What you believe isn't the problem, but how you believe it is

Recently, I had a bit of a discussion with a couple of folks on Facebook. They were slamming religion in general and, as they thought (erroneously, it turned out) Christianity in particular. I was trying to point out that they were simply ranting about things they knew nothing about, which didn't stop them, but it did get me thinking.

These guys were claiming, in their own way, that "religion" is responsible for the world's ills. This is obviously ludicrous on any number of levels, but ludicrousness never stopped anybody from making fools of themselves. That we have large, multinational corporations and businesses raping the environment, heating up the planet, exploiting and oppressing those too weak and poor to defend themselves seems to have escaped them, as has the blind belief in rapacious capitalism that "justifies" those corporations' actions. The fact that we have national governments (some of which claim to be democratic) which are autocratic, dictatorial and oppressive, which will use any means at their disposal to suppress dissent, curtail freedom and, for all intents and purposes, brainwash and enslave their populations seems to have escaped their attention, too. But, to them, religion's the problem. And I got to thinking that for all the delusion in their arguments, maybe they have something of a point.

The first question we have to ask, of course, is "What is (a) religion?" and our first task here is to come to some kind of consensus as to what we mean when we use the term. In simplest terms, a religion is some kind of cultural system, or set of beliefs, that includes behaviors and practices (many formalized as liturgy and ritual), which are based on mythologies (or highly revered stories) that may or may not be contained in what they consider to be sacred texts, which provide some kind of societal, organizational guidance. I know that's a mouthful, but if you go through there carefully, it becomes a bit clearer why, say, Christianity is generally accepted to be a religion, but why the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster or a periodic Star Wars or Star Trek conference aren't. Some religions try to make clear to us how we got here, almost all try to explain how we should be, and all of them are based on faith; that is, a blind, if not unquestioned belief in certain tenets of the given religion. It is estimated that around 85% of the world's population ascribe to one of the five major, and perhaps 10,000 folk religions; the rest are free agents, if you will, though I would maintain that many of them, particularly those in the West, belong to what I would call quasi-religions, a topic I'll come back to in a moment.

Religions (and I include the quasi-religions here as well) serve two basic functions: they give people hope and in their own ways, they provide their adherents with a sense of belonging. Let's face it, life's tough, and when everybody around you sort of sees the world the way you do, you get the feeling you're not necessarily alone and that somehow, given enough communal effort, things just might get better. What is more, religions, some more clearly than others, provide us some kind of meaning in our lives, whether it is stories about how others overcame adversity, or that there is simply some reason why we're all here in the first place. Also important is the fact that all the major and most of the better-known minor religions have what I like to call a "", some variation of the Golden Rule that admonishes you to, well, just not be an asshole. This particular tenet, of course, is the one that is forgotten and ignored most often. If most people are lucky, they'll apply it to those who belong to their immediate sub-group, but beyond that, well, it starts getting lost.

If we just recognized and understood that much, we'd be a long ways toward reducing the amount of ill in the world, but there are two tendencies that religions have that thwart this: the first is the notion of "exclusivity" and the second is "fundamentalism". Exclusivity -- the idea that my way is the only way -- ruins everything. I don't know how people come up with this, but it's particularly, but not exclusively, prevalent among the so-called Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam). In a way it's related to the second tendency, fundamentalism. By this I mean that there is some tenet, law, rule, belief, article of faith, or whatever that an adherent believes is literally and universally true. It could be that any given fundamentalist has more than one, but there's at least one. It might be the literalism of the Bible (though very few people can read it in its original language), it might be the belief in the Trinity or the divinity of Jesus, it might be the inviolability of the person of the religion's founder, it might be anything really, but it is this one thing, this one belief, this one statement that the "true believer" hangs all his or her faith on. If this one little part turns out to be not "true", everything literally falls apart. Believers will die for this and are too often more than willing to kill others (thereby violating the don't-be-an-asshole clause) if it is challenged seriously in any way. And though I've not done a valid study to find out, I would strongly suspect that the more fundamentalist a believer or group of believers is, the more rabid their defense of their belief's exclusivity. What's so unnerving about these tendencies, however, is that they are accepted on pure, blind faith; they cannot be proven, there is no real evidence to support them ... they are basically assumptions upon which everything else is based.

What I've just said about religions applies, mutatis mutandis, for quasi-religions as well. A quasi-religion is a system of cultural beliefs, just like a religion, but one that is not generally recognized as one. Examples include capitalism and scientific materialism. Both of these belief systems include all the elements we identified in our general definition of "religion" above. They include beliefs, behaviors and practices that provide insight into why we exist and how we should live our lives. And the tendencies just described apply as well. Thatcher, one of the "patron saints" of a particularly aggressive form of fundamentalist capitalism, most often known as neoliberalism, stated flatly that "there is no alternative" (to this economic system of belief). Its fundamentalist tenets include low taxes for the rich and austerity for the poor, both of which are the golden path to economic salvation ... even if there is not a shred of evidence for them; and if you don't want to believe me, as the Chileans, the Argentinians, or the Greeks. Or take the particularly rabid form of scientistic belief that this making itself known: Richard Dawkins, a "holy figure" in this last camp will tell you in no uncertain terms that spirit and consciousness don't even exist, though it is life, an unidentifiable and unquantifiable force, that animates him and his own consciousness that allows him to make his silly claims, even though he'll be one of the first to tell you that this consciousness doesn't exist, it is a mere illusion. These quasi-religions, just like the "real" ones we considered above, are based as well on some fundamental , literal "fact" that turns out upon closer examination to be just an assumption, and their exclusivity is tied very closely to that assumption. The reason they only qualify as quasi-religions is that neither of these two examples includes a don't-be-an-asshole clause. All the worse for us all.

We are all on their earth and are in the same boat. It lies in our nature as human beings to want to know where we come from, why we are here, and where we are going. Most of the world's religions, large or small, try to provide answers to these questions. Their answers cannot be proven nor disproven, but the additional interpretations and claims made by specific adherents and groups of adherents may complicate the matter as they go above and beyond those generally acknowledged as being part of the religion in general. (For example, there are an estimated 2.2 billion Christians in the world; almost 60% of those are Roman Catholics and around 40,000 different "Christian churches" share the remainder among themselves.) What I am advocating is that perhaps we need to be a bit more open for and tolerant of religions. Good and bad has been done in religion's name, but if you are going to condemn something you should at least know what you're talking about and tailor your criticism appropriately. Prejudice is prejudice regardless of whether it is regard to race, religion, creed or whatever. Religion per sé is not the problem, fundamentalism and false notions of exclusivity are. It's not what you believe that matters as much as how you believe and what you do with that belief.

Why lives matter and whether some may matter more than others

Recently, I was pointed to a fascinating article in the New Yorker and, believe it or not, it got me thinking. And even now, I'm still exploring those thoughts which I thought I'd share, at least in part, because I keep seeing things that I'm thinking about popping up as issues in other contexts that keep firing that thinking even more.

