The Divine Life of Animals [Part 1]

To my long-lost readers, I offer my deepest and most shameless apologies. We are rapidly approaching the one year anniversary of my last posting. In an attempt (yet again) to eradicate what--to anyone who has sought after any semi-regular writing regimen--seems to be an unyielding tendency towards silence and failure, I have decided to undertake a book review of sorts. My ultimate goal however is not critical, but conversational. After a period of digestion (or gestation, as the case may be), I will simply dump my thoughts into the void you and I, dear reader, currently occupy. Onward:

The Divine Life of Animals: One Man's Quest to Discover Whether the Souls of Animals Live On

Introduction

Disregarding its title, my purposes in reading this book have nothing to do with the kind of New Age, All Dogs Go to Heaven, Hollywood Hinduism it seems to imply. I picked up this book because it has long been my conviction that something is missing from the standard way of talking about animals and the created world we share with them. Even as I say that, it strikes me that in typical contemporary discourse on any topic related to nature, the idea that we actually share anything with animals is a foreign one. By this I mean more than the human choice to share one's household with an animal, or tossing seeds and breadcrumbs at a few of the wild ones, or even our moral obligation to protect their natural habitat. What I am interested in exploring is the spiritual identity of all created things; an identity we share in communion with as co-participants in the self-revelation of God. This book may or may not go into these things, but I hope at least it will be a springboard.

In this opening chapter, Tompkins brings up two interesting points of discussion. The first is a very brief exploration of the word nephesh as it appears in the Hebrew scriptures. This word is a rich, multi-faceted word which, when translated into English, is flattened out as the fairly generic word soul. He illustrates that, for the ancients, one's nephesh was not an etherial thing or essential meta-self which goes away to Heaven when we die. "Indeed, our nephesh is what makes each of us who we are" (9). In Genesis, God breathes nephesh into the nose of Adam, creating the first human. Tompkins is fairly successful here in helping break down our cultural resistance to an idea such as the animal soul. I also think this enriched conceptualization of what soul is can be helpful in our own self-understanding as image-bearers. Scripture is very clear that God is not simply interested in 'soul-winning' or taking us away from our bodies. Our physical bodies are to be redeemed, as they themselves are essential to our identity. Nephesh, the soul, is not a removed spirit that eventually flees elsewhere; it is the breath in our lungs, the blood in our veins, and our eternal identity as living things. That being said, I think more discussion is needed in regards to whether or not there is a distinction between our identity as created (living) things, and personhood.

The second point brought up in the introduction I found noteworthy addresses the transition between the child's innocent emotional/spiritual connection to and sense of wonderment towards creation--particularly animals--and the removed, informed coldness of adulthood toward the same. "'Children often identify with animals in ways that amuse and frustrate us...spending emotion with an abandon that adults, with their thrifty investments and prudent decisions, cannot afford'" (11). Tompkins gives several examples of ways in which children, who know about death, and see it in various forms in media frequently, are often struck by the horror of death seemingly for the first time when it is related to animals. As a child, the author was moved by an experience attempting to feed a starving dog in Mexico and being met with reproach by his mother who saw his actions as wasteful. He had surely seen hungry people before, but I think most of us would agree children have a unique relationship with animals and seem to have an intuitive inclination towards sharing life with them in a way that is lost with age. I resonated with this discussion myself. I don't recall the name of the movie or much of what it was about, but the important point is that the story revolved around a real, not cartoon otter. As I remember it, the otter is accidentally killed in a creek by a human digging with a shovel. For months afterward, maybe even years (my parents would know better), my bed-time prayers included, "Help me forget the otter movie." There's no doubt in my mind I had encountered death before in movies or playing cowboys and Indians, but there was something about an emotional connection I made with that animal that made the reality of death hit me for the first time: Things die. When they die, they're not here anymore. When I, with my child's mind tried to see where they would be after that, all I saw was a blank space. The idea of nothingness scared me more than any monster or nightmare.

Potable Quotable: 

"We patronize [animals] for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendor and travail of the earth" (12). -Henry Beston

Okay, Glenn Beck (Rights, the Constitution, and Soviet Aesthetics)

From time to time I purposely subject myself to things like Glenn Beck's television show. Call it a kind of monastic self-flagellation. I try to be well-rounded in my consumption of political commentary, and I really do believe that we all benefit from hearing things from a different perspective. On one particular occasion, however, after watching a mere 13 minutes of his program, my head hurt so much that I couldn't even laugh at the absurdity of what was being spewed.

