Rant On Offensive Words

Earlier in the week I wrote about offensive language in a blog post regarding an Australian man found guilty of offending the wrong people in Saudi Arabia, and was subsequently lashed for his actions. Today I want to look at the somewhat curious example of offensive words, as opposed to offensive language.

There is I think, an important distinction between these concepts worth noting. Offensive language doesn’t necessarily infer the use of offensive words. I could write a wildly offensive sentence aimed at Christians or people of a specific race, without having to employ a single unsavoury word. Instead you would have to listen to what I am saying beyond the use of single words, to understand what the crux of my theoretical diatribe was.

There are however people who balk at the very mention of what they believe to be offensive words, regardless of how they are employed.

South Park dealt with the seemingly magical power some people believe curse words have in this episode. Yet Trey Parker and Matt Stone clearly understand the mundane nature of such words, and that as our languages evolve and change, these things inevitable lose their power (unlike those in their show, who retain their cursed nature, to disastrous effect).

Indeed the dulling down of offensive words over time seems to be the norm, with the graveyard of former swears being populated by such innocuous words as leg (they preferred limb in the old days, pants ("Thats pants!" was the exclamation) and even occupy, which had sexual connotations that make the Occupy Movement of last year all the more confusing. Then there are the other swears which have just been blunted, but still retain their core meaning; like crap, damn, bloody and bugger.

But the reason I have brought this up today isn't just so i can start listing curse words (though that would be fun), it is due to this story that popped up in the news a couple of days ago.

Here we have an 18 year old American called McKay Hatch upset over the fact that a toddler in a TV show says what appears to be the word ‘fuck’. The episode is titled Little Bo Bleep, and apparently handles this situation quite delicately, and presents it in a most benign way.

In actuality the young actress says fudge (so Mr Hatch can at least take solace that her mind has not been poisoned by her having to utter this four letter word) and in the show her mouth is pixilated, and the word bleeped out. I always do find it amusing that we bleep out the word, but generally allow the consonants to remain intact.

Nevertheless  Hatch  takes exception to this. As a founding member of the 'No Cussing Club', he believes that 'cussing' not only degrades people lives, but hurts the world around you, and in swearing (using the oath giving meaning of the word here) to give up 'cussing', you can improve the lives of the people around you..

Representatives of the show explained their rationale for this episode, which seems perfectly reasonable:

"We thought it was a very natural story since, as parents, we've all been through this,"
This reminds me of a proud moment as a parent when our son first used a swear word, and did so in perfect context. It was upon pulling up at a petrol station, only to find the bowser out of action (and after explaining this to Harrison), that our son disappointingly exclaimed “Not working? Oh shit”. Brilliant!

Not this Bowser obviously.

In a sense I respect those who are offended by the concepts behind statements more than those who are offended by the mere words being used. Though as I mentioned in my previous post, you still need to be able to elucidate in a rational manner why it is you are offended, and why such offence should be taken seriously.

Concepts can be offensive, but it is rare that I would think a word in itself, devoid of any meaning, should be considered offensive. And make no mistake; that is what some people believe.

Fuck is one of the greatest words around, there have been books written about it, studies done into its psychological benefits, and praise levelled on it as being the second greatest gift that the British Empire bestowed upon the world (the first of which, if you are wondering, is the great game of soccer). Such a versatile word is not in of itself offensive, I think its fucking great; and I’m not alone.

However as with most hastily thought of rules, there are exceptions. In this case I think words that may warrant a further analysis regarding their intrinsically offensive nature are those specifically designed for more nefarious means. This would include things like racial epithets, discriminatory language, and other such derogatory terms. An obvious example of this, and perhaps the most powerful in today’s society, is the word nigger.

Nigger can be seen as offensive in almost any circumstance (and I'm going to ignore the whole 'nigga' to take back the word argument for simplicity's sake), because it brings along with it the implicit assumption of a stereotype originally directly linked to the word. A nigger was less than human; a nigger was property. And to say this word to someone these days is generally an attempt to remind them of this.

