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I keep coming back to a definition of freedom offered by Marx and Engels: the ability to "contemplate oneself in a world one has created." In other words, one is not free if one merely has the ability to choose between life-options offered to her by society - one is free if she can live in the world she conceives and acts to bring about.

The riots in London (and in many other places around the world over the last couple of years) have been on my mind, because I dreamed I was involved in the destruction of a concrete park bench as an act of dissenting vandalism, and found myself in the custody of the Archons, one of whom, in the guise of an authoritative-looking man, held both my hands and interrogated me calmly but firmly. "What do you think it accomplished? What good did it bring about? How is the world a better place as a result?" He wanted clearly for me to feel that my participation had accomplished nothing positive, but also seemed genuinely to want to know my thoughts and feelings.

"People need more outlets," I said. Paraphrasing slightly the rest of my reply: "Okay, destroying the bench accomplished nothing good, but I wanted to express my dissent and that was 'the only train leaving the station.'"

Even my wording though demonstrates the enclosure of the word-fence. People need more than "more outlets" to express frustration. They need to be able to change those parts of the world that frustrate them. I believe that the average person is willing to expend honest effort for honest return. I also believe that most people want to feel as though the effort they expend is leading to something meaningful, some eventual good thing that is brought into the world as a result. How many of us get to feel that our daily work lends to some improvement to the human condition?

I propose, though the matter deserves further investigation, that all of us could select tasks that lend to improvement of the human condition, and live in prosperity. So I might turn the Archon's questions back on his own implicit support for the current financial-industrial order: what good does it bring about? How is the world a better place? We have to be free to ask the next question: can we do better? While humankind has achieved many improvements, it is worth asking whether we are getting less than we might be from our efforts. Why do we have a skewed system with endlessly deep pockets for making weapons, while bridges are collapsing from disrepair and schools are crumbling? Stock market tricks so arcane that even people with a Ph.D. in finance can't understand them reward investors with billions in profits while millions of people have no shelter or food security, and while illness is almost guaranteed to bankrupt a family.

As good as we have made things, we can do better. Silent complicity and empty dissent are not the only trains leaving the station. Every day brings anew the potential to reframe the debate.
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Entertainment is factory-made these days, and the best we can hope for out of it is the occasional glimmer of meaning. This week [livejournal.com profile] cowgrrl and I went to see "X-Men: First Class" and agreed it may well be the best superhero movie yet made. That praise may be fainter than it sounds, considering that the genre exists primarily as an excuse to give us elaborate CGI action scenes featuring muscular men and svelte women wearing skintight costumes. This movie, at least, makes a coherent statement about oppression and the mistreatment of minorities (and even at that level, its treatment of this issue is problematic).

The movie, though, is a retelling of a story that's already been told, and as such the story could not have deviated on any of the major details. And so we're left with nonsense such as Angel Salvatore deciding on a lark to join with the scary bad guys who just broke into a CIA compound and killed every last non-mutant in the building. Why? Well, because she was a bad guy in the comic books, of course.

This isn't storytelling; it's ritual re-enactment of an established myth. By the end of the movie, things have to be in their proper place, the world must have its established and familiar shape.

There's more I could say about the movie, but it would take me off the topic I originally set out to write about. Consider, also, that 2013 will be the 50th anniversary of Doctor Who. There, too, we have a franchise straining under the weight of its continuity - an especially tricky continuity in this case centered on one single character, and which spreads out across time and space and even into multiple universes. (Multiple universes/timelines is a trick that has been used in numerous long-term continuities to enable writers to keep telling stories - DC and Marvel comics, Doctor Who, Star Trek, you name it.) Lately attention has turned to "reboots" as a way of keeping alive just a while longer the viability of an established intellectual property.

We can cast this net even wider and include video games, which no one even really pretends is an artistic medium, but which is also stuck in an established-franchise rut. As David Wong writes,

Everybody complains about sequels and reboots in Hollywood, but holy shit, it's nothing compared to what we have in gaming right now. For instance, each of the Big Three game console makers took the stage at E3 to show off their biggest games of the upcoming year. Microsoft led off with the aforementioned Modern Warfare 3, which is really Call of Duty 8 (game makers like to switch up the sequel titles so the digits don't get ridiculous). Next was Tomb Raider 10 (rebooted as Tomb Raider). Then we had Mass Effect 3, and Ghost Recon 11 (titled Ghost Recon: Future Soldier). This was followed by Gears of War 3, Forza 4 and Fable 4 (called Fable: The Journey).


So, just how much blood can you squeeze from a stone? The "why" is obvious. Creating a new genre franchise is extremely difficult and risky (when development of a movie or video game costs hundreds of millions of dollars, how much of a risk would *you* take on an unproven concept?), whereas the established stories are a safe bet -- the established fans will turn out, will keep watching, will keep buying, even if they complain bitterly about the most recent content. But as a continuity continues, the more iconic it becomes, and from there, and the less likely it becomes that you'll be able to wring a meaningful, original message out of it.

meta-neo-

Apr. 19th, 2011 11:04 am
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I've not really explicitly spelled out what this term means to me. I've allowed it to sit in my mind and percolate as a sort of conceptual-perceptual template-filter.

meta- because I do not believe in subscribing to beliefs or thought systems or paradigms. Buying into a philosophy always seems to be a Faustian deal. I believe instead in drawing inspiration from good ideas where you find them, and incorporating them into the structure of an existing ideo-construct. It is fundamentally an engineering approach: rather than accepting philosophies or paradigms as you find them, build with them, build upon them.

neo- because existing philosophies are artifacts of a time and culture and the individual idiosyncrasies of the people who articulated them. This affects their meaning, and shapes the agenda by which it was expressed, and these things cannot be fully decoupled from it. So when I do articulate an idea or conceptual framework I must be careful to understand that I am not taking an old idea, I am articulating a new idea inspired by the old one but shaped in light of modern culture and modern scientific and philosophical understanding. I must be especially conscious that I am not silencing dissent or misappropriating if I refer to an existing philosophy as inspiration.

ETA. There's a lot I could add to this, because a large part of why people *do* subscribe to religions and philosophies is because of community. To be a part of many communities, they often ask you to subscribe to a philosophy as well. For my dissent on this topic you can read what I've written about affinity politics and why I think it is preferable to identity politics.