I love a good discussion, and I love hearing opinions that are not mine. But, dear Glenn Beck, please, for my sake, ensure that your opinions at least make sense.I've taken the liberty of transcribing the best part to give you an accurate representation of what was actually said without leaving anything out and without paraphrasing, but if you can stomach it, you can watch the full, weird, pathetic, woeful lamentation here (and i don't hesitate to use those words, because sounding pathetic and woeful is clearly Beck's shtick). Beck began his program by using an old wooden chair to represent the quote-unquote true America as it was in its 'original state.' Then came:

There were rallies today in California and all around the country (facing video of protesters lining the streets with placards). They were promoted as--look at these pinheads--they were promoted as 'saving education.' Well who--who doesn't want to save education? But the education budget wasn't the real goal. Let me show you a little something about the people involved in these protests. These were the posters that were used to promote this (walking toward a large poster featuring a slogan, and a logo of a fist on a book, painted in red, black, and white hues). Right here: 'Education is a human right.' Really? Wow. Education is a human right--boy this--almost looks like old, Soviet propaganda art dud'n'it? These people feel so strongly about education, you think they'd be educated to know that education is not a right. The Constitution doesn't mention that one. Let me clarify that; the United Sates Constitution doesn't mention that; this one does (holding a red document inscribed with Russian writing). This one. This is the Soviet constitution. Oh, it mentions education; free education for everybody, mhm. Let me help. Save the education. Rights do not come from government, they never have. If they do, you end up with a completely different government. You end up with a footstool or you end up with, what are those things that--stockades. Your rights come from God. If government grants you rights then you're a slave to the government, because if they grant them, they can also take them away. In America you don't have that right. This is what knowing what this chair is all about is all about. You gotta know what it is. Adding in education is just adding another coat of ugly paint; another ding, another scratch, somebody else just standing on it or, whatever. It wasn't designed to do that. If you want government to start granting rights then perhaps it's time to start looking for something other than a chair. Something entirely different than this because that's not what this one does. That's what this one does (raising the Soviet constitution).

First, I just want to lay out one of Beck's lines of persuasion: If the the cause is protected by the Soviet constitution (and the art looks Soviet!), then the cause is fought for by communists. Therefore, I'd like to point out to Glenn that article 53 of the Soviet constitution defines marriage as being between one man and one woman. Right now, Mr. Beck, there are people--people protesting to have an identical article added to our sacred constitution. Here--in the God-blessed U.S. of A.! Please, Glenn--reveal this conspiracy to the world. Stop these pinheads from passing these--they call them 'protection of marriage' acts--but we know what the real goal is.

Second, I think Beck is very confused in regards what he actually thinks about the nature of rights. Granted, his job is to say things, not to think about them, so we must offer him a measure of grace. Let's try to help him out, though, by pointing out a few conflicting little nuggets:

• "...education is not a right. The Constitution doesn't mention that one." Again, let's lay out this logic: The U.S. Constitution does not cite education as being a right. Therefore, education is not a right. We can also infer based on this argumentation that the Constitution is exhaustive in its delineation of rights, since we should not be adding more. Furthermore, we have assurance that by way of granting us the rights it does mention, the document also assures them to us against forces which might seek to take them away. Fair enough.

• "If government grants you rights then you're a slave to the government, because if they grant them, they can also take them away." Wait, Glenn, so are you saying that you and I and all U.S. citizens are enslaved by the Constitution rather than liberated by it?

• "Rights do not come from government, they never have." Oh, okay good, you had me scared for a second there. But you're still appealing to the Constitution to hold your whole argument together. So, if the rights granted in the Constitution are not granted by the government, then who grants them?

• "Your rights come from God." Alright, I'm following. Our rights come from God, and the Constitution is an explanation of those rights. Now, just so i can pass this knowledge on to unbelievers, can you point out to me the Scriptures the founding fathers used when they were putting this list of rights together? Maybe just the ones talking about the right to form a well-regulated militia, protection from quartering of troops, protection from unreasonable search and seizure, oh and right to counsel, I better memorize that verse, prohibition of excessive bail, and lastly, since states' rights is a big issue right now, where in the Bible should I look to show people that powers not delegated to the United States are reserved to the states or the people? ...what do you mean there's nothing in the Bible about that? Okay, I get it, so the United States Constitution is an extra-Biblical revelation the founding fathers of the nation were divinely inspired to write down. Got it.

The talented Mr. Beck has apparently acquired the unique ability to believe three distinctly different things about the nature of rights at the same time! Rights are granted by the Constitution and rights have never come from government (in fact, "If you want government to start granting rights then perhaps it's time to start looking for something other than a chair") and political rights come from God!

Well, I do think Glenn is right about one thing. If your entire conception of the rights we now or ever could have is based on the U.S. Constitution (the version we have in 2010), then you truly are a slave to it. And I must stress here, on a philosophical basis, that more accurately, you are a slave to your conception of and interpretation of that piece of paper. In Beck's case, one can conveniently forget about something like the 9th amendment (my personal favorite):

The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.