One of the key themes in the article, approached aesthetically and from the art side of life (a blog on its own, so let me leave it at that for now), was race, which is, in fact, the very first word in the title. And it was here that I had to stop and ask myself, what can this be about, since we know, biologically, scientifically, with all the power and authority of the scientific community, that race simply doesn't exist. The only proper use of the term is in the phrase "human race", everything else is simply a distortion of reality. But here was this insightful and thought-provoking article nevertheless. It was also about art, and among all the other questions it raised (which is, in my not-so-humble-opinion is what good articles should do much more than shower one with mere information), was is there such a thing as "Black Art", which obviously there is, but what is it if it isn't racial? In other words, how was I to understand what the author was trying to say? And here are my first thoughts:

As I noted who knows how many times in my posts so far, whether we like it or not and whether we know it or not, the way people think (and I'm using the term very loosely here) hasn't always been the way people think. My friends Jean Gebser, in his Ever-present Origin, and William Irwin Thompson, in his The Time Falling Bodies Take to Light or Coming into Being, have made this case much more convincingly and poignantly than I have, but it boils down to this:

Each of us gets thrown (to use a Heideggerian term) into this world at some place at some time through no fault (or influence of our own). Thereafter, everything that happens to us, everything we do, how and what we learn, what we like or dislike, is experience. It turns out the Germans have two different words that we, in English, describe with just this one. namely Erlebnis and Erfahrung. The Gebser translators Barstad/Mikunas dealt with this issue by translating the former as "vital experience" and the latter as "lived (or undergone) experience". For example, "That roller coaster ride was quite the experience" (Erlebnis) in contrast with "Spending two years abroad was quite the experience" (Erfahrung). The differences in meaning are subtle, to be sure, but relevant. We intuit that the former is somehow "deeper" or not as readily accessible to our waking consciousness, which becomes clear the moment someone asks us to explain each of these in more detail. With the roller coaster we often end up saying something like "Ahh, you had to have been there, what a ride!" Yet in the latter case, we find ourselves telling anecdote, or stories, about things that happened while abroad. Someone who's never ridden a roller coaster may have trouble with the first kind of experience; those who have will relate it to their own, and in the latter case, depending upon the skill of the teller, the stories may make more lasting or fleeting impressions upon us.

Now, for as mundane as this may sound, I do think, in light of what Gebser, and Thompson, and others, are saying, we can start to understand how different realities may arise within the one overall framework we have called everyday life. In the course of human history, these modes of perception and mentation have been practiced, ingrained and passed on to succeeding generations. This might be the love or fear of roller coasters, or it might be the openness or closedness to other ways of slicing the reality pie. Once, these were shared among all humans, but over time, the group grew, split, wandered off, and became isolated from the others, but the underlying process remained the same. Over the millennia, the primary vital experiences were (most likely unconsciously) collected and collated into what came to be regarded as ethnic and later cultural constructs. Hence, we can see that while at the deepest levels of our psyches there are things (Jung would call them archetypes) that we share, but at less deep levels, shared experiences are more particular to a given group of indivduals who are in this way still very much connected to one another.

Anyone familiar with even the general run of history knows that particular groups of human beings, at any given time, have held any number of ideas, many of which seem odd, or even ignorant, to us today: a flat earth, a geocentric universe, the superiority of one's own group compared to all others, and for a whole slough of crazy reasons, "race". It was easy enough, especially at the superficial level at which most humans most often operate to simply split off "others" based on physical characteristics, such as skin color and hair texture, or more abstract, sometimes arbitrary, notions such as technological progress, "advancement", or culture (whatever it might have been defined as). These "seemed" to work, but as is so often the case when humans are involved, there were lots of negative side effects: oppression, exploitation, colonization, genocide, and more, all based on notions that in the meantime have turned out to be false. In other words, experience comes from within and is definitely imposed from without. Knowing this, we should simply flip over a mental switch or two and we move forward with our new knowledge. But we all know it's not as simple as that.

As a result of all our own individual and collective experiences that we have made using these false notions, we find it difficult to get out of the corner into which we painted ourselves. Once silly statements by not-so-bright demogogues (like Trump) now appear downright ludicrous and maliciously ignorant. Prejudices of all types reveal themselves clearly for what they are: unfounded judgements based on false knowledge. And this brings us back to our starting point:

As I said earlier, each of us suddenly shows up in this world at some place at some time through no fault (or influence of our own). Thereafter, everything that happens to us, everything we do, how and what we learn, what we like or dislike, is experience. But, this experience is both individual and collective as we have seen, and it is highly determined by the surroundings in which it takes place, whole history of experience that has been passed down through the group over the years and every experience that has been imposed upon any group that sees itself cohering for whatever reason. What is more, the "group" may change as well. Our forebears knew no countries (that is, nation-states), but for some reason we place a lot of value on them today. We have DNA strains in our bodies that come from the widest of sources and these combinations are -- how could it be otherwise -- different from our next-door neighbors' and most of us have no idea what they do or might mean. In other words, within a given general cultural grouping there are myriad subgroupings that mix, match, overlap, reciprocally influence, and differentiate themselves from one another. Each of these is legitimate in and of itself and how viable it is for how long is determined by the coherency and consistency of the experiences in which it is rooted.

It is easy to consider the world at a very superficial level ... for example, a country, like the United States ... and think that everyone there shares every national and cultural value in common, but this would be an obvious mistake, for it ignores everything that makes any one of us who he or she is. Within the United States (and we could take any country or region anywhere in the world and show the same processes at work), there are subgroups, ethnicities, subcultures that are very determining and stable entities which we can understand even without such faulty notions such as race. But for the longest time, race was a big card and it wss played hard there: Blacks in the USA were practically the last historically to be freed from slavery; the Emancipation Proclamation was fought politically and socially; Jim Crow ruled the roost for over a century; in my own childhood, separate facilities for "Colored" were commonplace; Brown v. the Board of Education caused more problems than it solved; the Voting Rights Act of 1965 was even recently gutted; so it is apparent that for whatever reasons, at least those considered black had anything but equal rights, equal treatment in the eyes of the law and certainly not in neighborhoods with which I was familiar. Unfortunately, we all know that the those mental switches haven't been flipped and some may even be rusted in place. So even if we now know there's no such thing as race, it doesn't undo the lived and undergone experience of a significant portion of a familiar population. Saying there's not a problem doesn't mean there isn't a problem, it only means you are not willing to admit there may still be a problem after all.

Getting passed race, for example -- if what I'm thinking is on track -- means taking the vital and lived experience of others into consideration when dealing with them. We all share some things in common (deepest-level human experience), what we don't share in common (so-called "black" experience as compared to, let us say "red" or "yellow" or "white" experience) is common by nature: They're experiences and we can know that experience is what forms and determines who we are, hence we have a personally accessible way of understanding that a person has both vital and lived experiences and a whole history of experiences related to whichever groupings s/he may belong to. The process is the same even if the end-results are different. In other words, if you haven't already, there are ways and legitimately sustainable ways to better understand what others might be going through.

Any serious readerr will tell you how enriching even vicarious experiences are, and we now have an experience model that can enhance the one they were using all along. It's up to you, in the end. And I'm going to be more than interested in hearing what true racists are going to be saying once they find out there card has been trumped. (And you can decide if that pun was intended or not).

What if ...

