The Ignorance of Chicken, Part 3

June 24th, 2011

In Part 3, Zizek is still telling the tall tale of the Korean war hero.

Our reaction to this story, which is probably laughter, is in large part due to our misunderstanding of the Other, by my reckoning. We laugh because we imagine that the North Koreans believe this story is true in the same way that we might believe that Barack Obama was elected President. But, as Zizek points out, what if that is not the way they believe in this story? What if they do not believe in the divine stories of Kim Jong-il and Kim Il-sung in the same way Christians believe in the divine stories of Jesus of Nazareth?

In fact, we imagine they “believe” these stories as fact because that is the way in which Western belief has been defined and reported for centuries. But I will likely expand on that later.

Zizek compares the scene of the Korean soldier to the third act of Tristan and Isolde, where Tristan is mortally wounded and sings for many minutes despite the nearness of death. This is a somewhat weak comparison, but it can at least illustrate the point – a story that is reported as literal truth is not necessarily believed as literal truth by the reporter.

We know, for instance, that a story in The Onion is reported as literal truth (i.e. the news story is written exactly like a “real” news story) because its closeness to real media reporting is a part of the comedy. This is so much the case that there are many people who have believed that stories from the Onion were true. There is a website full of screenshots of Facebook comments by people who have mistakenly taken Onion articles as “true story” newspaper articles. But why does this surprise us? Aside from their outlandishness, the Onion’s articles look exactly like real newspaper articles. At what level of outlandishness do we question what looks otherwise like an authoritative source? Of course, that is why we laugh at the aforementioned website – we feel these people have failed that test of outlandishness, and that separation from us lets us laugh. (And there’s nothing really wrong with that, so long as we realize we could easily be the fools ourselves.)

Thus, we could imagine that the culture of the North Koreans sees these stories as the patriotic mutation of Onion articles. Rather than derive comedy from the stories, they see them as inspirational of their nationalism and the greatness of their people. In this way, what they appear to believe is not truly what they believe, but they will report that they believe the stories as fact or as truth.

Zizek continues with a critique of the relationships between first-world and third-world nations. This critique does hold some water, and may further expose our misunderstanding of The Other. What if – and I am not necessarily saying this is the way that it is – but what if the President of Iran, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, who has stated that there are no homosexuals in Iran because of Iran’s cultural superiority is actually aware, perhaps subconsciously, that of course there are homosexuals, and that while he personally might find them disgusting or disturbing, it is nonetheless the proper thing that homosexuals be treated with the same rights as heterosexuals?

Naturally, there is a lot of dissonance there. But in the 21st century, we should not be surprised at all to find dissonance, but rather to expect to find it when examining the human mind.

If we accept that premise, suddenly we are faced with the prospect that all over the world there are fundamentalists with beliefs that promote hatred based on the superiority of their chosen culture, religion or nation who nonetheless are subconsciously or other subtly aware of their inferiority. In this scenario, there could exist moral, ethical or public policy stances which are brilliantly clarifying, such that disagreement with the stance is, at its face, a kind of insanity.

In this scenario, there are still millions who will stand in the face of that moral stance to defy or deny it. Their apparent beliefs are insane, but it is only a form of dissonance, which we must accept is nearly ubiquitous in human lives.

Now we turn this lens to the fundamentalists we are most familiar with – al Queda. Do these enemies understand the moral quagmire of their actions, but act anyway? I ask you – why not? We can easily understand an American soldier in World War II killing a German soldier and feeling the moral high ground in his actions. I find it patently ridiculous to claim that an Arab who sees his country and his culture as being under assault by Western culture and Western nations (and Western religion) could not feel the same moral high ground. And I likewise find it ridiculous for anyone to claim they’ve put themselves in that Arab’s shoes and not seen how the reasoning follows.

At any rate, I chose World War II because I am familiar from my own life and from interviews with soldiers who fought in that war and later came to question, “What did I have against that man I killed?” Or take the words of  Muhammad Ali whose vulgarity spoke truth to power – “”I ain’t got no quarrel with the VietCong. No VietCong ever called me, ‘nigger.’” We can believe first and foremost that killing is wrong, but simultaneously believe that some killing is okay.

This isn’t a concept that is new or unheard of. It’s something that is discussed all the time, and has been discussed for as long as wars have been fought. But it is an example of multiple, different beliefs coinciding and interacting. With “justified homicide”, it’s just a set of conflicting beliefs we’re used to discussing.

Zizek goes on to talk about egoism and envy.

