c. scott andreas

I’ve been reading bits and pieces of Susan Bordo’s Twilight Zones: The Hidden Life of Cultural Images from Plato to O.J. It’s very interesting and quite well-written.

Susan Bordo develops a nuanced critique of the status of images and narratives in Western culture. Admitting her fascination with beautiful images, she suggests that “the problem” lies in our collective unwillingness to engage media in a complex manner. Neither “beauty” nor constructions thereof are the core issue – rather, it is the manner in which we’ve become accustomed to receiving these images: passively, much like victims. As a result, Americans thrive on endless interpretation and debate concerning the meaning of a digitally-mastered “surreality” without bothering to question the implications of abandoning ourselves to an existence we refuse to question simply because there seem to be so many answers.

As such, “the problem” (a highly reductionist statement in itself) is as much epistemological as it is practical. Bordo suggests our collective flirtation with postmodern ways of knowing combined with lazy, oversimplified thought processes has left us without the ability or even the desire to separate “fact” from “fiction.” Washed in a subjective world of fleeting trends, we have traded in “reason” as a measure of facticity in favor of “believability.” Here, Bordo points to the jurors of the O.J. Simpson trial who held that DNA evidence “carried absolutely no weight,” preferring instead a contrived narrative that made sense of the facts and allowed jurors to dismiss pesky science (93). Thus, we take refuge in cartoonish abstractions such as race, gender, and class but refuse to recognize the endless particularity and multiple strands of identification that compose an individual.

Bordo suggests that we would do well to recognize the virtue in questioning our ability to know a thing with absolute certainty. She does not propose a flight to the ivory tower of modernity, as this risks further engendering resistance to complex thought. Rather, enlightened by a chastened epistemology, the task is to build our knowledge up once more with critical eyes, proper confidence, and complex engagement. Empowered by our newfound ability to push back against the images and narratives that pervade our world, we might discover something real as we appreciate the value of picking them apart. Negotiating the middle path between the gulfs of positivism and relativism, perhaps we could imagine something better, too.

I’m slowly catching on to something that many in the emerging camp have been onto for quite some time. Better late than never, I suppose.

Indulging a tangent from an ongoing research project, I spent the better part of this afternoon exploring the secrets that people tell on their blogs. It began as a quest for narratives constructed for the purpose of establishing a sense of authenticity – a peephole, as it were, selectively revealed by the author to an anonymous audience in order to establish a connection of sorts. I refined a new sort of search designed to automatically trawl for these stories, then configured a script to publish them to a web page, updated once every ten minutes.

And it worked. It worked too well, in fact. The stories that came up were not selective revelations. They were constructed, certainly, but most were fits of emotion - veritable hearts bleeding XHTML - and not intended for strangers.
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When considering the word “natural,” we face a tendency to imagine such areas as existing in a pristine, undisturbed stasis – say a forest, mountain, or meadow, for example. Such a definition is highly problematic, as all areas, “natural” and otherwise, are constantly changing.

We would do well to begin thinking of “natural” in terms of an interconnected system of processes that are constantly altering, shaping, and reshaping ecosystems. Thus, when describing an area as “natural,” we would then be referring to its ability to absorb and integrate the changes that occur.

For instance, we do not consider cities and other developed areas “natural” due to the fact that ecological forces rarely push back with the veracity needed to topple a network of roads, buildings, and homes – though this often occurs in localized areas or to lesser degrees. As such, an area’s “natural-ness” depends on the continuation of processes rather than the physical composition of the area under discussion at a specific point in time. For the most part, these processes are self-sustaining. An ecosystem responds “naturally” to a stimulus by moderating and integrating it, occasionally transforming the processes at work themselves. This is the area in which humans have had the greatest, and perhaps most alarming impacts.

Throughout history, and especially following the Industrial Revolution, humans have increased dramatically in population, affluence, and technological capability – often without considering the larger implications of this growth. As such, we are altering not just our local environments, but the interconnected global processes that sustain life on the planet itself. Exponential growth curves indicate that within the next thirty years and almost certainly within the next century, humans will surpass the carrying capacity of the planet if we fail to dramatically alter our patterns of consumption, resource use, and reproduction.

