Category Archives: Politics

Grocers and Beware of Abstract Ideas

Samain                               Moon of the Winter Solstice

Kate and I went to the grocery store together.  OF alert!  As I do most of the grocery shopping, I often notice older couples on what appears to be their big outing of the week.  Buying food.  And here we were, wandering the aisles of Festival Foods, a Kowalski burb grocery name.

It was nice to have her along and she prefers to drive the cart.  Read:  she always drives the cart.  Just like I do the car.  Gender insensitive on both our parts, I know.  Still.

We loaded up for the week, going over budget some, probably because there were two sets of eyes to be sucked in by the clever marketers behind grocery stores.  Low margin business along the walls:  veggies, fruit, meat, dairy, bread.  Higher margin grocery items in the center aisles:  soda, cereal, coffee, baking goods, oils and mustards and mayo and pickles.  Highest margin items on the endcaps of aisles and the impulse purchases parked conveniently by the checkout lanes.

Message here.  Just shop the outside walls.

Still reading Scorpions, about the Roosevelt star Supremes:  Felix Frankfurter, Hugo Black, Robert Jackson and William O. Douglas.  The big news to me so far is the astonishing reversal of roles evident from this court to the current one.  Let me give you two examples, but first one thought to undermine them all

As the book reminded me, there is no place in the constitution that empowers the Supreme Court to decide cases in the way that it does.  Go back to Marbury vs. Madison, a hoary lesson from US History at one level of education or another.  Marshall created judicial review.

Example #1:  Judicial restraint.  Felix Frankfurter was an early, liberal, advocate of judicial restraint.  He specifically wanted the reigning conservative notion of liberty of contract, a legal idea that kept unions down and decided all cases in the interest of individual property rights, struck down and its source, a judicial interpretation of the 14th amendment stoppered.  In order to advance progressive ideas, Frankfurter said, justices should restrain themselves from intervening in matters decided by Congress and state legislatures.  Guess who’s in favor of judicial restraint now?

Example #2:  Originalism.  Hugo Black, a former radical member of the senate, known for his populist agenda, contended that justices should not make up ideas that were not in a plain reading of the Constitution.  This was aimed at the conservative invention of liberty of contract, also Frankfurter’s target.

Both Frankfurter and Black continued to expand their Constitutional philosophies as their terms extended.  Now, it is the Scalia’s and the John Roberts of the current court who advocate judicial restraint and originalism.  Beware of an abstract idea, it may not produce the result you expect.

Said he, an abstract thinker.  Me.  Beware.

An Old Draft Horse, Trained To The Plow

Samain                                          Moon of the Winter Solstice

My first Latin day since before the cruise.  Today and probably next week, too, I’ll be getting myself back in the spirit and form of translating Ovid, refreshing vocabulary, looking at translations past and checking on the translations Greg and I have not gone through yet, refreshing my memory about what I did in those translations, that sort of thing.

Getting back to my novel has become another force in my life right now.  I intend to start carving out time this week and next, getting a regular schedule going again.

The urge to act, have agency, as I wrote here before, is still strong, young Jedi.  When the Republican debates occur, when the Rick Perrys and the Michele Bachmanns and the Nude Gingrichs start to yap, my blood begins to boil.  When Obama starts echoing the arguments of the Occupy crowd, a certain part of me, instinctive almost, wants to take up the message, too, remind this country that class discrimination comes before and reinforces every other form of discrimination.

At the Christmas Tea the other night I talked with Scott Searles, the minister at Shepherd of the Hills.  He’s got some work going in Hopkins, 65% rental!  Three buildings there, one with East Indians, one with Somalis and the other with Latinos.  The city has an interest in greater stability, more home ownership.  Made this ol’ affordable housing activist lean into his bit.

But, when he asked me if I wanted to come advise, I said no.  I felt guilty.  That’s the draft horse in me, trained to the plow.  If I can contribute, I should contribute.   Still, my current work load with home, the MIA, the Sierra Club and the novel is full.  I need to be honest about that.

It did give me an idea though.  There was no internet, no e-mail, no cell phones when I worked for the Presbytery, but there are all three now.  In a minute, in casual conversation Scott had two new resources:  MICAH (Metropolitan Interfaith Coalition for Affordable Housing) and Common Bond, the Catholic housing arm.

A resource website for congregations and other activists, one that would list current organizations active in certain key areas:  affordable housing, health care, economic justice, environmental advocacy, say, could be used by many and it’s something I could put together and maintain.  That way, I could get my expertise out there and make it available to others without getting involved in round after round of meetings and phone calls.

Worth pondering.