• the world made sense;
• we actually cared about one another;
• we understood the stupidity of violence;
• "love thy neighbor" wasn't just something we say;
• money weren't power;
• the love of money weren't the root of all evil;
• respect had to be earned and deference was a result;
• both Newton and Einstein were right, in their own ways;
• we were aware of the actual impact of our own opinions;
• we could empathize;
• truth were relative, but Truth abolute;
• even half of us knew what we were actually saying when we speak;
• a minimum of effort produced a maximum of results;
• we were aware of the consequences of our intentions;
• what we believed made sense to someone we hated;
• our bitterest enemy agreed with us;
• what I thought became a reality for everyone else;
• gaining salvation meant admitting you were wrong;
• wanting to be good was more important than wanting to be right;
• we realized that power is impotent, without the power we give it;
• time didn't really exist;
• the everyday person realized there are worlds beyond the everyday;
• peace prevailed on Earth;
• the contestants in the Battle for Heaven were getting tired of fighting;
• reality consisted solely of possibilities;
• you had absolutely no idea;
• everything you believed to be true turned out to be false;
• nothing is at it appears?

And who has the slightest idea why there are as many questions as there are?

You can't waste more time than this

When I see what people post on social, mainstream, and alternative media (and, yes, I don't catch it all, but I do try to get a glimpse), I wonder what most of them have ever read. More to the point, quite often I wonder if they read anything at all (including the news feeds that they are merely copying and re-feeding). I mean, who really reads anymore?

Yes, I've always been an avid reader, but I never got into reading as much as when I tried to put together an academic paper on the subject. I tried to take a look at how the process worked and what the notion of "reading" even meant. After all, there are lots of people who can decipher and decode the marks on paper or on the screen, who can read aloud to let you know their decoding is correct, but who haven't the slightest idea what those sounds are saying. Yes, a lot of folks can make all the right sounds corresponding to the letters on the page, but like a parrot, they have no idea what those words are saying.

The skill can be learned. The skill can be taught. But, I can't shake off the feeling that neither learning or teaching is taking -- or has taken -- place. Yes, I can sob and moan about not having a lot of reading friends, but the more I look around me, the more I realize that too many people have too little idea what most authors are saying. It got so bad once that I thought I should start compiling a list of the "most misquoted writers of all time". The list got too long too fast and I gave up the project. I became overwhelmed. I had difficulty coming to terms with the fact that a lot of "authority" was being thrown my way, but little of what was maintained as "authority" found reflection in the texts.

A first example: Adam Smith's "invisible hand". I not only studied business once in my life, I taught it at the graduate level for 15 years. (That's not a brag, by the way, it's just a fact ... truth be told, I don't believe to this day that "business" is an academic field of study, but I played the game long enough to at least make this statement.) Though I was teaching a graduate-level course, not one of my students had ever read Adam Smith: neither his Theory of Moral Sentiments (in my not-so-humble opinion, a pre-requisite for understanding his more famous work) nor his Wealth of Nations. Some folks are aware he wrote the latter, most have no idea he wrote the former, but in any regard, we're confronted with Adam Smith's "invisible hand" at every turn in almost every economic discussion we have, be it formal, academic or in the pub. This all-so-important-and-critical phrase appears once -- yes, just once -- in the Wealth of Nations. In and of itself, that means nothing. However, when we consider that (a) it appears just once, and only once; (b) that it is not a topic of discussion or analysis itself but merely a passing example of another point he is trying to make; and (c) the text in which it appears (that is, the treatise on the Wealth of Nations) consists of five books in two volumes encompassing well over 1,000 pages, well, I have to ask myself, just how important this notion must have been to Mr. Smith himself. On the other hand, it appears to be the only clause that Milton Friedman ever understood in the whole text. If you don't believe me, try reading his Capitalism and Freedom and you can see what I mean. Self-interest plays a huge role, but whereas Smith alleged enlightened, Friedman's is wholely endarkened.

It makes you wonder ... well, it makes me wonder, at any rate. I know it takes time and effort to read, and even more to comprehend. It takes the most effort to engage and think through what you've read as well, and for that we apparently have no time left at all.

Recreational reading and other wastes of time

Anyone who knows me knows that I like to read. Anyone who knows me well knows I like to read a lot. And anyone who knows me really well knows that I'm rarely without my nose in a book whenever I find the time to put it there.

Most people who know me know that I'm a fairly eclectic reader. Most of those who know me better know that I'm more than casual reader. And most of those who know me even better know that there has rarely been a book printed that I would not be willing to read.

Yes, I'm one of those kind of persons who, when someone says, "Hey, you really should read this book", I reply with "Give it to me and I'll give it a shot." I won't deceive you into thinking that I've read every book I've ever had in my hands through from cover to cover. It's not necessary with some (say, have you ever tried reading a dictionary from cover to cover?), it's not possible with others (like when you're trying to decipher a text written with green letters on purple paper), but at least I'll give it a try. Who knows what might be in there? After all, someone went to a certain amount of trouble to ensure that the text got around. The least that I can do is honor the effort, even if I can't grasp what's being talked about. I am more than willing to openly admit that there are some texts that I simply don't get.

Truth be told, I wish I had more time to read, but there are only 24 hours in a day. Consequently, I always try to have more than one book going at any one time. I like to vary genres (non-fiction and fiction, poetry and spiritual texts work well together) and languages (in order to keep up my German which I so arduously learned, I like to have at least one book in German going at any given time). Another confession I need to make is that whatever I read on the internet (be it Facebook or any of the online groups with whom I'm affiliated) doesn't count as "real reading": the primary mode of internet communication is the written word, but that, to me, is a lot like a phone call. It may or not be communication in any meaningful sense of the word.

And so, the question naturally arises: what do I have to show for all of this reading. And, the answer is really rather simple: not a helluva lot. There are lots and lots and lots of interesting ideas out there floating about. No doubt about that. But what is every bit as necessary as reading all of this interesting (and, not-so-interesting) stuff is that you need time to reflect upon it. Reading is one thing. Digesting what you read is another. And I have found that quieter times, such as Lent, when, if you're into the spirit of the season, you kind of slow down just a bit, you can more easily find a fleeting moment here and there (even if it is as a change of pace to the normal monkey-brain-chatter we usually put up with before going to sleep) to think about what you've read.

What I miss sometimes, though, is someone to talk to about what I'm reading, but readers don't always read the same things at the same times. In these internet days in which we live, the neighborhood reading circle is an institution of bye-gone days. I am participating in an online reading group right now, for which I'm more than thankful, but that's a rarity, as most of you know. (The folks organizing and promoting the read are young people, however, and if their efforts are successful, I can only hope that they'll be encouraged to continue in the future.)

Still, all of those silent readers out there may one day be moved to speak. I just want you to know, I'm willing to listen.

Lenten listlessness

One week down, almost six to go. Bet a lot of you didn't know that.

I'll be honest: I'm not taking the season as seriously as I once did. Oh, I did all kinds of fast-like things at times. My high-point, I think, was while I was in California, hustling my way through the Silicon-Valley buzz. There are all kinds of fasts these days. A brief internet search will reveal way more than you ever wanted to know. Being a fan of tradition (while not being a slave to it), I've always leaned toward the more well-known ways of participating in the season: giving up meat, beer, alcohol in general, sweets, you know, that kind of thing, but one year I decided to get real about it all.

