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.

Questions About Consitutionalism

Over the last several years, I have noticed a pointed rise in the popularity of Constitutionalism. To be fair, I want to note the necessary distinction between what I've seen to be two distinct brands of the movement: The first is Constitutionalism as a comprehensive political stance. I see this platform as being traditionally positive in that its impetus is an affirmation of what they interpret to be a strict adherence to the verbage of the constitution. This is in contrast to the second brand which resides within certain conservative Sean-Hannity-like circles who nominally describe themselves as Constitutionalists when it is politically advantageous to do so (generally during important Supreme Court goings-on such as the Sotomayor hearings), while conversely discarding it altogether when they see fit (generally during times of widespread panic, where it can easily be defended as an action which will protect the nation, for example in support of the Patriot Act). Their use of the term 'Constitutionalism' is typically negative, in the sense that it is almost always invoked when painting themselves as the victims of oppression, e.g. "They want to tax us more and change our health care!"

Obviously, the latter type requires no extended critique, as its absurdity is blatant. (Though I do want to clarify that the absurdity lies only in the use of the term at hand. The political stance is, I believe, as valid as any other.) I do want to briefly address the former, which to me, is very interesting. As previously noted, I do find the comprehensive nature of Constitutionalism admirable. Ironically, I think there are intriguing parallels to Marxism in this regard. At any rate, I think the best way to outline my critiques of and questions about Constitutionalism will be to pose a few broad questions and leave them open for response.

* Why the Constitution? Why not the Articles of Confederation, On Walden Pond, or the Qur'an?

* What exactly is a 'pure' interpretation of the Constitution? Is such an interpretation even attainable for people who are by nature contextual, and carry with them a variety of background assumptions?

* At its root, does the Constitution imply the freedom of future generations to step away from it?

Politweets

The disputed 2009 Iranian presidential election sparked an unprecedented amount of U.S. media coverage, which of course led to a curious amount of attention in pop culture. As I basked in the warm glow of various electronic screens, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense that something was awry within the bombardment of images of, chatter about, and support for the ensuing political demonstrations.

Time for reflection has helped me get closer to uncovering what I couldn’t put my finger on before: the benefit of devoting mass amounts of media coverage to the Iranian demonstrations, and the specific type of attention it was getting in the United States, would ultimately have nothing to do with the state of democracy in Iran.

As they often do, a few words from Slavoj Zizek ring true for me and seem to speak precisely to such a phenomenon. Describing the techno-savvy, business-minded, yet cause-sensitive people who are at the forefront of capitalism’s recent evolution into a non-self-perpetuating (i.e. not driven by greed alone) system which is very good at making lots of money by trying to care about Stuff at the same time, Zizek notes their odd political ethos by sarcastically pointing out the way they have reworked Marx's observation about the steam engine:

What are all the protests against global capitalism worth in comparison with the invention of the internet?

We are apparently a step even further now, for the overwhelming sense I had when the protests in Iran and the coverage of them were at their peak was that the message we were intended to receive had little to do with Iranian democracy; the real message was, “What is the struggle against totalitarianism worth in comparison with the onset of Twitter?”

Indeed, let’s ask ourselves who the winners of the whole ordeal were: the Iranian people? Certainly not, as their potentially flourishing democracy remains restrained by a totalitarian theocracy. The Iranian establishment? Obviously, Ahmadinejad will always look bad, but even Khamenei will find it hard to possibly look good after suppressing an opposition with very real concerns over the legitimacy of the election. Twitter? The company quickly discovered what the neo-capitalists have known all along, that nothing is as good for business as a humanitarian crisis. This is not to say that Twitter’s end-goal was to exploit the situation of the people of Iran. Nor am I suggesting that the awareness the Western world was allowed via Twitter was not beneficial in some way.

However, I think the subsequent inane Twitterization of everyday life we have seen since that time is evidence that the web site walked away with much gained. From inconsequential celebrities to legitimate news programs, Twitter has suddenly become some kind of proxy journalism; journalism being the institution formerly made up of professionals who sought the public good by seeking out first-hand, the developments society needed to be aware of, in order to bring about change.

It’s not that I find Twitter annoying and pointless (which I do), I just find this growing trend toward e-politics troubling. I remember during the last presidential election in our own country how often I heard facebook and MySpace group numbers being cited on the news. The advent of e-campaigns was the true focus, not political change.

Just as the internet boom failed to translate into deep political change in our own democracy, it is no surprise that we witnessed the same impotency in regards to Iran. While the people of Iran risked their physical well-being to take to the streets and demand to be heard, we in the U.S. failed to do the same. The Western media in general failed to move beyond the fact that Iranians were tweeting, and thus missed why they were doing it. I hope would-be activists in the U.S. soon realize that we can't tweet our way to a better future.

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.

