An academic environment where disagreement was interesting and agreement was dull. Or more accurately, that environment was extremely available, which may explain why my sisters and I didn't talk a whole lot once I became a teenager. I have discovered that this is a really weird environment.
On the internet people express their opinion about something. It is very rare that I exactly agree with a position, when I do I say so and that is very brief. More commonly I differ in some way, and I have a tendency to say so. For me this is a starting point for conversation, or a pleasant diversion, a useful means of exchanging ideas and information. How it is usually taken is as a personal attack, often it is explicitly said that I am uncaring, or ignorant, or someone out to hurt people for fun. Basically I never actually insult someone, although after a while I may demean their particular opinion when they don't listen to me (nobody has to agree with me, they just need to understand what I am saying). In practice this distinction means nothing. To express a different opinion and continue to express it in the most convincing way possible is to viewed as attacking someone.
The other thing people do on the internet is safe updating, inanity. They discuss the weather. They say whether they have a cold. They say they are pleased to go on vacation. They show a picture of their children. Basically they are saying they are human, having ordinary experiences, but mostly they are just confirming they are part of a group. Part of being in a group is making noises without real meaning other than to reassure people that they are part of a group.
When I first came to the States people kept asking me "How are you doing?" I would answer this question honestly, telling them if I was happy, or sad, tired, etc.. I remember always getting these pained, baffled looks. It took me about eighteen months until I understood that people weren't interested in the answer, it was a meaningless piece of politeness, the same as saying, "Hello." the correct answer, under any circumstances is, "Fine." When I would point this out to Americans they were generally unaware of this, and about half said it wasn't true. After all, to ask how someone is doing and then not care would be terribly rude, if you were actually asking that question.
In summary, what people want is to be able to say what they think and have people agree with them. Or they want to say inane things to get along. I am very bad at these things. There are few things more excruciating in my regular life than to go to a social event because "We should" rather than because "It will be fun" and then spend the time ensuring we talk to everyone "We should" without saying "Anything that might upset them." The most fun portions of those events is to find the other people who hate it so as to talk about anything else. I am terrible at keeping my mouth shut when something is wrong. When someone says, "That socialist government health care is stupid, the government can't get anything right" I just cannot stop myself from saying "The French live longer and spend half as much money on health care."
Just about the perfect way to lose friends is to not to use small talk (because then you don't care) and to want to have a discussion with different views (because then you are rude, aggressive, insecure etc.). The perfect way to keep friends is to agree with them, tell them how capable they are, and never say anything that means anything significant. Of course, I do care about people, one of my problems is getting trapped in bars fixing the lives of perfect strangers at their request. I open my mouth to have discussions that are fun and interesting with people I think smart enough to learn and teach. it doesn't matter.
There are groups of people where my style works. They are academics, and at my level of knowledge of any particular subject, usually students. I think basically I never grew up. I have the moods, and the earnestness, and the desire to learn and then tell people what I have learned that college freshman have. Let's change the world, let's find out new things, let's really think hard about what we know, let's question orthodoxy, let's share what we know. The person I love more than anyone else has independent ideas, is smarter than I am, independently finds things out, and proves to me that I am wrong more than everyone I have ever met.
One of the goals in our plan, that seems to get more distant as time goes by (but probably isn't), is to live in a community where there are students. Students are more intelligent, more creative, more challenging, and have more energy than the general population. Mostly, they are more like me than most people. Until then I have to try to practice inanity, look for things to discover (TED talks, most interesting thing ever) and use this blog to express my thoughts. I don't expect to do well at this.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Unpopular Opinions
There are opinions I almost never advance, because of their unpopularity. It is weird that I do this with some things, but not with others. After all, my experience with the internet, and many friends I have had, is that I tend to speak my mind too much. Why not all the way? Why not much less?
Anyway, here's a couple of my least popular opinions.
The first involves the military. I don't applaud the military for their service. I think the military in the countries that I have lived are people who have decided to be trained to kill people they don't know in other parts of the world for money. The difference between this and a mafia assassin is difficult for me to determine. The USA has not been attacked by a military force since the time that my parents were born. I understand the concept of defending oneself, and one's country, from outside aggression. I am not a pacifist, or against the idea of a military. However, if you join the US or British military you know that by far the most likely use of your talents is to be part of an organization that goes to a place full of poor people who couldn't attack you if they tried and kill lots of them.
I think this is horrendous for those who go and do it, as I expect being a mafia hitman is awful. I wish both groups would get all of the care they need, but I wish that of anyone. I think the reason for the flags, and the parades, and the talk of heroes, and the great sacrifice, and the concept of protecting our freedoms, are all devices used to get people to do this stuff. If you just looked at the job description nobody would dream of accepting the job.