Yet even in this regard, people can take it too far. While reading an article on the word nigger by the late great Christopher Hitchens the other day, I was interested and rather amused to read this passage relating his introduction to the taboo surrounding it in American society:

“I found this out myself recently, when I went on Hardball With Chris Matthews. It was just after John Kerry had (I thought unintentionally) given the impression that young people joining the armed forces were stupid. Chris asked me where liberals got the idea that conservatives were dumb. I said that it all went back to John Stuart Mill referring to the Tories as "the stupid party." After a while, the Tories themselves began to use this expression to describe themselves. I added that the word Tory was originally an insult—it means something like brigand in Gaelic—and it had also been adopted, by those at whom it was directed, as a badge of pride. In this respect, I went on to say, it anticipated other such appropriations—impressionist, suffragette—by which the target group inverted the taunt thrown at it and, by a kind of verbal jujitsu, turned it back on its originators. In more recent times, I finished with what I thought was a flourish, the words nigger and queer (and I may have added faggot) had undergone some of the same transmutation.
Very suddenly, we went to a break, and the studio filled with unsmiling people who detached my microphone and announced that the segment was extremely over. My protests were futile. Should I have remembered to cover myself and say "the N-word" instead? It would have seemed somehow inauthentic. Did MSNBC think that anything I had uttered was inflected with the smallest tinge of bigotry? Presumably not. So, what we now have is a taboo, which is something quite different from an agreement on etiquette.”

I apologise for the long citation here, but Hitchens is a man whose prose I find it hard to prune.

But even this shunning of the objective use of the word nigger in the United States pales in comparison to stories such as the Washington D.C. official who was forced to resign after using the world 'niggardly' in a conversation with some co-workers about funding. Niggardly meaning 'not generous' or 'stingy', and having no racial overtones; just sounding a bit reminiscent of another word was enough to cause offense.

There are even those who believe that simply changing the word you are saying in these instances, yet keeping the overall tone and gist of your message, is somehow preferable; particularly if you substitute gibberish, or foreign words, for your expletive. Penn and Teller featured an American lady who believed in just such things on their awesomely named show Bullshit!. She advocated using the word ‘santa vaca’ rather than any English swears, even though this is in itself a swear in a foreign language (it means 'Holy Cow' in spanish, though not that much of a swear). She even created a hand gesture called the ‘whole turkey’ to use in the place of the much more efficient middle finger, when one wants to show others just how they feel (as in her view the 'whole turkey' is better than just 'flipping the bird', as Americans like to call it). This to me is a prime example of someone missing the point. It isn’t the gestures or the words themselves that are offensive, but rather the way they are employed, or the meaning they seek to evoke.

Penn put it very succinctly at the end of the episode whilst frightening a dog all too reminiscent of my own:

Now this post has gone on far longer than i had planned, but I can hardly finish a post on offensive language without including some words from the eminent lover of language, Stephen Fry.

“The sort of twee person who thinks swearing is in any way a sign of a lack of education or of a lack of verbal interest is just a fucking lunatic.” – Stephen Fry

So that's it for yet another language rant, of which there appear to be a lot popping up on here. I hope it was enjoyable, but I cant be fucked writing any more.

MM

Battling Demons and Personal Responsibilities

At what point do we get to pass of our character flaws as the much more courageous sounding ‘battling of demons’? I sure would like to know, as it can turn a seemingly embarrassing or shameful thing and turn it into a somewhat admirable struggle; almost a sign of integrity, as if we are truly a virtuous person being assailed by forces beyond our control, but nevertheless susceptible to our attacks.

How can I battle this ‘I'm a slob’ demon all by myself?

I am of course bringing this up because of the recent death of Amy Winehouse*, that talented young woman who died at the curious age of 27, and yet despite the universal acclaim of her talent I can only seem to recall one slightly telling song where she was urged to go to rehab, but she said no, no, no.

I woke that day with my wife telling me Amy Winehouse had died, and I didn’t really stop to think how; it was pretty much a foregone conclusion. She must have died from some sort of drug related cause; as if there were anything she was more famous for than her voice, it was her addiction problems. This instant acceptance of such a death is something worth lamenting enough as it is, because it almost takes away the tragedy of her life and replaces it with an acceptable stereotype. It’s almost as if people don’t care as much about the death of a drugged up star because that’s pretty much what we all expect.