In the olden times, Jews, for example, fasted on Mondays and Thursdays; the early Christians, in order to differentiate themselves from their primarily Jewish brethren, chose Tuesdays and Fridays as fast days. That's why when I was growing up, my Catholic friends couldn't eat meat on Friday, but that got loosened in the past few years and meatless Tuesdays have popped up again. All my Catholic friends that I asked couldn't tell me why that all was, but I really don't expect most people know why they do half the things they do. Nevertheless, I decided, on a whim -- how else? -- to do the "real deal", or at least what I could determine that might have been.

It turns out this regular fasting meant drinking only water during the day, and when the sun went down, eating only bread and salt. (The bread part is obvious, and if you ever spent any time in a desert, you get the salt part too.) I wasn't going to get this past the family, of course, being that at most times they're more concerned about dad's health than their own, I compromised. I only had water during the day, and after sundown, only something light for dinner: a tomato-and-lettuce sandwich, a bowl of cereal, you know, something like that. Oh, I still had to put up with a lot of squawking, but each intercession gave me an opportunity to at least thematicize Lent-relevant topics, like fasting, belief, physical needs, habits ... a whole array of topics. You should know that dinnertime in our household was more a food-augmented discussion rather than a meal in the traditional sense of the word, even when it wasn't Lent. Evening dinner in our house could go on for hours; to me (and I think to the others) it was special time together.

No, I had no enlightening experience during those 40 days, but you couldn't help but notice that the world was different. I finally realized how little is actually required in order to get along physically well, and that the time spent with the family, even without eating, is time that cannot be better spent. I came to see that what we truly need is not necessarily food, though there is a lower limit we should not -- and cannot -- dip below, but rather the presence and interaction of others that makes all the difference in the world. I also finally understood that Life is something to which we are connected by the slightest of gossamer threads. And, I grokked what it means to be thankful, for the least of anything. The last lesson was the surprise lesson of the exercise. The food I ate in the evening were some of the best meals I have ever had.

We all have to gather our own experiences in this phase and time of our existence. No one will argue that. But, I can assure you that too many of us miss far too many opportunities to get the most out of the experiences we have. Sometimes it takes a lot of effort. Sometimes a very slight shift in viewpoint -- like a fast, for example, during Lent -- can give us just the nudge we need. If you never look, you'll never see.

A new year, a new approach

An obnoxious purple dinosaur once remarked that sharing is caring, and despite my aversion to the character himself, I will freely admit, he does have a point. Sharing can take on any number of forms, and there is a line when crossed turns sharing into interference, so we should generally follow his advice, but not blindly. I mean, one of the reasons I blog is to share ... my questions about people and life, my thoughts about the world around me ... not because I primarily think that I have something of value to add to the already overburdened channels of communication we are subject to in our everyday lives, but because there might be someone here or there who stumbles across this or that and perhaps pauses to consider, think, question, or even seriously reflect. It doesn't matter (to me, at any rate) whether you believe in G-d or some other kind of Supreme Being or evolution and chance, the fact remains that we humans have minds and like the saying goes, minds are a terrible thing to waste. But let's face it, when we look out into the world, it's easy to get the feeling that more are being wasted than used, let alone used wisely.

One of the primary mind enhancers that we possess is the simple fact that our minds become better/stronger/more adaptable/insightful/open/critical/capable the more we use them. Please note, I'm not talking about the brain, which is a mere physical organ. No, I'm talking about whatever it is that goes on in/via/by means of that organ that we can't grasp with any of our physical senses. I'm talking about a quality of the brain -- albeit it a potential quality -- not some mere measurable quantity.

And so, instead of simply trying to explain things, or criticizing the faults in many people's thinking, or pointing out the flaws in logic that we are so often subjected to, or merely pleading that we should be less hateful and kinder to one another, I would like to invite you to participate in an often-claimed-but-rarely-exihibited, highly-praised-but-seldom-practiced, often-maligned-but-never-decimated, highly-suspect-and-highly-dangerous adventure called reflective critical thinking. As you suspect, all thinking-based activities are threateningly close to one's own thought processes and belief systems, and thus can be considered "philosophical". Philosophy, as Wikipedia or any dictionary will quickly tell us, comes from the Greek word meaning "love of wisdom". Wisdom is, sadly, in short supply these days, but you can only get it if you use your mind to explore the whys and wherefores of your world. That means, for better or for worse, that you have to take a few minutes now and then to retreat from the world of hustle-and-bustle, job-family-money, and stimuli bombardment to simply think about what you think.

Karl-Otto Apel, a German philosopher, once remarked that the practice of philosophy is in essence the scrutinizing and questioning of things that are self-evident (das Hinterfragen von Selbstverständlichkeiten); that is things we simply take for granted. Sometimes -- most times, I would maintain -- it is to our advantage to simply try and get to the roots of why some things are. It has two very huge advantages: first, it allows us to simply think a bit differently than we do every day (change can be refreshing), and second, it gives us an opportunity to take a closer look at ourselves without having to expose ourselves to others (insight can be, well, insightful).

And so, in the coming posts, should you encounter topics that are not what you normally expect or that appear to be more than obvious, I welcome you to take a closer look and give it all just a bit more thought. Nothing is as it appears, but everything is simply as we know it.

A house built on sand

Our new year is not off to a very good start.

• Heads are rolling in Saudi Arabia, and they're our friends.
• The Saudis are chairing the UN Human Rights Council, but they're beheading people publicly.
• Oil is flowing from ISIS, but they're our enemy.
• Arms are being provided to the Kurds, because they're fighting ISIS.
• The Turks are attacking the Kurds, because the Turks are fighting the PKK.
• NATO tolerates the Turks' attacks, because the Turks are our allies.
• Foreign and foreign-sponsored militias are waging a war against a government, but it's still talked about as if it were a civil war.
• The Poles have lurched dramatically to the right, but they're still our friends.
• Freedom of the press is being squelched in Poland and Hungary, and no one raises an eyebrow.
• Individuals running for the candidacy for president of the US openly spout hate and racism, and are cheered on.
• Negotiations on major, international trade agreements are still so secret that our elected representatives have no access, but we're supposed to trust the negotiators.
• In Europe legislation took effect to unprotect people's savings essentially declaring their deposits bank property, and no one even questions the concept of "bail-in".
  

Oh, there's more ... but these are the first few that immediately sprang to mind.

And this is our foundation for a better 2016? 'Fraid not.

No, I didn't say that at all

I have long maintained that the wonder of communication is that we manage to communicate at all. The reaction(s) to the Paris terror attacks have made this clear once again.

There are lots of smart people running around out there and some of them use their brains (at least sometimes) and some of them don't (or not very often), others are more emotional than reasonable, still others have such fixed ideas that no manner or volume of facts or arguments is going to change their minds. Unfortunately, I must say, that's how people are.

What is particularly tough these days, though, is have a view of things that is not mainstream or mainstream-sanctioned. We have arrived at a point here in the West when disagreeing with a given (generally speaking, accepted) point-of-view is automatically interpreted as advocating the precise opposite. This isn't faulty thinking, it's unacceptable behavior, and I don't care how smart you are or think you are, if you make this mistake, you're just being stupid. None of us lives in a world of black-and-white, regardless of how much most people, the mainstream media, the powers-that-be, or anyone else would like it to be so.