Reimagine

Samain                          Moon of the Winter Solstice

Jon sent these two links.  Wish I’d had’em when I owned that farm up near Nevis, Minnesota.  I might still be up there, motoring around on some of these very clever inventions.  They show what an ingenious mind can do when rethinking what appear to be over and done with ideas.

http://opensourceecology.org/
http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/marcin_jakubowski.html

Makes me wonder what other ideas need a complete rethink.  Computers have followed a pretty standard architecture up to now, one based on a central processing unit.  I read an article in Scientific American last week about a neural computer which, in essence, gives each unit of a computer a cpu, allowing for massively parallel processing as an integral part of the design. It’s modeled on, but not attempting to replicate, the human brain.

How about housing?  Cars?  Or, my personal quest and long time obsession, religion?  The family?  Electrical generation?  I’m interested in distributed generation where a cul de sac or an apartment building or a couple of blocks city residential units might get their electricity from, say, a combination of wind, solar and geo-thermal units sited in their immediate vicinity.

Here’s another one that could use a complete overhaul, reimagining:  nations.  The nation state is a relatively new phenomenon, most experts date its rise somewhere around 1800, perhaps a hundred years earlier in the instance of Portugal and the Netherlands.  In the wake of the globalization of economic life national boundaries have much different meanings that they did, say, 50 years ago.

Let’s go back to religion for a second.  Over the last several years, 23 to be exact, I’ve wrestled with the hole left by Christianity in my life and sought to fill it through what I call a tactile spirituality, one wedded to the rhythms of the seasons, of flowers and vegetables, of bees.  This direction took its initial impetus from an immersion in Celtic lore while I sifted for writing topics.

Then, I began to follow the Great Wheel of the seasons, a Celtic sacred calendar focused on 8 seasons, rather than four.  That led me to integrate gardening with my sacred calendar.  In the wake of these two changes in my life, I began to see the vegetative and wild natural world as more than tools for food or leisure, rather I began to see that they were my home, that I lived with them and in them, rather than having them as adjuncts to my anthropocentric life.

This whole change, this rethink of what sacred and holy mean, what the locus of my spirituality is and where it is, has had a long maturation, much thought and experimentation.  My hope is that my reimagining might provide a common religious base, a sort of ur-religion, which all humans everywhere can embrace.

As in times past this base religion could certainly have others layered on top of it, its essence after all is to be non-exclusive.  What I hope further is that reasserting, inviting, even luring others to see the sacred and the holy in our planet and its other living beings, they will be more likely to join in to see it healthy and vital.

Art and Politics

Samain                              Moon of the Winter Solstice

 

In to the city to meet with Justin, Sierra Club’s lobbyist and policy wonk.  We’re putting together a campaign strategy for this upcoming session.  I love the ins and outs of politics, the practical, no nonsense nature of the analysis, the calculations.  The realities of power, not its dreamy possibilities.

It is though, at this stage of my life, not as exciting as taking in a new painting, wandering through a new exhibition, revisiting a print I’ve seen many times.  Even so,  politics are deeper in my life, started earlier, continued throughout my life while the arts have been only a once in a while thing until the last ten years.

The man I am now, the man I am becoming, loves the museum gallery more than the legislative chamber, the exhibit hall more than the voting booth, research for a tour more than campaign planning.  Part of me is not sure what to make of this change, but that it has happened there is no doubt.

Perhaps these later years have bent the knee toward beauty rather than the lady justice.

No, of course it’s not either art or politics, of course not.  There is, though, a real matter of how much time I want to devote to life outside our home, how much energy I want to give to projects for others and how much I need to spend on my own work.

These are not easy matters for me, questions I’ve juggled my whole life, but I’ve always tried to remain true to what my inner life tells me.  Just now, it says open that new book with all the paintings in the Louvre.

The Problem of Competing Versions of the Truth

Samain                                 Moon of the Winter Solstice

Colds.  Yeccchhh.  Feels like another one coming on.  In the list of things to consider when theodicy is under issue, colds would be at the top of my list.  If God created a good world, why does it have the cold virus?  Or, yes, if you want to be more to the point, cancer or blood clots or the human propensity toward violence.

Some people, read religious fundamentalists of all stripes, believe moral relativism, occasioned by secular humanist cynics or their equivalents, lies at the root of all social ills.  If people would just learn the commands of:  the Koran, Jesus, Hinduism, laissez-faire capitalism, Marxism, and FOLLOW them, then all the speed bumps and wild curves of history would iron out and we could get down to the smooth, orthopraxic life God or Allah or Vishnu or Adam Smith or Karl Marx intended.

Without even delving into the particulars expected by each fundamentalist group, we can see immediately one of the chief problems with fundamentalism.  They can’t all be right.  In other words if the absolute tenets of, say, strict Calvinism and Wahabi Islam conflict, who’s got the right answer?  Marx or Smith?  Vishnu or the Pentecostal Christian?  To make the absolute claim, which does soothe the believer with apparent predictability, you also lay yourself open to the catastrophic consequences of error.