Lamentations aside, what truly bothers me about this affair is the way that she is described in the media, and the all too common way that in today’s society people with problems are often talked up in an attempt to mollycoddle the public, which apparently have some vested interest in those being in the spotlight retaining some form of integrity.

This is why we see drug addict footballers being referred to simply as substance abusers, actors who beat up women are labelled as troubled, racist or abusive sportsmen are actually just controversial, or other such examples. In each and every case the problem with this person is turned around to either be an external force working against them or worse; a problem with how we perceive them, as opposed to how they are. The famous person who does drugs can’t be held accountable for their actions, because they are famous for a reason, and it’s almost as if people are so unwilling to believe that people who are good in one respect (be it sports, or acting, or music)can also be so deficient in another. We want everyone to be role models, even if they only show an outward aptitude at one specific thing.

He is rather good at rugby, so surely it’s not his fault he pretended to have oral sex with a dog....

It seems to me that in the past, role models emerged out of the fray, and were acknowledge simply because they were exceptional examples of what one should strive to become. Before fame was such a simple commodity to trade as it is today, word would only spread of a person’s overall virtue if it were earned in the arena of society. Only then were such examples made clear to the world. But then again I am basing this assertion on no real knowledge, just a glimmer of a point.

I have many personal flaws which I am not proud of having, and I try to work on them as best I can. But the thing is; I don’t talk about myself as if I am some perfect human being, living in an imperfect shell. My personal flaws are my own to work on, something which I hope can be overcome by my personal virtues (whatever they may be). If I were to take the line of thinking that anything which detracts from my character is a demon I have to battle with, well then what’s the harm if I relapse at some point? I mean it can’t all be my fault now can it? Because I was putting up a fight at least, and in this round, well the demons simply won. And I might pick up the fight again, but perhaps after this nights bender is over.....

And don’t get me started on the controversial label! When a famous athlete caused a row in last year for racial slurs (alas I cant remember which one right now), they weren't being controversial in any degree worth mentioning, as there is no controversy here that holds any sway. Their views were just downright wrong in our society. If you hold that this kind of thing is controversial, then it seems to me that there is more validity added to the arguments opposing side, which in this case is a side that asserts some form of race based value judgements. Last time I check, that wasn’t an issue in Australia; it doesn’t divide the nation.

Now if you think that this kind of thing can be considered controversial because it deals with issues of free speech and what is or is not polite to say, then fine: but don’t be afraid to say so. Say the use of racial slurs as part of free speech in this country causes controversy, but don’t for a minute mistake this with the persons comments, or the person themselves, being controversial.

Rant complete....

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*This is a post I wrote back in July last year, right after the death of Amy Winehouse. The basis of the rant still seems relevant, so I figured I would chuck it up here.

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Linguistic Attire

Note: There may be a lot of Blackadder references as this blog continues

"Language is the dress of thought" – Samuel Johnson

I came across this interesting quote the other day thanks to my daily work calendar. Initially I agreed with its premise, thought it made for a nice saying, and was prepared to go on with the rest of my day. With language as the dress of thought I imagined that good dress (language) would amount to good thought.

However upon reflecting on this I was a bit dismayed when I realised what the implications of this would be for me. I am not very good with my language (as evidenced I believe by that mash-up of a sentence), though if pressed I would like to be able to maintain that I am somewhat half decent with my thoughts. I can cobble together a cogent argument when the need arises, though perhaps not in as succinct a way as a more experienced rhetorician.

Luckily later in the day as I was reading the quote over again (and started writing the predecessor to this blog post); I began to interpret its meaning in a different light.

You see originally I was working under a false assumption so often enforced in our society; that those in better dress are better people. Or in this case, thought dressed with better language is better thought. However we can look at other examples, bereft of our preconceived prejudices against sloppy dress, or ‘good’ thought, and see an ancillary truth in this statement all the more clearer.