Generally, the benefit of community is worth the trade-off you make when you accept the Faustian bargain of subscribing to a philosophy or converting to a religion. You can paper over, for a time at least, any cognitive dissonance by throwing a wall of words at it. Some people get to be very good at this.
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Lately I've been thinking a lot about what I've been naively calling iconic imagination. By this I mean the ways in which a story or narrative is broken up into bits which are conceptually iconic -- by which I mean they are immediately recognizable, are guaranteed to provoke a specific emotional response, and are meaningful. (My understanding of meaning is probably a bit controversial. There are other kinds of meaning, which I think are more shallow as they relate to the mechanics of language, such as the truth value and reference. I am much more concerned with the intent or reason behind an utterance.)

In the past I would have perhaps called them archetypes, but I think archetypes are special-case instances of iconic imagination. Archetypes are notable multi-faceted icons.

For a thorough education on what I mean by iconic imagination, spend a few hours on the TV Tropes site. Here you can see that a trope, which is an example of what I'm calling an icon, is a pattern that crops up in many different kinds of storytelling. And they vary widely in scope, from major character types to silly throwaway moments.

There's a lot of directions this has been taking me. For example, genre fiction vs. literary fiction. Genre fiction employs a lot of iconic imagination and so it's much easier to read (and to write). There's a sense among critics and academics that genre fiction is "lazy" because of this. Another way of phrasing this question is to ask whether or not the degree to which a work is iconic affects how artistic the work is.

Here I take art to be aesthetic reflection, or in other words a statement of some sort about harmonic proportion or beauty or the lack thereof. So I'll say naively that art does not come from iconic imagination.

Iconic works are "accessible" or "melodramatic." They appeal to our sense of play and fun. Art, on the other hand, moves in the other direction; it is contemplated solemnly or is considered "serious." It is not enjoyed, it is "appreciated."

I came to this by thinking about games, and game design, and child's play, and the question of what makes a game fun. Roger Ebert stepped into the fray not long ago when he wrote that video games will never be art. Insofar as games are necessarily iconic (in reaching for possible exceptions I came up with Nomic) I get what he's saying, though I'm not entirely convinced I agree. The difficulty may be that the human response to something iconic may preclude serious aesthetic reflection on it. So an iconic work which also has what would otherwise be recognized as artistic values is not typically appreciated artistically.

ETA: changing the "vs." in the title to "and," because I think the end result of all this is that iconic and artistic imagination are not necessarily opposites, though we act as if they are.

ETA 2: I tagged this "culture industry" because I do think the culture industry relies on iconic imagination in churning out its products. Products of the culture industry are often criticized as "derivative" which makes me realize that one of the effects of art on culture is the creation of new icons. This is potentially significant.
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I was commenting to [livejournal.com profile] cowgrrl the other day about how it seems like there aren't any major corporations that are in business to just simply make a product and sell it to people; they all have a business model that requires sticking it to customers in every inventive way possible. I couldn't actually think of an example (well, there's Ben & Jerry's, I suppose). But for just about every company I could think of, I can recall reading of ways in which those companies have done what they could to to stick it to their customers, competitors, and employees.

Is this 'just human nature'? "Caveat emptor" is clearly not a modern innovation; if anything, the paltry constraints of law and regulation to reign companies in and made them do at least roughly what they say they're going to do is the modern innovation. But are people born this way? Is this a side to human nature we just have to cope with? I've read that apes are born with an innate sense of fair play and know when they've been cheated, and people get a dopamine boost from doing good deeds. It seems more like cooperation and generosity are natural instincts, where deception and two-timing are learned behavior. So much for "that's just the way people are;" I don't believe that, and I think it's time for people to expect better from one another.

But then, Socrates argued in The Republic that the one who profits most is the unjust man who succeeds at convincing everyone else that he is ethical and upstanding. If this is true, than we can expect people with this ethic to be the most financially successful, and therefore to gravitate to the center of the business world, where they force everyone else to emulate their model just to compete. As justifications go, "we have to stay competitive" has the benefit of having some truth to it, if at the downside of being circular.

What companies are all afraid of is that if they were to unilaterally de-asshole-ify their business model, their costs would go up, causing their profits to drop, in turn causing stockholders to rebel and hire a new board of directors who will just turn around and re-asshole-ify the business model. What we more typically see is that businesses will partially de-asshole-ify their business model, sometimes under penalty of law, trumpeting this in ads as proof of their honesty and trustworthiness. A company like Wal-Mart, which we're used to thinking of as an evil behemoth, has the power to do great good simply by virtue of its influence by making a single decision, such as for example lowering the price on generic drugs they sell or declaring they will hold toy suppliers to a new standard.

Research on what would happen if every major company all around the world simultaneously de-asshole-ified their business models is scant. For one thing, academic economists refuse to admit the business world has an ethics problem. If they can claim they are within the law and playing by all regulations, what's the problem? (This leaves unasked the question of just who wrote those laws and regulations and what they allow.) Even those sorts of asshole business that are outside of the law are usually covered by plausible deniability ("Hey, we had no idea our suppliers had 7-year-old kids doing 13-hour shifts! We're innocent!"). And as the last resort, when the deception and exploitation can no longer be denied, we're told it's the only thing that makes the benefits of modern life affordable (if by "benefits" you mean cheaper products that wear out in 3 years instead of 20). But, really, how do we know that?

What we do know is that few of us would choose to live in a world with so much deception and exploitation if we had any real say in things. The human race will probably never live in a utopia of honesty where the asshole business model does not exist. But I do think it is possible to chip away at it, with coalitions (cooperatives and mutual aid societies) and with more & better ethics training starting in childhood (interfering with our society's tendency to sympathize with takers: bullies and winners-at-any-cost). If people are taught to be this way, they can taught to be another way.

ETA. I've speculated in the past on how neat it would be if we redefined the idea of "profit" to mean not just a positive difference between revenue and cost, but to reflect a socially holistic idea of utility. Maximizing profit in that scheme would mean maximizing not just one's own revenue while minimizing one's own costs, but also maximizing the social benefit while minimizing the social cost. A change in perspective along these lines would move us away from the asshole business model.
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I'm tired of politics.

Well... let me be more precise. I'm bone weary, exhausted to the core, by the antagonism and infighting and sniping and hatchet-jobs. I have no idea how we, as a society, are supposed to comprehend what is going on in the world, and what needs to happen and how we're going to accomplish it, when social discourse has become so bitterly acrimonious it becomes a political issue in itself.