Of course, this is assuming that we have not yet passed this point.

The time to be concerned is past. We must now begin to act. Or perhaps stop acting.

We’ve come a long way, baby.

[ download hi-res pdf ]

I’ve been reading bits and pieces of Benjamin Barber’s Strong Democracy: Participatory Politics for a New Age. It’s an excellent (if a tad dated) book on how to save America.

The author suggests that “democracy” as practiced in the U.S. suffers largely because it is based upon the assumption that human beings are fundamentally incapable of living together in peace. As such, the question of liberal politics for many is simply a question of resource distribution; the government functions as a zookeeper, deciding who gets what and protecting individuals from others. For Barber, these “thin democratic” responses to conflict fail in that they opt to deny, repress, or tolerate it rather than transform it. He proposes that “strong democracy” as politics in the participatory mode depends on citizens who talk to one another.

Talk can be understood as a democratic political ritual, part of a “never-ending process of deliberation, decision, and action” (151). But what sort of talking is this? Barber suggests that productive talk calls for participation, listening, and empathy. As such, discussion creates the citizens a functioning democracy requires by abolishing the differences that divide individuals and communities. Once this safe discursive space is christened, talk seizes this newfound connection as an opportunity for both reasoned and affective discourse in which participants come to recognize and honor each other’s common humanity in words and actions.

Barber’s final chapter is strikingly hopeful. Citing numerous empirical examples of “strong democracy” at work about the world, he suggests that implementing the structures necessary to support democratic talk as a package deal just might save Americans from disinterest in each other and in their government. These structures include neighborhood assemblies, a civic communications network, and improved access to education and information.

Might it be possible to realize such a dream today? The book’s 1984 copyright is disconcerting. Yet we have all of the technology and infrastructure necessary to support a “strong democracy” (save for front porches and sidewalks in some areas). Perhaps Barber’s “taste-and-see” approach to empowering would-be citizens is the problem. Perhaps it’s time to take democracy, to take talk, to take reasoned, affective discourse to the masses.

It might be possible, but it will certainly be difficult.

This evening, I discovered an incredible new tool called BibleMap. It’s a Google Maps + Bible + Encyclopedia + Photo mashup. Upon selecting a book and chapter in either ESV or KJV, all place names become clickable. Clicking on the name will re-locate a Google Map to show a satellite photo of the region, as well as a decription of significant events that occurred at that location and other points where that spot is mentioned in scripture (once you click on the marker). In true Web 2.0 form, it’s officially a free “beta” tool, but it works quite well.

I was a bit depressed that the Valley of Hinnom (often translated gehenna, or more frequently but less precisely, hell in the NT) was not a clickable location. As such, BibleMap might not be entirely complete, but it sure is handy.

Why not check it out?

I’m in Kokomo judging the Indiana HS State Debate tournament. Props to the school for providing free w-fi.

I owe a lot to debate. When I was in high school, it gave me something to do, something to care about, and something to strive for. I learned how to speak, how to argue, and how to see something through someone else’s eyes.

(I also owe any sense of fashion that I might have to a friend I met through debate while in high school.)

I’m concerned that “debate” as a high school activity is on the decline in this area. Here’s hoping for a rebound.

Update: Judged a couple good rounds. Back home safely. I’m satisfied.

Update 2:   My younger cousin Josh and his debate partner John just won the final round!  Huge congratulations to them on their victory and a hearty “thank you” for bringing the trophy back to Columbia City!

I’ve discovered an incredible study tool called MacSword, and with it, a burning desire to study. I’m a bit surprised as things usually don’t work out like that (consider your treadmill or ab-rocker, for instance).

That said, I’m working my way through the book of Micah. Micah has fascinated me for a long time - the book is literally pregnant with meaning. I’m tremendously excited to have the tools I need to study it properly.

Check back in the coming days / weeks. This will be fun.

technorati tags:Micah, exegesis, tools