One can dress up an ugly person in appealing attire; much like one can dress up ugly thought in appealing language. The Nazi’s were experts at this, with the horrible atrocities of their regime being glossed over with terms such as ‘final solution’ or ‘special treatment’. Likewise one can see past the unsightly clothing of a person to see their true beauty, or see through ungainly language to hear the true beauty of one’spropositions.

So rather than taking the original quote as trying to make any value judgments about the dress, or the thought, I feel it makes a more simple distinction of the relationships between these concepts. It was only an error in my analysis that made me apply this maxim with any hierarchy in mind. Luckily however, I started to write up my thoughts on the subject, and soon began to see the chinks in my armour.

Language as the dress of thought is something we must be aware of. It can be a tool for making our thoughts more available to the public, or even more palpable to others (after all, a naked thought can be like a naked person; perhaps attractive, but also equally likely to be a bit shocking, if not outright confusing). Conversely we must be careful to look beyond the language and dress presented to us, and try to best judge things on their fundamental merits.

Rant complete.

Oh and if you were wondering why at the beginning of this post I went with the Robbie Coltrane version of Samuel Johnson from Blackadder over a historical portrait of the man, this might answer your question:

He has a face for the meticulous cataloging of the English language.....

"I'm offended by that." Well, so f#@king what?”

Is it in bad taste of me to point out that there has been surprisingly little backlash regarding the lashes Mansor Almaribe’s back was recently doled out by the Saudi government? Perhaps it is, but I can’t help think that in the face of such absurdities, perhaps an initial resort to humour is natural if only to help remind ourselves that we are so (hopefully) removed from this form of conduct as a nation.

Physical punishment sanctioned by the courts is in itself such a contentious (and contemptuous) notion, whether it be in the more grotesque manifestation of executions (capital punishment), or the more ‘mild’ examples of state sanctioned physical abuse (corporal punishment); but it is nevertheless all the more hard to swallow when it is used in conjunction with a charge of blasphemy. A charge which when you look at it rationally, is no more than the utterly harmless act of offending someone.

It brings to mind the image of a toddlers understanding of justice. You hurt my sensibilities, so now I am going to hurt you. There is no distinction between real hurt and perceived hurt.

There is a reason this picture is here, and it may become clearer at the end of this post (or if you are more studious with your link following)

The problems I have with blasphemy laws are not solely based on my atheism, though it does help. It is more centred on the fact that these laws lie upon the foundation of one taking offence against their own personal feelings, and seeking to ban this upon others. This might be seen as a rational thing to do, were it not for the fact that what offends me is not only unlikely to, but rarely ever guaranteed to offend others; even on a majority basis.

Anyone can find anything offensive, that doesn’t in itself mean that anything which can be labelled offensive must be curtailed without contestation. Indeed, I am offended by the fact that such things happen. It offends me that in today’s society a country that murders its citizens because they believe them to be witches can be afforded a rational response when they then decide to physically abuse people for offending others.

It offends me, but that in itself doesn’t warrant any action by others. If you can’t back up your offense with some semblance of a rational argument, then why should it be taken seriously? I personally believe that I could very quickly come up with a rational argument supporting my views listed above, and get a hearty proportion of the public agreeing with me. I would offer the same challenge to those whose personal offense is based more on personal taste and sensibilities, than it is any recognition of universal human rights or attributes.

The Australian government has suggested that the Saudi embassy in Australia should go to more effort to explain etiquette to those undertaking the hajj pilgrimage, so that any future instances of offending the ‘companions of the prophet Mohammed’ could be avoided.