Instead, colds come into the human body because the evolutionary process has created this dance between viral entities and,  in our case, mammals.  In the dance the virus hunts for a home with all the elements it needs to survive and reproduce.  The mammal’s body, as that home, tolerates its presence if it doesn’t throw things too out of whack, when it does.  Bam.  The body’s shock troops go into action.

Is the virus bad?  No.  It just is.  Is our body’s response good?  Well, to us as an organism, bent on survival, yes, but, in the ongoing dynamics of life, no, even our body’s response just is.

In the same wise human acts of all kinds can be judged according to criteria so certain, so dogmatic that they can be determined bad or good, sinful or salvific.  Trouble is, if you step outside that zone of certainty, then the same act may change its colors.

Spare the rod and spoil the child is a good example.  In some fundamentalist Christian groups this dictum is taken as holy writ. This type of fundamentalist certainty is the one clear correlation with both child and domestic abuse.  Abuse is the evaluation of others outside the circle of fundamentalist dogma.

This difficulty becomes even more trenchant, and even more pertinent, when we look from culture.  In the US and the West in general individual human rights trump collective decisions.  That is, genocide such as that carried out by the mercenaries of Moammar Qadafi, though state sanctioned, violated the human rights of those who resisted his government.

In the East though human rights themselves are seen as collective, that is, the good of the whole comes before the individual.  This belief gets its strongest support in the traditional Asian family structure where each family members lives so as to strengthen the whole family.

We in the West see this submersion of the individual in the larger whole as crushing liberty and freedom, the East sees us as leaning toward the irresponsible, selfish.  We tend to act in our  own self interest rather than the interest of the community, so our parents can’t count on us in their old age.  Even our children can’t count on us in our old age.  At least some of the time.

So, who’s got the right of it?  One perspective says the right of it depends on location.  If you’re in the West, then the path of individual improvement and progress is right.  If you’re a contemporary Roman Catholic, then abortion is wrong and heterosexuality is good.

Another perspective, one I hold, acknowledges the multiplicity of perspectives and sees the dialectical truths often illuminated by the conflicts between and among ethical systems as productive for our overall advance.  More on this later.  Gotta go sign a refinance document.

 

 

Peace? Prize? Putin?

Samain                          Moon of the Winter Solstice

Apparently, I was not the only one taken aback by the Confucian Peace Prize.  Here’s a quote from the NYT about the prize and the award givers rationale behind it:

“It praised his decision to go to war in Chechnya in 1999.

“His iron hand and toughness revealed in this war impressed the Russians a lot, and he was regarded to be capable of bringing safety and stability to Russia,” read an English version of the committee’s statement. “He became the antiterrorist No. 1 and the national hero.”

Not only that, it applauded him for “acting as the propagandist of current political events” while still in high school, and for being selected to join the K.G.B. while in college, “which made true his teenage dream of joining the K.G.B.” Much later, of course, came the “large-scale military action towards the illegal armed forces in Grozny, Chechnya.””  NYT, 11/15/11

Another article I read said that the CCP has distanced itself from the organization that has given now 2 peace prizes, the last one to a man who refused to show up.  Observers believe this was an attempt to divert attention from the awarding of the Nobel Peace Prize to Liu Xiaobo, imprisoned Chinese dissident writer.

Oops.  Didn’t work.

Class of 99: Reunion

Fall                                                        Full Autumn Moon

Occupy Wallstreet.  Upfront.  I don’t like the idea of a left wing tea party.  If the route to factional power requires offering up common sense and logic, let me ride with wimpy center right Democrats.  On the other hand.  A little class warfare is in order, or, I should say, a little proletarian class warfare is in order.

Any dimbulb with a rheostat could have turned up their light far off enough to read the true effect of rational markets, free markets and free trade.  That giant sucking sound?  Your cash hoovered up by the hedge fund managers, the CEO’s, the business titans, all the corporate persons flailing around in our economy, Frankenstein’s monster made institutional and given double 007’s license to kill and plunder.

The free market works, if you’re on top of the giant ponzi scheme called international finance.  If you blow it, whole countries will go to your aid.  As a banker, if you betray the trust of your customers, the penalty is a big fat infusion of cash to keep you afloat.  If you’re a carmaker whose cars consistently underperformed and showcased shoddy workmanship, expect the Federal government to ride in, saddlebags full of cash.

If you’re a poor schlub who signed an ARM and got it twisted behind your back in the latest crash, well, too bad.  We’ll have your home back.  Now.

I’m gonna be there tomorrow at 3:00 pm, Peavey Plaza.  You?