Slowly, but steadily, I've been taking blogs off my reading list. First it was queer and feminist blogs. General lefty blogs have followed, starting with FireDogLake, which I got so fed up with I even removed from my bookmarks. There aren't any blogs anymore that I regularly read. I still read them from time to time, but I feel like I have to steel myself in preparation.

It's not that the topics depress me. They do, they always have. It's not that I don't agree with their views on what's right and wrong -- I do, most of the time. It's the overwhelming acrimony. There's no sense of community, no sense of coalition, just an overwhelmingly consistent approach of, "I'm right and this is why someone else is wrong." Anyone at any time can go from being an ally to being a target, and it's unnerving. The acrimony gets into my blood and then the anger sits in my brain like battery acid, eating away at my insides since it has nowhere to go. John Stewart's plea to Tucker Carlson and Paul Begala on their show "Crossfire" comes to mind.

Do I still care about social issues & economic policy? Of course I do. But the fact that I even have to assert that shows that we've gotten to where this is the game you have to play if you have political opinions. Well, I have political opinions, but I am convinced there must be other ways to disagree, other ways to call someone out.

I'm beginning to see this as part of the work of the revolution. I've written before about affinity politics vs. identity politics, and when I say there's no easy-mode radicalism I mean that we're called to examine our own attitudes and behaviors on a very deep level, so deep that to subscribe to an "-ism" is to duck the issue. The ways out and through are likely to be shown in art, music, fiction, poetry; to be expressed in community gatherings and perhaps religious expression as well (though I feel the need to add a few caveats to that since so much of the current acrimony is expressed in religious terminology). I was toying with the idea of this as a kind of "para-politics:" an accompaniment to the political process that forces everyone involved to be mindful of their opponent's humanity and common cause. I don't expect that the adversarial mode of politics will ever go away -- nor do I think this would necessarily be a good thing -- but I believe in the necessity of tempering it with mindfulness.
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One of the reasons I haven't been posting as much over the last couple of years is a dawning awareness of the general futility of words.

I've also, as I was saying to R* last night, developed a strong aversion to being lectured by people 15-20 years younger than me. I want to just say, though it is bad form, "Do you think you are the first person to recite these ideas at me?" It's 'bad form' because ideas are supposed to be replied to with ideas. That's the 'free marketplace of ideas,' right?

But there's so little point to playing the idea game because words are so often nothing more than a verbal soundtrack people play while committing acts which may or may not bear any resemblance to the ideas they are promoting.

And, it is highly discouraging how few people seem capable of really grokking this point. Especially when it comes to politicians. There are a lot of words about how politicians are lying scumbags but people will always refuse to accept this about their favorite politician. I hate to break it to you, but yes, even your favorite politician is a lying selfish scumbag.

So, what does matter to me? Experiences and actions. Tell me what you've seen and experienced. Show me what you've done and what you are doing. Those are the things I can trust, and which have real impact on the world.
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This post brought to you by the Thievery Corporation, who started their latest album Radio Retaliation with "Sound the Alarm," a collaboration with Sleepy Wonder:

Sound the alarm, order the attack
Selassie I soldiers beat Babylon back.


There's a lot of meaning in that beyond the historical reference, though we can start there. In 1928, Ras Tafari Makonnen was crowned King of Ethiopia and he assumed the royal name Haile Selassie I. Ethiopia was then one of only two independent nations in Africa, and many in Africa and the African diaspora saw the crowning of Selassie I as representing African resistance to the European colonial scheme.

In 1935 Benito Mussolini, who aspired to be the ruler of a new Roman Empire, invaded Ethiopia. It's hard to think of this as a "war"; Italian casualties were somewhere between 355 and 500, while Ethiopian casualties were in the order of 275,000. The colonial powers of Europe approved and recognized the occupation and annexation of Ethiopia in 1936 by the Italian Empire. Selassie I, in exile in England, warned Europe: "It is us today. It will be you tomorrow." Three years later saw the start of World War Two; and in 1941 British and Free French forces helped Ethopian troops liberate Ethiopia.

On one level the song is about these historical events, and on another level it is about the larger context of Africa shaking off the colonial powers. It also echoes the present day anti-neo-colonialist movement.

On yet another level, the song is a profession of the Rastafari worldview. "Babylon" is a generic name for empire (taken from those parts of Jewish scripture written after forced exile in Babylon) in a way that blends political reality with religious worldview. In this view all empires are the same; and all emperors, while they may have conflicts with one another, recognize each other as the powers that control the world's businesses, governments, and institutions.

Because my awareness of this worldview started with my investigations of ancient middle eastern Gnosticism, I still think of this as the gnostic view of political reality: worldly rulers are seen as shadows of demigod archons, whose empire over the earth is all-reaching; the faces may change, emperors may be deposed, but the numinous nature of Empire casts a permanent shadow on the human soul, and dominance will always resurface. Resistance against Empire is therefore not just political rebellion, but a challenge to the very concept of fate and to the notion that human nature is forevermore shaped by the desire to dominate others by force when possible. But this view is more than "gnostic": it the response of the religious spirit to the totality of economic and hegemonic domination that exists in the human sphere.

The visage on the album's cover is that of Subcomandante Marcos, the leader of the EZLN, and I bring this up to point out that while the song casts resistance to Empire in militaristic terms, the EZLN has actually turned away from the militaristic approach. This is good and necessary because, as the Revolution is beginning to understand, there is no way to defeat the Empire by matching the Empire's violence. When you take up arms "against" the Empire, you become of it, because Empire is rooted in the power you gain by pointing a weapon. For a graphic illustration of this point, I recommend Karin Badt's illuminating interview with a former FARC guerilla who was recruited as a young girl.
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I woke up the other day thinking about peace talks. I've written before about how i think "peace talks" are crap: peace is more than the cessation of violence, but it's warmongers who have these talks. The one thing that earns you a place at the table for "peace talks" is demonstrating you have the capacity to kill lots of people. So the emphasis is on (a) proving you are a big alpha male and (b) finding ways to placate and co-exist with a few other alpha males.

There's a serious crisis of leadership in the world today. By which i mean, there isn't much real "leadership" going on. There's bullies who claim to be leaders, but they consistently fail the populations they are supposed to serve.