It is an interesting thing to ponder, because offense in regard to religious beliefs can be so easily taken, and is in many cases unavoidable. Indeed it only seems to be avoided either by the sloppy thinking of the ‘offendable’, or the careful holding of the tongue by someone able to offend (note: that is usually anyone holding a viewpoint that fails to exactly match those of the ‘offendable’). For instance, Mr Almaribe is a Shiite Muslim. Saudi Arabia is a predominantly Sunni Muslim country, and by predominantly, I mean legally and enforcedly. It is a theocracy where people of certain religions can’t travel to certain areas of the kingdom, and if you apostatise from Islam, you can legally be put to death. Presumably the Sunni contingent of this incident would be suitable offended simply by Almaribe’s opposing faith, were it properly laid out before them. True they are both Muslim, but then again Catholics and protestants are both flavours of Christianity, and look how well they used to get along. This is what I mean when I say that offense can only be mitigated either by sloppy thinking on the offended’s behalf, as they fail to realise the heretic in their midst, or else by silence on the offenders’s behalf, as they hide the aforementioned heresy.

This sort of offense knows no real bounds, and is limited only by how much one is willing to take their own personal feelings about something, and hold it above others rights to do, say, or otherwise express themselves, and any opposing views they may have.

Our government may very well want the embassy to point out how to behave in their country, and what is offensive to their state religion; but one wonders how they could do that in a rigorous sense, and still hope to present a place worth travelling to for the average Australian.

No doubt I would be offensive in this regard, as by my very nature I would fail to adhere to the religious norms, or observe any religious customs. It would only be a matter of how offended people choose to be, not really how offensive I was being. As given enough motivation, a modicum of offense could be found merely in my lack of faith.

Type 'offense' into Google Images and most of the resultant images are of American football....

Perhaps I have let this rant fly on for too long, and maybe I have unjustly correlated offense with blasphemy (and forgotten what I started my post on…). But in all honesty, I can’t see how blasphemy is anything but offense at the religious level.  And in today’s world, so sensitive as it is to things like insults or offense; I can’t help but remember this quote from Stephen Fry who dealt with the subject a few years back:

“It's now very common to hear people say, "I'm rather offended by that", as if that gives them certain rights. It's no more than a whine. It has no meaning, it has no purpose, it has no reason to be respected as a phrase. "I'm offended by that." Well, so fucking what?” - Stephen Fry.

So fucking what indeed.

MM

(p.s. Corporal punishment - Blackadder episode - General Melchett - Stephen Fry. Get it?)

Dizziness of Freedom

I am somewhat scared of heights. I wouldn’t call myself acrophobic, in the sense that I am not paralysed by the experience of heights, and don’t suffer panic attacks or anything of the like. But I am uncomfortable with heights, and with the feelings I get from them.

There are obvious reasons why a fear of heights would be favoured by evolution; it doesn’t take much to see why an individual who shy’s away from cliffs may be more likely to survive than their friend who likes playing on the precipice. Likewise there can be obvious discomforts associated with heights, most common being a feeling of vertigo or loss of balance as the visual cues our brain uses to correct our motion move further into the distance, and thus afford us less accurate points of reference to work with.

However these examples are too biological to fully satisfy me with regard to my own reaction to heights. It is all well and good to say that these physiological things can compound into a fear of heights, or at least a discomfort with them; but us homo sapiens’ are one of the lucky species able to not only understand out evolutionary origins, but to also (in a sense) overcome them. There are other natural fears, such as a fear of spiders or darkness, which we can use our reason to overcome. Yet I still find myself experiencing a visceral response when I am elevated beyond the norm.

Plus this photo freaks my eyes out....

Though I may know that the handrail is secure, and that I won’t be falling; I still feel the primal pull towards something less than pleasant. I can be in a tall building, staring out a window in the complete knowledge that I am as safe as the thousands of people who use it every day; yet the pit of my stomach beckons. My mind can reason, but it is nevertheless still contained in a brain, and subject to its evolutionary idiosyncrasies.
I did however find another satisfying explanation a few years back when was reading about Kierkegaard. I came across his idea of the ‘dizziness of freedom’, whereby in some cases the fear of heights can be described not as a fear of the simple fact of being at a considerable height, but rather the second hand fear, or subconscious dread, associated with the fact that you could at any point choose to throw yourself off the edge. Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom he said; the fact that you have the will within yourself to do these things brings up an unfocused fear inside merely because of this fact.