So here, I will try, on behalf of our good friend Glenn Beck to clear up some of his confusion:

• There are indeed certain fundamental things we know about humans, by nature of their being created in the image of God, which entitle them to certain rights.
• However, the rights themselves are not granted by God. It is people themselves who have the responsibility of recognizing these truths and seeking to allow various rights and responsibilities universally to others.
• In the case of the United States Constitution, our founding fathers wrote down an interpretation of--not an explanation of--the 'inalienable rights' they observed; they labored within their own personal/historical/social contexts to provide the nation with a basic understanding of these. So, for them it made sense that the right to vote applied only to white, land-owning males. However, over time, our interpretation of that same right has evolved.
• In addition to the evolution of recognized rights, our common collection of basic human rights, and our conceptions of them, is equally dynamic. Obviously, part of this is due to shifting collective political mindsets. However, I think the bigger reason is that the nature of our shared experiences is constantly changing. For example, not only have we chosen over time to collectively reject the idea of slavery itself, the picture we get of 21st century slavery is vastly different than the picture of 18th century slavery; the specific human rights relating to this issue often deal with things like forced sexual relations with children, as opposed to, say, racial domination.
• If the communal landscape is such that people choose to deem education a right, then by way of the liberties supposedly entitled to them by prior rights agreements within given communities (such as the Constitution), the people may choose to paint their chair whatever color they please. (Or create and adopt new agreements; see The Universal Declaration of Human Rights, drafted in 1948, believe it or not. See specifically article 26.)

As far as I can see, aside from blatant errors in argumentation, Beck's fundamental error is that of making the issue of Rights an ontological question, rather than a hermeneutic one (for that matter, I think he's forgotten that rights, in practice, are a political question!). So, it's no wonder all he has to grasp onto to hold his position together are bizarre conspiracies, fear tactics, and nostalgia. Though, I'm not sure if nostalgia is the right word for pining after bygone things that were never there in the first place; I think that might be more related to dementia.

Terrorism: Act or Label?

Several weeks ago, you may may remember hearing about the Boston man who was arrested for plotting an attack on a shopping mall as an act of jihad. What struck me about the coverage of this story was the constant use of this word terrorism and its other forms.

I immediately recalled the horrific events that transpired in an Amish school house several years ago.

I remembered when news broke of a brazen shooting in the Holocaust museum in Washington, D.C. and how I wondered what can cause a man to hate like that.

I also flashed back to my sophomore year of college, sitting in the lounge at school, watching as the surreal Virginia Tech shooting unfolded. The Virginia Tech attack particularly affected us as students, hearing about the massacre of 33 people just like us.

Then, news of the execution of John Allen Muhummad today brought back memories of the D.C. sniper shootings and the way a whole portion of the nation was stricken with absolute fear.

The list goes on, and I couldn't help but notice that I never remember hearing "terrorist" or "terrorism" in connection with these events or those who perpetrated them. I wonder, is there some sort of rule of thumb that determines whether vicious attacks like these are either terrorism or just your typical, plain, old, run-of-the-mill mass-murder?

Certainly we can't say that it is the number of victims which crosses the line into terrorism territory; the Virginia Tech shooter killed 33 people in a matter of hours, but wasn't deemed a terrorist.

Nor are we led to believe that targeting a specific group of people for being who they are, because of some sort of agenda, grievance, or twisted logic makes one a terrorist; the anti-Semite in D.C. had every intention of killing Jews, and the man in PA specifically targeted Amish girls.

So, I couldn't help but wonder whether the term "terrorist" only applies to Muslims. I have to say that this largely seems to be the case in post-9/11 United States.

However, I recall that the D.C. sniper professed to being a Muslim, and even talked about jihad in his writings. Being a militant Muslim did not make him a terrorist. And for that matter, neither did brainwashing his teenage accomplice. Perhaps most astonishingly, even INCITING TERROR on a massive scale did not qualify John Allen Muhammad.

Where is the disconnect?

This question was suddenly thrust into the spotlight after the tragic news of the shooting at Fort Hood came out last week. Fox News even put up this poll asking whether the massacre was an "act of terror or a horrific crime".

There is so much wrong with this picture! Not only do we not have a clear picture of what even constitutes terrorism--which, by the way, we are apparently fighting a War against--but what benefit does this distinction even offer us?

I therefore have three questions:

1. If (and this is a majorly huge, theoretical if) one concedes that it is possible to defeat terrorism through the use of War, how can said War be won if its target has no clear definiton? Would not the extent of such a War become as indefinite as its target?
   
2. If the moniker of "terrorist" does not coincide with a specific act, type of act, or motivation, is not the label then a purely political one?
3. Are not all "acts of terror" and "horrific crimes" one in the same?
   

A victim of an act of terror in Jerusalem. A victim of a horrific crime at Virginia Tech.

War According to the Artful Dodger

After getting sidetracked for a while, I recently resumed reading Oliver Twist. One passage in particular stood out to me as I read it several nights ago, and I thought it would be worth sharing.