So, here was the thought i woke with the other day. Take 500 civilians from each "side" of the conflict. Put them in a room together and let them talk. They can be, should be, people of any socioeconomic class, but none of them can be governmental officeholders. The first rule is, no hitting anyone else. The second rule is, unless someone makes an accusation against you personally, no defensiveness -- you are to listen when someone from the other "side" is talking, and they have to listen to you when you're talking. Once you're able to listen to the other person's anger you can hear their hurt and loss and you can match up what they're saying against your own anger, hurt, loss.

The groups pair up, one from each "side" in every pair, and they go to see where the other half lives and works. They go to visit the graves of friends and family who died in the conflict. They eat at each other's table.

And then they all come back, and, having conceded that they have to find a way to live together somehow, they work out what kind of world they could all live in... and whatever they come up with is what the leaders have to implement.

Yeah, i know, it has flaws. I think it's better than letting people who have a vested interest in war negotiate the "peace." I figure a process like this would work for a few generations, until all the loopholes have been found and the war profiteers and bullies figure out how to game the system to their benefit. But at that point it will be up to someone else to figure out what to do next.
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For me the question of cultural appropriation, especially when it comes to, "Where does the inter-cultural exchange of ideas stop and misappropriation begin?", is endlessly fascinating. The thing is, there isn't a monolithic answer to these questions, and we can't come up with an easy answer or template and just tack that on whenever the question arises.

How such an exchange, or misappropriation, occurs has to be seen in the historical context of how it came to be. As a jumping-off point, there's this interesting video of Jennifer 8 Lee talking about Chinese restaurants in America (seen in [livejournal.com profile] debunkingwhite):



From the point of view of a merchant, trade between nations and cultures is a good thing -- because it means more potential buyers, more potential profit, more potential opportunities. So it may have seemed to restaurant owners or merchants in Chinatown when white folk started coming in greater and greater numbers to see what food or decorations they could buy that were unlike anything else they or their neighbors had.

And so i think the notion of cultural misappropriation feels to white people like a glass of cold water thrown in the face when a friend accuses them of it because they have a statue of Buddha sitting on their fireplace mantle. Well, hey, they might reply, i bought it in Chinatown from a woman who seemed happy to sell it to me; if *she* doesn't have a problem with it, why should *you*? Or, taking it a step further, doesn't it foster understanding if the people of different cultures who live side-by-side sell things to one another? It makes them less alien, and therefore less scary... doesn't it?

And on their own these are perfectly valid points, IF and only if you exclude the macropatterns of racism in our society. On the micro-level, it's not necessarily a huge deal; where it becomes a problem is when it's enough people in the privileged class who partake of the "exotic" that it starts to drown out the voices and living cultures of the minority.

What i've seen in the last couple of years is that awareness is starting to spread among white people that there's this thing called "cultural misappropriation" and if you're not conscientious you could be doing it too, and ZOMG i don't want to be an oppressor so how can i make sure i am not a cultural misappropriator?

It's gotten to where i've seen people say they're only comfortable with seeing white people exploring the religious traditions of their ancestors. Anything else is too close to cultural misappropriation. So, what, someone has to get a mitochondrial DNA test before they know what religions they are allowed to explore? And isn't this in its own way a restriction on people of color, in that it prevents them from potentially sharing their faith or beliefs with white people?

And yet, i don't mean to deny that cultural appropriation of religious ideas and imagery is very real, and very detrimental. Where it concerns me most is (1) when cultural motifs are reduced to "entertainment value" or "diversion" to the extent that their original meaning is obscured; when this happens, people of color can no longer express their own ideas or criticisms using those motifs without white people hearing "entertainment" when they encounter it; (2) when cultural motifs are stripped of any political implications, especially those which are critical or subversive towards the dominant paradigms; and (3) when people of privilege are turning a profit by stripping the meaning away from cultural motifs. The motif in question becomes an element of the larger culture, and the meaning the larger culture attaches to it drowns out the original meaning attached to it by the smaller culture.

In short, it is a part of the greater pattern of commodification and of misappropriating the language of dissent, the process by which meaningful utterances which pose any threat of causing people to question the authoritarian ideology are rendered harmless.

So, the question becomes, how can people of different cultures share ideas, motifs, food, relics, without them losing their meaning in the context of the original culture? The only way, ultimately, to share ideas in a truly free way is in a world free of hegemonic dominance... which is a tragedy, because humans have so much to share with one another.
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This is intended for a wider audience (eventually) than just my journal's readership, hence the tone is a bit different from what i usually strike here.

The following will probably come across as preaching, but i offer this not as a high and mighty guru who is spirtually perfected and better than thou. This is a lesson i learned the hard way, by being a jerk from time to time and having to be called on it. It bears my mea culpa; i did these things repeatedly, and only slowly learned what i was doing wrong.

If you are a white person who wants to be a better ally to people of color, please heed my words.
If you are a man who wants to be a better ally to feminists, please heed my words.
If you are a straight person who wants to be a better ally to queer folk, please heed my words.

Sometimes you're going to encounter utterances from a less-privileged friend that make you angry. This could be for a number of reasons. Maybe you are reading about against an injustice done to someone else. Or, you might be angry because the utterance contains an unqualified generalization that unfairly impugns... well... you.

You might be tempted to reply with an insistance that your friend modify their statement by adding "most" or "some" because "we're not all like that." You might reply with a detailed argument about why one of the examples chosen doesn't prove the point they are trying to make. You might demand proof, and then accept nothing less than a peer-reviewed published academic article. You may be tempted to connect your friend's utterance to heavy-handed social strategies that they didn't even bring up; e.g., "Even so, that doesn't mean we should engage in censorship." Or, you may decide that it's helpful to comment on your friend's angry tone, suggesting that a more calm way of expressing oneself may lead to better results.

None of this is helpful.

Anyone who wants, who truly wants, to see the world become a better place has to make a commitment to listen to their friends' anger. And, yeah, it's hard the first time. But it's not nearly so hard the second time.

It should be a point of basic reading and listening comprehension that any generalization has exceptions. This is true even if the generalization does not come with a disclaimer. If you weren't taught this in school, well, i'm teaching you now. If your friend feels safe enough making this utterance in your presence, perhaps it could be that it's not about you, or that they think you're capable of getting it. So insisting on the appendage of a disclaimer is not helpful.

