It has been a while. I ask your pardons all for having neglected this site for so long, but I either couldn't think of something to post, or didn't have the perseverance to write up a post. I have something short to share now, though. (Knowing me, it may end up being long; we'll see!)
I think most of us tend to take our circumstances for granted. I know I did. It may be affluence, it may be your favorite bicycle, it may be your own health, it may be your father's life, it may be your best friend's trust. We all know that they will eventually pass away (though as for fathers and friends, we will never lose them forever if they have faith in Christ). The bike will wear out, our health will fail from old age if from nothing else, and anyone who took out a sub-prime loan knows that affluence isn't permanent. But while these things are with us, I think we have a tendency to rely on them as semi-constants. Our routines, from the breakfasts we eat to the dynamics of our families, tend to define who we are. I submit that, although family and friends and even good breakfasts on a crisp and sunny autumn morning are wonderful things--blessings from God that should be enjoyed with thanksgiving--we should nevertheless take care that we are prepared to lose these things. In The Two Towers, Tolkien said through the character of Aragorn that a man who cannot give up a treasure at need is in fetters. We do not usually even give up these treasures voluntarily. They are taken from us, by time, by disease, by betrayal, by human weakness.
Because life really is precarious--because it can change in three seconds while tying your shoes for church--we need to have an anchor which nothing that happens to us can dislodge. We must look to something beyond ourselves, to something beyond our beloved wives and beloved children, our trusted parents and our familiar territories. We must look to Christ. My friends, there is one promise that is never broken, one friend who never turns His back, one who never dies, and never sleeps, and never passes away. That is the one without whom nothing would be of lasting importance.
When Jesus told His disciples to hate their parents and brethren and love Him, He did not mean that every Christian should be at enmity with his family, or not love them dearly. What He meant, I think, is that we must love Christ first and above all things else. It may be a bit like what Dietrich Bonnhoeffer said--that we can never truly love someone else unless we love that person through Christ. In this life, on this side of Heaven, everything that we know will ultimately pass away, from a stillborn child to the oldest grandparent dying in sleep, except for God, and the promise of the Gospel. Cling to Him, and then you can be the truest friend, the most devoted spouse, and the most honest businessman. You never, ever know what is going to happen to you, so you have to be prepared for anything. And you can be. Not because you are strong, but because He is strong. May God's name be glorified.
And yes, that turned out to be fairly long. Good night to you all!
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Japan, Firebombing, and Nuclear Warfare
Reading Retribution: The Battle for Japan has given me a lot of food for thought, and a lot of things to go on diatribes about to my patient parents on walks. :-) It's a fascinating book to read, though much of what it chronicles is brutal, horrifying, and regrettable. I didn't realize before, for instance, that the battle for Manilla cost the lives of 100,000 Filipino citizens.
A very interesting subject which the author has just been raising is that of the bombing of Japan. As I understand from the cover flap, the author defends the atomic bombings. I can't describe or answer his arguments, yet, because I haven't come to that part of the book yet, but I think he believes that they reduced the potential cost of an amphibious invasion of Japan. Given the massive human cost already incurred by the Pacific war and the legendary fanaticism of the Japanese army, that was probably quite true. Reading this book, however, though I can agree on principle that the nuclear bombing probably reduced the potential casualties that would have resulted from the U.S. strategy, I'm not convinced that the conditions wherein a nuclear bombing is the only answer to 'reducing casualties' are conditions into which we should have entered. That's a roundabout way of saying that we had such an economic stranglehold on Japan, such military supremacy, that we should never have obliterated so much of their civilian population. I'm not a seasoned historian and I'm not thoroughly familiar with every aspect of that theater of war, but to me the immense moral problem of, for instance, torching 100,000 civilians of Tokyo with napalm, leaving a million homeless, and obliterating 10,000 acres of buildings more than balances out the satisfaction of coercing a nation into signing formal surrender documents--particularly a nation which had already effectively lost the war.
Yes, more kamikaze missions might have threatened American ships and sailors, for a while. That's not a good thing. But Japan was running critically low on fuel, aircraft, and trained pilots (and willing suicide pilots). They were low on food, pitiful in industrial capacity, and completely outclassed militarily. Our extremely successful submarine blockade would probably have reduced them to desperation before long, though mass starvation would not be an appealing eventuality either.
Until late 1942/early 1943, I can understand a certain prevailing fierceness about our war effort: until then it was by no means clear that the Allies were going to win the conflict, and so some nations, primarily Britain and Russia, were actually fighting for survival. I'm sure countless atrocities occurred among the Allies that never should have, particularly in Russia, but I can understand why the Allies wanted to take the war to the enemy, and do it fast. After 1943, though, when industrial might, technological superiority and military initiative were almost entirely on our side, we continued grinding down the Axis through total war in our eagerness for the conflict to end sooner. Granted, we had suffered much, but that is no good excuse for inflicting the same suffering on the enemy--and the U.S. suffered negligibly compared to, for instance, the Soviet Union, which blasted, butchered, and raped its way through Eastern Europe to Berlin in 1944-45 in revenge for the 20 million civilians and probably more than 5 million soldiers who had already perished since Operation Barbarossa.
The Japanese treated POWs and civilians brutally in many, many cases. They were a rapacious militaristic empire with domineering ambitions. Such unbridled aggression and flouting of human rights required a reckoning as much as Germany's perverse ethnic cleansing and dreams of world domination did. But the B-29 pilots and commanders seemed, on the whole, remarkably callous about the manifold terrors, torments, and deaths that their incendiary bombs were inflicting on hundreds of thousands of people who had little to do with the militaristic governments that had launched them into the war.
Curtis LeMay, commander of the XXI Bomber Command responsible for bombing Japan, for instance. He claims there was "no point in slaughtering civilians for the mere sake of slaughter." Yes, but... "All you had to do was visit one of those targets after we'd roasted it, and see the ruins of a multitude of tiny houses, with a drill press sticking up through the wreckage...The entire population got into the act and worked to make those airplanes or munitions of war...men, women, and children. We knew we were going to kill a lot of women and kids when we burned that town. Had to be done" (qtd. in Hastings, Retribution 309).
That is a paltry defense at best, especially when Japan's inferior aircraft had almost been cleared off the sky at this point, so much so that the triumphant Hellcats and Corsairs were running out of targets to shoot down, and the Japanese navy could be bombed and torpedoed with increasing ease. The very B-29s involved in this operation met negligible fighter resistance: of the 414 aircraft downed over a five-month period, only 148 were due to enemy action, which includes anti-aircraft fire as well as fighter activity. 151 were lost because they failed to operate properly in flight (Hastings 314).
Here is the defense offered by the official USAAF post-war history of this bomber group, which probably gives the strongest argument in favor of incinerating civilians:
Yes, true--but my question is, should it have been our purpose to inflict unconditional, prostrate surrender on an already crumbling nation, no matter what the cost to the civilian population? Were our only options Invade or Torch? Could we actually say it was in defense of our nation to obliterate most of Tokyo and 64 other Japanese urban centers, to torch infants off their very mothers' backs as they fled from walls of flame and turn whole families to ash inside their bomb shelters? Will those responsible for such actions be able to successfully defend them when they are judged?
I can't say that there are easy answers to those questions, nor can I give answers for most of them. Perhaps some of this post will have to be amended once I read more of the book. So far, though, I think that those who condemn the decision to drop the nuclear bombs should be more concerned with condemning American Pacific Theater war policy in 1944-45. Was it a brutally necessary strategy for saving American lives--which aren't intrinsically more precious than Japanese lives--or was it just a gross excess of slaughter that should have been avoided at all costs? A lot of soldiers, politicans, and historians might opt for the former, but if someone told me that the key to saving a few of my buddies was to murder three mothers and their young children, I don't believe I would take that path. In any case, it seems to me that we could have kept Japan subjugate and incapable of significant resistance without an outright invasion. Sooner or later they would have been forced to surrender.
Thoughts?
A very interesting subject which the author has just been raising is that of the bombing of Japan. As I understand from the cover flap, the author defends the atomic bombings. I can't describe or answer his arguments, yet, because I haven't come to that part of the book yet, but I think he believes that they reduced the potential cost of an amphibious invasion of Japan. Given the massive human cost already incurred by the Pacific war and the legendary fanaticism of the Japanese army, that was probably quite true. Reading this book, however, though I can agree on principle that the nuclear bombing probably reduced the potential casualties that would have resulted from the U.S. strategy, I'm not convinced that the conditions wherein a nuclear bombing is the only answer to 'reducing casualties' are conditions into which we should have entered. That's a roundabout way of saying that we had such an economic stranglehold on Japan, such military supremacy, that we should never have obliterated so much of their civilian population. I'm not a seasoned historian and I'm not thoroughly familiar with every aspect of that theater of war, but to me the immense moral problem of, for instance, torching 100,000 civilians of Tokyo with napalm, leaving a million homeless, and obliterating 10,000 acres of buildings more than balances out the satisfaction of coercing a nation into signing formal surrender documents--particularly a nation which had already effectively lost the war.