To set this up, the pure and innocent character of Oliver is in the midst of being indoctrinated into a band of young pickpockets headed by the cunning and self-interested Fagin. One of Fagin's most gifted boys, the artful Dodger, is attempting to help Oliver overcome his intrinsic moral objections to adopting a criminal lifestyle:

'If you don't take pocket-handkechers and watches,' said the Dodger, reducing the conversation to the level of Oliver's capacity, 'some other cove will; so that the coves that lose 'em will be all the worse, and you'll be all the worse too, and nobody half a ha'p'orth the better, except the chaps wot gets them--and you've just as good a right to them as they have.'

Fagin commends this explanation and directs the impressionable Oliver to take the Dodger's word for it; he being a boy who "understands the catechism of his trade."

Within the larger context of the book, I think what Dickens wants us to be aware of are the underhanded, often imperceptible ways in which society is taught to accept and even perpetuate various forms of violent exploitation (particularly in this book, systematized, class-based poverty). Taking this a step further (and I'm sure this will roll a few eyeballs belonging to some of you who think I sound like a broken record) I couldn't help but think while reading this how similar the Dodger's enticement is to many contemporary justifications for war.

What the Dodger has successfully done is create an argument which appeals to both the altruistic and the selfish aspects of human nature. People are going to get robbed; that is a fact of life. If indeed people must be robbed, wouldn't they be better off in the end if a good person like you did the robbing? There's no telling what a very bad person might do to the poor soul in the process of robbing them. Furthermore, not only will the person getting robbed be better off if you do the robbing, but you will better your own situation in the process. Everyone wins!

It is worth adding here that in a later conversation with Bill Sykes, Fagin reveals that he sees great promise in the future criminal career of Oliver (a career which will almost strictly profit Fagin himself). However, the key would be to entice the boy to commit his first robbery; then and only then would Oliver fall securely into Fagin's pocket. There he could develop into the next Bill Sykes (but conveniently less strong-willed), who, in addition to burglary, would not shy away from taking a person's life if he saw fit.

I admonish the reader to seek a deeper sensitivity to the sly way in which our societies are sold a proverbial bill of goods relating to matters of war. What the Dodger does not disclose to Oliver is that one's perceived righteousness in carrying out an immoral act does not make the action any less evil. This I believe includes supposed "necessary" evils, as well as those which seem "natural" or inherent to our present reality as robbery in this case was made out to be.

I also found it interesting that Fagin refers to the Dodger's explanation as being an illustration of the "catechism" of the criminal trade; the term catechism being typically used in a religious sense to describe an outline of the beliefs within a given faith. This is another aspect of the way we think about war which I think we need to be keenly aware of. In accepting the rationale for--thus necessarily, acts of and loss of innocent life resulting from--war and warfare, we are not simply making a one-time decision or casting our vote for a single issue; we are choosing to adopt an entire system of belief.

We must also seek an awareness of the principalities (to use the old Biblical term) into whose control we place ourselves when we affirm the tenets of such a "catechism." In many cases, one well-intentioned act can have far-reaching repercussions which place control of our lives (as well as the lives of countless others) in the hands of very dark forces that seek only to desensitize us and further justify increasingly abominable acts.

Race as Oppressive Social Construct?

Of late, I've become more and more interested in exploring the philosophy of race. After reading several essays by Cornel West--who for obvious reasons has a vested interest in the subject--and working extensively on theories concerning the identity of the Other in politics for my thesis, I continue to notice the complex ways in which a philosophy of race must necessarily be considered inextricable from a cultural theory of violence.

I'll admit that all these various ideas came crashing together very unacademically tonight as I watched The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson (which, by the way is the second best late night talk show behind Conan). During a chat with Corkie Roberts about the self-designated supremacy of the white male, Craig made the comment, "Do you know we just elected a black president?"

In light of the context of the conversation, I suddenly thought to myself, But, isn't Barack Obama as WHITE as he is BLACK?

The simple illustration of a man with a white mother and black father being labeled 'black' seems to me an indication that we are talking much more than ethnicity when we talk race. This ironically coincides with a book I had just started earlier today, "Violence" by Slavoj Zizek. In the introduction, Zizek writes, concerning necessary distinctions between various types of violence:

...Subjective and objective violence cannot be perceived from the same standpoint: subjective violence is experienced as such against the background of a non-violent zero level. It is seen as a perturbation of the "normal," peaceful state of things. However, objective violence is precisely the violence inherent to this "normal" state of things. Objective violence is invisible since it sustains the very zero-level standard against which we perceive something as subjectively violent. Systematic violence is thus something like the notorious "dark matter" of physics, the counterpart to an all-too-visible subjective violence. It may be invisible, but it has to be taken into account if one is to make sense of what otherwise seem to be "irrational" explosions of subjective violence.

We Americans are acutely aware of the disturbing volume of subjective violence perpetrated as a result of racial tensions. But, if we take Zizek's cultural theory and examine race in this light, I wonder if the imposition of race itself is the latent systematic act of violence, which, like dark matter, physically holds together our conceptions of peaceful racial normalcy (which, as we know is itself rife with various forms of objective political and economic violence). This ties into an earlier comment of Zizek's that:

...There is a more fundamental form of violence still that pertains to language as such, to its imposition of a certain universe of meaning.