Part of the anger you're feeling is a reflection of the anger your friend is struggling to give voice. Finding your voice after a lifetime of having your concerns shoved aside can be an awkward and difficult process. Someone at this stage of growing awareness and rising consciousness needs encouragement, not defensiveness and cavil. Defensiveness and cavil are what they've received their whole life, and it's why finding their voice now is a struggle.

It's not necessary for every single utterance to be precise, scientifically accurate, academically rigorous, and polite. While one might think that calm, rational, well-articulated utterances are more effective than angry rants, when it comes to challenging privilege, activists can tell you that doesn't actually tend to be the case. That's why activists often use more agitating tactics like strikes and protests and sit-ins -- because sometimes that's what you have to do to get anyone to listen to you.

Now the hardest part of this: sitting with your friend's anger. Instead of reacting to anger with anger, make a commitment to step aside from your response and examine the anger for what it is. A lot of the time when it has happened to me, i find it is an indication of my own unexamined privilege. If someone says to you that they think you are privileged in a way they are not, it's common to get defensive about it. But this statement is not an attack. So don't respond to it as if it were. If you can say "I feel like i'm being attacked here," you're facing a moment of truth.

Some of the most illuminating realizations i've ever had came as a result of doing this.

If you can step aside from the statement that angers you and see it as an expression of your friend's experience more than an objective rhetorical assertion, you can come away with a clearer understanding of what your friend's life is like.

Reflexive defensiveness makes it difficult to have genuine conversations about privilege and social class. And so, as i said above, if you are someone who truly cares about doing your part to help the world become a better place, you have to let these conversations happen. Sometimes it means listening to a statement that makes you angry and resisting the urge to tear it apart with logic. The reward for this is that you will understand better where your friend is coming from, and you will be a better ally.

The first time is the hardest.

Please don't take the above to mean that there's absolutely no way to respond with an objection. It just means you have to be a bit more conscientious about it -- which consideration is a small momentary inconvenience compared to the impositions your friend endures every day. You can manage it.
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If you haven't seen the Yahoo!/60 Minutes video segments on the ship breaking industry in Bangladesh, i recommend you do.

At one point in the series of segments, a commentator says something like, this is capitalism at its most raw and gritty. A beach drenched with dumped oil, chemicals, asbestos, debris, and who knows what else. A wealthy Bangladeshi buys the ships as-is from Western companies, who would otherwise have to pay expensive disposal costs in their own countries, and sails them right up onto the beach where laborers, many of them children, tear them down rivet by rivet. They have no training or protective gear and about 50 die every year in accidents; and goddess only knows how many more die from inhaling smoke and other chemical exposures.

But you know? It's too easy to blame capitalism. Yes, this particular instance is the result of a capitalist mechanism. But it's not as if we haven't seen environmental disasters and poor working conditions in socialist countries, either. No, the underlying mechanism here is racism, classism, and neo-colonialism, and the way to fix it lies in deeply re-examining our ethics of taking -- and in this case, our ethics of dumping.
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The goal of meta-neo-inquiry is to answer, as well as possible, the question: "What is going on here, and what is the most just way to respond?"

Response is an indispensable element because meta-neo- ethics demands more emphasis on right action than on right words or right belief. It's not what you say or feel, it's what you do that matters. I can forgive errant words if your actions put you on the side of conscience.

A lot of the time the answer is pretty straightforward. Someone is beating up someone else; the most just way to respond is to stop the fight and find out why it started. Someone stole someone else's car; the most just way to respond is to recover the car and return it to its owner.

Sometimes though the answer is not straightforward at all, often because the truth has been occluded.

Discourse tends to be dominated by those in power; and so where conscience leads us into opposition with the power paradigm (on those fronts where the people in power are committing injustices and warping the cultural discourse to legitimize or cover it up), discourse itself becomes territory to be fought over.

Dissidents are kept off-balance by having even their very language pulled out from under them like a rug. One generation of dissidents comes up with a way to vocalize what is happening to them and what is wrong with their condition; it's an organic process which starts with art and fashion, or other kinds of consciousness raising. Political changes are demanded, and a few concessions are made. But by the time the next generation comes along, when it comes time to pass on this knowledge, all of the groovy terms and images they came up with to communicate their dissent have been misappropriated and commodified by the power paradigm. They've been rendered useless; their meaning has decayed.

It is fair to ask, of every text you encounter, what is the author's agenda? As time passes it becomes harder and harder to answer this question, because one's agenda in writing a text is a response to the culture to which she belongs. Cultures change but texts tend not to. So any text older than, say, 40 or 50 years, can easily be subverted by the power paradigm and people can be educated to read it a certain way; afterwards, one requires a specialized awareness of historical context to have any hope of recreating the original agenda of any text, especially if the text had any degree of subversiveness to it.

My contention is that this line of inquiry will demonstrate that many spontaneous movements over the centuries -- whether political, religious, philosophical, or artistic -- can be demonstrated to have their origin in subversion against the injustice of the power paradigm. The products of a "culture industry" established by the power paradigm itself tend not to endure because they carry remarkably little meaning to begin with, and most of us carry an innate recognition of that even if our consciousness has not been raised.

meta-neo-

Feb. 20th, 2008 01:04 pm
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A while ago i offered "a meta-neo-marxian semiotic principle" but left sorta fuzzily undefined what i meant really by "meta-neo-Marxian." What i wrote then, was:

"Neo" because we have progressed quite a bit in the last 150 years, in understanding the sociology of oppression and the intricacies of economics, and "meta" because i am not a subscriber to a philosophy, but merely a critic whose views are inspired by the trajectory which Marx played a role in laying out.


It dawned on me yesterday that i have to take this to its logical conclusion. I have to. And so, i offer for your consideration, meta-neo-. I will define this more fully in a moment, but for now i will leave it sorta fuzzily undefined and let you ponder what i mean by it.

I make no claims to originality or uniqueness. In fact i hope there are a million other people out there with similar but not exactly identical ideas.

Meta-neo- is not a philosophy. One does not become a subscriber or an adherent to meta-neo-, but merely perhaps, i dunno, a listener. Meta-neo- is an affinity, not an identity. I'm sick and tired of identity politics ruining my friendships and threatening my relationships and demolishing my political coalitions and causing me to lose sleep.