"I must find a truth that is true for me. And someone who can draw bodies" -  Kierkegaard

This to me was a more satisfactory explanation of my own feelings regarding heights. I am not afraid of height in itself, but rather of the possibility (and dare I say urge) to throw oneself over the edge.

I get the same feeling, that quiver at the base of my stomach, when I am a passenger in a car going at speed along a highway. The knowledge that just outside my door is a similar drop to a closer, but equally fatal, moving highway. Accessible with a simple exercising of my own free will; I could just as easily open the door and plunge to the asphalt, as I could defenestrate myself from a sky-scraper.
I don’t want to do these things, for the obvious fear of the consequences; but it is a possibility, and something seemingly only kept at bay by the very will which could bring about its execution.Though I guess as with a lot of explanations, this is just pushing the onus back a bit further. After all, then we have to wonder why the tacit acknowledgement of such possible manifestations of the will is something that our subconscious minds can fixate upon. After all I feel the unfocused fear of this action much more than I do any number of other possible, yet undesirable, actions that are in my arsenal. I don’t feel the dizziness of freedom when I am near a fire, though I know I could throw myself in, nor do I feel anxiety when I am in the presence of poisons, though I know I could imbibe them.

Though some poison I do indulge in

It must simply be the undeniable visual cues, the involuntary sense data that enters our minds via the optic nerve, and sets its subconscious processes working against us. After all to recognise that we are up high takes a lot less deliberative effort than it does to understand some of the other threats mentioned.
Also, at the end of the day, it is much easier on ones pride to shy away from heights based on a reasoned philosophical argument, than it is to just admit that you are scared of heights. So perhaps I will just stick to that for now.

  

Sidenote here: In Being and Nothingness, Jean-Paul Sartre described vertigo as “anguish to the extent that I am afraid not of falling over the precipice, but of throwing myself over”, which seems to be similar to what we are talking about here. Except for the fact that vertigo and a fear of heights aren’t exactly the same thing. Vertigo is more a sense of spinning when one is remaining still. It is often associated with a fear of heights (not to mention classic movies (see above), or Arrested Development skits), but can be experienced at any time.

[Oh, and I couldn't find the vertigo clips from Arrested Development, so i settled with the best of Tobias.]



And with that I declare this random post complete.
MM

I Just Don’t Get Poetry.

I don’t get it. I would like to get it; don’t think this is a disparaging post attacking the old art form. But I just don’t understand poetry, how it ‘works’, and its place in the world.

This is my own fault for never having venturing to learn much about it. I delved into poetry as most people do when I was forced to learn a bit about it in school. But as with most things that you are told are important in school, I instantly began to question its significance, and loath the fact that I was being told otherwise. That objective view of importance always bugged me in school, especially concerning the more subjective parts of education, like art, writing or music. I have an inherent contrarian nature, so when I was just told that a poem was good because of a certain property imbued by its author, or was to take it on authority that an artwork was superior to others based on some intrinsic quality; I would always take the opposing viewpoint.

These days however, as I look upon the world with different eyes than those of my school years, I can’t help but see the seemingly numinous effect that poetry has on people, and understand that there must be something to it.

I find that for me the same can be said of most forms of art, in that I can see its influence on people and know it must have a level of depth and syntonical understanding that is simply beyond me. I do however have more of an understanding of the visual arts than I do of poetry. There are pieces of art that I like; that I have some deep visceral reaction to, or primal sense of beauty about. I look at The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai, or Picasso’s Guernica and I just like it. That being said, whenever I try and read some poetry I can’t help but think ‘Oh come on, just say it plainly and skip the melodical to and fro already’.

Definitely one of my favourite arts.......

In this time of instant gratification and Twitter feeds and rock music, and other tropes that old people might stereotypically use to explain the modern world,  I don’t have the time to search for subtext; I’m pretty much all contained on the surface. I want to know what you are saying, and I want to be able to analyse it, and learn from it.

Perhaps this is why I find it easier to enjoy visual arts than I do poetry; you just have to look at it. You don’t need to think about it, nor do you even have to pay attention. You just look at the painting, and if you’re lucky it evokes some feelings in you. For poetry to do the same I would have to either listen to it, or read it, then comprehend what was being said before I could even get to the point of seeing if it affects me in any meaningful way.

