Nikki Stern's Open Salon Blog

Die Hard

Wed, 18 Apr 2012 18:04:39 -0400

Why do we kill people who are killing people to show that killing people is wrong?
–credited variously to Norman Mailer, Gandhi and other sources

Anders Breivik, the Norwegian gunman who killed 77 people in one of Norway’s worst mass murders, (look, he has his own Wikipedia page!) has demanded he be acquitted, pleading not guilty by virtue of a sort of perverse heroism. While it’s difficult to fathom how bombing civilians and shooting unarmed young people at a summer camp can possibly be anything but deranged, Breivik has suggested he was defending his homeland against multiculturalism, which he sees as a precursor to an Islamic takeover and the imposition of Sharia law…

…a point of view he apparently shares with Newt Gingrich and several others. But I digress.

Breivik committed murder, a punishable offense in most countries. Among the punishments available in this country is death, at least in thirty-five of fifty states. That number may drop, as Connecticut’s Senate has voted to abolish the death penalty at the beginning of April. Nonetheless, the Unites States overall remains in the group of countries Amnesty International calls “retentionist”, countries that continue to permit executions. Norway has no death penalty, which means Breivik might either spend a few decades in prison (possibly more, if he’s considered to be dangerous at some future point) or confinement in a psychiatric institution. This is a man who, on the second day of his trial, described his killing spree as a “spectacular sophisticated political act,” one which he’d repeat, mind you.

A self-important, agenda-driven, platform-seeking individual who may not even be technically insane—two initial reports contradict one another—who managed to arm himself to the teeth despite Norway’s strict gun control laws could be back on the streets before he hits his mid-fifties. Meanwhile, taxpayer money will be used to house him.

How does everyone feel about this?

In Norway, some left-leaning intellectuals are hoping Breivik is determined sane, given that he sees his actions as “logical” in light of his extreme ideology. “One has to go to the bottom of the horror – as deep down as it is possible to go,” one civil servant suggested. Others believe that Breivik’s politics must be central to the trial in order to remind Norwegians that Islamophobia is rising throughout Europe. As one English writer living in France noted, “Going about their daily lives there are probably tens of millions of Europeans (and Americans), shocked at Breivik’s actions, who would, just the same, probably agree with the premise that drove him to action: Muslims are a threat to the Western world.” (see earlier note on Gingrich, Newt).

Others hope he’s declared insane, which would allow the courts to sidestep both the circus of a protracted trial and the dram of a defendant requesting death or acquittal in a country where neither is possible.

Most Norwegians, it seems, are not so much captivated by the trial as weary of it less than half way through. Norway’s second-largest media outlet, Dagbladet, offers a trial-free news option on its website (although it’s not immediately apparent when visiting the tabloid-style homepage with lurid pictures and over-sized typeface). The UK’s Telegraph reports that one man recommended “They should just lock him up and forget him.” Other outlets have noted the average citizens’ reluctance to comment…well, except for the civilian judge on the trial who was dismissed after posting on his Facebook page, “the death penalty is the only just outcome of this case.”

Seriously inappropriate.

Speaking of which, here in the United States, we don’t worry about keeping our mouths shut or our opinions to ourselves. Freedom means never letting propriety stand in the way of an argument we feel absolutely has to be made. Thus we have gun control opponents who happily claim Breivik’s ability to get gun’s despite Norway’s strict gun laws is proof that such laws don’t work. On one truly scary website called AmmoLand, one writer declares “These deluded laws disarmed the victims, and completely enabled the perpetrator. That is what ALL ‘gun control’ laws do.” The writer is listed as “Charles Heller, Executive Director, Jews for the Preservation of Firearms Ownership,” a title that encapsulates the very essence of paranoid delusion on more levels than I can fathom.

On the subject of the death penalty, we have the associate professor at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary who insists that withholding the death penalty in the case of Breivik reduces the value of human life. On Cal Watchdog, whose mission is “to uncover governmental waste,” the lead article suggests the Breivik trial might imperil a ballot initiative calling for the repeal of the death penalty. The “independent” editorial voice then goes on to remind the reader that “no state can stay naively immune from the realities of ideological terrorism. Nor can a state hide behind the self-righteousness of banishing the death penalty, if in so doing it unintentionally results in a perverse incentive for mass murder and offering a platform for spreading a murderous ideology.”