Yes, more kamikaze missions might have threatened American ships and sailors, for a while. That's not a good thing. But Japan was running critically low on fuel, aircraft, and trained pilots (and willing suicide pilots). They were low on food, pitiful in industrial capacity, and completely outclassed militarily. Our extremely successful submarine blockade would probably have reduced them to desperation before long, though mass starvation would not be an appealing eventuality either.
Until late 1942/early 1943, I can understand a certain prevailing fierceness about our war effort: until then it was by no means clear that the Allies were going to win the conflict, and so some nations, primarily Britain and Russia, were actually fighting for survival. I'm sure countless atrocities occurred among the Allies that never should have, particularly in Russia, but I can understand why the Allies wanted to take the war to the enemy, and do it fast. After 1943, though, when industrial might, technological superiority and military initiative were almost entirely on our side, we continued grinding down the Axis through total war in our eagerness for the conflict to end sooner. Granted, we had suffered much, but that is no good excuse for inflicting the same suffering on the enemy--and the U.S. suffered negligibly compared to, for instance, the Soviet Union, which blasted, butchered, and raped its way through Eastern Europe to Berlin in 1944-45 in revenge for the 20 million civilians and probably more than 5 million soldiers who had already perished since Operation Barbarossa.
The Japanese treated POWs and civilians brutally in many, many cases. They were a rapacious militaristic empire with domineering ambitions. Such unbridled aggression and flouting of human rights required a reckoning as much as Germany's perverse ethnic cleansing and dreams of world domination did. But the B-29 pilots and commanders seemed, on the whole, remarkably callous about the manifold terrors, torments, and deaths that their incendiary bombs were inflicting on hundreds of thousands of people who had little to do with the militaristic governments that had launched them into the war.
Curtis LeMay, commander of the XXI Bomber Command responsible for bombing Japan, for instance. He claims there was "no point in slaughtering civilians for the mere sake of slaughter." Yes, but... "All you had to do was visit one of those targets after we'd roasted it, and see the ruins of a multitude of tiny houses, with a drill press sticking up through the wreckage...The entire population got into the act and worked to make those airplanes or munitions of war...men, women, and children. We knew we were going to kill a lot of women and kids when we burned that town. Had to be done" (qtd. in Hastings, Retribution 309).
That is a paltry defense at best, especially when Japan's inferior aircraft had almost been cleared off the sky at this point, so much so that the triumphant Hellcats and Corsairs were running out of targets to shoot down, and the Japanese navy could be bombed and torpedoed with increasing ease. The very B-29s involved in this operation met negligible fighter resistance: of the 414 aircraft downed over a five-month period, only 148 were due to enemy action, which includes anti-aircraft fire as well as fighter activity. 151 were lost because they failed to operate properly in flight (Hastings 314).
Here is the defense offered by the official USAAF post-war history of this bomber group, which probably gives the strongest argument in favor of incinerating civilians:
In its climactic five months of jellied fire attacks, the vaunted Twentieth killed outright 310,000 Japanese, injured 412,000 more, and rendered 9,200,000 homeless...The 1945 application of American Air Power, so destructive and concentrated as to cremate 65 Japanese cities in five months, forced an enemy's surrender without land invasion for the first time....no U.S. soldier, sailor or Marine had to land on bloody beachheads or fight through strongly-prepared ground defense to ensure victory in the Japanese home islands." (qtd. 317)
Yes, true--but my question is, should it have been our purpose to inflict unconditional, prostrate surrender on an already crumbling nation, no matter what the cost to the civilian population? Were our only options Invade or Torch? Could we actually say it was in defense of our nation to obliterate most of Tokyo and 64 other Japanese urban centers, to torch infants off their very mothers' backs as they fled from walls of flame and turn whole families to ash inside their bomb shelters? Will those responsible for such actions be able to successfully defend them when they are judged?
I can't say that there are easy answers to those questions, nor can I give answers for most of them. Perhaps some of this post will have to be amended once I read more of the book. So far, though, I think that those who condemn the decision to drop the nuclear bombs should be more concerned with condemning American Pacific Theater war policy in 1944-45. Was it a brutally necessary strategy for saving American lives--which aren't intrinsically more precious than Japanese lives--or was it just a gross excess of slaughter that should have been avoided at all costs? A lot of soldiers, politicans, and historians might opt for the former, but if someone told me that the key to saving a few of my buddies was to murder three mothers and their young children, I don't believe I would take that path. In any case, it seems to me that we could have kept Japan subjugate and incapable of significant resistance without an outright invasion. Sooner or later they would have been forced to surrender.
Thoughts?
Friday, July 25, 2008
New Kinds of Evil
In my Shakespeare class this summer, many of the plays that we're reading are scraping the bottom of the Stratfordian barrel, more or less. Some are speculated to be unfinished, or collaborative efforts. Some are early plays and betray a lack of authorial assurance, or major character problems. With the help of our tutor and mutual discussion, however, we typically find much more to even these least read, least regarded plays. One theme that has recurrently come up in our discussions is the preservation of some good (purity, honesty, faithfulness) in the face of often very strong evil. In The Two Gentlemen of Verona, for instance, Julia's sworn betrothed Proteus abandons her for another woman on first sight, then angles to get his own best friend banished in order to have a crack at his new love. In spite of all this treachery and callousness, however, Julia remains stubbornly faithful. This kind of enduring goodness pops up all over Shakespeare.
It is fascinating to trace, study, and ponder these themes that so much creative work across so many cultures shares. It's also interesting to look at works of art that play around with these themes, maybe not denying them but challenging them. No Country For Old Men is a fairly good example. There is not much "redemptive" about the story, as folks like to say. The good characters, those that survive, are bewildered and helpless before the immensely powerful evil characters, who come off with even more destruction and less liability than the Dark Knight's almost unstoppable Joker. The main villain isn't immolated or shot by a hero rising from the mud for the last time--his worst injury, in fact, comes from a freak car accident, which has more in common with the random violence that he unleashes than with the Sheriff's old-fashioned sense of morality and justice.
The result is a rather depressing novel, but a thought-provoking one. It doesn't deny the good, and in fact the good does survive, though it's kind of cowering under the table by the end. What emerges as a key question is good's power to prevail against a "new" kind of evil. It's really, again, not far removed from some of the themes raised in the Dark Knight--anarchic depravity that doesn't fight like a gentleman. I suspect it is too early to really analyze such things, but many people like to point to this as an evidence of new questions coming to light after the Twin Towers terrorist attacks and the Iraq War. Terrorism is dirty fighting, and it doesn't fit in smoothly with even World War II standards of combat. Millions of private citizens died in the Second World War, but most of these deaths were either organized genocide, collateral damage from bombing and shelling, or post-conquest violence (as in the siege of Berlin). Terrorism, where a small band outside normal government boundaries intentionally targets civilians in order to create fear and satisfy vendettas or religious imperatives, is relatively new, at least to the experience of the average American.
It is not very surprising, then, that many people are pondering the implications of how people can or should adjust to a different manifestation of violence and evil. Nor is it surprising that some people question the ability of goodness to actually survive evil, though men have been doing that since long before September 11, 2001. Many works of art where the end is depressing do not necessarily indicate an author who firmly believes in the ultimate triumph of evil--evil does win many battles, and it would be a poor imitation of reality to perpetually invent fictional scenarios where everything turns out exactly as hoped, and all live happily ever after (not a bad thing of itself, necessarily, but sometimes a hallmark of poor writing or film-making, when forced upon the plot).
I suspect that there are some people, however, who do have a depressing outlook on the war between good and evil. (There are even those who deny its existence, which is absurd.) The answer to this sort of worldview can be found in yet another theme of Shakespeare's which our tutor has mentioned several times: the relevance and vital importance of the afterlife. It is easy to look upon the success of evil with dismay if one does not recognize anything beyond life on earth. It is not only easy, in fact, but logically it is inescapable. If self-sacrifice, courage, and purity carry nothing over after death, then tragedy on earth becomes permanent tragedy. Nothing will make it right again, and the book that leaves you with a host of characters dead at the end (Hamlet, say) leaves you hopeless.
We need not fear each new manifestation of evil if our eyes have been opened to look beyond this life. If one limited his scope to merely earthly concerns, certainly things would look bleak. What does Darfur mean, what do the 9/11 attacks mean, if each casualty simply molders in the grave without a shred of consciousness that lives on? But if we understand that any stand against evil, even the most cruelly unsuccessful of stands, has transcendent meaning, then we have grasped a very wonderful truth. Though the times for mourning may sometimes seem to brutally outnumber the times for rejoicing, they do not give us cause for despair.