Kevan the Tool

Fall                                                Waxing Autumn Moon

We qualify for a special mortgage deal proposed by my favorite institution in America, Wells Fargo Bank.  We went in today to see Kevan, a home mortgage specialist.  Kevan had a computer screen we could see and he happily punched in numbers explaining the joys of this wonderful deal.

Until.  “Can I see the type of contract you’re proposing we sign?  You know, the terms?”  “It’s all right here,” Kevan said, pointing to the computer screen.  Oh, well.  Since it’s on a computer screen, that’s good enough, right?  Wrong.

“I’d like to see the language we’d be expected to agree to, Kevan.”  “The terms are right here.” Kevan pointed to the swing out computer screen.  Again.

They weren’t.  What the screen showed was the advantage to us of taking the deal.  That’s all.  No other contractual information.

Kevan and I did not get along.  We did, because I had my much smarter partner with me, go ahead and sign up because the deal could lower our monthly payments by a significant amount.  In the process of signing up however they collected information about our income and several pieces of what I consider proprietary information.  And we get nothing in return.

We can still say no, but this was the only way (ONLY WAY) I could get to see the terms of the contract.  Kevan said it was a national program.  I pointed to the phone.  He could call the national program surely and get us the information.  He got exasperated then because signing up was the only way.  ONLY WAY.  Kevan is a corporate tool.

Afterward, I toured a group of tall, elegant Somali teenagers through the MIA’s ancient art collection.  They were attentive and interactive.

At 1:00 PM I went over to the Eye Institute where I had my semi-annual glaucoma check up.  This was the first time in over 20 years that I have not seen Jane West.  I now see Dr. Brown.  My eye-drops have dropped my pressures into the safe levels and my optic nerve is stable.  Between the holes punched through my iris in 2004 by laser and the eyedrops, we’re keeping that nerve as healthy as possible.

I started out with a central hole in my optic nerve bigger than normal, so I have less room to accommodate change.

 

A Changeable Month

Fall                                                Waxing Autumn Moon

A warm fall night, a clear sky, a half moon high above it all.  The moon roof open on the Celica.  October in Minnesota.  A changeable month.

The Sierra Club set its legislative priorities tonight, though with this particular legislature a good deal, most, of our work will be defensive in nature.

Today saw final touches on my tour of ancient art for a group of Somali teens.  I did not know that Somalia was, most likely, the ancient land of Punt.  It covers the Horn of Africa like a cap, hugging the coastline north and south while extending in toward the interior.  Piracy is not a new activity here in this country positioned close to major shipping lanes for centuries.

Did some editing on Spiritual Resources for Humanists, or With No God, and found it could use some rewriting. I’ll get to that Friday or Saturday.

 

Partners and Co-Creators

Fall                                                       Waning Harvest Moon

Went out and picked raspberries for pancakes this morning.  With a definite chill in the air the garden felt different, a bit sleepy, ready to bed down for the cold season.  After a month or so of feeling burdened by it, wanting it to disappear, my spring affection reappeared.  This patch of earth, these beds, work together with the plant world and Kate and me.  We share a joint stewardship of this property, each in our way committed to making it healthy, beautiful and bountiful.

The soil has given of its nutrients, its water holding capacity, its sturdiness as a base for roots and stems.  The plants have combined the chemicals of the soil with that water and pushed themselves up and out of the earth, then blossomed and in many cases fruited.  Kate and I weed, tend the soil, watch the plants, picking bugs off of them, pruning, replanting.  We also harvest and, when the harvest ends, we replenish the soil with composted manure and mulch.

When we use the plants and their produce, we take the leaves and stems and other unwanted parts and put them in a compost bin to return to the soil.

This complicated working partnership among many different parties here is, in microcosm, the partnership we humans have with the natural world and the world of soils, air, water and sunshine.  It’s significant to note that the one unnecessary party to this the work is the human race.

Plants will grow.  Rain will fall.  The sun will shine.  Soils will improve.  Fruits and vegetables will be made and distributed, all whether humans enter in or not.  We exist only as part of a richly integrated chain of being and we exist as its wards, not benefactors.

We do have the capacity to intervene, but too often, far too often, when we do intervene, we disrupt what nature does willingly and foul the process, in the end harming ourselves.

I wish our gardens and our orchard were more than supplements to our diet, but that is all they are, to be otherwise would require a commitment to the work I no longer feel able or willing to give.  Even so, as a supplement, this growing of flowers, potatoes, tomatoes, beets, carrots, leeks, beans, onions, lettuce, chard, spinach and peas, this caring for bees and harvesting honey, does keep us intimately engaged as partners with the natural world, a partnership so often hidden from view in this, the most capitalistic of all possible worlds.