And there we have it: another justification for the elevation of the “kill or be killed” doctrine as a logical, justified and entirely effective way to defend, defeat and punish the criminals in our midst. While poor Norway, proud of its tolerant civil society and liberal traditions, must now be subject to the insatiable gaze of a news-starved international media and the highly selective commentaries of the righteously indignant, some of our noisy citizens know what must be done. Ignore the foolish hand-wringers. Banish the outliers. No mercy for evildoers. We must protect ourselves at all costs. To arms!

Just the sort of legacy Anders Breivik was hoping to promote.

Warning: Moral Hazard

Wed, 7 Mar 2012 17:03:44 -0500

“Moral hazard” originated as an insurance term used to differentiate between accidents caused by nature and those caused by humans. Nowadays, it’s used to judge and misjudge others according to whether we think they’ve assumed undue risk or cost us money.

My eye was caught recently by a business article in the “New York Times” about moral hazard and its relevance to our present financial calamities. The bailouts of banks and the proposed assistance to those who’ve defaulted on mortgage payments are being viewed in terms of “moral hazard.” That is, bankers and homeowners might well take undue risks if they don’t face consequences or if they can count on government bailouts.

The article details the various ways in which legal determinations about moral hazard (particularly by insurance companies) are haphazard and often dangerously backwards. For example, the author cites statistics that demonstrate that, contrary to popular opinion, the non-insured aren’t trying to grab more in the way of free health care. Rather, they’ll avoid the cost of treatment until they are dangerously or irreversibly ill and out of options.

The author equates the concept of moral hazard with our American idea of self-reliance—the idea that everyone should be able to put their houses in order (and not mortgage them to the hilt) and those who don’t lack discipline.

That may be. I’m feeling less generous with my fellow Americans these days. Instead, I sense a return to a judgmental, suspicious, parsimonious frame of mind that evokes the 19^th century. Yes, moral hazard may be a term in use because of the current economic malaise. Yet the view of reckless irresponsibility appears to extend beyond the (sometimes willful) ignorance of a few but encompass the presumed cheating, sinful, and morally lax natures of most.

We are on the lookout for scoundrels and cheats an every turn. The unemployed are all seeking handouts. Illegal immigrants are never about hard work and trying to provide better lives for their children. They’re about swindling the government and taking what’s ours. Even women risk the “moral hazard” tag for seeking abortions or contraception instead of accepting the consequences of engaging in sexual activity.

As for gaming the system, it’s something the other guy does and it costs us, Mr. and Mrs. Taxpayer. Here we are, working hard for our money just so the federal government can collect it and redistribute it to welfare frauds, those illegals and scam artists, along with high-flying bankers and lazy government employees, sure.

In the land where one is innocent until proven guilty, we’re using a broad brush when it comes to moral hazard. We are incensed that the undeserving might collect what we worked for. During the debates over extending tax breaks, I got into a fierce online discussion with a friend whose divorce settlement provided her with an annual income in excess of $250,000. She was furious the government was considering taking some of her hard-earned money to give to people who were careless with their credit.

While I know she suffered through a great deal of emotional trauma with her errant and immature husband, while I sincerely believe raising children (she has two) is a worthy job, I thought her antipathy towards potential cheaters was telling. It’s like NIMBY (not in my back yard) times three.

I’m frankly suspicious of anyone who yells about “government handouts.” The truth is, we’ve all come to expect help when we need it, whether that help comes in the form of our judicial system, disaster aid, or, for most of us, public education for our children. Nevertheless, we quantify and qualify various government services based on who gets them and who we think deserves them. We continue to divorce social security from its original intent, which was as a safety net for widows and children, viewing it instead as our own government banking system, while we view Medicaid as something that goes to caring for “poor” people. We’ve enshrined the phrase “hard-working Americans” and defined it through imagery of mostly men with a few business-suited women engaged in mostly manual labor, with a few franchise owners, a sprinkling of contractors, farmers and members of the armed services, and the occasional cop or firefighter. Rarely do we associate “hard-working Americans” with public sector employees like teachers, janitors or nurses, with housekeepers or gardeners (overwhelmingly minority), or with single mothers struggling to make a life for their kids.

Exercising moral judgment is never a good idea. We ought to realize how close we might all be to falling off the ledge of relative stability due to job loss or crippling family illness or unexpected natural or man-made disaster. We may suppose some people sin more than others. Since most of us are guilty of the most flagrant kind of hypocrisy when it comes to forgiving, we might hesitate before calling anyone out on his or her mistakes.