Let me repeat what I've said so often in the past few days: what happened in Paris is reprehensible and inexcusable. There is no justification for it; end of story. Let me add what I've also had to say so often in the past few days: I understand all your shock and sadness, but the fact remains that this kind of thing happens to "us" (I'll come back to that) once every couple of years; for too many others on this planet, this is their life every single day. Why is that so hard to understand? Why is it so unwanted when someone -- like me -- brings it up? I think those are legitimate questions.

Our reaction to the tragedy of terrorism should be (and yes, I'm being very prescriptive here), how do we stop things like this (read: acts of terror) from happening? what can we do to make it stop?

This shouldn't detract us from our mourning, but our mourning itself should sensitize us to the real issues involved. We've got a problem, and by "we" I mean all of us, every single human being on the planet. Terror happens everywhere but in some places more than other. We, in the West, have been exposed (NYC, London, Madrid, Paris, to name the most familiar), but others have been immersed (Syria, Lebanon, Iraq, Palestine, to name the most recent) in it. It matters. It matters a lot that we have to go through it, but it matters that others have to live with it.

While I have never claimed that we don't care about the terror inflicted on others, there is a good bit of factual evidence available that we don't know about it, don't recognize it, don't accept it, and don't feel as moved by it as we should. This "we" is all of us in the West, and all our countries that believe that we know what's better for others than they know themselves, which we claim fear and hate us when they would probably just prefer that we leave them alone, which just happen to be sitting are geographical areas that we have decided -- for whatever reasons -- are in "our interest". Just what the hell is that: our "interests"?

Personally, I'm sick and tired of all the blaming, all the blathering, all the threatening and the theatrics, all the conflict-seeking and the killing. When are we going to get it? When are we going to understand that every act of violence and revenge that we yearn for only makes things worse? When are we finally going to practice what we preach?

If you can't turn around, at least turn the wheel

Although I don't know how many times I have to say it before it becomes clear, it should be dawning on you -- even if ever so slightly -- that we can't go on with "business as usual", as if "business" were a good metaphor for anything.

The difference between what we say and what we do is huge. The difference between what we know would be good for us all and what we have is huge. The difference between what we believe and what is real is huge. The days of small-step changes are, well, for the most part behind us, if they even exist any more at all.

Don't you just hate it when that happens? Here we are, like frogs in the pot of water, thinking that things aren't as bad as everyone says and that with a tweak here, a small adjustment there; a declaration of commitment here and a gee-wouldn't-it-be-nice there; with a mere "return" to some odd values that were never actually there; well, then things would just be peachy keen and the world would be a nice place again. The water's boiling, however, and if we weren't frogs, our goose would be cooked.

But hey, as George Orwell once said, "In a time of universal deceit - telling the truth is a revolutionary act." And he also said, "The further a society drifts from truth the more it will hate those who speak it." George was a wise man, and insightful on top of everything else. No, don't get me wrong: I'm not comparing myself to him in any way. I think he got it, and I like to think I understand what he's saying. I'm not (yet) despised by many (OK, a few, but who isn't), and for the most part those who don't want anything to do with me feel that way for reasons much more personal than whether whatever I say might have some similarity with "the truth". Fair enough. What I am thinking, though, is that in these days and times, even looking for the truth is close to revolutionary. I've never really thought of myself as such, but with each passing day, I find myself closer than I would have ever imagined.

Revolutionaries are a strange breed, that's for sure. You've got your Lenins, your purveyors of the guillotine-driven French Revolution, the slave-owners-seeking-freedom types of the American Revolution ... hell, all advocates of violent revolution have been short-lived, ending up like the despots they drove out (the Beelzebub-Devil problematic, as I like to call it). On the other hand, there are the Mandelas, the Gandhis, and Jesus, just to name the most well-known, who knew that if you want real change -- even necessary change -- you've got to find it in yourself first. And who is really ready for that?

And that, dear reader, is the rub: Folks much smarter and wiser than me (e.g., Buckminster Fuller, Jacques Fresco, Jim Hurtak, Stan Tenen, Valentin Tomberg, Gar Alperovitz, E.F. Schumacher, Erich Fromm, Jean Gebser, just to name a few) have all made the case that any and all real change starts with ourselves. We can't wait for others to set the tone. We can't wait for others to show us the way. We can't wait for others to take the lead. We can't wait for others at all.

I know -- and believe it or not, I understand -- that not many of you are willing to (radically) "turn around". I wish you could, but I know that's expecting too much. Given that we now think what we've always thought, we've simply got just more of what we've always got. Nevertheless, you can make a start, and this start involves simply stopping to think what you think and take a step back to give it a good look-over. Regardless of how compressed time-frames are becoming, the least you can do is ask yourself whether there might be other options for a better future available.

I pledged but not necessarily allegiance ...

As I noted last time, saying the words is just a way of "talking the talk". The real test of anything we say is whether we're willing to act on it ... to "walk the walk", to keep in tune with the rhyming metaphor.

I know lots of talkers. Lots. At the moment we're talking about American talkers, but I'm here to tell you: mutatis mutandis (a Latin phrase that means, "all the relevant changes having been made") what I'm saying here applies everywhere else I've ever been as well, and beyond. Again, this is one of those cases in which my fellow countrypeople carry their obsessions on their sleeve, but they're really not as exceptional as they might like to think they are. No, what I'm looking for are "walkers": people who are willing to put into practice what they preach, folks who are willing to do, not just say.

Even once we get past that swearing-one's-allegiance-to-a-piece-of-cloth thing and leave the realm of the actual for the more ethereal realm of the possible, what does this "oath" require? Assuming that the sayers are serious about that "one-nation" stuff, how long does it take for it all to break down? Two more words, as Fate would have it.

The original pledge, written by a fascist-friendly Baptist pastor who wanted to have it said with right arms extended forward (yes, as in "Sieg, heil"), didn't include the "under God" part. That was a 1954-we've-got-to-distance-ourselves-from-those-atheistic-Commies addition. If it's included, what does it mean for Americans today? If it's an essential or mandatory part, then, quite simply, no atheist, Buddhist, Hindu, Shinto, Taoist, and, conceivably, Moslem (though the stretch is not far) can say it in good conscience. I don't know how many of these there are in America, but it's more than a handful. There are those who insist that the phrase be included, even if it excludes so many fellow "patriots". Personally, I think we can leave it out because it wasn't there to begin with, and since the Commie threat has passed, it's doubly unneeded, but that's just my own little view of things.

No, what interests me more than anything else is what follows, that short little phrase, "indivisible, with liberty and justice for all". When I look across the Pond these days, I see anything but something "indivisible": right and left, Democrats and Republicans, gun nuts and concerned citizens, North and South, East and West, the racial divide, and the treatment of immigrants -- just to name the most obvious -- point to anything but indivisibility. Which talkers are doing anything about that?

The very last six words, though, are the killer: in a country that recognizes "affluenza" as a disease, that has a disproportional number of minorities in prison, most often for negligible offenses, that has the starkest income inequality in the Western world (and is in the top 3 worldwide) and that is home to the Patriot Act, the NDAA, the CIA and NSA, that has the most militarized police force in the "free world", well, I have to ask myself, what are the pledgers doing about this?