The universe of meaning associated with being black is a universe I personally can observe but never experience or fully understand. However, there is commonality between it and my own racial universe of being white in that both, in my opinion, are violently imposed from without, rather than arising out of self-revelation.

Resulting from externally imposed racial identity, the impulse towards self-segregation is maddeningly more common than I think most people realize, and it's evident everywhere from the locations we choose to live, to the language we use to even talk about race. Imagine, for instance, a white immigrant from Johannesburg who chooses to call herself an "African-American." The term carries with it all of the associations and prejudices of the term 'black,' so I find it puzzling that it is often seen as being more politically correct. While racial identity makes us comfortable by drawing neat lines between us, these lines seem to be the very thing that must be examined and questioned if we are to understand and effectively act against the violence perpetrated because of them.

Returning to the example of our new president, we see this in his own profession of being a black man, in that this identity is entirely a result of experiences resulting from the larger system of racial prejudice and violence which has pre-defined him as 'black.'

So, again, I wonder if I'm way off in thinking that racial identity is itself violent. For the record, I think a 'color-blind' system is equally violent by imposing some sort of neutral identity, over a self-revealed one which would of course include skin color and resulting conceptions based on one's treatment because of it. Yet, behind segregation (self-imposed, or forced), behind prejudice, behind political and economic oppression, the ultimate act of violence seems to be defining who is black and who is white.

Holy Week Day 3: Thoughts on Divine Child-Abuse

I remember hearing an interview on NPR some time ago with an espoused atheist (whose name has since slipped my mind) who wrote a book dealing with the violence of what he labeled the "Christian" God. He invited his audience to ask how an ever-loving, good God could condemn anyone to hell, and how a just God could murder his own son as payment for the sins of others. This latter question is the one I'd like to open up in light of Holy Week.

Though I think the author's perspective is rooted somewhere between an ignorance of and a misinterpretation of the Christian narrative, such questions are nevertheless valid for anyone seeking to understand these acts, especially those outside the Church who have legitimate concerns, hesitations, and suspicions about it. Furthermore, it is no surprise, given the plethora of violent interpretations of the Cross perpetuated among many Churches, that one would choose atheism over barbarism.

If the Church is intentional about how it engages in such conversations, there are as many benefits to answering these questions as there are to having them answered. Too often in certain Christian circles, staunch defenders-of-the-faith jump at the chance to dismantle piecemeal tenets of atheism, carelessly dismissing the idea of divine child abuse as yet another example of how heretical 'the world' has become. (Never addressing what such a continuous downward spiral of culture would reveal about the effectiveness of the Church.)

I also think it's important to espouse the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity without using it as another tool to dismiss the question. It is valid to say that since Christ is God, the cross is not divine child abuse. Yet while true (albeit incomplete), this 'defense' leaves itself open to being boiled down to divine self-mutilation, which is no more attractive. Luckily, however, it is also valid to say that Christ has a separate personhood from God. In a real sense, Jesus is the Son of God, and while simultaneously focusing on this distinctiveness is scarier for some, it is the only way to address the situation accurately and fully in the context of the Christian narrative. For, we know that rather than God simply acting as some sort of medieval flagellant, Christ, in individual expression, humbled Himself, obedient and subservient even to the point of death.

That being said, I'd like to move on to an interpretation of the Cross which I have found deeply compelling, and I don't want to frame it as a 'defense,' (at least in the overly loaded sense of the word) as much as an 'articulation.' I don't think it's helpful or productive to answer these questions merely in opposition to atheism, the ermerging church, or what have you. I think the 'challenge' of atheism calls us to affirm and know and claim our own story, rather than militaristically defend it, trench by trench, as if it were a piece of territory.

I want to draw from Rene Girard's rich, anthropological conception of the cross. What I find of value in his interpretation is that the responsibility for the violence of the crucifixion is rightly placed on human beings, not God. As a sort of cliff note, Girard's historical setting might read like this: the Roman and Jewish governments both desired absolute authority and were, at the end of the day, violently at odds with one another. However, what was found in the figure of Jesus of Nazareth was a suitable scapegoat, whose violent destruction would appease both sides, at least for a brief period. It seems reasonable to say that neither the Governors nor the Sadduccees believed that Jesus was the Messiah, yet both (and for similar reasons) saw his elimination as being advantageous to solidifying their own claims to power. This conflict is indicative of the cycle of violence which has been in motion since Cain and Abel.