Art should absolutely tackle evil. It is an integral part of life until the Second Coming and a confusing, terrible, but somehow necessary part of God's redemptive plan, and to ignore it would be to ignore what makes story Story: conflict. Nevertheless, art which embraces hopelessness is also ignoring a huge part of reality, to its peril. Weeping endures for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
It is fascinating to trace, study, and ponder these themes that so much creative work across so many cultures shares. It's also interesting to look at works of art that play around with these themes, maybe not denying them but challenging them. No Country For Old Men is a fairly good example. There is not much "redemptive" about the story, as folks like to say. The good characters, those that survive, are bewildered and helpless before the immensely powerful evil characters, who come off with even more destruction and less liability than the Dark Knight's almost unstoppable Joker. The main villain isn't immolated or shot by a hero rising from the mud for the last time--his worst injury, in fact, comes from a freak car accident, which has more in common with the random violence that he unleashes than with the Sheriff's old-fashioned sense of morality and justice.
The result is a rather depressing novel, but a thought-provoking one. It doesn't deny the good, and in fact the good does survive, though it's kind of cowering under the table by the end. What emerges as a key question is good's power to prevail against a "new" kind of evil. It's really, again, not far removed from some of the themes raised in the Dark Knight--anarchic depravity that doesn't fight like a gentleman. I suspect it is too early to really analyze such things, but many people like to point to this as an evidence of new questions coming to light after the Twin Towers terrorist attacks and the Iraq War. Terrorism is dirty fighting, and it doesn't fit in smoothly with even World War II standards of combat. Millions of private citizens died in the Second World War, but most of these deaths were either organized genocide, collateral damage from bombing and shelling, or post-conquest violence (as in the siege of Berlin). Terrorism, where a small band outside normal government boundaries intentionally targets civilians in order to create fear and satisfy vendettas or religious imperatives, is relatively new, at least to the experience of the average American.
It is not very surprising, then, that many people are pondering the implications of how people can or should adjust to a different manifestation of violence and evil. Nor is it surprising that some people question the ability of goodness to actually survive evil, though men have been doing that since long before September 11, 2001. Many works of art where the end is depressing do not necessarily indicate an author who firmly believes in the ultimate triumph of evil--evil does win many battles, and it would be a poor imitation of reality to perpetually invent fictional scenarios where everything turns out exactly as hoped, and all live happily ever after (not a bad thing of itself, necessarily, but sometimes a hallmark of poor writing or film-making, when forced upon the plot).
I suspect that there are some people, however, who do have a depressing outlook on the war between good and evil. (There are even those who deny its existence, which is absurd.) The answer to this sort of worldview can be found in yet another theme of Shakespeare's which our tutor has mentioned several times: the relevance and vital importance of the afterlife. It is easy to look upon the success of evil with dismay if one does not recognize anything beyond life on earth. It is not only easy, in fact, but logically it is inescapable. If self-sacrifice, courage, and purity carry nothing over after death, then tragedy on earth becomes permanent tragedy. Nothing will make it right again, and the book that leaves you with a host of characters dead at the end (Hamlet, say) leaves you hopeless.
We need not fear each new manifestation of evil if our eyes have been opened to look beyond this life. If one limited his scope to merely earthly concerns, certainly things would look bleak. What does Darfur mean, what do the 9/11 attacks mean, if each casualty simply molders in the grave without a shred of consciousness that lives on? But if we understand that any stand against evil, even the most cruelly unsuccessful of stands, has transcendent meaning, then we have grasped a very wonderful truth. Though the times for mourning may sometimes seem to brutally outnumber the times for rejoicing, they do not give us cause for despair.
Art should absolutely tackle evil. It is an integral part of life until the Second Coming and a confusing, terrible, but somehow necessary part of God's redemptive plan, and to ignore it would be to ignore what makes story Story: conflict. Nevertheless, art which embraces hopelessness is also ignoring a huge part of reality, to its peril. Weeping endures for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Interesting Quote
"We honestly believed that America, a nation of storekeepers, would not not persist with a loss-making war, whereas Japan could sustain a protracted campaign against the Anglo-Saxons.”
Colonel Masanobu Tsuji, quoted in Retribution: The Battle for Japan, 1944-45, page 6.
It seems the opinion of us hasn't changed much in 67 years.
Colonel Masanobu Tsuji, quoted in Retribution: The Battle for Japan, 1944-45, page 6.
It seems the opinion of us hasn't changed much in 67 years.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Concerning Aragorn, the Dead, and Oaths
In The Lord of the Rings, we learn that Isildur placed a curse on the race of men that broke their pact with him, thenceforth condemning them to walk as the living dead. Aragorn, being the rightful heir of Isildur, could break the curse by allowing them to fulfill their oath. As I recall, he was the only one who could do so.
Although it is quite possible that Tolkien simply found this useful to get the good guys out of their scrape--he did stack the odds rather high--I think one is reminded of something important here. In Tolkien's world, breaking an oath is an organic sin. The men who lived on that mountain were cursed because their oath was taken with reference to a higher power or standard, and violating it was an offense to the higher power as well as the other party in the oath. Breaking an oath is not simply bad form. It is contrary to nature.
Perhaps, if sin had never come into the world, we would not require oaths and pledges. Certainly most oaths, such as the well-known Hippocratic Oath or the oaths of citizenship most or all countries require, were devised to help ensure compliance to certain rules or laws--taking an oath adds solemnity to an occasion and also allows one to be easily prosecuted for breaking his word. Presumably one of the reasons that God seals His covenants with promises is because He knows our hunger for something in which to trust. Unlike God, men sometimes break their promises, of course. Either they repent of what they promised, or they never meant to keep their word in the first place and only used it to attain a certain position or gain a person's trust.
Though one may escape human punishment by breaking an oath, however, it will not escape the notice of God. The Bible warns us not to make oaths lightly, and says that a righteous man "sweareth to his own hurt." Even if a promise turns out to be to our disadvantage, or an annoyance, we cannot simply cancel the promise on those grounds. (Obviously, if one promised something sinful, that would cancel the obligation.) One of greatest uses man makes of his creative abilities for sinful purposes is the twisting or negation of truth and sincerity, and it is the duty of every follower of Christ to ensure that his life is not marked by such tendencies. We know the great comfort of God's faithfulness, and of him to whom much is given, much is required: would not those who enjoy God's complete trustworthiness be ungrateful servants to make it hard for others to trust them in turn?
Breaking a promise is not just unfair, or harmful, though it is both. It is also a violation of our natures. There may be times when misleading someone is not a sin (the Egyptian midwives, for instance, or Rahab), but those times are rare and, I think, fairly easy to discern. When telling the truth would result in the deaths of innocent people, then I think one is called upon to mislead or even to lie if necessary. But breaking any promise whose keeping does not lead to evil is serious business. This is one of the many things that should set the children of God apart from the world: they can be taken at their word. Isildur's punishment may have been harsh, but Tolkien recognized that the failure to keep an oath was not just an unfortunate business. It is a grievous and unnatural transgression. And just as only Aragorn, the Numenorean king, could release the dead from their oath, so can only God forgive us when we break our promises to others or, worse, to Him--which, alas, is not a rare thing. Is is not a comfort to know that He never breaks His word?
Although it is quite possible that Tolkien simply found this useful to get the good guys out of their scrape--he did stack the odds rather high--I think one is reminded of something important here. In Tolkien's world, breaking an oath is an organic sin. The men who lived on that mountain were cursed because their oath was taken with reference to a higher power or standard, and violating it was an offense to the higher power as well as the other party in the oath. Breaking an oath is not simply bad form. It is contrary to nature.
Perhaps, if sin had never come into the world, we would not require oaths and pledges. Certainly most oaths, such as the well-known Hippocratic Oath or the oaths of citizenship most or all countries require, were devised to help ensure compliance to certain rules or laws--taking an oath adds solemnity to an occasion and also allows one to be easily prosecuted for breaking his word. Presumably one of the reasons that God seals His covenants with promises is because He knows our hunger for something in which to trust. Unlike God, men sometimes break their promises, of course. Either they repent of what they promised, or they never meant to keep their word in the first place and only used it to attain a certain position or gain a person's trust.
Though one may escape human punishment by breaking an oath, however, it will not escape the notice of God. The Bible warns us not to make oaths lightly, and says that a righteous man "sweareth to his own hurt." Even if a promise turns out to be to our disadvantage, or an annoyance, we cannot simply cancel the promise on those grounds. (Obviously, if one promised something sinful, that would cancel the obligation.) One of greatest uses man makes of his creative abilities for sinful purposes is the twisting or negation of truth and sincerity, and it is the duty of every follower of Christ to ensure that his life is not marked by such tendencies. We know the great comfort of God's faithfulness, and of him to whom much is given, much is required: would not those who enjoy God's complete trustworthiness be ungrateful servants to make it hard for others to trust them in turn?
