Dave | unobtrusive lucidity

Hope Where You Wouldn’t Think

Karen and I are of the age, I suppose, at which we begin to lose grandparents on a relatively regular basis. That sounds callous, I know, but in all seriousness, we’ve buried three in three years. Most recently, Karen’s maternal grandfather moved beyond this realm. We knew it was approaching…while it happened a bit more quickly than we had expected, we were still expecting it. That, I think, makes it hurt a bit less.

Unexpected travel, comforting family, the occasionally rampant emotions that these events bring to a family, have all began to transpire between late Saturday and Tuesday of this week. This has become all too regular an occurrence of late, so much so that I’ve become a bit more emotionally detached from it than I prefer. Every year there seems to be one less family member than there was the previous year.

Ironically, or perhaps I should say miraculously, also on Karen’s side of the family, a new child is expected to arrive any time between now and Christmas. There’s something profound in this combination of events…something that I cannot even begin to get my head around as I try to type this out amidst the rush of preparations and arrangements and general chatter occurring around me. What I am able to recognize is a hope, because, even as one life as moved on, another is just beginning. So close to one another, so physically and emotionally near each other. An ending that isn’t truly an ending, a beginning that holds untold amounts of promise and hope of which we cannot even fathom.

As we’ve entered the third week of Advent, I’ve found it difficult to focus on what the season represents, because of emotional and time constraints. What I realize is that, in the very death and birth that are occurring in this brief period of time, we are witnessing first hand the essence of what we celebrate for these four weeks. An anticipation of a continuing life that flies in the face of death, a hope for the future, a trust in a providence beyond ourselves.

I’m seeing the thing we hope for transpire right in front of me this week. That leaves me…speechless.

A Review of “Snow Crash”

Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Shuffled naturally into science-fiction as I was during my childhood, I grew up with the post-apocalyptic noir of the cyber-punk genre, and grew to love the visual aesthetic. I had looked forward to reading Snow Crash for some time, and was immediately drawn into frenzied pace of the first pizza delivery.

Something that good science fiction does is present a statement, often a warning, of the outcomes of current courses of events. One of the markers for good science fiction in my mind is if I’m troubled by the world presented, and can think, “I see how we get there from here.” Science fiction plays with the “what if?” that society needs to read and see to be aware of where we could be headed if we keep doing what we’re doing.

In that vein, the world that Stephenson presents is instantly captivating. Even within cyber-punk, this is the most original setting I’ve read for some time. Within these pages is a wonderful commentary on the ludicrous impulse of the American experiment to privatize everything. This is what happens if the Libertarians take power. The characters are living in the context of the anarchy that complete privatization and lack of government brings. Then, they create the Metaverse (the last peaceful place in existence), but it, too, becomes violent. Man remains unable to find himself benevolent in any way as his narcissistic collection of franchised conformity spirals out of control around him in a hail of bullets.

What took me aback about Snow Crash was the religious component. There’s a theology at work in Stephenson’s thought; a really strange, mish-mashed attempt at a theology, at least, that reaches a disappointing fruition. In cyber-punk, humanity melds itself with technology in an attempt to make it’s own eschatology. Here, Stephenson seems to make a full-blown religion out of man’s technological foray. His thrust is that modern “hackers,” or dualistic philosophers (he ties binary code to philosophical dualism), are simply the modern extension of his own little creation narrative. That creation narrative is complete with it’s own Fall narrative. And Hiro (aptly named) becomes a savior metaphor of sorts. The theology unravels, though, into a nihilism: anything spiritual is notably absent, and only the practice of religion can keep the virus (read: sin) from permanently destroying man. The sin is never defeated, only held back. This doubles back on itself, though, because he’s also painting religion as the “bad guy,” in the sense that the conspiracy for the Snow Crash virus is packaged within religious practice. He’s essentially saying that all religion, despite the fact that it’s holding this virus back, is bunk, or has become that way, as the quantifiable world rules out faith.

So, his theology is a dis-jointed one…almost a theology of an absence of theology.

While Stephenson’s imagination is energizing, his craft is disappointing to me. His writing style smacks of a Hollywood action flick, and many of the fast moving sequences of the book felt like Tron meets the Transformers. For a book considered to be (as I understood it) a modern science fiction classic, I had higher expectations. Heinlein or Asimov this guy isn’t. His characters are left extremely two-dimensional and undeveloped, although his rapid and abrupt changes in points of view do occasionally place the reader well into their psyches.