My second is about children. There is a concept so universal within our culture, and almost every culture around the world, that children are more special than adults. It's a great tragedy if a child dies, a lesser thing if an adult dies. Hitting a defenseless child is worse than hitting a defenseless woman, and a man who can't protest himself is likely to be held in contempt.
Now, I agree that children are less capable of taking care of themselves than adults. I agree that children have less skills. If a child comes up to me and asks me to help them get home I will do so without question. If an adult asks me to help them get home they are going to have to come up with a pretty good reason why they need help. I agree that children need more protection, just as disabled people do, and for the same reasons.
I also agree that we should all chip in to help to educate children. I will have no children but have willingly paid thousands of dollars to educate the children of other people. In fact, I willingly pay more than others to do so (we do not fight our property tax assessment as is usual here). This is because educated children become educated adults, and produce a better, wealthier, healthier, safer community. However, I would just as willingly pay for graduate degrees for thirty year olds, for the same reasons, while this is far less popular generally.
However, what I really object to is the idea that because other people have decided to have children that this then requires me to do anything. The casual nature with which parents (with notable exceptions) have told me to look after their child, get them this, be wherever at whatever time, has always struck me as appallingly self-centered and contemptuous of me. There is an assumption that because someone has decided to have children that I must then help them or be considered a bad person. If I don't want to hang around watching Barney so that children won't stab themselves in the eye then I don't feel like I should have to.
I understand there is a thing that happens to the brains of parents, and for excellent evolutionary reasons, that their children are the most important things in the world. What I object to is the idea that if I disagree I am an awful person. Children are very pleasant and interesting in small amounts. Most of the time they are deeply unpleasant. If they weren't we wouldn't need to spend so much time teaching them how to behave. You would never in a million years dream of having a friend who acted like a three year old. I have no objection to children, and am actually pretty good with them. They are simply not my responsibility because I didn't choose to have them, and thinking so does not make me evil. However, liking this song does.
Anyway, here's a couple of my least popular opinions.
The first involves the military. I don't applaud the military for their service. I think the military in the countries that I have lived are people who have decided to be trained to kill people they don't know in other parts of the world for money. The difference between this and a mafia assassin is difficult for me to determine. The USA has not been attacked by a military force since the time that my parents were born. I understand the concept of defending oneself, and one's country, from outside aggression. I am not a pacifist, or against the idea of a military. However, if you join the US or British military you know that by far the most likely use of your talents is to be part of an organization that goes to a place full of poor people who couldn't attack you if they tried and kill lots of them.
I think this is horrendous for those who go and do it, as I expect being a mafia hitman is awful. I wish both groups would get all of the care they need, but I wish that of anyone. I think the reason for the flags, and the parades, and the talk of heroes, and the great sacrifice, and the concept of protecting our freedoms, are all devices used to get people to do this stuff. If you just looked at the job description nobody would dream of accepting the job.
My second is about children. There is a concept so universal within our culture, and almost every culture around the world, that children are more special than adults. It's a great tragedy if a child dies, a lesser thing if an adult dies. Hitting a defenseless child is worse than hitting a defenseless woman, and a man who can't protest himself is likely to be held in contempt.
Now, I agree that children are less capable of taking care of themselves than adults. I agree that children have less skills. If a child comes up to me and asks me to help them get home I will do so without question. If an adult asks me to help them get home they are going to have to come up with a pretty good reason why they need help. I agree that children need more protection, just as disabled people do, and for the same reasons.
I also agree that we should all chip in to help to educate children. I will have no children but have willingly paid thousands of dollars to educate the children of other people. In fact, I willingly pay more than others to do so (we do not fight our property tax assessment as is usual here). This is because educated children become educated adults, and produce a better, wealthier, healthier, safer community. However, I would just as willingly pay for graduate degrees for thirty year olds, for the same reasons, while this is far less popular generally.
However, what I really object to is the idea that because other people have decided to have children that this then requires me to do anything. The casual nature with which parents (with notable exceptions) have told me to look after their child, get them this, be wherever at whatever time, has always struck me as appallingly self-centered and contemptuous of me. There is an assumption that because someone has decided to have children that I must then help them or be considered a bad person. If I don't want to hang around watching Barney so that children won't stab themselves in the eye then I don't feel like I should have to.
I understand there is a thing that happens to the brains of parents, and for excellent evolutionary reasons, that their children are the most important things in the world. What I object to is the idea that if I disagree I am an awful person. Children are very pleasant and interesting in small amounts. Most of the time they are deeply unpleasant. If they weren't we wouldn't need to spend so much time teaching them how to behave. You would never in a million years dream of having a friend who acted like a three year old. I have no objection to children, and am actually pretty good with them. They are simply not my responsibility because I didn't choose to have them, and thinking so does not make me evil. However, liking this song does.
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