Breaking a promise is not just unfair, or harmful, though it is both. It is also a violation of our natures. There may be times when misleading someone is not a sin (the Egyptian midwives, for instance, or Rahab), but those times are rare and, I think, fairly easy to discern. When telling the truth would result in the deaths of innocent people, then I think one is called upon to mislead or even to lie if necessary. But breaking any promise whose keeping does not lead to evil is serious business. This is one of the many things that should set the children of God apart from the world: they can be taken at their word. Isildur's punishment may have been harsh, but Tolkien recognized that the failure to keep an oath was not just an unfortunate business. It is a grievous and unnatural transgression. And just as only Aragorn, the Numenorean king, could release the dead from their oath, so can only God forgive us when we break our promises to others or, worse, to Him--which, alas, is not a rare thing. Is is not a comfort to know that He never breaks His word?
Saturday, June 14, 2008
What's, um, "Happening"?
I was, for a time, rather fanatically devoted to M. Night Shyamalan's The Village. I still enjoy the movie. I see it more as a love story than just a mystery-thriller, and it has often deeply moved me. I like Shyamalan's previous work, too--The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, and Signs all had their merits. The Village was interesting in concept, well-acted, and well-scripted except for some stilted dialogue at the beginning. The story was provocative and intriguing, and content-wise, the film was acceptable for anyone old enough to handle some tension, jump scenes, and one act of violence.
Then Lady in the Water came along, a movie that seemed better fitted for the children's story it began as than a film marketed to adults--except that the interposition of a scary wolf-like creature made it unacceptable for young children. The movie was confusing and rather poorly-conceived, and seemed to make little effort to engage the audience in a convincing fictional world. I mean, three apes show up at the end to kill the bad creature.
Now there's The Happening. I haven't personally seem the film, but according to Plugged in Online, it is essentially a horror-film rendition of An Inconvenient Truth. Shyamalan was quoted in the same review as stating that the original cut of the film would have received an X-rating--or even been banned in the United States. Some editing took it down to a tidy R for sanitized occurrences of gruesome suicide, like a man getting his arms torn off by a lion.
Shyamalan has never done this before. Sure, his other films were intense, but they were not gruesome. Every other movie he's made has received a PG-13. I'm not against all R-rated movies--I own several--although I'm always mighty curious to know exactly why the R was given, because it's a mixed bag. It can mean simply some intense violence, like The Last Samurai. Or it can mean The Departed's 237 F-words. But coming from Shyamlan, this is weird--editing down the gore from a sure-fire NC-17 rating? Evidently he also throws in some crude sexual slang to top things off. And the reason everyone is getting sawn into mincemeat, or whatever, is because of man's inhumanity to...the environment.
The question du jour, then, is what in blue blazes is Mr. Shyamalan up to, and why?
Then Lady in the Water came along, a movie that seemed better fitted for the children's story it began as than a film marketed to adults--except that the interposition of a scary wolf-like creature made it unacceptable for young children. The movie was confusing and rather poorly-conceived, and seemed to make little effort to engage the audience in a convincing fictional world. I mean, three apes show up at the end to kill the bad creature.
Now there's The Happening. I haven't personally seem the film, but according to Plugged in Online, it is essentially a horror-film rendition of An Inconvenient Truth. Shyamalan was quoted in the same review as stating that the original cut of the film would have received an X-rating--or even been banned in the United States. Some editing took it down to a tidy R for sanitized occurrences of gruesome suicide, like a man getting his arms torn off by a lion.
Shyamalan has never done this before. Sure, his other films were intense, but they were not gruesome. Every other movie he's made has received a PG-13. I'm not against all R-rated movies--I own several--although I'm always mighty curious to know exactly why the R was given, because it's a mixed bag. It can mean simply some intense violence, like The Last Samurai. Or it can mean The Departed's 237 F-words. But coming from Shyamlan, this is weird--editing down the gore from a sure-fire NC-17 rating? Evidently he also throws in some crude sexual slang to top things off. And the reason everyone is getting sawn into mincemeat, or whatever, is because of man's inhumanity to...the environment.
The question du jour, then, is what in blue blazes is Mr. Shyamalan up to, and why?
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Interesting Quote
I ran across this quote from a letter of Henry Ward Beecher to Secretary of War Edwin Stanton in the book A Ruined Land: The End of the Civil War: "We are in danger of too much northern management of the negro. The black man is just like the white, in this--that he should be left, & obliged to take care of himself. I think nursing will only pauperize him. I see in the movements about here a tendency to dandle the black man" (256-257).
Any thoughts?
Any thoughts?
Monday, May 26, 2008
What are your crutches supporting?
Your average skeptic or atheist is likely to consider Christianity a 'crutch.' Because it's so nice to believe in a Savior and a God who takes care of you, those not man enough to face reality buy in to the dream (their reasoning goes), because they cannot live without it. One can easily answer this claim, of course. God has manifested Himself in incontrovertible ways, and by no means is facing up to your sin and then denying self a command for the fainthearted.
In a sense, of course, every belief system is a crutch. Atheists' disbelief in God is a crutch for their faith in science, their faith in their own reasoning, their supposedly courageous embrace of 'reality,' and their self-absorption. It is a crutch that provides their rationale for ignoring God's commands. Polytheism is a crutch constructed out of the desire to appease the natural world. Humans are crippled: that's the point. We can't make it on our own. So, rightly construed, it is not really inaccurate to call Christianity a crutch, because it recognizes a key truth that Christ, of course, knew. Humans cannot spiritually (or physically, for that matter) support themselves. We do not move and act in a vacuum, but rather in the context of our beliefs about core aspects of humanity and the world.
But enough clarification. If Christianity may be rightly understood as a crutch, that is, Christ bearing our burdens, in another sense Christianity can be a crutch in a disturbing and insidious way. A way that gives the atheists some room to point their fingers. It is one that many Christians, I fear (including this one) are guilty of to one degree or another, perhaps especially in the West. We can make Christianity a crutch to support our daily routines--to make ourselves feel good about our lives. We pray, read the Bible, attend church, take communion, and put fish on our bumpers, but when it comes to stretching beyond those activities, which in the United States are, except in a few rare circumstances, entirely without opposition of any kind, we balk.
Vibrant faith can be tough as nails. It can be as simple a difficulty as smiling at someone your flesh wants to hate, or as hard as raising an autistic son for twenty-five years, dealing in a Christ-like way with a beloved spouse's adultery, or staring down at a gun barrel and saying "Christ is my Lord." We don't have to be missionaries to Bengal to be good Christians. I don't feel a call to be a missionary. But if I were, for a moment, to let concern for the world's opinion influence the content of my essays or novels, or to keep my mouth shut when I should speak because I fear what men might think--then I have made a concession to the world. When someone else is hurting, when an issue needs defending, when a friend needs rebuking, when our testimony needs to be given, when our precious self needs denying, when ten children need to be raised, when a monotonous job requires twenty years of your uncomplaining labor, when a dream needs to be abandoned, when an addiction needs to be broken, faith says Go. The flesh says Wait, the flesh says It's too hard, the flesh says You'll be embarrassed, the flesh says You don't want to get involved just now, but since when are we supposed to listen to the flesh?
We must be careful that our faith isn't a little furry thing we keep under the table. We crippled humans, dead in sin, certainly need a crutch. But Christ did not die so that we might live comfortable lives. War is not comfortable. We are at war. A war almost literally as old as Adam. Whatever our place in it, whatever our duties, great or small, at home or abroad, let us look to Christ and be bold, vigilant, and undismayed.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Petroleum Musings
I've been thinking about colleges for months now, but only very recently has the possibility of a massive slump in the airline industry been a potential factor in my decision-making process. During my brother's whole four years as an undergraduate, flights, though not effortlessly affordable for everyone, were certainly available. Now some people are predicting a 20% drop in flights (I don't know with how much authority). If the situation is indeed that dire for the airlines--if gas prices really sink them--then attending a college 2,000 miles away is suddenly not just daunting on the emotional level of being far from home, but also daunting to the pocket book, and perhaps as a logistical difficulty too.
There is a book that came out some years back, which as far as I know is still popular today, called Who Moved my Cheese? that many business distributed to their employees as a kind of inspirational manual. I've never read the book, and it seems a bit of a childish story to market to adults, but I know that its main thrust is that trusting blindly in the eternal presence of a particular resource without planning for its eventual exhaustion is foolhardy. Two people find a big stockpile of a cheese somewhere and use it as a food source, but one is prescient and the other is not. The prescient one explores further and finds other sources of cheese, but the thickheaded one keeps on eating without any exploration until, lo and behold, all the cheese is gone. And so he asks where it went, not even comprehending that some day he would eat it all.