I like a painting because of how I feel about it, and it doesn’t have to be explained or even rational.

In other words I like the lazy arts.

Lazy, but still pretty cool.

Perhaps this is why I don’t understand poetry. Poetry uses language, and for me there must be a defined point to the application of language, as it is made up of such structured and logical constructs. Subject–verb–object: simple. I know what you are talking about, and I can infer what I need with relative confidence.

Being quite a logical person, I am much more comfortable when I know that I am on the right track. I like objective truths more than I do personal preferences. That you can read a poem and get something completely different out of it than I do is a bit unsettling for me, because there is no correct way to go about it. Ironically, the lack of orthodoxy which causes my unease is exactly the thing that I rallied for in school; a freedom from imposed interpretation.

Perhaps what I really want is a rational way to explain why art affects us in certain ways, as not doubt the answer lies somewhere in that indeterminable beast between our ears. But until that time comes, I think I just need to embrace the uncertainty inherent in art, and perhaps find solace in its personally fulfilling nature.

The most I know about poetry is contained entirely within either my ability to make haikus (This is a haiku, this much I do know for sure, as it’s so easy), or else within the one poem I have bothered to save into my collection; the Second Coming, by William Butler Yeats. But hell, even AJ from the Sopranos has read that one.

The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    has always been a bit of a douche

Nevertheless, I now find that I like the idea of poetry. I like the ability people must have to evoke feelings through wordplay, to plumb the depths of the human experience and present it in a weird and wonderful way that affects people, even if they don’t quite understand why. I like the idea that poetry, like all art, can be universally appealing, but intimately subjective.

I like these things in theory, but I just haven’t made the effort to put this theory into practice, and see how it relates to me. I have however taken the first step, in getting myself a copy of The Ode Less Traveled by Stephen Fry. And if anyone is going to get me interested in this, certainly the inimitable Mr Fry is the man to do it.

MM

The Kim is Dead; Long Live The Kim

Dead Dear Leader on the far right, podgy new Dear Leader second from the left

In a year seemingly replete with significant deaths, the final month of 2011 has thrown up yet another surprising casualty to the list; though unlike Christopher Hitchens passing, this is one I can feel enlivened about, if only to a degree.

Kim Jong-Il has died. The North Koreans, have lost their dear leader, and the centre of their fervent death-cult. They now move one step closer to an obscene version of their own holy trinity, as no doubt their new Dear Leader (3.0?) will instill his departed father in the same mystical sense of eternal dictatorship as their previous leader, Kim Il-sung, who still technically remains as the head of state, despite his death in 1994.

Unlike the other dictators we have seen deposed, or deceased this past year, news of this death doesn’t really promise to lead to any significant changes in the situation of their oppressed peoples. There are no cheering crowds; only weeping newscasters, and jeering outsiders. There will most likely be no upheaval, but only a transferral of absolute power from one purveyor of the personality cult, on to another. So totally has the individual been replaced by the state in North Korea that one truly wonders if its people yearn for anything other than the world they find themselves in. Or has this hermit state (which sustains itself only on the persistent threat of force and the begrudging acceptance of western nations who give aid for fear of watching millions die), managed to get itself into a position where the totalitarian system has reached its zenith, and true change can never be fostered from within?

Christopher Hitchens called it “...A society where individual life is absolutely pointless, and where everything that is not absolutely compulsory is absolutely forbidden.” [Why Orwell Matters].

The near total control that the North Korean state appears to have over its people’s hopes and dreams has extended to the point where, as in Orwell’s 1984, they appear to genuinely love their dear leader, and the chains that hold them down. Though deep down I can’t help but hope that such oppressive control of the human mind cannot reach the level of saturation that this would imply.

I now strangely find myself hoping for a ‘peaceful’ transition from one tyrant to another. It is an odd feeling to be hoping that a dictator can come to power seamlessly and to be actively wishing this upon those he plans to rule over, but it seems that the alternative could be far worse. At least for now.