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that all those "rising to defend the pledge" are actually just doing their part to ensure that nothing about it holds true. It's just so much hot air. What we should be doing is protecting and helping the weak and maligned, seeking ways to come together, and speaking truth to power. But we're not. We're wishing for the "good old days" that were never really good, and are nothing but old.

The way out of the darkness is not behind you, it's in front of you.

I pledge allegiance ...

These are the opening words of a statement than every American school child was expected to render each and every day of school at one time. It probably persists today, but I don't know, for I'm not there. What I do know, however, is that more than just a few friends of mine bring it up again and again (on Facebook, for example) and there is a strong feeling that it's not being pushed hard enough.

It is, therefore, time to take a look at this pledge and ask ourselves just what is being said, and, in addition, whether we should be pledging it at all.

Note bene: for my non-American readers, this is an exercise in examining something Americans think is important. Consider it a lesson in cultural studies, or Landeskunde, as my German friends would say. In the next post, I'll take another look at it from a broader, more inclusive perspective.

The pledge, as originally written, is as follows:

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation [under God] indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

First of all, a flag is a piece of cloth, in most cases, and it is, at best, a physical representation of an idea or an ideal. It doesn't matter which. What we find, first and foremost, however, is an oath to a mere piece of matter which has been, somehow, in some inexplicable way, be endowed with almost religious significance. Immediately, though, we are informed that the same degree of devotion, of submission, is to the republic that the flag is meant to symbolize, namely the USA. This entity is then described as a singular, united, unified "nation", which as of 1954 by legislative decree is imbued with divine oversight, that ascribes to and practices "liberty" (freedom in a political sense) and "justice" (equal treatment before the law) for all.

It's a nice sentiment, but is it applicable? When the pledge is expressed, it's a matter of "talking the talk". But, putting it into practice would be a matter of "walking the walk". But that's a topic for next time.

No, at the moment the question that is plaguing me, is how so many people who either believe or would like to believe that the United States was founded on sound, Christian principles, reconcile this pledge with their beliefs. Think about it:

1. There are numerous places in the Bible, especially the New Testament, that strongly indicate one shouldn't be swearing oaths.
2. While it is on the surface, at least, a pledge, it certainly sounds like an "oath", especially when you consider what the law proscribes for desecrating the symbol, let alone the "republic for which it stands".
3. The discrepancy between what it describes ("liberty and justice for all") and what is reality (one of the greatest disparities between rich and poor, the inordinate number of people of color who receive harsher punishments, even for lesser crimes, the repeated attempts to modify, say, voting laws to discriminate against those same people of color, the drastic differences in adjudication between "those well off" and others (e.g., "affluenza")

I have to wonder about how people get these things together in their minds. For the moment, I think it's enough for you to think about.

Yes, this is the pledge that many, many Americans hold to be sacrosanct, but before we even look at it in a critical way, questions present themselves that every one of us should be required to think about seriously.

Are you shaking in your shoes yet?

It will not come as a surprise to any of you that I'm not the world's convinced optimist. Oh sure, things for most of us generally work out, not because we did anything in particular and certainly not because we deserved it. Most of us live in a lucky part of the world and hence most of us are luckier than most others.

This does not mean that I'm therefore and invariably a pessimist. Sure, there are aspects of pessimism that agree with me, but I, like Ben Franklin, am more pessimist out of self-protection than conviction.

And, yes, there have been any number of people who have "accused" me of cynicism ... but I ask why cynicism should have anything crime-like about it. George Bernard Shaw noted, "The power of accurate observation is commonly called cynicism by those who have not got it." After all, when I'm in cynical mode, it turns out I'm more often right than I would like.

Recently, I read two good essays (both of which are much longer than everyday, internet-attention spans) by Henry A. Giroux and the other by Peter Koenig, both authors for whom I have a lot of respect. They weren't happy essays. They were well-reasoned, insightful, and thought-provoking. Giroux's was more about America; Koenig's more about Europe, but they had something in common: hope.

Giroux ended his essay with the line, ""Dark times are not ahead, they are here but that does not mean they are here to stay." Koenig wrote, "Rather than fearfully shutting up – wake up! Dare stand up fellow citizen – against the white collar onslaught of fraud and exploitation, against corruption of our elitist neoliberal system! Get rid of those deceiving politicians – the scum of greed and power. Expose them. Neutralize them." In other words, they both think that we can turn this game around.

Naturally, I'm not so sure, but I would like to think they're right. The problem as I see it is that too many of us don't take the time to get truly informed, won't make the effort to sort through the issues and facts, will fall back on our innate fear of power and violence, and will jump upon any excuse we can find why it's "not our job" to do anything about anything.

You know, the only reason it appears to be getting dark out there is because we allow it to happen.

The terror of the darkness

We have every right to be afraid ... day in and day out. If the climate doesn't do us in, it could be a military catastrophe when the "wrong people" get hold of weapons of mass destruction, or it could be the "right" people who already have them and are itching for a fight. It could be some natural disaster, and we seem to be getting more of them, in all sizes, shapes, colors and what at least feels like subjective frequencies.

And, if there isn't the big global cataclysmic apocalypse, there's always a new epidemic, an antibiotic-resistant strain of virus, a mass shooting, a slip of the tongue or wrong answer after being stopped by a cop, another armed whacko who decided enough's enough, or lawmakers who think the rest of us have it too good as it is and start taking away what little most of us have left. Yes, we have every reason to be afraid ... day in and day out.

And, let's be realistic. No, let's be honest with each other: most of us live our lives in a state of repressed terror. Oh, sure, we act like we've got thing under control. We act like we have the (or at least some of the) answers. But, deep down, especially at night, when the lights are off and we can't sleep, we're well aware of our terror of the darkness that surrounds us.

Quite recently, I read something that describes this perfectly:

We are, we believe, seeing some long-standing fractures and psychological tensions within [life's] sphere coming to a head: ‘Old certainties’, old landmarks, familiarities, longstanding ways of being – all are eroding, leaving people bewildered and angry – and ready to lash out (at the world because they feel it is no longer what they know and want it to be). The ‘world around them’ is perceived as ‘doing this to them’ (destroying their handholds in life which kept them psychologically secure). It – all of it – as it were, has become ‘their enemy’.

We feel threatened from all sides, regardless of our political and religious beliefs: black lives mattering, gay rights, abortions, financial bailouts and coup d'etats, terrorism, radicals of all kinds, the absence of G-d in government, an economic system gone haywire, illegal immigrants, tax give-aways for the rich and for corporations, intrusive government action, disrespect of authority, and the list goes on and on and on and on, and each of these items is, of course, an "enemy" to someone.

What fascinates me most about the situation, the threats, the list, is that it is all of our own making. Yes, dear reader, you and I and everyone else is responsible for how things are and why there are so many enemies "out to get us". They are all demons of our own creation, and they make the darkness upon which they thrive.

The absurdity of neoliberalism, period

Sometimes I don't know if are progressing, in any sense of the word, or if we are regressing, almost in every sense of the word. The signature value of the small vignette I presented last time still haunts me. It is precisely the attitude of two of the most revered political figures of the 20th century: Thatcher and Reagan.