We seem to be reaching that point. We aren't running out of petroleum products yet, though many sources have been deemed inaccessible, and oil companies barred from tapping into them (offshore reserves, Alaska, etc.). But for the first time in my living memory, and for the first time since the late 70s, we're facing a belt-tightening oil dearth where skyrocketing prices have left SUV sales in the dust and attracted everyone to hybrid cars. Civilizations sprang up and survived without petroleum for millennia, so it's not as if people can't do with out it. It's not like the dearth of food in Ethiopia. Our society, however, is one built on petroleum. Modern western society is built on petroleum. Cars, ships, airplanes, stoves, lawnmowers, bulldozers, semi-trucks, and factories all depend on it. In the adjustments that we will have to make over the next few years--for we will have to adjust to some extent, whether the effects of this are mild or catastrophic--I see a lesson in caution, reticence, and stewardship. It is a lesson I fear will be forgotten as soon as the situation stabilizes. But the truth is that wise men husband their resources while there is an abundance, not while there's scarcity. The man who frantically scrabbles around for coin when his creditors come knocking is the foolish one, but likely enough he was laughing at the man who carefully husbanded his money when there seemed to be no fear of want.
Dorothy Sayers predicted in one of her essays on work that the "whirligig of production" couldn't go on spinning forever. One of the unfortunate aspects of our society is the seemingly insatiable drive to keep on producing, and consuming, more and more. It is ironic, though not terribly surprising, to see people blessed with so much prosperity lumbering around in indolent obesity while 10,000 miles away 120,000 Ethiopian children have a month to live. The whirligig has overheated a bit, and people are waking up, looking around, and adjusting the speed to compensate. I hope--I dearly hope--that the lesson will be learned that the produce of the earth is meant to be enjoyed, but not to be squandered. We can never assume that what we use will last forever.
There is a book that came out some years back, which as far as I know is still popular today, called Who Moved my Cheese? that many business distributed to their employees as a kind of inspirational manual. I've never read the book, and it seems a bit of a childish story to market to adults, but I know that its main thrust is that trusting blindly in the eternal presence of a particular resource without planning for its eventual exhaustion is foolhardy. Two people find a big stockpile of a cheese somewhere and use it as a food source, but one is prescient and the other is not. The prescient one explores further and finds other sources of cheese, but the thickheaded one keeps on eating without any exploration until, lo and behold, all the cheese is gone. And so he asks where it went, not even comprehending that some day he would eat it all.
We seem to be reaching that point. We aren't running out of petroleum products yet, though many sources have been deemed inaccessible, and oil companies barred from tapping into them (offshore reserves, Alaska, etc.). But for the first time in my living memory, and for the first time since the late 70s, we're facing a belt-tightening oil dearth where skyrocketing prices have left SUV sales in the dust and attracted everyone to hybrid cars. Civilizations sprang up and survived without petroleum for millennia, so it's not as if people can't do with out it. It's not like the dearth of food in Ethiopia. Our society, however, is one built on petroleum. Modern western society is built on petroleum. Cars, ships, airplanes, stoves, lawnmowers, bulldozers, semi-trucks, and factories all depend on it. In the adjustments that we will have to make over the next few years--for we will have to adjust to some extent, whether the effects of this are mild or catastrophic--I see a lesson in caution, reticence, and stewardship. It is a lesson I fear will be forgotten as soon as the situation stabilizes. But the truth is that wise men husband their resources while there is an abundance, not while there's scarcity. The man who frantically scrabbles around for coin when his creditors come knocking is the foolish one, but likely enough he was laughing at the man who carefully husbanded his money when there seemed to be no fear of want.
Dorothy Sayers predicted in one of her essays on work that the "whirligig of production" couldn't go on spinning forever. One of the unfortunate aspects of our society is the seemingly insatiable drive to keep on producing, and consuming, more and more. It is ironic, though not terribly surprising, to see people blessed with so much prosperity lumbering around in indolent obesity while 10,000 miles away 120,000 Ethiopian children have a month to live. The whirligig has overheated a bit, and people are waking up, looking around, and adjusting the speed to compensate. I hope--I dearly hope--that the lesson will be learned that the produce of the earth is meant to be enjoyed, but not to be squandered. We can never assume that what we use will last forever.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Obama's Foreign Policy Stance(s)
Here is an intriguing article by Karl Rove (that scary guy who most liberals seem to hate). And here is another one from David Reinhard in the Oregonian.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
SETI
For some years now, since some modicum of technology has been in place to scratch around above our atmosphere, people have been searching for extraterrestrial intelligence--or, as most people know them, aliens. An entire company or research team was created by alien-believer Carl Sagan called SETI--Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence. Science fiction writers have for years envisioned cultures on Mars or other celestial locales. On the Internet, Mom recently came across a survey asking whether the proven presence of extraterrestrial life would undermine one's faith.
I got thinking and wondering about this. Why the rage to see if there are other peoples in the universe? Natural curiosity may have something to do with it, of course. After Amundsen, we didn't have many frontiers left to conquer, and there would be brain-food for more than just explorers: sociologists, psychologists, linguists, philologists, politicians, philosophers, theologians, writers, tourists, and many others would have a vested interest in the place. There has thus far been no credible evidence for the presence of extraterrestrial life, however, to my knowledge, and the expense of looking for it is quite large. If the technology is innovated that would allow men to travel and explore to further reaches of the solar system or beyond, the cost would rise considerably.
I very much doubt that there are aliens, and if there are, God didn't see fit to tell us about them and (I would guess) would have made them impossible for human ingenuity to find. But supposing we found some evidence of them, the extra-Hollywood notion that these extraterrestrials would be both pacific of intentions and advanced far beyond humans in development also seems doubtful. How could we possibly guess with any certainty whatsoever one way or another? The assumption or hope that aliens would not only understand us, but also desire contact with us, and peaceable contact at that, and then perhaps solve the world's problems, does seem to be present in some circles.
It occurred to me that there may be something more basic at work here than mere curiosity which might explain this curious hope in benevolent and spiritually advanced aliens. After all, if exploration or professional interest were the only motivator, I would think that suspended judgment and caution would be the order of the day. Now, not having done much study at all on this field, my theory could be wrong or in some ways misguided, at least as concerns some particular individuals. I'm sure not everyone thinks this way. This tendency I am about to mention is not, however, limited merely to this field. It is, in fact, a tendency that can be found almost everywhere, and I would be surprised not to find it somewhere in the field as theoretical and limited as this.
What I would guess is that part of this hope in benevolent aliens comes from the universal desire for an outside source of power and help (that is, the remnant of the inbred desire for union with God). Alien civilization, if it existed, would be 'out there,' mysterious, and ripe for speculative projection. And what better to speculate about than a race of supermen, angelic creatures, who could reach down from the depths of space and wipe out the curse? If only the misery and conflict in the Gaza Strip, Burma, China, Darfur, etc. could be wiped out by the waving of a Martian wand. This desire for a savior is, of course, unsurprising, but it is very sad that it should be directed toward the supposed presence of space aliens. After all, is this professional curiosity or a timid cop-out? There are very human problems that are affecting millions of people right now. The one answer to these problems is the power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and spreading that Gospel, as the Scriptures and history plainly demonstrate, is not a walk in the park. It takes faith, guts, resources, and all the varied talents of the body of Christ. I find myself often harping on these posts about how resources are being used up in vain pursuits. By and large, this seems to be one of them. Even if we found a footprint on Alpha Centauri, it's almost 26 trillion miles away--more than an eight-year round trip if we could build a space ship that could maintain the speed of light for the equivalent of two terms of presidential office. Imagine finding that there were only footprints and bones there.
Space exploration is fascinating to a degree, but honestly, where is it going to get us? To me it seems like only a vain hope to find some shortcut to solving the world's problems. To invent the technology, if it could be done, might take centuries, and the monetary cost would be staggering. And I believe that it would all be for nothing anyway. Once again, shall we turn our attention to more immediate problems, and stop frittering away our time on things like this? I don't think that huge amounts of money alone can solve those problems, of course, but the vast resources of wealth and machinery available to us in this century could clearly be marshaled more effectively.
I got thinking and wondering about this. Why the rage to see if there are other peoples in the universe? Natural curiosity may have something to do with it, of course. After Amundsen, we didn't have many frontiers left to conquer, and there would be brain-food for more than just explorers: sociologists, psychologists, linguists, philologists, politicians, philosophers, theologians, writers, tourists, and many others would have a vested interest in the place. There has thus far been no credible evidence for the presence of extraterrestrial life, however, to my knowledge, and the expense of looking for it is quite large. If the technology is innovated that would allow men to travel and explore to further reaches of the solar system or beyond, the cost would rise considerably.
I very much doubt that there are aliens, and if there are, God didn't see fit to tell us about them and (I would guess) would have made them impossible for human ingenuity to find. But supposing we found some evidence of them, the extra-Hollywood notion that these extraterrestrials would be both pacific of intentions and advanced far beyond humans in development also seems doubtful. How could we possibly guess with any certainty whatsoever one way or another? The assumption or hope that aliens would not only understand us, but also desire contact with us, and peaceable contact at that, and then perhaps solve the world's problems, does seem to be present in some circles.