"Part of the problem in the history of Christian interpretation, beginning already with the fathers, was that the Passion was for them a unique event. That is understandable of course. They saw it as a unique event, a single, unique event in worldly history. It is indeed unique as revelation but not as a violent event. The earliest followers of Jesus did not make that mistake. They knew, or intuited, that in one sense it was like all other events of victimization since the foundation of the world. But it was different in that it revealed the meaning of these events going back to the beginnings of humanity: the victimization occurs because of mimetic rivalry, the victim is innocent, and God stands with the victim and restores him or her. If the Passion is regarded not as revelation but as only a violent event brought about by God, it is misunderstood and turned into an idol. In the Gospels Jesus says that he suffers the fate of all the other prophets going back to Abel the just and the foundation of the world (Matt. 23:35; Luke 11:50)." - The Girard Reader

As the preeminent scholar and theologian, Brian Robertson, said in a sermon this past Sunday, God did not cause the events surrounding the crucifixion, he used them. I think it's dangerous to say that from the beginning of time, God's intention was to have his son murdered, and furthermore that such a murder is the only way forgiveness could happen. I know this will open up the proverbial can of worms, but I think what Girard offers is an interpretation which seeks to describe the overflowing, selfless nature of God's love.

Furthermore, it's an interpretation which takes into account the wider story of God's continual work of redemption and salvation in his creation. If we look at Christ's conversation with Nicodemus, we hear him directly address how mankind is to receive the gift of salvation. While Christ knew this work would literally culminate on the cross, he chose to explain it to Nicodemus, who was undoubtedly well-versed in the Torah, by comparing himself to the bronze snake in the book of Numbers.

Just like the poisonous snakes in the desert, God chose to use the violence which theretofore had justly condemned humanity to death as a means to save us. The fact that Jesus is the only human being who has ever been truly innocent, makes him the ultimate skapegoat toward whose death humanity might look to in order to see their acts of violence for what they truly are. Christ's words become clearer and we understand why those who refuse to look to the cross and recognize their own faults will be condemned.

So we see how God, rather than using his son as a whipping boy and an outlet for his wrath, in his infinite love and mercy chose to sacrifice his Son so that all who look upon him will find the salvation he desperately wants us to accept.

So, What About 9/11: The Cost of National Security (If it Exists)

Addressing the U.S. Army War College on December 17, the outgoing President Bush delivered a direct and extended final defense of his administration’s foreign policy over the last 8 years. While the speech covered a range of topics, a key point was the President’s adamant reminder that because of his post-9/11 policies, there has not been a major terrorist attack on U.S. soil. It is this point, which enjoys frequent play from conservative mouthpieces and White House spokespeople alike, that I wish to examine along several lines which I believe beg acknowledgment and harsh critique.

1. “So, What About 9/11?”

Even more puzzling than the attempt to take credit for the nation’s post-9/11 safety without ever admitting the failure to keep the nation safe on that particular day, is the herd-like sheepishness of those who accept such desperate school playground tactics. It is not my intent to open a 9-11-truth discussion; at this point I do not believe that the U.S. had a hand in planning or purposefully allowing the attacks. My point is simply that the hard line Bush is trying to draw between pre and post is faulty. There indeed have been no terrorist attacks on U.S. soil since 2001. However, if he desires any praise to rest on his shoulders for the policies which have kept the homeland safe, he MUST also accept responsibility for the policies which failed to protect us on 9/11. To my knowledge there has been no formal apology to the families of those who lost their lives, or to the nation. Rather, the events of that day have been exploited in ways that need no extended description here. Let it suffice to point out that for the majority of Americans since the founding of the nation, a basic role of government is to protect its citizens from foreign powers who wish them ill. Having failed in that role on 9/11, this administration has sought to (perhaps successfully) redefine the way its citizens conceive of protection. Rather than protection meaning a kind of preventative measure to ensure safety, people are now content to observe vicarious vengeance and disproportionate aggression in a volume sufficient to drown out the pain of having not been protected, and provide a false (yet sufficient) sense of security amid fear of not being safe. Incidentally and circularly, this fear is what allows said government to continue carrying out its failed policies.

To reiterate, ultimate responsibility for the thousands of murders which took place in the terrorist attack lies on those who carried them out. That being said, we and the President must at least be consistent in our giving and receiving of praise. If Bush is responsible for successful policies, as President of the United States, he must also accept responsibility for the failed ones.

2. “How We Got Safe.” and “Are We Really?”

‘Torture’ is the word of the day here, and for Vice President Cheney, it’s almost as easy to redefine as ‘protection’ or maybe ‘executive branch.’ In order to even discuss this topic rationally, we must put behind us what seems to be, based on back-and-forth contradictory statements the White House has made over the last 8 years, the Bush administration’s anti-rational confusion about what exactly torture is, whether or not they use it, and whether or not it is immoral. Let’s simply pick up with their most recent story—they do use it, and that’s okay because there hasn’t been a single terrorist attack on U.S. soil since 9/11. Amid CRIMINAL investigations into the U.S. government’s use of torture in the war on terror, Cheney cited, in so many words, his clear conscience on the matter because of the legal advice the White House sought regarding the use of torture and how to not call it torture anymore.

What this all comes down to then, is that torture, which has, since the dark ages, until recent years been universally frowned upon as inherently evil, is now being presented as not-so-bad if it keeps the people perpetrating it safe and is okay with their lawyers. I will expand on just how torture is NOT okay in section 3.