They were absurdists in their own right. Thatcher openly asserted in absurdity that society doesn't exist, and Reagan, the actor in the role of president, thought Milton Friedman was a brilliant man.

For those of you who may be unaware, Friedman wrote the neoliberalist bible, Capitalism and Freedom, though I doubt that many of you have ever read it (I have, but I would like the time back). It's one of those "classic" texts that uses a whole lot of words to say, well, absolutely nothing, which is as much as trickles down from his trickle-down approach to economics ... or "voodoo economics", as it was called before it became "respectable". Thatcher, Reagan, Friedman are mere examples, just like the liberal-arts college president from last time, share one primary characteristic in common: they may be in charge, but at heart, they're know-nothings.

But, know-nothings are nothing new in the United States, at any rate. Mid-19th century they made a name for themselves and a bit of political splash, short-lived as it deservedly was. But what goes around, comes around and it's apparently back in fuller force again. The run-up to the Republican nomination for president is one example; but our college president, too many "educational reformers" on both sides of the Atlantic, the Troika or Quadrika, as they like to call it these days since the Eurogroup is now involved (yes, an informal association with no formal authority and not legitimized in any way is now playing an "important role" in the European debt crisis. It would seem the absurdity has gone full bloom.

We have non-economists implementing nonsensical economic theory and non-educationalists implementing irrelevant educational policy. We have millionaires trying to show how well they relate to common folk. There are experts of all sizes, shapes and colors who love going on TV to show us how little they know, but so many believe them anyway. We have union-busters going on about right-to-work, polluters and fossil-fuel fetishists denying climate change (and getting away with it), and it all boils down to the simple fact that if you can't but a monetary value on it, it has no value at all.

Stated differently, the only value that counts is money value. A step forward? A step backward? Even a step at all?

As usual, the real answer is my favorite, "e) None of the above".

I refuse to accept that as an option. I refuse to acknowledge that money is the measure of all things. I refuse to adjust to a world that is too ignorant to discuss any more. I continue to resist the temptation to just throw up my hands and say, all those absurdities make sense. They don't, and they never will.

The long and short of it all, if you think economics is primary and neoliberalism is the only reasonable approach to the world, you're not part of the problem, you are the problem.

The absurdity of neoliberal education

Shortly after writing the last post, I was pointed to an article which went a good ways toward answering my final question. It is well worth reading in its entirety, to say the least, even though I'm sure most of you won't bother. (If you are interested, however, you can find it here.) William Deresiewicz wrote it for Harper's, and its title tells the story: "The Neoliberal Arts: How college sold its soul to the market". One vignette therein facepalmed me:

A couple of years ago, I sat down with the newly appointed president of a top-ten liberal-arts college. He had come from a professional school (law, in his case), as so many college deans and presidents now seem to.

I started by telling him that I had just visited an upper-level class, and that no one there had been able to give me a decent definition of “leadership,” even though the college trumpeted the term at every opportunity. He declined to offer one himself. Instead, he said, a bit belligerently, “I’ve been here five months, and no one has been able to give me a satisfactory definition of ‘the liberal arts.’ ”

I offered the one I supplied above: those fields in which knowledge is pursued for its own sake. When you study the liberal arts, I added, what you’re mainly learning to do is make arguments.

“Scientists don’t make arguments,” he said (a statement that would’ve come as a surprise to the scientists on the faculty). “And what about painters? They don’t make arguments.”

I tried to explain the difference between the fine and the liberal arts (the latter are “arts” only by an accident of derivation) with little success. “So what do you think the college should be about?” I finally asked him.

“Leadership,” he said.

This is absolutely "brilliant": the "boss", the equivalent of the CEO in the private sector, has no experience "in the business (was at a professional, not an academic, institution), does not know what the "product" is. What is more, He isn't even aware that there are different "arts", let alone arts at all, and in the end, he thinks his institution is about something that he can't even say what it is.

And that my dear readers pretty much sums up the heart of the problem, not only with education, but with neoliberalism in general. Nowhere in its entire ideological realm is competence, intelligence, insight, or actual qualification necessary. Buzzwords suffice along with a big enough paycheck to think that you have something to say.

There are simply too many of these folks "in charge", but how can you discuss or debate with any of them (not to mention those who would like to be like them and would like to emulate them and have even less to offer), if they have no idea what they are doing, and, what's worst of all, don't even know what an argument is.

Buffalo Springfield nailed it

"Nobody's right, if everybody's wrong." A line from a Buffalo Springfield song ("For What It's Worth"). As true now as it was then, maybe even more so. Why? Because a pernicious infection that began so long ago has borne its fruit.

What fruit, you may ask? How about: over-political correctness, either-or thinking, an either-you're-with-us-or-against-us attitude, advocating love-it-or-leave-it, and many, many more. There's so much fruit we don't know whether to make marmalade or some kind of alcoholic beverage. The former might be better for us, but most of us favor the latter.

My point is that this isn't a new phenomenon, it's only taken on a more aggressive and bitter dimension. There was a time we could talk. There was a time we could debate and discuss. There was a time when justified and substantiated views meant something. Those times are gone.

What's so amazing, if you ask me, is that those times are considered to be "the good old days", when everything was anything but good: enforced and dictated conformity, institutionalized racial discrimination, submission to authority, and a-place-for-everything-and-everything-in-its-place thinking carried the day. Yes, for the greatest part we were "told" how to think and feel, yet in those (not-so-) "good old days", there was still a modicum of dissent possible; discussion was still possible, debate was still possible. It was simply accepted that the person with the best argument(s) won. And then it all changed.

Out of that repressive, conformity-seeking "cultural" attitude, out of that forensically-based, argumentatively challenging norm, we created a winner-takes-all, right-or-wrong, in-or-out view of the world. Buffalo Springfield saw it happening. We're living the consequences of the thought.

The most negative form of all of this is, of course, "political correctness". What's good or bad, right or wrong, acceptable or unacceptable is dictated from the surface of things. Words, concepts, notions, ideas cannot be explored because some people find some words "offensive". I'm here to tell you that words are nothing more than words. Yes, there are those who are offended when they hear the word "fuck" and there are those who are elated when they hear the word "Jesus", but how do we know where and when and to whom and for what reasons some people are uplifted and others discouraged by such words. Again: they are but words.

Humpty Dumpty taught us that words mean whatever we think they mean. But the words haven't changed, only the "we's". And now, every "we" feels that it deserves equal time and equal treatment and equal consideration, and I believe that that is absolutely correct. What I don't believe is that equal anything means equal acceptance. It only means "you may say". How others deal with it is a whole different issue.

Don't get me wrong: anyone who denigrates or demeans or dismisses what another says simply because s/he "doesn't like it" is as ignorant as s/he who gets upset because someone from another perceptual framework doesn't understand the term as the in-group understands it. It's time for us to get over the words and get down to what we are really talking about. And, to do that, we have to be able to accept, acknowledge, differ, discuss, and debate what we are saying.

Oh, I don't long for "the days", but I do wish for possibility to talk about it. Why is that so hard?

The knowing ignorant

It should be the case that we agree that there's only so much on this planet to go around. To put it in technical terms, there is a finite amount of resources available to humankind. We're clever, that is true, and we have learned to do a lot with our waste, with our garbage and we can do a lot of sustainable things and we can recycle a lot. But regardless of how hard we try, we can't make up for what we don't have.