It occurred to me that there may be something more basic at work here than mere curiosity which might explain this curious hope in benevolent and spiritually advanced aliens. After all, if exploration or professional interest were the only motivator, I would think that suspended judgment and caution would be the order of the day. Now, not having done much study at all on this field, my theory could be wrong or in some ways misguided, at least as concerns some particular individuals. I'm sure not everyone thinks this way. This tendency I am about to mention is not, however, limited merely to this field. It is, in fact, a tendency that can be found almost everywhere, and I would be surprised not to find it somewhere in the field as theoretical and limited as this.
What I would guess is that part of this hope in benevolent aliens comes from the universal desire for an outside source of power and help (that is, the remnant of the inbred desire for union with God). Alien civilization, if it existed, would be 'out there,' mysterious, and ripe for speculative projection. And what better to speculate about than a race of supermen, angelic creatures, who could reach down from the depths of space and wipe out the curse? If only the misery and conflict in the Gaza Strip, Burma, China, Darfur, etc. could be wiped out by the waving of a Martian wand. This desire for a savior is, of course, unsurprising, but it is very sad that it should be directed toward the supposed presence of space aliens. After all, is this professional curiosity or a timid cop-out? There are very human problems that are affecting millions of people right now. The one answer to these problems is the power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and spreading that Gospel, as the Scriptures and history plainly demonstrate, is not a walk in the park. It takes faith, guts, resources, and all the varied talents of the body of Christ. I find myself often harping on these posts about how resources are being used up in vain pursuits. By and large, this seems to be one of them. Even if we found a footprint on Alpha Centauri, it's almost 26 trillion miles away--more than an eight-year round trip if we could build a space ship that could maintain the speed of light for the equivalent of two terms of presidential office. Imagine finding that there were only footprints and bones there.
Space exploration is fascinating to a degree, but honestly, where is it going to get us? To me it seems like only a vain hope to find some shortcut to solving the world's problems. To invent the technology, if it could be done, might take centuries, and the monetary cost would be staggering. And I believe that it would all be for nothing anyway. Once again, shall we turn our attention to more immediate problems, and stop frittering away our time on things like this? I don't think that huge amounts of money alone can solve those problems, of course, but the vast resources of wealth and machinery available to us in this century could clearly be marshaled more effectively.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
So Much Better Than This
For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face...
~1 Corinthians 13: 12a
When I mow the lawn, I wear earmuffs (the kind that reduce sound, not the ones that warm the ears; I gather that they have the same name). Mowing both our lawns probably takes half an hour or so, and by the time I finish, my level of hearing feels fairly normal. I've grown used to the earmuffs, and I don't actively think, "Wow, how dull everything sounds!" But when I take them off, there is a rush of noises that realize I had not been hearing: small insects, passing cars, the breeze in the leaves.
The same goes for sight. Anyone else who wears glasses or contacts will know what I am talking about. As you grow older and your vision changes, the prescription in your particular lenses is not correcting your sight enough, but you don't really notice, because you are used to them. Then an optometrist puts a new pair of glasses on you and the distant sign in the store suddenly leaps into clarity. Colors are sharper and richer. For a few hours (until you get used to the new pair), the world feels like it's been baptized with light.
C.S. Lewis compares the "new world" Narnia at the end of The Last Battle to a country seen in a mirror: better, richer, beckoning exploration, full of promise. I think one may also compare the experience of Heaven, insofar as the Bible tells us of an experience that we cannot fully understand until we get there, to taking off earmuffs or putting on glasses. Everything that we see, hear, touch, feel and think in this world will pale in comparison to that which comes after. We cannot feel the comparison empirically, but that is only because the dark glass has not yet been taken away.
When I look around at springtime, I experience wonderful things: fresh green leaves, colorful blossoms, and awakened birdsong. How wonderful it is to know that things will be so much better than this for those who love the Lord.
~1 Corinthians 13: 12a
When I mow the lawn, I wear earmuffs (the kind that reduce sound, not the ones that warm the ears; I gather that they have the same name). Mowing both our lawns probably takes half an hour or so, and by the time I finish, my level of hearing feels fairly normal. I've grown used to the earmuffs, and I don't actively think, "Wow, how dull everything sounds!" But when I take them off, there is a rush of noises that realize I had not been hearing: small insects, passing cars, the breeze in the leaves.
The same goes for sight. Anyone else who wears glasses or contacts will know what I am talking about. As you grow older and your vision changes, the prescription in your particular lenses is not correcting your sight enough, but you don't really notice, because you are used to them. Then an optometrist puts a new pair of glasses on you and the distant sign in the store suddenly leaps into clarity. Colors are sharper and richer. For a few hours (until you get used to the new pair), the world feels like it's been baptized with light.
C.S. Lewis compares the "new world" Narnia at the end of The Last Battle to a country seen in a mirror: better, richer, beckoning exploration, full of promise. I think one may also compare the experience of Heaven, insofar as the Bible tells us of an experience that we cannot fully understand until we get there, to taking off earmuffs or putting on glasses. Everything that we see, hear, touch, feel and think in this world will pale in comparison to that which comes after. We cannot feel the comparison empirically, but that is only because the dark glass has not yet been taken away.
When I look around at springtime, I experience wonderful things: fresh green leaves, colorful blossoms, and awakened birdsong. How wonderful it is to know that things will be so much better than this for those who love the Lord.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
This Alternative Fuel Needs an Alternative
I am by no means against alternative fuels--if they can be produced in a way that does not have huge and harmful repercussions. Ethanol, unfortunately does. According to Wikipedia, the United States has 131 ethanol refineries capable of producing 7 billion gallons a year. An extra 72 refineries are going to be built. Incidentally, the stuff increases carbon emissions by a factor of 92 when virgin land is cultivated for ethanol production ("Food Riots Made in USA," The Weekly Standard, April 28, 2008).
That aside, the big problem here is that producing ethanol sucks up an enormous amount of corn production, which seems to be directly contributing the food shortage crisis. In a CNN article title "Aid group to cut food rations to millions," posted yesterday, the articles says that a woman affiliated with World Vision attributed part of the crisis to "the diversion of corn to the production of ethanol rather than food." Another problem is "spiraling fuel prices," but ethanol, which doesn't come cheap itself, is not going to fix that problem and thereby neutralize its negative effects. An article by William Tucker in The Weekly Standard called "Food Riots Made in the USA" puts it bluntly: "In order to understand the steep rise in world food prices...you need to travel to Iowa. Right now, we're trying to run our cars on corn ethanol instead of gasoline. As a result, we suddenly find ourselves taking food out of the mouths of children in developing nations. That may sound harsh, but it also happens to be true." This same article states that "One-third of the American corn crop will be converted to ethanol this year."
One-third is a mighty big fraction when you consider that the U.S. produces 280 million metric tons of the stuff, almost half the world's production. Too big, by my lights, for a fledging alternative fuel that is sapping the world food market and setting up many developing countries for some rocky times ahead. Tucker's article cites two agricultural experts at the University of Minnesota who "predict that by 2025 biofuels will be responsible for 600 million more chronically hungry people." The fuel issue is real. I don't love depending on a product that is difficult to renew and is inherently something of an environmental liability (and is generally under the control of countries not too thrilled with us). Maybe some day we'll have a fuel so harmless that you can drink it in a milkshake. But right now, the priority is on the 1.5 million people World Vision had to stop feeding who are facing the prospect of starvation or malnourishment.
Back off on ethanol, work toward stabilizing the food situation, and then reassess. Don't blindly keep producing ethanol and hope things will iron out.
Monday, April 07, 2008
We live in a disturbingly litigious society...
And Texas A&M seems keenly aware of that fact. An excerpt or two from their "Camp and Enrichment Program Waiver, Indemnification, and Medical Treatment Authorization Form" which accompanied their little promotional booklet in the mail advertising their Summer Honors Invitational Program:
Want to go now?
1. EXCULPATORY CLAUSE. In consideration for receiving permission to participate in any and all activities of Summer Honors Invitational Program (herein referred to as "activity"), which is sponsored by Texas A&M University Honors Programs, (herein referred to as "sponsor"), I hereby release, waive, discharge, covenant not to sue, and agree to hold harmless for any and all purposes sponsor, The Texas A&M University System, the Board of Regents for the Texas A&M University System, Texas A&M University, and their members, officers, servants [sic], agents, volunteers, or employees (herein referred to as RELEASEES OR INDEMNITEES) from any and all liabilities, claims, demands, injuries (including death), or damages, including court costs and attorney's fees and expenses, that may be sustained by me/my child while participating in such activity, while traveling to and from the activity, or while on the premises owned or leased by RELEASEES, including injuries sustained as a result of the sole, joint, or concurrent negligence, negligence per se, statutory fault, or strict liability of RELEASEES. I understand this waiver does not apply to injuries caused by intentional or grossly negligent conduct.