It may be relevant to address the question of whether torture has indeed made us safer, despite the inconsequentiality of the answer next to the prime question of its morality or lack thereof. The Bush administration has been clear and consistent in asserting that it is indeed effective and, in case you’ve forgotten, has on various occasions saved us from terrorist attacks on U.S. soil. However, this is in direct conflict with the unanimous conclusion of counterterrorism officials and experts (besides Bush, Cheney, Rice, Rumsfeld, etc.) in the U.S. and around the world who know that “not only have coercive methods failed to generate significant and actionable intelligence, they have also caused the squandering of resources on a massive scale through false leads, chimerical plots, and unnecessary safety alerts.” The facts of the matter are simple: A tortured person who knows nothing will at some point tell the torturer whatever it is that he or she wants to hear, while by and large, a dedicated individual who does have information, will never give up sensitive details essential to the success of his or her cause (take for instance, John McCain).

To conclude this section, let us recall that according to the Bush administration, the safety of our homeland is thanks in large part to the implementation of the medieval-Spanish Inquisition-barbarian-style practice of torture. God bless the USA and God bless the desecration of human dignity. (I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether it is the dignity of the torturer or the tortured being desecrated.)

3. “At what cost?”

Another striking aspect of the gloating declaration of the safety of our homeland since 9/11 is its blatant ego- and ethno-centrism. Are we Americans to smile and accept this ‘safety’ without reflecting on the murders of hundreds of thousands of people who are unfortunate enough to live in Iraq, Israel, Afghanistan, Pakistan, or other countries who endure DAILY terrorist attacks? Some of which, specifically in Iraq, are in response to the presence of U.S. military forces. Furthermore, are we to ignore the thousands of murders which have directly resulted during military and counter-terrorism operations, basking in our own privileged circumstance of not living down the block from a terrorist? Though I won’t expand on this here, if one were to do so, the President’s statement at the Army War College, “We expanded our efforts to combat the conditions of despair and hopelessness that give rise to rage and radicalism,” is more ironic than true. Again, to my knowledge, there has been no formal apology from the White House to the families of the innocent civilians killed in the War on Terror, and until there is, the President cannot expect to receive any praise for the ousting of Sadaam Hussein and the Taliban.

Similarly, when we return to the subject of torture, we must ask ourselves what the cost of our ‘safety’ really is. Now that torture has been implemented and defended as a legitimate policy, the U.S. government has placed itself in the company of many less-than-savory historical and contemporary characters, and listing any will no doubt invite angry responses from readers; but, I think we can all think of a few. Like such villains, it is hard to imagine how history—in a manner Bush is banking on—could smile on such tactics, those who carried them out, or those who endorsed and defended them.

The final cost I want to open for discussion, rather than draw out here, is theological in nature. Christians universally affirm that all human beings are created in the image of God, and I believe it is necessary, especially for Evangelicals who so readily tow the neoconservative line, to reflect on how the use of torture and pre-emptive aggression relates to our view of this image-bearing. James tells us that faith is dead if we simply claim it without putting it into practice. Relating back to other topics I’ve mentioned, are we justified in viewing people who bear the image of God as collateral damage in a desperate attempt to save our own nation, our own hyper-consumerist economy, or our own political interests? And how are we to derive from Scripture a kind of guideline as to when a person ceases to bear the image of God, or what types of behavior or situations grant us the right to treat them as if they do not? Finally, when we torture another human being or intentionally kill an innocent human being in order to get the bad guys, in what way are we fulfilling our own roles as image-bearers? Christ tells us in Mark 12:17 that we who bear the image of God belong to Him and are to go about the work of HIS Kingdom, not Caesar's.

Policies of pre-emptive aggression and torture, while touted by many as having kept our nation safe, must be sharply criticized and no longer blindly and passively accepted as effective and morally right. Furthermore, these policies must be questioned as to how they reflect or do not reflect the events of 9/11 which have since been exploited to justify them. For Christians and non-Christians alike, the Bush mentality of destroy-them-before-they-destroy-us is directly reflective not of the good life enjoyed in the Kingdom of God, nor the civility of human-being, but the violent, sociopathic behavior of the prison yard.

Thoughts From 'Dark Knight' (7/29/08)

Two moments in the movie stood out to me and have remained stuck in my head since then, so I thought I'd share them here and see what everyone else thought. SPOILER ALERT!! If you haven't seen the movie yet, stop here if don't want to be told about some important scenes. Come back later and comment!

repeat: SPOILER ALERT!!

1. While visiting Harvey Dent at Gotham General, the Joker, clad in a nurse's uniform said something quite poignant, though in discussing it, I am aware of the subtle irony in discussing any of his quotes. "WHY SO SERIOUS??" I could be asked, but oh well. To paraphrase, the Joker made the observation that people don't panic as long as things go according to plan, even if the plan itself is horrifying. I wonder how many people, like me, have found that statement to be accurate and in what instances.