This is also a very good section because egoism and hedonism are things I want to discuss at length in this blog. I will put what Zizek says into my own words (and you can watch him if you want to hear his own words).

The danger of egoism or hedonism is not the love of the self. However, there is a stark difference between egoism and “the ego,” and it is the ego which causes all the trouble.

Freud talked extensively about the ego attempting to rationalize the desires of the id. Freud’s ego, then, develops defense mechanisms to deal with the pressures of the id, super-ego and the outside world. You can real all about that elsewhere.

But one function of the ego  - the most dangerous function – is to experience feelings of inferiority. A negative expression of inferiority is envy. And, as Zizek and Rousseau have pointed out, envy is enormously destructive.

And so, as Zizek says, the moment the mind wanders from “I want to please myself” to “I want to prevent the pleasure of Being X” a vicious process begins and true evil emerges.

This is a digression, but it ties into beliefs because it ties into what those in the inferior position believe of those in the superior position, even if they agree with the principles of the superior position.

Zizek also critiques Rawls in this video, and I disagree with him here (of course, as a fan of Rawls). I won’t get too deeply into that now because it would be a huge digression, but I think Rawls’  can only agree that the logic of envy is destructive to social justice. I think you must take a step back and understand that resentment arises from the lack of social justice. The problem, as always, is how to implement a system of social justice in a world where resentment and envy are pre-existing conditions. I think, however, simply accepting resentment and envy as human faults is pessimistic, and undercuts the proposition of future systems of social justice. Rather, we must consider them foremost as results of a chronic and despotic inequality going back to the beginning of civilization.

That’s the end of Part 3! Now we’re getting into the good stuff…

The Ignorance of Chicken, Part 2

June 16th, 2011

Continuing with my series, here’s Part 2 of my analysis, to go with Part 2 of the panel discussion. And here’s the video:

In this video, Zizek starts to explain his very confusing proposition – that we are surprised to find that a “believer” truly believes what they profess to believe. For instance, Zizek’s friend was surprised to realize that Cardinal Ratzinger (now Pope Benedict) truly believed in the resurrection and divinity of Christ. He also points out a study where people self-identified as Christian but went on to say they did not really believe in the central dogma of Christianity – that the son of God was an itinerant rabbi in ancient Jerusalem.

He makes an important statement about the point he’s trying to make early in the video – he’s not saying these people don’t believe what they profess, but rather that skeptical belief is the construct of belief in our culture.

And here, I insert, “Why not?” Look back at history, at all those who came before us, and what we know first and foremost about them – they were all wrong. They believed in gods that we now call myths. They believed, supposedly, that the earth was flat, that the sun went around the earth, that the Caribbean was the West Indies, etc.

Further, if we look at the direction of science in the last 50 to 100 years, we see only more uncertainty. Quantum physics makes predictions that don’t make any sense to us, and yet it completely predicts observed phenomena. The universe we were finally getting a handle on turns out to be full of dark matter and dark energy that we can’t detect. Finally, physicists have come around to tell us that, given that all models that describe observed phenomena are valid, you can easily build a model where the sun does go around the earth and you’re not really wrong.

But I digress.

Modern people qualify belief with skepticism. “Well, no one really knows, do they?” We are, culturally and intellectually, agnostic.

And this is not the great problem of our time.

Zizek begins to touch on the real problem I identify – “My thesis,” he says, “Is not that nobody really believes today… I think belief is not really where we think it is.

In Part 2, he also makes an interesting point about how the effort to understand “the Other” can be undermined by how we look at beliefs. I think he has a point – by attributing fervent religious beliefs to those who are unlike ourselves, our description of them excludes immediately the possibility of rationality. I would say that by first acknowledging that the Other is entirely like us, we should try to understand the proclamations we make that seem, on the surface, ridiculous to understand the proclamations they make which seem to us to be ridiculous.

Zizek uses a literally unbelievable story of a Korean war hero (as told by Korean propoganda) and compares it (in Part 3) to an opera. I would compare it to urban legends. For a U.S. citizen, with little understanding of nationalism on the level of a religion, it can be hard to understand why the North Koreans might tell truly mythical stories about war heroes. For us, the mythical stories might involve Bigfoot, or the Virgin Mary appearing in toast. Those actually sound ridiculous to you, I’m sure, but there are stories you believe as factual that, if they were questioned by an outsider, would soon be full of holes you couldn’t plug. The problem is, I just don’t know that story for every reader (or even a majority – we’re a pretty diverse culture).

Anyway, this will be continued in Part 3!

The Ignorance of Chicken, Part 1

June 16th, 2011

Shit is about to get real.