2. Indemnity Clause. I am fully aware that there are inherent risks to my child/myself and others involved with this activity, including but not limited to cuts, ankle sprain, etc,, and I choose to voluntarily participate/allow my child to participate in said activity with full knowledge that the activity may be hazardous to me/my child and my property....
[...]
6. Voluntary Signature. In signing this agreement I acknowledge and represent that I have read it, understand it, and sign it voluntarily as my own free act and deed; sponsor has not made and I have not relied on any oral representations, statements, or inducements part from the terms contained in this agreement....I understand I can choose not to sign this document and free myself and my child from its terms and the associated risks of the activity simply by not participating in the activity and choosing some other activity available to me/my child that has a lower level of risk to myself/my child....
Want to go now?
Monday, March 31, 2008
Hypothetical Musings
So here is a question I find intriguing. What would the federal government do--what could it do--if (for example) the state of California decided to secede? What would the rest of the world do? It's a chance in a million or less that any state would dream of secession, let alone be able to convince 20 million+ voting citizens to agree to it, but permit the hypothesis. What would be likely to happen? It's a little bit amusing, because it seems like popular opinion would keep the government's hands tied. Would it bring in tanks and impose martial law? Blast off a chunk of California real estate at the San Andreas Fault with Cruise missles, a la Lex Luthor? Go pleading to the UN? Just let it slide? :-)
Sunday, March 23, 2008
He is Risen!
Happy Resurrection Day!!
"And when the sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome, had bought sweet spices, that they might come and anoint him.
And very early in the morning the first day of the week, they came unto the sepulchre at the rising of the sun.
And they said among themselves, Who shall roll us away the stone from the door of the sepulchre?
And when they looked, they saw that the stone was rolled away: for it was very great.
And entering into the sepulchre, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, clothed in a long white garment; and they were affrighted.
And he saith unto them, Be not affrighted: Ye seek Jesus of Nazareth, which was crucified: he is risen; he is not here: behold the place where they laid him.
But go your way, tell his disciples and Peter that he goeth before you into Galilee: there shall ye see him, as he said unto you.
And they went out quickly, and fled from the sepulchre; for they trembled and were amazed: neither said they any thing to any man; for they were afraid.
Now when Jesus was risen early the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom he had cast seven devils.
And she went and told them that had been with him, as they mourned and wept.
And they, when they had heard that he was alive, and had been seen of her, believed not.
After that he appeared in another form unto two of them, as they walked, and went into the country.
And they went and told it unto the residue: neither believed they them.
Afterward he appeared unto the eleven as they sat at meat, and upbraided them with their unbelief and hardness of heart, because they believed not them which had seen him after he was risen.
And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.
He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.
And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues;
They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.
So then after the Lord had spoken unto them, he was received up into heaven, and sat on the right hand of God.
And they went forth, and preached every where, the Lord working with them, and confirming the word with signs following. Amen."
Saturday, March 22, 2008
How Much Would You Pay?
Only in this society? It's his decision, but I wish he'd burnt $1350 dollars by giving them to me! Seriously, though, think of all the useful or interesting or even simply nice things that money could have been spent on: a lawnmower, a new coat, a nice painting, maybe a couple hundred pounds of food bound for Darfur.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Amateur Economics
I am not an economist, so I'm sure the issue is ten times more complicated than this. But investment, stocks, and the like are built on credit and trust, right? Investors know the money isn't all there in hard specie. The "fake money" that the Jeffersonians thundered against in the early 19th century is common currency now. Why, then, do investors make a run on banks and firms when something shakes their confidence? Doesn't a run benefit almost no one? They can't all be so reflexively greedy that each one is so desperate to be the lucky one who gets a real return on his investment before the bank can't pony up. I sometimes get the feeling that if all these investors just kept their heads and had patience, things would stabilize. But they never do, so there must a lot more to it I'm completely unaware of. Any economics whizzes out there who can shed some light?
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
I had an interesting thought yesterday. It seems like the more liberal-minded, the majority of those one would associate with the democratic party, cannot stand the idea of there being anyone struggling to keep a decent standard of living, and so they race to prop up everyone immediately. The more conservative-minded--but I can't include the majority of Republicans here, because some of them probably don't want this or haven't thought about it--recognize that this will end up making almost everyone fall harder. And so they are willing to go through a somewhat difficult transition in order to dismantle or diminish some of the government structure most people have come to depend on and find other solutions that work better over time--even, I would hope, if the transition were difficult for them personally.
Maybe that just applies to me and a few other people, and the differences between the parties are different or more complex, or both. But that thought struck me and I wanted to write about it. :-)
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Blind Spots
Many modern intellectuals of the secular mold don't much care for the mores of the Victorian era. "Victorian" is common parlance for stuffy or prudish, and many people not in specialized and intellectual fields share the same general mindset. After all (one may imagine them generalizing), not only were the Victorians prudes who repressed matters of sex, but they were also snooty white supremacists who, even if they didn't have slavery outright, as Britain did not after the 1830s, certainly thought of Africans, Chinese, American Indians, and the like as 'inferior' races. And they whip out something like Kipling's "White Man's Burden" to prove it. A huge amount of effort over the past 40 years or so has gone into eradicating any hint of racism or what one might call monoculturalism from thought, writing, and practice. Some of this has been misguided, some of it likely more politically than morally influenced, and some of it outright ridiculous, but the point of my post is not to delve into that, especially since I'm in no wise prepared to argue about it in depth, should anyone want to. Of course I believe that treating fellow men and women with one sort of physical characteristics as inferior to men and women with a different set is simply ludicrous. In principle, trying to free a culture that was once highly prejudiced from that prejudice is a good and needed thing. I also freely admit that the Victorians had a big blind spot here. Kipling was probably really sincere about the white man's burden, which may prevent one from accusing him of sheer arrogance, but it does not make his position all right.
It's oversimplifying a lot to take the Victorian era alone to task, as if it were the only age to endorse slavery, but it's plain to just about everyone that the majority opinion of the time had a blind spot; a big blind spot that caused injustices and even atrocities to be perpetrated against non-whites.
But a kind of irony emerges when we consider the subject of sex. As much as intellectuals like to repudiate the racism and prejudice of the 19th century, they may even more enjoy rolling their eyes at the lack of "frankness" about sex in a pre-Freud world, and, most of all, finding Freudian elements in a pre-Freud world. I haven't taken the trouble to look at any curricula of the "gender and sexuality" majors at several of the various colleges who've sent me mail, but I don't doubt that many of them involve digging up hidden sexual repressions and veiled references in Austen, Dickens, and the rest.
The Victorians had their Wickhams (whom I realize dwells locked in the Regency era, but had he been real and lived to a ripe old age, he would have died a Victorian) and other unscrupulous types, of course, but even the generalized and caricatured view of this era indicates something that was really there, that is, a general moral sense and reticence that dominated civilized society during that time.
The ironic thing is that modern society, while so vigorously scrubbing out racism, is not only ignoring but encouraging the creeping stain of promiscuity. 
In shredding one of the great blind spots of the Victorian era, we have welcomed the destruction of one of its great virtues. We have exchanged one blind spot for another. We applaud both the abolitionists and anyone who subverted or even seemed to perhaps subvert sexual taboos.
I have already said that racism and prejudice are bad things. But the new blind spot is just as bad, if not worse. Racism is a mindset--an arrogant, misguided mindset, but a private one that can be shelved in public. Shattering barriers around the public discussion and depiction of sex on a graphic level, however, and reinterpreting old art or infusing new art with a kind of frenzied obsession with sex, is more open and immediate in its ill effects. Unhealthy sexuality spawns feminism even as women are more and more being made objects of. It shatters families. It ruins childhoods. It encourages violence, selfishness, dissipation, and inconstancy. It makes a mockery of covenant faithfulness.
Racism may not be gone (although there's far more of it in other countries than here), but there are enough people monitoring it with eagle's eyes that the chance of it breaking out in force any time soon is pretty slim. But promiscuity is with us everywhere: on our billboards, in our magazines, our movies, our books, our operas, our musicals, our plays, our streets, our homes. We need to take some energy away from redressing an old blind spot and start paying attention to the new one that's eating away at our society as we speak. In my mind, it doesn't matter quite so much if a college frat party hires one stripper as opposed to another because of her race. What matters is that we have strippers.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
A Party Divided Against Itself Cannot Stand
Yeah, you two, take each other out, please. I know this is neither unusual nor restricted to the democratic party, but the pictures were so funny I wanted to put it up. And I do hope they fragment their party. ;-)
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Interesting Verse
We are reading through the book of Romans as part of the Bible reading for our family devotions, and when I heard this verse, I thought it interestingly addressed what I wrote a while back about New Year's day:
"He that regardeth the day, regardeth it unto the Lord; and he that regardeth not the day, to the Lord he doth not regard it. He that eateth, eateth to the Lord, for he giveth God thanks; and he that eateth not, to the Lord he eateth not, and giveth God thanks."