Let's throw all this crap out the window: "You're not 'X' enough." "You're not a true 'X'." "I want to do W, but if i do, i'm not an 'X' anymore and my X friends will reject me." "I'm not X, but i'm Y, let's call this the 'XY' coalition." "Hey, i'm a 'Z,' you left me out."

Meta-neo- is analogue, not digital. There's no "Meta-neo- vs. non-meta-neo-." You can be a little meta-neo-, you can be a lot meta-neo-, your affinity with meta-neo- can vary from subject to subject or even from mood to mood or day to day.

The prime directive of meta-neo- is simple: When it becomes widely recognized that there is a need for a meta-neo-meta-neo-, those who pay any attention to it at all are urged to declare it dead and come up with something else.

Still need me to define meta-neo- or should we just leave it there and run with it?
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This is the second part of my first entry a couple of weeks ago on the decay of meaning over time as reflected in scripture. It ties together a number of things i've written over the last year or so on my ever-evolving relationship to religion, belief, faith, meaning, discourse, scripture, doctrine, and compassion.

A little over a year ago i wrote about the tension between my own few encounters with the numinous, and my inability to describe them to anyone else without employing religious terminology. This is a concern to me because of all the agendas, past and present, inexplicably tied to these terms; but it would be useless for me to create my own words, because any new words i coin would not resonate in the minds of any listener the same way as will happen if i use the word "goddess."

And so uneasily i refer to my raw experiences using terms that will make it all too easy for someone else to hijack them, to make them into simultaneously more and less than they are. I could remain silent, taking the position that the only way to ensure that my mystical utterances do not carry any unintended religio-political connotations is to make none at all. Or, i can struggle to untie the knot as i use these terms, an effort in which i have been engaged off and on for at least the whole time i have been keeping this journal.

I have long believed that this struggle resides at the heart of all faith traditions - on one side, mystics who set out to distinguish their expressions of faith and numinous experience without being misunderstood, and over against them the functionaries and legalists, people whose relative lack of faith or mystical experience drives them to latch on to scriptures, traditions, and concepts, in the hopes of capturing some of that faith for themselves.

And all of us are, to one extent or another, driven by self-interest; there are those who use positions of influence in the edifices of religious institution to benefit themselves at the cost of someone else's suffering. This is what i mostly mean when i refer to 'agendas' within religious doctrine, practice, or law.

To make this even more complex, there is no one who is 'pure mystic' and no one who is 'pure legalist.' Each of us who participates in the grand struggle of faithful expression carries a bit of both. I don't want to couch this as a clear-cut "us vs. them." But in general we can distinguish between people who primarily project a mystical outlook, and those who primarily project a legalistic approach.

I have described legalism and the agenda of self-interest as causes for the decay of meaning over time. It is hard to define what i mean by that phrase, 'decay of meaning over time,' and unless i am certain that you know what i mean by 'meaning,' i'm not sure my purpose in writing this will be grasped.

So, to revisit: 'meaning' is, for this purpose, the intended reaction one has when contemplating an utterance. That encompasses all aspects of your reaction: your interpretations of the definitions of the words employed, your emotional response, any changes to your ways of thinking or acting which result directly or indirectly from it. Meaning decays over time because a lot of our reaction is rooted in the cultural context of the moment when the utterance was made.

For example: For those of us who were children when the movie "Jaws" was released, the movie possesses a lot more meaning than it does for those who had not been born yet. A lot of that meaning relates to our cultural environment at the moment we first saw the movie. Someone who first sees the movie ten or fifteen years later may see an enjoyable movie, but wonder what the fuss was about. The meaning of "Jaws" has decayed over time.

Most mystical utterance is the attempt to resurrect the spirit of meaning which a mystic perceives was once carried by a prior religious utterance. All mystical utterance is, in some way, an act of religious reconstruction. The fullness of mystical meaning comes from having grown up in or spent a lot of time immersed in a living faith tradition.

[ETA: to illustrate i offer some of my previous attempts to reconstruct what i believe was the meaning of utterances attributed to Jesus (culminating for example here and here), which were in turn his own attempts to reconstruct the mystical and spiritual heart of his own Judean tradition and to respond to the realities and injustices of his day.]

So when i use words like "god" or "spirit" or even "compassion," i am speaking to people who live immersed in a culture and faith tradition more or less like my own. Someone twenty, fifty, a hundred years from now will only understand anything i've written to the extent that they can reconstruct my contemporary cultural experience. They also, in commenting on what i write, will add their own new meaning to it. This is okay; this is the way the mystical tradition operates. Spirit is not dead, it is life and breath; so too, attempts to describe it should live and breathe.

Frequently, mystical utterances bear political and religious implications. Any utterance which may tend to subvert the status quo - which i would assert is typical of mystical (as opposed to legalistic) religious utterance - can be perceived as a threat by anyone in a position of authority, who stand to lose if the underpinning of that authority is undermined. They will then attempt to silence the mystic (by labeling them a heretic), or they will misappropriate the religious utterance, stripping it of political meaning and leaving only an 'approved,' authority-safe version.

Anywhere you have a mystic, you have people calling him or her a heretic - and this is why. It is not accidental. It is not mere resistance to change. The people at the bottom of a stratified society greatly outnumber the people at the top, and nothing can rile the masses like religious fervor can. The struggle for the heart and soul of religion is one of the great theatres of the ongoing struggle against tyranny.
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One of the most eye-opening books i have ever read is Who Wrote the Bible? by Richard Elliott Friedman. Even though i have long since lost my enthusiasm for biblical exegesis, the insights i gained from that book stick with me and still deeply inform my thought.

The most stunning thing about that book, i think, is its clear demonstration of just how much the writing of scripture reflects the political agenda of the person or people who wrote it. It's one of those things that seems natural and honest when you think about it: it can't help but be the case. Everything i write reflects my various views and agendas. The same is true for all of you, and everyone else out there. So why should ancient people have been any different?

The answer often given to that question is that the ancient people were writing under the influence of spirit, but think about that. Does spirit take over your body and mind and give you word-for-word dictation? Did the ancients have a better connection to spirit than we do today? Unless you're prepared to claim this (and in doing so you'd have to answer a lot of questions about the obvious redaction and editing of scripture), then you must concede that scripture is at least in part the product of the human mind. And as such, it can only reflect the views of the person who wrote it.