2. The most interesting part of the movie for me was the ulterior concept of the climax. Two ferry boats were placed in a situation which demanded immediate action and required them to make a choice between two options; or at least they were led to believe there were two options. You've seen the movie so there's no reason for me to explain all that went on, but what I found so intriguing was the tension between democracy and humanity. In our cultural context we generally see these two terms as synonymous; democracy is the greatest, most moral system and the best way to ensure the dignity of human life. Now, I know this was a fictional situation, but I do think it was very indicative of real-life human nature. In this situation, as far as I saw it, democracy succeeded in serving it's purpose. However, even while functioning properly and efficiently in a time of crisis, we still must say it failed in the end, while the goodness of human nature prevailed. The ruling of the democratic system demanded by virtue of the majority that one group take the lives of another. It was only when those involved overruled the process to make for themselves a new option that hundreds of lives were spared. I think we can apply this critique to other situations in our system that are perhaps less extreme. In the movie, democracy failed because the only choices it provided were supplied by a manipulative force, rather than by those choosing. Again I wonder if anyone else can think of similarities to current affairs, or has ideas of how to enhance the democratic system.

We can tie these two scenes together by pondering whether modernity's democracy can be the plan mentioned by the Joker, only functioning as a levy against an unwanted or uncomfortable political situation, and how can we prevent that.

A Hypothetical (7/20/08)

You are in charge.
In a meeting with Secretary of Defense Gates and the joint chiefs of staff, you learn that a top-ranking Al-Qa'ida operative has been secretly plotting attacks world-wide from right under our noses here in the United States.
He is currently hiding out and coordinating with other terrorists from the basement of a small apartment building in, say, Atlanta.
A folder is pushed across the table to you.
The folder contains a plan to take out the Al-Qa'ida leader using tactics that have proved successful in similar situations in the mid-east.
In summary, the plan calls for a B-2 bomber to drop a precision-guided payload onto the building containing the terrorist.
Simple.
Of course, there will more than likely be civilian casualties which would mostly be those who live in the building, but also anyone in the immediate area would obviously be at great risk.
You are understandably concerned, but are informed that action must be taken now or never, and there is simply no other way.
What do you do? What would any leader past or present do? Why or why not?

I believe that the majority of you would not allow the plan to be carried out. The result would simply be too catastrophic, and for a variety of reasons you cannot find a way to ethically or morally justify such an action. Perhaps dozens of American citizens losing their lives for the sake of killing one man does not seem worth it or right. Or perhaps after the massive loss of life on 9/11 due to a terrorist attack, the idea of the American government itself taking the lives of civilians seems too outrageous.

That being said, how can the American government, or any government, justify the actions that have been, are currently, and will continue to be carried out in the 'War on Terror' and various other military operations. Hundreds of thousands of innocent lives have been lost in situations not unlike the hypothetical I described. The only difference is the location.

I am baffled at how so many Americans can say that the massive loss of life we see taking place on a daily basis as a result of US military action is simply "part of war" or "necessary to keep us safe" or "going to be worth it in the end." Some even say "they deserve it" or “they are evil, we are good.”

There are simply too many problems with any such reasoning to count. In the first place, philosophically speaking, the line drawn between rogue 'terrorist' and government sanctioned 'soldier' at this point in the failed project of the modern nation-state is, in my opinion, a thin one. And going back to my original track, why are you so inclined to let something happen in another country that you would be shocked and appalled and terrified at if it happened in your own?

There are those of course who jump immediately to claims of racism. I would say that this is true only to an extent. While there are obviously those who hate Arabs, Africans, and/or Jews, I feel that there is still an underlying philosophical groundwork and line of thinking, whether conscious or unconscious, at work here.

We all remember what watching the news was like during the weeks, months, and year or more following 9/11 and can imagine the media frenzy and public outcry that would take place if we learned that our own government had killed its own under the above hypothetical circumstance. So why is it that we are so complacent about this current war, its architects, and its allies who, in order to remove terrorist threats and political rivals, have claimed the lives of hundreds of thousands of civilians in Somalia, Lebanon, Israel, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Kuwait among other places?

The following are what I believe to be a few but not all of the basic key underlying philosophical issues that I'm interested in here more than whether or not war is right or wrong, and I invite any relevant thoughts and discussion as there is much more to these than the short fragments I list.

• Thinking along the lines of Zizek, the breakdown and/or inter-mingling of Virtual and Reality. Perhaps we do not really believe that the death we see on a television set, in the news paper, or in casualty reports is real or relevant.


• A la Benhabib, what grounds does the state have to do to outsiders what it would not think of doing to its own people?


• In considering Levinas, Derrida, et al., has the Other become so far removed from the Self, that we no longer see violent actions as such?


• Based on the teachings of Christ, should military action which knowingly, albeit not for its own end, takes the lives of civilians, be justified or condemned?