As we have seen in previous examples, a change of power in North Korea isn’t cemented  by the exertion of violence against its own people, but rather a show of strength against those the North Korean's view as their absolute enemies; their southern neighbours. We must remember after all, that the Korean War didn’t end, and the period we find ourselves in now is more of an armistice than it is a total cessation of hostilities.

In 1983, while his father was still alive, Kim Jong-Il orchestrated a bombing in Myanmar (cf. Burma) in order to kill senior South Korean officials stationed there, with the death toll amounting to 17 individuals. Then in 1987, Kim Jong-Il raised his personal death toll to 132 after ordering the destruction of a Korean Air jetliner. It is in this way that the emerging leader shows the resolve and strength required to lead his fellow North Koreans in their bitter hatred of any ‘outsiders’, and what they view as the mongrelisation of the Koreans in the south of the peninsular.

Some analysts predicted the change of power from Jong-Il to his youngest son as being cemented when the North Koreans torpedoed the South Korean ship Cheonan back in March of 2010, killing 46 sailors on board. This act was believed to have been orchestrated by the burgeoning dictator, and was followed in September of the same year by his official anointing as the heir to the hermit state’s central position of power. This, combined with the shelling of a South Korean island in late 2010 that killed two soldiers and two civilians, was viewed as Kim Jong-un’s coming of age. A signal that he, like his father, was fit to follow in the footsteps of their Eternal president in keeping the north pure, and their enemies at bay.

That the world puts up with such blatant acts of murder and terrorism from heads of state is astonishing, though at least this year we have managed to do away with two such leaders who had ordered the bombing of passenger jets (three really, if we are willing to call Osama a leader of any repute).

Kim Jong-un is thought to be twenty-seven years old. Note the use of the word ‘thought’ there, as again we see that information is blurred to such an Orwellian extent in the DPRK, that even actual birthdates and ages are a subject of state control. For instance Kim Jong-Il’s birth was said to have taken place in a mountain cabin in North Korea during February 1942, while most analysts think it more likely that he was born in Siberia, during his father’s exile there in 1941. I think I am more willing to believe this side of the story, as the official biography comes complete with the occasion being marked by a double rainbow and a bright star; like some kind of bastardised religious trope.

Subtlety

[Note; It will be interesting to see how North Korea presents their new dear leader to the world, considering their claims of the previous one, such as the fortuitous time he picked up a golf club, and scored eleven hole-in-one’s on the first attempt.]

Though the heir’s ages may not be known with any level of complete certainty, it nevertheless gave me pause to remark to a friend yesterday at the ambivalent reaction this draws up from within me, being myself a man of twenty seven years. It is quite a young age to be put in charge of a nation, which in itself concerns me not just as it runs parallel with my own age (and I dare to say, lack of accomplishment, if hereditary dictatorship can even be mentioned in the same sentence as such a thing), but also because it gives a lot more scope for the future tenure of the reign.

Kaddafi came into power when he was twenty-eight, and managed to keep a hold of the reins for forty-two years until it all came apart this year. Though Kim Jong-un’s father ruled North Korea from 1994 to 2011, he came into power at fifty-two years of age. At the time many people thought that after the death of Dear Leader 1.0, there would be power struggles, and internal turmoil that would prevent Dear Leader 2.0 from retaining absolute power over the state. Yet he managed to do this for seventeen years, with the military firmly backing him. As announcements from the North Korean military seem to suggest a likewise supportive role of Kim Jong-un, it brings to bear the more disturbing possibility that the North Korean’s totalitarian state might continue to exert is control over its hostage population for many years to come.

A young leader may in some cases be viewed as a liability. But in such personality cults, there is somewhat of an advantage in the central core of your dictatorship remaining steadfast amid an ever changing background of democratic world leaders.

It is a worrying situation, but as with all the major changes in the world there is uncertainty around the edges, and as such always room for hope in the future.

Nevertheless I can’t help feel that Rudd’s call for ‘maximum calm’ commits some sort of category mistake.......

Until next time dear reader.

MM

I couldn't resist....