That said, there is something oddly arresting about Y.T., the skateboarding teenage professional messenger who throws out some of the most amazing lines in the story. I found her to be the only character I could completely visualize as I read the novel…the only one who truly had a face.

The best thing I took away from the book is the view of the future. As a speculative warning of what the future could hold, I think this book was excellent. And, as I said, that’s what good science fiction does. As an attempt at a metaphysical or theological statement, I think it failed miserably. Stephenson provides his backstory and ties together his loose ends well, yet still manages an ending that falls flat.

In the end, I found this book to be wanting.

View all my reviews

The Principle of the Thing

When I heard the statement a few weeks ago, it wasn’t the first time I’d heard it. And when I tell you about it, it won’t have been the first time you’ve heard it, either. I think it was when I heard it a few weeks ago, however, that it really solidified in my head. Or, perhaps it just re-surfaced, having been a long-standing pet peeve. Come to think of it, I’ll go with the latter.

I’ll omit the context, but it was during a keynote address at a presentation, as I recall, and the presenter encouraged those in the audience to “use” professionals in a certain field with which those in the audience frequently work. She encouraged her listeners to “use” these professionals because they are “a great resource.”

I imagine that many of my readers who are trapped in the confines of corporate America have heard that exact phrase. In fact, I’m sure it’s not confined to corporate America, or even to America. If not, think about whatever job you have, and I’m relatively certain that the employer for which you work has a “human resources” department.

Right. Because humans are resources.

I’m not just being obsessive about the minutiae of language, here. Think about this. A definition of the word “resource” renders the most natural meanings of the word as possessions, or things to be used. If we have learned anything from dark histories of slavery, gender discrimination, and human trafficking (all things that still occur in our back yards, incidentally), it’s that human beings are in no way possessions, or things to be owned. If the Christian theology upon which a great deal of our Western philosophical system is constructed has taught us nothing else, it’s that human beings are of infinite worth, regardless of ethnic background, gender, sexuality, economic status, etc. What troubles me about the concept of “human resources” is that the phraseology is coming from somewhere, a cultural philosophy or metaphysical perspective. Assuming that’s correct, then the concept of an employee being a “resource” means that the employee (typically identified by a number…I don’t find that to be a coincidence) is viewed as a possession, or thing, that is to be used for the best interest of the company. Only the voluntary nature of the employment separates this from slavery. And, even then, the central problem remains that the person is seen as an object.

In a word, he or she is de-humanized.

This is really the same phenomenon that occurs when the pornography industry plays on fantasies that are degrading to women, or that portray women as the object of some objectifying or violent act (I say women, but I should specify that it occurs to both men and women). The woman is being portrayed as an object. She is being de-humanized.

Think about it. “De-humanize.” In the American experiment, a culture in which absolutely everything is commodified to be bought or sold, it is only natural that humanity is treated similarly. In fact, everything about humanity is seen as something to be purchased and possessed, not just sexuality. Education is seen in the same light. As is the right to healthcare. And the list could go on.

Honestly, though, it occurs to me that I’ve referred to organizations or faith communities as “resources” for someone to “use.” That makes me just as guilty, because the organization or community is comprised of people. Doesn’t that make it the same thing?

This is more than just a change in language, but it starts there. Naming has power, so, if we force ourselves out of the habit of talking about people in this manner and instead referring to them in human terms, it will alter our perceptions of them. A little effort in vocabulary just might make a huge difference, both in the way we do business, and in the way we treat each other.

I’m willing to work on it. You?

Photo Attribution: Miguel Pires da Rosa

Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time…

Have you ever had one of those dreams? No, not the one where you show up at work or in class naked…I mean, that one’s stressful, too. I mean the other one…the one where you’re doing something that you know you’re not supposed to be doing, but it’s like you’re watching yourself from the outside and can’t stop yourself? Or else there’s some ridiculous series of events that has led up to what you’re doing, and you know that you don’t have a choice, but you’re scared of what’s going to happen because you’re doing it? You keep thinking, maybe I’ll get away with this, and I’ll never do it again!

You know…that dream.

I have it periodically, usually after I’ve made a mistake for which I feel really stupid. Like my recent traffic infraction that involved my driving a bit more hastily than the sign said I could, much to the nearby officer’s chagrin. After, I had the dream. The dream is always ridiculous and blown completely out of proportion. One time I dreamed I was tossed into prison for something, but couldn’t even remember what it was for, and I was trying to come to grips with how I would make it through a year of incarceration.

Okay, maybe you’ve never had that dream, but…for those of you who have, you feel my pain.