There have always been and will always be both enterprising thieves and irresponsible spendthrifts. I’ve no doubt a few of them are taking advantage of every possible opportunity, both public and private, for easy money or unearned gain. However, the “moral hazard” I’m most concerned about is the rise in this country of mean-spirited self-righteousness.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Thu, 26 Jan 2012 14:01:18 -0500

I learned today via New York Times piece that the super-charged, $100,000 BMW-M5 with the twin-turbo V8 engine uses a --gasp--recorded sound to mimic the full-throated roar the driver might expect to hear upon starting the car or pressing the accelerator.

A recording! The mighty BMW is the Milli Vanilli of high-end automobiles? This is just wrong.

Granted, technology is famous for pulling a fast one. Social media is populated (or littered, depending on your point of view) with discussions about the benefits and limits of Photoshop. Pop stars have been lip-syncing for some time, especially since it became important for them to multitask as decent dancers (Broadway performers are often able to do both for far less money, but let’s not go there.) The use of a laugh track on television dates to the early days of the medium itself. What you see (or hear) isn’t always what you get.

Besides, it’s not as if the BMW in question is performing below par. In fact, the superb insulation is what muffles the engine sound, along with other annoying audio tracks from the ordinary world. The folks outside the cushy cabin can hear the delicious vroom that signals all that money and power as exemplified by one machine. If the driver can’t, then maybe BMW has done its job too well.

What a quandary!

Of course it depends on what you want for your money. If your automobile is designed to show the world your purchasingpower, you will aim for a combination of branding (“Ooh, a Jaguar”), styling (“Look at those lines”), and performance (“Look at it go”). It works just as well with couture (“Ooh, Zack Posen. Look at those lines. That dress really flatters her”) or just about anything else that has the potential to confer status. Who cares how awkward, uncomfortable, impractical, or unwieldy it is?

For many people, that’s exactly what having money is all about. For others, spending money is tied to enhancing one’s own quality of life. In those instances, some may prefer discrete touches, such as indoor waterfalls that mimic the soothing sounds of nature, or the heft of a $15,000 Rolex tucked out of sight under a weekend flannel shirt by L.L. Bean. Money, after all, can’t buy taste.

At any rate, the BMW honchos believe that for $100,000 the driver deserves the satisfaction delivered by the audio reproduction of the power surge that kicks in on the Autobahn at 130 kilometers an hour. If that’s okay by the driver, that’s okay by me.

But wait: What if the brilliant engineers at BMW look into developing technology that mutes the actual engine sound altogether? The driver hears the primal sound of twin turbo V-8 engines coming to life or shifting gears. We don’t.

This technology has applications far beyond the world of automobiles. What if we could mute the know-it-all at the party who’s mouthing off about Europe’s economic mess? How about the idiot on the train talking loudly into her cell phone? Could we be kept from the mindless chatter of teens at the mall or the non-stop yammering of the talking heads on the inevitable cable channel playing where you get your car serviced? What about the couple who fights in public? Or makes love loudly enough so they might as well be copulating publicly? Can we stuff a sock in it?

I’m not just talking about insulating individuals from offensive sounds, but a technology that allows the self-deluded to believe they have a larger audience than they actually do, one that simultaneously protects their egos and our eardrums. Given the amount of noise pollution, this would amount to a public service. BMW could get a much-deserved tax break!

I admit that slashing tires or breaking windows, embarrassing loudmouths in public or even changing the channel despite protests is more viscerally satisfying. But that’s an approach with serious blow-back potential.

This invention could potentially free us from the injury of assault by unwanted sound. We would still hear what we need to (police sirens, calls from our mothers) or want to (see “sounds of nature,” above); moreover, we’d be protected from those sounds we find most irritating, off-putting and egregious, like television commentators, nagging spouses, or even aggressive-sounding twin turbo engines.

image via Creative Commons

Word

Thu, 19 Jan 2012 10:01:50 -0500

inspired by a friend who is discovering how inspirational he is...

"Sorrow" by Van Gogh via Wikicommons

No one ever knows what to say.

"I'm sorry."

“You’ll be okay.”

“Hang in there.”

Yeah, thanks.

“You’re one of the strong ones.”

“You can beat this.”

“I know just how you feel.”

Gack! No!

Don’t get me wrong: the impulse to reach out, offer support, be there, wherever “there” is—is priceless. And appreciated.