Last time, I pointed out that if there were only 370% (that is, over three-and-a-half times) more resources than are currently available, everyone on the planet could live as well as we do. We all know, that's impossible, and so I wanted to take the opportunity to point out another impossibility, but one that we believe in just as fervently as we do that hard work and personal responsibility are the key to our salvation.

For those of you who may have forgotten, the Gross Domestic Product (GDP) is the value of all the goods and services produced by a country. For the USA, it's about $17 tr (that's trillion, 1 with 15 zeros after it); for the EU it's around 18 tr; and for the world as a whole it's almost $75 tr. What the GDP tries to calculate is the actual worth of real value in products and services that a country, or the whole world, produces. This is an estimate, to be sure, but it is an estimate about real things, tangible products and experienced services. It's not a fiction, rather it is an attempt to put a number, a (in this case) dollar value on what we make and what we do.

Money, on the other hand, is not really a real thing, rather it is a number linked to an account. The USA, for example, may have a GDP of $17 tr, but that does not mean that there are 17 trillion dollar bills (or their equivalent) floating around in the world. Most of the "money" is just a number on a balance statement or an account statement. Yes, that's how our monetary system works and it is really not much of a problem as long as the money we think we have is backed by something real somewhere (a house, a business, an iron-ore mine, or whatever).

But, here's the kicker (at least to me): in 2008 when the financial crash came, when everything threatened to go belly-up, when the banks screamed bloody-murder and needed to be bailed out, the reason, you may recall were risky investments that threatened to collapse. We heard a lot about so-called "financial derivatives" and, in particular, "CD swaps" (bundled packages of investment papers created by the banks), and how not being able to "honor these obligations" threatened to destroy the entire banking system (i.e., the too-big-to-fail issue).

What most people don't know, and what the banking industry doesn't really want you to know, and what too many are willing to overlook is that the value of the CD-swaps alone (yes, the most precarious, but not the only doubtful, "investment instrument") was six time the WDP (world domestic product). In plain-text: the paper that was a problem, was valued 6 times higher than all the products and services that the world was able to produce at the time. In other words, it was backed by nothing. It was a fiction. It was just a number on a piece of paper, so to speak.

Those in charge at the time knew that this was unreal. Governments around the world (except, for example, in Iceland) acted as if there was no alternative but to save the banks. That there was nothing to save is inconsequential. That the losses were fictitious doesn't matter. They knew, but got us to believe, that the only way "out" was to save them.

And now we have the consequences: the banks are in charge, and the rest of us have nothing to say. Oh we have so much to be proud of, especially of how little we know and how little we are willing to do about it.

The willing ignorant

Every person reading this blog has got it (as good as) made. You've got internet access, food in your fridge, a steady place to sleep, and a roof over your head. That makes you part of the top 25% worldwide. In more absolute terms, there are no fewer than 5,250,000,000 individuals on this planet who are worse off, if not far worse off, than you.

And, still you complain.

Don't get me wrong, you have reason for complaint. I mean, even if you lead a relatively luxurious life, there is an ever so thin slice of elite that makes your life look like one of abject poverty and doing-without. What you share with those below you is disempowerment: you'll never have what "they" have. What you share with those above you, though, is a permanent desire for more, even if it means that those below you will have less. Greed has never known bounds, either in intensity, or in breadth.

The usual "justification" (i.e., rationalization) is that if everyone else worked harder and took on some personal responsibility, they could do better too. This is, I hate to say it, pure, unadulterated bullshit. If hard work were any kind of measure, women in Africa would rule the world, but they don't. And if personal responsibility meant anything at all, large numbers of bankers would be in prison, but they aren't. These aren't reasons. They're only excuses.

But, I'm not here to criticize your lack of comprehension of the obvious, nor am I here to criticize your morals. Those are things you have to come to terms with for yourself and on your own. What I wanted to contribute, however humble, is a mere simple math lesson to hopefully expose the error in your attitude. And it goes like this:

The USA represents about 4% of the world's population, yet they consume 25% of the world's resources. The EU (in whatever sense you may define it) represents about 7% of the world's population and they consume about 40% of the world's resources, and when you throw in Japan, we looking at about 16% of the world's population consuming around 80% of the world's resources. So, what does that mean?

China has a population of over 1 billion people; India has surpassed China as the most populated country on the planet. Thrown in Brazil and Africa and all that's left over and you've got almost three quarters of the world's population trying to make do with 20% of its resources. If we expected them to work hard, take on some personal responsibility so that they could be like us, it would be possible if the world had 370% remaining for them. You don't have to be a math wiz to realize that as it is, and as we're (and I mean everyone reading this and me, and all our friends and relatives and ...) living, there simply isn't enough to go around, regardless of how hard anyone works and irrespective of how much personal responsibility one accepts.

In other words, it's simply time to acknowledge that the problem isn't with "them", rather "we're" the problem. And it's time for us to act accordingly.

A message from the mirror

Though a lot of folks I know don't like to hear it, "facts" in and of themselves mean nothing. They just are. I'm talking about real facts now, such as "grass is usually green" or "the Magna Charta was signed in 1215" or "the atomic number of oxygen is 8". None of these really means anything as they stand. I mean, who really cares one way or the other? They must be placed in some kind of context for them to become meaningful.

There are other "facts" which really aren't facts in the true sense of the word, rather they are beliefs or opinions or the like. For example, "the sun rises in the east" is not a fact, it is a metaphor to describe a phenomenon. Due to the earth's rotation, it looks like the sun is rising in the east but in actual fact the earth is simply turning. Or, "a healthy diet is essential for good health". Well, not in all cases. Some people survive and thrive on what might kill others, and enough people eating healthy diets get sick anyway. There's more here that needs to be considered for the statement to reflect an actual fact.

What the preceding examples all have in common is good, old-fashioned, sloppy thinking. We humans can very often make do with being sort of right and sort of on target and sort of in the know. Life is very tolerant like that. Oh sure, there are times and instances when exactitude means the difference between life and death, but in the grand scheme of everyday things, these are really rather rare. In most cases, "almost" is almost always good enough.

Now, given that this is the case, why do we humans demand so much, especially so much of others? And, as a corollary to that, why are most of us bothered, on the other hand, by others demanding so much of us? I wonder about that a lot these days. Could it be that we're only getting back what we are giving out? Could it be that we are (perhaps unknowingly) expecting more of others than we expect of our ourselves? Could it be that we feel shortchanged in our own treatment as human beings that we're trying to even the score? I don't know. Like I said, it's just something that I've been thinking a lot about lately.

When we look in the mirror all we can see is whatever is there to be reflected, no more and certainly no less. Sure, it's reversed from side-to-side, but we can handle that. The mirror has long been used as an effective metaphor for life and all that happens therein, so it can't hurt to stop for a moment and think about whether we may be expecting to see more in the mirror than the mirror has to offer.

The long and short of it is that whatever you happen to be experiencing, and how you feel you are being treated by everyone else is almost certainly merely a reflection of how you are treating others and what they are experiencing as a result. I'm not saying this is how things are, I'm only saying this is how things could be. Perhaps that's something you can reflect upon.