I thought it was interesting that a recent episode of Sanctuary played on that. In the episode, the team is forced to make a snap decision because they have to keep everyone in a bank inside because an alien life form has escaped the bank vault and gotten into one of them, but they aren’t sure who yet. They can’t tell the people what happened, but they have to keep them inside to figure out who is hosting the alien that will prove fatal to its host. So they fake a bank robbery. Of course, that leads to complications with the police. And the whole time, even though you know it will turn out well by the end of the hour, you’re jumpy, because you just know that the door is going to get blown and they’re going to end up in prison for something that they were doing to actually save someone’s life.

I’m not sure if that dream has ever taken the form a bank robbery in my troubled sleep before…I actually think that it may have. For a science fiction serial, though, I thought this was great conceptualization to play on that fear and feeling that you’re spinning out of control for something you’ve done, but had no choice but to do. Or, more innocently, that you did something for a noble cause with the best of intentions that you know will be perceived as wrong.

I think what’s interesting about this is that it plays on a concept of situational ethics. You remember debating those in school: it’s against the law to speed, but what if you’re taking someone who is having a baby to the hospital and they’re about to give birth? Or someone in your car is having a heart attack? Does that make it okay to break the law by speeding to get to the hospital?

I think it’s also interesting because it plays on a trust in providence. If you know you’re doing the right thing, do you trust that it will turn out for good? Or do you trust that the people you’re following are doing the right thing? Or the people following you? In the episode, Magnus and Kate begin to solidify an interesting trust relationship.

I imagine that those lines of thought would bring about some fascinating conversation in anyone’s life. And that sort of conversation is exactly what good storytelling of any genre should bring about, don’t you think?

Avarice. It’s the New Black.

Monday this week was…harsh. Harsh in the way that returning to the weekly routine after any holiday break is harsh. Who likes rising before 6:00 a.m. after sleeping in past 8:00 for several days?

My day was punctuated by random colleagues bragging about the amazing deals that they obtained during Black Friday. For my readers outside of the U.S., Black Friday is the day after Thanksgiving that marks the traditional beginning of the Christmas shopping season. Retailers and malls (that landmark bastion of brainless American franchised conformity) open as early as midnight to admit shoppers who have been waiting in line, some camped out for days, to fight and push and lose any semblance of humanity in order to get the best price on this season’s hottest toy for little Johnny and best new gadget for dad, as well as a little something for themselves.

Invariably someone is hurt in the name of getting the deal, and invariably, somewhere in the country, an arrest is made. This year was no exception.

Then, they all return to work on Monday morning (unless they’ve been arrested) to brag about their spoils as though returning from a battlefield in which they have been victorious. Then, they get to go shopping again because it’s Cyber Monday, and that, at least, removes the threats and all-around lack of civility that occurred over the previous weekend.

I’ve ranted about this before, but, unpacking it, I think that there’s a theology to this. Recently, I saw a blogger refer to this holiday season as “Consumermas.” I couldn’t have summed it up more succinctly myself. The theology at work is that we’ve simply removed the original theological premise celebrated at Christmas and replaced it with what is worshipped by a consumer society: material possessions. Taylor discusses this as a hyper-individualized, crowd-sourced religion. The consumer is empowered by the ability to purchase things, to research and choose what best suits him or her. I think the natural theological premise (read: fallacy) that follows this is that material possessions are thus viewed to have a salvific effect.

Essentially, he who dies with the most toys wins.

So, the very thing that is worshipped, by definition, leaves a void, because it is constantly evolving, constantly shifting, never stable, always out of date and insufficient in months or weeks or days. Or hours. Consumermas is an excuse to throw up bright lights and indulge the greedy “I want…” voice in all of us, an apparently perfectly good reason to spiral ourselves further into debt in the name of propelling our economy forward and beating the winter blues.

Black Friday is adequately named, because I think the core motivation behind it is a very dark one. No matter how much we convince ourselves that our search for deals and bargains is for the good of the economy, or for the sake of giving good gifts, or just because you deserve something nice (and perhaps you do), it seems to always become a good enough reason to push and shove and threaten and treat others poorly.

It’s as if material possessions and economic stability were more important than the basic dignity of the human being next to you. Of course, let’s be honest: that isn’t a new trend.

When holiday wishes are passed around in December, they typically range from Christmas to Hannukah to Advent to winter solstice to the generic “Happy Holidays.” I propose that Consumermas be added to this list, because it’s just honest. Let the wish be according to what is being prioritized or worshipped.

And next year on Black Friday, I’ll be doing the same thing I did this year. Sleeping in.

Photo Attribution: I See Modern Britain