This is the first in a series of posts examining a talk given by Slavoj Zizek at Princeton in 2005. Why in the world am I doing this? Because I think the talk exposes one of the most important problems in our time – the confusing nature of what we believe, how our subconscious gnaws at us with doubt, and how easily we are controlled by those things that we think we control.

Watching the videos is hopefully unnecessary, as I want to talk explicitly about what Zizek is saying in each one. Still, it can’t hurt. However, between his accent, his physical tics and his reference to philosophical concepts, some people might find the videos hard to decipher. The choice is yours. (In the first video, you can fast forward to about 3:15 to get to the good part.)

Zizek references “Sand Castles: Buddhism and Global Finance,” a documentary which combines economists and Tibetan Buddhists to attempt to compare the two, especially that the virtual capitalism of global finance is contrary to the Buddhist concept of the illusion of materialism because the capitalist invests himself into a wealth that is non-existent. Thus, the attachment to wealth is in a way the apex of the embrace of non-existent satisfaction.

And in this comparison, Zizek reveals a very strange conclusion one could reach instead. In plain language, Buddhism teaches that the material world is an illusion. What, then, is the evil of capitalism when the harm to individuals as a results of capitalist greed is as illusory as the capitalist attachment to wealth? If we live our life believing that the physical reality that surrounds us is the true reality and Buddhism teaches us we are wrong, then there is no harm in the global virtual economy ruining whole nations, causing poverty and starvation because that is rooted in the same false reality of the physical world.

Thus, Buddhism becomes the perfect metaphysical view of the universe for the capitalist.

But this is not the most important problem of our time. Rather, Zizek is introducing us to the idea of “skeptical belief” through the eyes of Western Buddhism.

The capitalist is invested in a system that is completely virtual, where commodity exchange is only an abstract description of the kind of business he’s doing. He knows the money changing hands is illusory, and at best, if he could gather currency that represented that money, he would still have slips of paper that represented a trust. If you have $100 in your pocket, you are aware that it is just paper, but you also know it represents the possibility of commodity exchange. This is two beliefs overlaying one another – 1) the money is just paper, 2) the money has virtual value that can be exchanged for goods much more valuable than the paper. How do these dual beliefs affect your behavior?

The financial system requires an absolute suspension of disbelief to sustain itself. In this way, it is like Buddhism – to know happiness, to be content, the Buddhist must eliminate desire entirely and dispose of attachments to material reality. To participate in global capitalism (and the random fluctuation of markets), the capitalist must detach himself from material wealth and desire, distance himself from the real world implications of collapse and embrace the markets as a game that is to be played (like the Buddhist views life as a meta-experience parallel – not intersecting – material reality).

Edit: This is a bit confusing. I could also say that, to participate in global capitalism, the capitalist must detach himself from the reality of commodity exchange and distance himself from real-world objects, instead focusing on a transcendent, abstract virtual currency of number games. You can imagine that these are almost two sides of the same coin – on one side, the global capitalist embraces a virtual world of currency over the material world of commodities. On the other side, the global capitalist distances himself from the material implications of the virtual market. I could go on and on about this, but uh… I won’t right now.

As a side effect, it calls into question the morality of Buddhism, which is difficult to derive directly from the metaphysics of Buddhism… but that’s another topic.

Join me again for Part 2!

Response to the Anonymous Internet, Part 1

June 15th, 2011

Occasionally, I see things on the internet and I want to respond… but I know it’s the internet, so I don’t respond. Instead,  I’m going to start responding here. It’s not fair, but I’m not looking for a discussion – I’m just looking to express my own thoughts. Anyway, it’s my blog, so I do what I want.

An unidentified (by me) YouTube user commented:

“God was not ‘wrong’ back then, God was showing His power differently. Those people believed in a God who punishes, who has wrath. That is why He sent the fire and why He sent the deluge. He will try to reach out to Humans in a way humans can understand. They didn’t understand love on those days but we do now.”

That’s a convenient view of history, anonymous YouTube user… but it makes no sense whatsoever, of course.

The “evil god” of the Old Testament is a huge problem for the “loving” or “benevolent” god concept… because Yahweh is a huge dick. Slavery, genocide, Jepthah kills his daughter because he promises Yahweh he will – the list goes on and on.

So here’s a theory – God was vicious because people were vicious. I can’t disagree that the morality found in the Bible is inferior to my morality, so one assumes the people who found that moral were vicious people, by the standards I regard as better moral standards.