So maybe we were both right. :-)
"He that regardeth the day, regardeth it unto the Lord; and he that regardeth not the day, to the Lord he doth not regard it. He that eateth, eateth to the Lord, for he giveth God thanks; and he that eateth not, to the Lord he eateth not, and giveth God thanks."
So maybe we were both right. :-)
Once again it is brought home to me, with this latest school killing spree, just how much safer colleges and high schools could be if teachers were given concealed firearms and appropriate training. If schools offered adult-supervised handling, safety, and target practice courses with all types of firearms for interested students.
Maybe if people stopped being so wary about guns, criminals could no longer gain such absolute power over their victims with just a couple of illegally-purchased firearms. Then distraught students won't need to scream "call 911!" and hide in classrooms until the police arrive--after four or five people are already dead.
Maybe if people stopped being so wary about guns, criminals could no longer gain such absolute power over their victims with just a couple of illegally-purchased firearms. Then distraught students won't need to scream "call 911!" and hide in classrooms until the police arrive--after four or five people are already dead.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Change: we know we need it, but do we know what kind?
All the heavy-hitters this presidential campaign, especially the democratic ones, just love to talk about change. I read an article by Mark Steyn in the latest issue of National Review where he said that those who claim to desire change really want "a restoration of the quiet life." This is probably true. The reason that those who want change want this, though, is because the lives of most people are not very quiet: they may rumble quietly or feverishly toss, but whatever their condition, it likely isn't quiet and happy contentment. So many voters, bitterly dissatisfied with Bush, long for something new, something different, something progressive. Obama, Clinton, and Edwards like to point out the flaws in Bush's administration and promise better things in theirs, and politicians have been making the same promises since the days of--well, of politicians.
The point is that very few candidates, and only those in unique positions, would likely ever interview a talk show host and say, "I promise the American people to continue to preserve and promulgate for the next four or eight years the exact same policies that my predecessor pursued." When a presidential election comes around, the promise to make changes is simply expected.
It is unsurprising that just about everyone's nose begins to sniff the air excitedly with the word change comes into play. Deep down we all recognize that things are deeply wrong with life on this earth. We see a tide of illegal immigration, wars in the Middle East, horrific violence in Kenya and Somalia, unsettling rumblings in the Russian government, decreasing populations (thanks to our friends from the 1960s), Palestinian unrest, potential nuclear threats in Iran and North Korea, a failing health care system, and so on. Every single area of human enterprise is somehow flawed, and people are divided on almost every important issue, so when a candidate comes promising change, it's likely that at least half the population is going to get excited. It's innate in us to want something more, something better. Struggling with their lack of hope, those who do not have Christ eventually grow restive under any system, because it fails to satisfy. Those who do have faith in Christ have an unshakable hope, but that is not to say that we are satisfied with American politics, as they are anything but thoroughly Christian at the moment.
So everyone wants change. That's not new. But "change" is a word whose denotation is amoral. Connotationally, it appears to have come to mean something good, or at least "what voters want to hear." But, to use a simple analogy, let's suppose there is a vineyard somewhere that a man owns and maintains. His time of ownership comes to an end and I make a bid for the title, along with another chap. I and the second candidate both promise that dramatic changes will take place one this vineyard if we become the owners. If I removed bad grape plants and replaced them better ones, improved irrigation and upgraded the farm's technology, and found alternative means of pest control that didn't have any health hazards, I would be making good my promise. But if the second candidate burnt the whole place to ash and said, by jingo, he was going to grow date palms on this property, so would he. Change can either mean improvement or degeneration; starting with a mediocre policy, the imposition of good or bad policies is equally progressive.
I know it's been said before, but voters must determine what kind of change is being offered by these candidates. If it's change to a more intrusive and controlling government that, taking historical precedent and the nature of man into consideration, we really want, all right. I won't like the choice, but America will have made it honestly (and should face the consequences just as honestly if things go wrong).
When someone promises to change something, our first reaction should not be to welcome the news, but to ask what is going to change, and how.
The point is that very few candidates, and only those in unique positions, would likely ever interview a talk show host and say, "I promise the American people to continue to preserve and promulgate for the next four or eight years the exact same policies that my predecessor pursued." When a presidential election comes around, the promise to make changes is simply expected.
It is unsurprising that just about everyone's nose begins to sniff the air excitedly with the word change comes into play. Deep down we all recognize that things are deeply wrong with life on this earth. We see a tide of illegal immigration, wars in the Middle East, horrific violence in Kenya and Somalia, unsettling rumblings in the Russian government, decreasing populations (thanks to our friends from the 1960s), Palestinian unrest, potential nuclear threats in Iran and North Korea, a failing health care system, and so on. Every single area of human enterprise is somehow flawed, and people are divided on almost every important issue, so when a candidate comes promising change, it's likely that at least half the population is going to get excited. It's innate in us to want something more, something better. Struggling with their lack of hope, those who do not have Christ eventually grow restive under any system, because it fails to satisfy. Those who do have faith in Christ have an unshakable hope, but that is not to say that we are satisfied with American politics, as they are anything but thoroughly Christian at the moment.
So everyone wants change. That's not new. But "change" is a word whose denotation is amoral. Connotationally, it appears to have come to mean something good, or at least "what voters want to hear." But, to use a simple analogy, let's suppose there is a vineyard somewhere that a man owns and maintains. His time of ownership comes to an end and I make a bid for the title, along with another chap. I and the second candidate both promise that dramatic changes will take place one this vineyard if we become the owners. If I removed bad grape plants and replaced them better ones, improved irrigation and upgraded the farm's technology, and found alternative means of pest control that didn't have any health hazards, I would be making good my promise. But if the second candidate burnt the whole place to ash and said, by jingo, he was going to grow date palms on this property, so would he. Change can either mean improvement or degeneration; starting with a mediocre policy, the imposition of good or bad policies is equally progressive.
I know it's been said before, but voters must determine what kind of change is being offered by these candidates. If it's change to a more intrusive and controlling government that, taking historical precedent and the nature of man into consideration, we really want, all right. I won't like the choice, but America will have made it honestly (and should face the consequences just as honestly if things go wrong).
When someone promises to change something, our first reaction should not be to welcome the news, but to ask what is going to change, and how.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
New Year's Hullabaloo
This turn of the year more than any other, I wondered why everyone made such a big deal out of it. Crowds gathered in places hours before the actual celebrations began, people lined up for parades, and a CNN article quoted a woman who said she "had to be there" once in her life, or something to that effect. I would be the last person to say that the highest meaning of everything is merely its materialistic parts, but honestly, the new year is an artificial construct on our calendars that marks each time the earth circles the sun. New Year resolutions are one thing--since the event has taken on a cultural significance of change and renewal, then I don't think anyone is overdoing it by making resolutions. It is arguable, however, that a resolution fit for inaugurating the new year is worthy to be made at any time of the year, and ought not be postponed until January 1st.
What does seem like overkill to me is the big events, the shooting of fireworks, the throwing of parties. Are people just looking for any excuse to throw a party? Are they trying to find significance in a day that doesn't celebrate any event of significance? Maybe I'm being a trifle cynical, but I found all the hoopla surrounding the new year rather shallow. Sure, it's 2008 now, not 2007, but so what? Midnight slipped by on December 31st, and there was no worldwide flash of light or tectonic tremor. This new year, which does not represent (as far as we know) exactly the anniversary of the earth's starting point around the sun when it was first created, only a random point on its orbit, will have whatever tenor and importance that we give to it. The fact that the new year came around may be fun, interesting, or whatever, but why do we shoot off fireworks as if it's the 4th of July? There's nothing wrong with that, but why? Am I just a stick-in-the-mud, or does this seem a little overblown? I'm happy to be proven wrong, if proof can be offered in a relatively subjective case.
What does seem like overkill to me is the big events, the shooting of fireworks, the throwing of parties. Are people just looking for any excuse to throw a party? Are they trying to find significance in a day that doesn't celebrate any event of significance? Maybe I'm being a trifle cynical, but I found all the hoopla surrounding the new year rather shallow. Sure, it's 2008 now, not 2007, but so what? Midnight slipped by on December 31st, and there was no worldwide flash of light or tectonic tremor. This new year, which does not represent (as far as we know) exactly the anniversary of the earth's starting point around the sun when it was first created, only a random point on its orbit, will have whatever tenor and importance that we give to it. The fact that the new year came around may be fun, interesting, or whatever, but why do we shoot off fireworks as if it's the 4th of July? There's nothing wrong with that, but why? Am I just a stick-in-the-mud, or does this seem a little overblown? I'm happy to be proven wrong, if proof can be offered in a relatively subjective case.
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