Many people have heard of the Graf-Wellhausen Documentary Hypothesis, but Friedman went beyond this to demonstrate, quite convincingly, what the various original documents tell us about the agendas of the people who wrote them. As an example, i posted an extended excerpt here. He paints a picture of conflicts between different factions in the priesthood and royalty, and conflicts between the center of power in Jerusalem and the countryside, culminating in a divided nation with different religious practices.

Generations later, these factional divisions were meaningless in the face of the conquest and scourging of Israel and the forced reunification of Israelite refugees with the people of Judah. Their scriptures were blended together into a single document to mark their reunification - the end result being a script which reads like a mosaic. Further redactions were made several hundred years later in the wake of the return from exile in Babylon.

A couple of weeks ago, i proposed this general hypothesis of meaning: "Images and text will lose their meaning over time, in part because meaning is anathema to the power paradigm." The fusing of the previously antagonistic scriptures of Israel and Judah into a single unifying text is only possible because much of the original meaning had been lost.

At least two or three generations passed between the original writing of J and E. Other theorists place the interval at 200 years. Either way, this is enough time for a lot of the political meaning of the texts to be washed over.

The collection of words that make up scripture though still bear meaning, even though much of it seems cryptic. People of later generations, examining these texts (which have also tended to be appropriated by people in power, but that will come in part two of this post), attempt to recreate the power these words had over their ancestors. It is these attempts which result in the vagaries of religious doctrine.
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A while back, someone on my friend's list linked to an essay about art as misappropriation. I don't think it was linked approvingly, but the concept has stuck in the back of my mind, something to digest.

Then not long ago i read about the iconic image of Che Guevara as now appears on tee-shirts and numerous other commercial products. I don't know as much as i should about Che, but i think i have already well expounded on my views that anyone who uses violence is no revolutionary at all but is a part of the system. Anyway, this bit stood out in my mind, a quote from Trisha Ziff, who has organized an exhibition on the Che icon.

"There is a theory that an image can only exist for a certain amount of time before capitalism appropriates it. But capitalism only wants to appropriate images if they retain some sense of danger."


Hmm, i have to back up a little. I call my views "meta-neo-Marxian." "Neo" because we have progressed quite a bit in the last 150 years, in understanding the sociology of oppression and the intricacies of economics, and "meta" because i am not a subscriber to a philosophy, but merely a critic whose views are inspired by the trajectory which Marx played a role in laying out.

I view our situation as less a matter of "capitalism vs. socialism" and more a matter of me-centered world-parsing vs. us-centered world-parsing. I take this view because (a) the same problems preceded capitalism and have also tended to plague socialist societies and (b) i believe a truly just and merciful society could function compassionately with almost any economic or political arrangement.

So let me re-write that quote into a version that more closely matches my current views:

"There is a theory that a subversive image can only exist for a certain amount of time before the power paradigm strips it of meaning and makes it a commodity."


For the political-socialist, the image of Che is a commodity in that it is a valuable emotional push-button; and for the political-capitalist, the image of Che is a commodity because it sells tee-shirts. Neither point of view is really interested in exploring the meaning of Che's life, words, and actions.

Now, for the principle i promised in the title of this post. To wit:

Images and text will lose their meaning over time, in part because meaning is anathema to the power paradigm.


The surest way to strip an image of meaning is to give it a dollar value or to use it as an emblem of demagoguery. But the principle works in other ways. Part of this is because each generation tends to create its own kinds of meaning, and so young people do not react in the same way to a creative work as earlier generations of people did.

I thought about this while reading recently about a Monet painting which was vandalized. Frankly, i found i could care less; some old painting who's time has come and gone was damaged. But i realize that the painting meant something to its creator; it meant something to the creator's contemporaries; and it means various things to various people today. Do those meanings resemble one another?

Who could do such a thing as vandalize a Monet? Someone to whom the work of art had little or no meaning. (Or, alternately, someone to whom the act of destruction meant more than the painting itself -- but... well, i have to reign in the scope of this somehow.)

But what is the meaning of a work of art? What is meaning? Without waxing too philosophical - i want to intentionally leave this a little fuzzy - i think of meaning as the reaction one has when contemplating something. But, additionally, the genuine meaning of a creative work is primarily that reaction which is intended to be provoked by the work's creator. I emphasized that because there are theories of criticism which argue the opposite - that meaning is supplied by the observer of a creative work. Such theories can, in my opinion, be demonstrated to be apologetics for the power paradigm.

One way to reduce the meaning of an object is to directly misappropriate it - to use the phrase or image to advance a different agenda and then to use your superior numbers or budget to simply drown out all incidence of the original usage. A radical movement of any import can expect to see this happen to their language, and as a result the dissenters of each generation are pretty much on their own. Another way to reduce the meaning of an object is to surround it with approved, dissent-sanitized replicas: the culture industry.

However, it is not just subversive meaning which is distrusted by the power paradigm - ultimately, it is all meaning that is unreliable. Meaning is capricious, meaning is unquantifiable, meaning is unmarketable and unprofitable. Even meaning which has nothing to do with politics can inspire someone to question the status quo. This includes faith. "Spirituality," as i mean it when i use it in my journal, is a process of misappropriation by which the words used by people of faith and conscience to describe their experience is sanitized of any politically radical content in ways that turn it into icon-worship. In other words, "spirituality" (as defined by me) is the attempt to destroy meaning and faith and replace it with a religion industry.
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A conservative beat a socialist in the election in France, and many are using this as an opportunity to declare socialism dead in Europe.

The reality is much more complex than that. The last hurrah of state socialism notwithstanding, what is actually happening is a revolution within the revolution, which is precisely as it needs to be.

It's fair to say that a century of experiments have demonstrated that top-down, state-imposed socialism doesn't work. Economies and societies are too complex to be run from the top. Bureaucracies are too slow, too entrenched, to react to changing conditions. And we have seen, to our great disappointment, that there is no edifice we can establish as one generation's solution that cannot be undermined by unscrupulous cronyism and mutate into the next generation's problem.

But, at the heart of the problem is this: it is just not feasible in the long run to achieve the central goal of socialism within the state aparatus. There are some things, like accountability for wrongdoers, which will probably always require government. But the heart of socialism -- unraveling the web of control so we can be free -- is only hindered thereby.

Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, writing in the middle and late nineteenth century, envisioned the global scheme of exploitation inevitably hitting a kind of rock bottom, causing ire among the working class to conflate to the point of violent revolution. They could not have foreseen the effects of technology between then and now; the effectiveness of advertising and television in numbing people to the inhumanly cannibalistic nature of the global economy -- nor could they have foreseen the widespread consciousness-raising potential of the internet.

They also imagined that the state could be transformed into an instrument for carrying out the will of the people. They were no doubt influenced by the grandiosity of American and French Revolutionary language -- the proclamation of "we the people" as the granter of governmental authority "by consent of the governed" (implying that consent can be withdrawn) instead of brute force and coersion and fear. That's a wonderful theory but it never seems to work out in reality.

At the other end of it, it is not enough to brew up a new critical rhetoric, bash a wine bottle on the bow and send it off into the world. Time has demonstrated that there is no rhetoric which cannot be misappropriated. Revolutions of this sort really only have to be waited out. A while back i proposed the (admittedly not very catchy) term "hypostatic reverie" to refer to the conceptual apathy by which people, over generational time scales, forget the 'revolutionary' character of new institutions and ideologies, and accept them as part of the landscape. And with this apathy comes the opportunity for misappropriation.

In terms of class struggles, it's been a very educational 140 years. We've learned, foremost, that we can't take the easy way out when unraveling the control paradigm. There is no single route to undoing the ideological and institutional hold of sexism, classism, and racism on society. It can't be imposed from the top; it can't be achieved in an adversarial-style uprising. If it were that easy, it could have been accomplished by now. The control paradigm operates on every level; it is embedded in our brains, implanted during childhood and, figuratively if not literally, beaten into us by parents, peers, and adults in authority.

Views become entrenched, even within the revolution; and "the revolution" has become such a fixture that it now is itself an edifice against which people of conscience must struggle. "The revolution" has been misappropriated so that it now is just another cog in the great machine of violence that chews people up. It is only with hindsight that we can comprehend that the monster often takes the guise of two factions, espousing different ideology, who grind away at each other, with children and women in the crossfire paying the highest price.

The Sixth Declaration of the Lacandon Jungle reflects this shift in awareness -- acknowledgment of the need for those with socialist consciousness to greatly re-think the unraveling of control and domination.

The revolution has been changing. It has taken the form of an emphasis on individual efficacy, a fondness for observing with Gandhi that we should "be the change," to recognize one's own place in the pyramid of control and understand that actions carry repercussions.

For example, once you become aware of "fair trade" products, you are directly confronted with the reality of exploitation overseas. You are also confronted with the understanding that if you continue to buy products you can no longer pretend you don't know were made in sweatshops or by slaves, that no matter what political positions you espouse you are a cog in the machine.

It may be, because of limited income or family size, that you have no choice but to continue to buy the cheaper product -- which in itself bears interesting insights about the way the game works, the way we are all swept along with the tide and, scrabbling for our own individual survival, rarely take the time and energy to see the greater pattern.

That fair trade products cost more reflects to a degree the economies of scale, but also the reality that what makes many products affordable is wage exploitation, low labor and safety standards, and even slavery. The difference represents the degree to which it is profitable to have a global empire which does not care about oppression.

But this is the level on which the revolution needs to happen -- not "us versus them" antagonism, but waves of lightbulbs lighting up in individuals on every level of the pyramid. If you're reading this, you're probably pretty close to the top of the pyramid, like me. The closer we are to the top, the more effect our individual choices can have as they propagate down the line. As each of us makes more and more humane choices, this change progresses until it becomes a building wave, a ripple which sweeps across the world.
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So, i've been staring at this story in the New York Times all day. I don't know how to respond to it. It turns out that the melamine poisoning which officially killed 16 pets and unofficially killed thousands is an "open secret" in China, where food manufacturers have been putting the stuff in food for decades in order to fool testers into thinking it has more protein than it actually does.

I'm just wondering, how do we stop this from happening?

I mean really, how do we stop it from happening? Because if it is startable it is stoppable.

Well, we could "vote with our wallets" -- stop buying from food sellers who put melamine in their product. But after people or animals have died or gotten sick, it's too late. The point is making sure it doesn't happen in the first place.

I'm sure industries in China have to submit to some kind of inspection, regulation, and/or certification process like they do everywhere. But obviously it did no damn good. No matter what system you put in place -- a government system, or industry self-policing, or consumer watchdog agency -- it's susceptible to cronyism. People get bribed to look the other way; inspectors are overworked and don't test everything or notice every detail; whistleblowers get hounded into silence; there's always plausible denial and insufficient proof; juries can be tampered with, dazzled with brilliance or baffled with BS.

Besides, setting up a system of watchers, and then more watchers to watch the watchers, and more watchers to watch THOSE watchers, is a waste of human potential. So a control society is not the answer.

The real answer is to address directly why these things happen in the first place, what makes it seem like a good idea, and what kind of thing there is in a person's mind that makes them even think, "Gee, i'll put melamine in this pet food, i'll make more money and they're only animals so who really cares?" People might entertain these thoughts but not act on them; what tips them over into doing it?

How can we develop a society full of people who do not do such things? What has to change between this world and that world? Part of me is inclined to point at the profit motive but if we did not even have an economic system based on profit, this could still seem like a good idea. Need to dig even more deeply into ourselves to find this, i think.
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We're about to see a real live experiment in benevolent dictatorship:

President Hugo Chavez is set to assume unbridled powers to remake Venezuelan society as the National Assembly prepares to grant him authority to enact sweeping measures by presidential decree.

The assembly, which is completely controlled by Chavez supporters, is scheduled to meet Wednesday in a Caracas plaza to approve a so-called "enabling law" that will give Chavez special powers for 18 months to transform 11 broadly defined areas, including the economy, energy and defense.

Chavez, who is beginning a fresh six-year term, says the legislation will be the start of a new era of "maximum revolution" during which he will consolidate Venezuela's transformation into a socialist society. His critics, however, are calling it a radical lurch toward authoritarianism by a leader with unchecked power.

from Chavez to get powers to remake Venezuela

I don't believe in benevolent dictatorship and have serious doubts about this.  But i guess if anyone can pull it off, it's President Chavez.  Ok, Hugo, let's see what you got.  Prove to us that socialism works better from the top down.  Prove to us that the "socialist state" is not an oxymoron and a horrible mistake.

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