“Fuck!”

“Shit!”

"Dammit to hell!"

Anglo-Saxon curses have the advantage of capturing the utter baseness of the predicament: inelegant, infuriating, rough, raw. They address the senselessness of it all--whatever "it" is. Unfortunately, they lose potency after awhile. This sucks. True. Next…

How do we address bad news—grief, loss, sorrow, the pain of someone we know, admire, respect and genuinely like? How can we help?

Here’s what I learned: for every event (good and bad, I suppose, but let’s deal with the bad), a circle of affectedness is created. In the middle of the circle is the person who has taken a direct hit: the patient, the bereaved; the forever changed. He (or she) is the one who’s been shoved over the line in the sand they hadn’t even seen, kicked onto another path, dealing with the “before” and “after” of a timeline with a new wrinkle. Hit by a crashing wave, he struggles to the surface.

Actually, that’s my metaphor; we each have our own. But we’re not at the center of this particular story. We are somewhere else in the circle; further from the middle than the family and loved ones whose lives will also need to proceed along a new trajectory’; further perhaps than the colleagues, co-workers, close friends.

Our place in the circle isn’t insignificant. We’re pulled in by our genuine affection for the central figure. His pain isn’t our pain, but we hate his pain and we want to make it smaller. Our place in the circle matters, oh yes it does.

“What can I do?”

Don’t ask.

What I mean is: Don’t require of your flailing friend that he recommend to you the means of his rescue. He can't tell you.

Do what you do best. Bake a cake, send a book; share a link, share information. Stay close, stay in the picture.

Expect nothing; know your support means everything. Be you. Be funny, be loving, be resourceful, be present. Be normal.

The Sound of Silence

Tue, 10 Jan 2012 14:01:44 -0500

I went to see “The Artist” the other day as part of my efforts (not very strenuous) to see the Oscar contenders and buzzed-about movies. Occasionally I digress for the purpose of guaranteed mindless big-screen entertainment, as when I went to see “Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol” (excuse me, is it just me or is Jeremy Renner looking absolutely fabulous?) But I digress…

I wasn’t sure how I would feel about the film. I have middle-brow tastes when it comes to movies and I can scarcely be called a film buff. I love to look at color, although I have an appreciation of the beauty and mystery of black and white photography. I also traffic in words and none are spoke in “The Artist,” a love letter to the late twenties and early thirties and the entertainment that preoccupied America.

I loved it.

Loved the attention to detail in the curl of a mustache or the arch of an eyebrow. Adored the overt and sly references to classic movie tropes of the era: the highly choreographed scenes, the grand theatrical acting. Some of the references were out of the time period (defined as 1927-1932): I recognized a bit of Alfred Hitchcock; the lush score brought to mind the work of renowned film composer Bernard Herrmann and the supremely talented Jack Russell terrier put me in mind of Nick and Nora Charles and their beloved dog Asta. Wait: maybe I DO know my film history!

I noticed these oddities but I wasn’t bothered by them: this was a film about a film star and the culture he inhabited during a transitional time in American history. “The Artist” was captivating in every way and the symbolism evinced by the successful actor pushed out of his chosen profession by the advances of technology is certainly a parable for our time.

One thing that struck me was the absolute silence of my fellow viewers. It’s not just that no one spoke; I doubt my smart, sophisticated audience would have put up with that. But we were treated to plenty of cues about how audiences react to silent films via the film itself; we saw them laughing or clapping or gasping or murmuring at various moments during the plot. The silent-movie audience was vocal, not in an effort to impede the flow of the movie but in expression of their appreciation. Watching “The Artist” in a theater that was completely quiet except for the music was odd. No coughing, no crackling of paper; in fact, no laughing out loud, although I caught many smiles. No, we were reverentially still, as attending a concert.

Maybe the difference is in the present-day movie-going experience itself, which doesn’t teach us how to watch a movie without distraction. Maybe it’s the novelty of being several layers removed: a present-day audience watching actors who portray a long-ago audience using the same exaggerated style as the rest of the movie’s characters.

Or maybe, at least in this instance, it was just such a blessed relief to be free of the cacophony that surrounds us every day: to surrender to the music, to watch the action unfold on the screen, to marvel at the comic and dramatic elasticity of the actors and not need to have anything explained, enhanced or interpreted. We sat back and let the rich sounds of (relative) silence guide us.