However, the idea that a god could not address people in any specific way means that said god is limited and impotent to affect change. If you’re God, and you understand higher forms of morality than the people of earth, you need only inform them in your godly way of said morality and they will understand. You’re god – you can find a way to explain it to them. (While you’re at it, you might as well explain soap, bacteria, and superior forms of government).

Further, the idea that “love” is a new concept, and one that we have embraced in the 21st century of Western culture, is pretty laughable. Christians have preached “love” for 1,900 years, one must assume (as it’s in the gospels). However, people – Christians included – have continued to act on hate, greed and fear.

So, anonymous YouTube user, I don’t buy your theory.

Everything Happens for a Reason

May 24th, 2011

No, it doesn’t. End of post!

…okay, not really. So, to keep up with this blog, I obviously need some subjects. “Hey, Chuck,” I say to myself. “Why don’t you write lengthy responses based on actual responses to things you have to comment on all the time?” Good idea, right?

Context is unnecessary – someone who believes in a “supernaturally ordered universe” will always throw out this gem. “Everything happens for a reason.” It is a sentence that sums up everything and means nothing all at once! By “supernaturally ordered universe,” I mean people who believe in an intervening deity, people who believe in cosmic justice and anyone else who might think there are no such thing as random occurrences. “Everything happens for a reason” is a general rebuttal to any claim that the universe is unfair or that God’s hand is easily blamed for tragedies as it is given credit for “miracles.”

But the sentence says nothing. Firstly, of course everything happens for a reason. That is how physics works. We don’t understand it all, but electrons orbit, atoms fly around, molecules are formed, forces act on matter and things happen. At this level, the sentence is meaningless – the physical reasons things happen don’t help us determine if there was intent behind them.

In the second sense – that everything happens as a means to an ends, and that those ends are determined by an external force or entity – “Everything happens for a reason” implies there is a greater purpose to seemingly random events. It also implies that bad things are intended, even if they happen to innocent beings for no apparent reason.

Let’s assume this is true and evaluate a tragedy for potential long-term value. For instance, a baby is born anencephalic – the forebrain doesn’t develop, the remaining brain is exposed and even if the baby survives birth, they will die within hours. The overseer of the universe, be it God or Cosmic Justice, has decided this will happen, and we are to believe there’s a good reason for that decision. The apologist might say, “This was a lesson to teach us that life is precious.”

Certainly, the spin might be a relief – learning should be a positive experience, and life is precious. However, the only reason life is precious is because it’s limited and fragile. If there’s a cosmic plan, that fragility is part of the plan! Imagine yourself at a birthday party where the host says, “You better appreciate this cake, because if you don’t, I will take the cake away from someone else before I even give it to them.” Would you find this host to be moral and just?

Of course not! And you would be justified – your host’s sense of morality makes no sense. If he tells you the cake rule is all a part of a greater plan to make people appreciate cake, you would say, “It doesn’t matter. The means don’t justify the ends. You can’t make people appreciate cake by randomly taking away other people’s cake. It’s wrong.”

And neither can any God make anyone appreciate life by having babies die randomly. The ends do not justify the means.

If everything happens for a reason, but the event that happens is morally incongruent with moral law, then the being who caused the event is immoral. If “Killing is wrong” is our maxim, and God kills, then God is wrong.

But what if God’s morality is beyond ours? I’ve mentioned this before, and it deserves its own post, but if God’s morality is distinct from ours, then there is no true morality. From a practical perspective, this is not only hypocritical, but it’s also shortsighted to preach one morality and practice another and expect that no one will notice or care. From a metaphysical perspective, there is no clear reason why God’s morality wouldn’t be superior to ours, and if it is superior, then it is logical that we should be following the superior morality. Thus, a person could commit atrocities and say, “Well, this is all part of a bigger plan, and the ends justify any means.”

And the God of the Bible, at least, does atrocities better than anyone.

Sure, a believer can say there’s a complex set of rules that differ depending on whether you’re God or not, but then they are left saying God created a world wherein the morality would not be his own, but rather an arbitrary morality – a special set of exhibition rules that humans need to follow for no particular reason other than “I said so.” If God can murder and be moral, he could have very easily created MurderEarth, where it was moral to murder people. This idea exposes the obvious – murder is not a moral act, not even if God says so.

“Everything happens for a reason” – it might make a believer feel better. However, it is either meaningless in so far as it is always true, or it exposes the immorality of God as a Cosmic Tragedy Processor.

And I didn’t even get into the possible systems by which God decides who needs the lessons that tragedy teaches – that’s a whole new moral quandary for believers… so maybe I’ll cover it later.