Eschatological Musings

In recent weeks I've found myself part of or in the midst of numerous conversations about the so-called "End Times," or eschatology, which I prefer to think of more as the study of the eternal destiny of creation, rather than the "end" of it. I've also found myself constantly running across various articles, essays, and other writings dealing with the subject, some of which I find intriguing and enlightening, others destructive and annoying. Here, I just want to throw out some thoughts and frustrations that seem to frequently recur:

1. First, a pet peeve. The number of Christians whose views on eschatology are shaped primarily if not solely by a popular fiction series rather than Holy Scripture is disturbing. Alright...now I got that out of my system.

2. Second, a little nugget. A rich and helpful conception of a Christian approach to eschatology, perhaps typified by the neo-Calvinists, is that our entire Christian walk is predicated by our desire for the reality of the eschaton to insert itself into our present now. Indeed, Christ taught us to pray precisely this. In this sense, the Lord's coming is very much immanent; as immanent today as it was for the first century Christians St. Paul and St. John wrote their letters to.

3. I think too many people, because of given systems they have adopted, get so hung up on deciphering endless minutia such as what various items of prophesy might represent or point to, subsequently come to believe, or at least tend to lead others to believe, that eschatology is all about "End Times" and our job is to determine when, where, and how those times will come about. Not only do I not see much reason to think "End Times" prophesy deals strictly with Final Things, but we are told numerous times in Scripture that it is not our place to know the hows and whens. Our role is to be watchful and expectant of that future Hope. Being watchful and expectant seems to me to have dense and life-giving ramifications; the ramifications of the former stance seem to be suspicion (e.g. "World government is an evil concept"), false accusation (e.g. "Barack Obama is the anti-Christ"), and a shedding of responsibility (e.g. "Why take care of the earth or stop wars? They're signs of our ticket out of here!").

4. I get confused by the logic of the fundamentalist/dispensational line of thinking which, after declaring that it takes a "literal" view of Scripture, figures: Millennial Reign = literal 1000 years. Tribulation = literal 7 years. The 144,000 = symbolic/figurative number. I am certainly no Jehovah's Witness. Therefore my question is: If the 144,000 is not literal, upon what basis does one so adamantly insist that the Millennium and 7 year Tribulation must be literal numbers?

5. There are also overtones often, but certainly not always, present in the dispensationalist camp which are troubling in that they are more political than Biblical. By linking prophesies and other Scripture concerning Israel directly to its current manifestation as a modern nation-state, this interpretation promotes unquestioning support of the Israeli government to the level of a moral imperative good. I believe that the Christian Church indeed has an intimate link to Israel which demands our support of the Jewish people, but as I engage the pertinent prophesies, I always come out with the conviction that Zion never has and never will be confined by political boundaries.

6. I think it's important to keep in mind that God's end-goal for creation is redemption, not destruction. Redemption is a loaded term, I know, especially if you're not hip to church lingo. Basically, before sin entered the world, all of creation was in harmony with itself and with God. That harmony was subsequently disrupted; dire consequences ensued that still effect us today. I've never seen anything in Scripture that leads me to believe God ever messed up, nor any evidence to think our universe will be simply done away with and a do-over called. I disagree with the thought that sin and evil are powerful enough to utterly ruin what God declared to be Good. God's plan to welcome the universe back into harmony with Himself is a plan of restoration which will right past wrongs, not an apocalypse that will throw the baby out with the bathwater. Even today, God tells us, the power to live beyond the constraints of evil is ours because of the work of Christ.

7. In an effort to end on a symbolic number, perhaps representing the tribulation of reading this blog, I'll present a few random tidbits. >Yes, there will be animals in heaven; not the souls of animals, just your everyday soulless hyenas, chickens, aphids, and orangutans. The only difference will be that in heaven (the restored universe), they won't hurt us or each other and we won't hurt them. >No, I don't think there will be a rapture of the church before, during, or after the tribulation period. (Yes, I'm still allowed to be a Christian.) >I was once told there won't be any oceans in eternity. No, I don't agree. The idea comes from a frequently debated passage in the book of Revelation. However, I think a better interpretation than the "literal" one is the literarily informed one which remembers the ways in which oceans represented divine wrath in Scripture; for instance, when the evil Egyptian army was consumed by the sea, God's chosen people walked straight through it on dry ground. It makes sense that in a description of future Hope, St. John would point out that the wrath of God will disappear along with the corruption which necessitated it. >No, I don't have an eschatological timeline. (Yes, that's cheap.) I'm looking forward to the Bema Seat, but I think after either raising up out of my own freakin grave or watching Jesus descend out of the freakin sky, I won't be too concerned with schedules. Plus to me, timelines, much like systematic theology in general, do more in the way of restriction than they do illumination. >I honestly don't think eternity, heaven, the new earth, whatever you want to call it, will consist of us holding hands with angels singing Don Moen songs non-stop forever. Not that that wouldn't be cool, I just think our eternal activities will be indicative of our new ability to faithfully embody our roles as bearers of the image of God, all the time. I think we'll be eating awesome meals with St. Francis, painting portraits, watching the French Open, taking hot-air balloon rides, loving each other unquenchably, all as an act of worship in the presence of God.