Sudoku

     This blog posting is written as a response to a challenge by my friend Kathryn to write something on "sudoku." So, like anyone who comes from an academic background, I will pretend to make something out of nothing -- so to speak.

     The name itself -- "sudoku" -- suggests something Japanese and exotic, a game that somehow connects us to a Japanese sense of logic and clarity while not requiring Japanese language to comprehend. The truth is less culturally exciting and more prosaic. In fact, everything about sudoku is prosaic -- that is one reason we like it. "Sudoku" was "invented" by Howard Garns, an Indianapolis architect, in 1979 and given the truly ordinary name of "Number Place." It was picked up in Japan by the Nikoli publishing company, and after being renamed "Sudoku," meaning "single number," it became popular throughout Japan, where it was eventually offered in national newspapers like Asahi Shimbun. The game became really popular, however, when it was picked up by the press in Great Britain in 2004, where it became featured regularly in The Times. From Great Britain, "sudoku" spread rapidly throughout the world, but it has remained most popular in the U. K. and North America.

     "Sudoku" is invariably labelled "addictive," not just on book jackets for advertising purposes, but in every short-hand description of the game. This proves once again our delight in pathologizing every thing in which human beings engage. (The fact 

is that many mundane things -- like eating -- are merely addictive too). Addiction is apparently the normative state of things now, and if you do anything, either occasionally or frequently, that is not "addictive" you must be some kind of a pervert.

     I do not so much think of it as addictive as I see it as a marker in my day. Just as we all use markers in speech (e.g., "so" and "well," and President Obama's now famous "annnnd"), I use sudoku as an interruption or marker in my day. I use it as a way to wake up in the morning, while having a cup or two of coffee. I use it after walking the dog, to catch my breath. I use it after dinner, as dessert. I use it as punctuation between tasks -- especially household ones. "Sudoku" is also handy, in the way that crossword puzzles are handy, in allowing one to ignore the poverty of stimulation one gets in airports or on planes or in any waiting room (it beats reading old "Macleans" and "Car and Driver" at the doctor's office).

     The game is supposedly also useful in keeping your brain active. But I have noticed lately that I don't so much think through the puzzles anymore than look for the 20 odd combinations of number layouts, and just start filling it in. I am not bragging; if you have done as many of these as I have, you would do it too.

     But why is it so popular?  Well, not trusting my own instincts, I looked up a few internet sites on this issue. They say:  First, it is a simple game; single number 1 through 9, and the rules are simple. Secondly, there is only one right answer, and in proceeding through the puzzle you are giving yourself immediate evaluative feedback -- uh, that is, you know how you are doing all of the time. To make it harder, I sometimes do not write little "possible" numbers at the top of every box, but insist that I memorize the combinatorial possibilities. My friend Erin gave me an electronic sudoku player one time which required this tactic; it was difficult and good, until I wore out the machine. Lately I have started timing myself, to add an external challenge to the whole thing.  Thirdly, each puzzle is different from any other you have done. Lately, I have exhausted all of the "difficult," "bizarrely challenging," and "evil" puzzles (they are given many different names), and have found myself buying what appear to be "new" sudoku books that are merely reprints of old puzzles. Believe it or not, my poor feeble brain actually remembers many of these formerly-done-puzzles (I cannot remember the names of people I have known most of my life, but I can recognize old sudoku puzzles; I am to be pitied and censured). The saving factor is that even if it is a puzzle you did before, you start it differently and solve it in a different pattern. Fourthly, some argue that because the puzzle is self-correcting (that is, when you have to do something else after putting the same number in the same column or row or square -- twice), you can go back and try to correct your mistakes. I have now taken a very Calvinist -- unforgiving -- approach to my sudoku. If I have made a mistake, I mark a bold "bar-sinister" line across the whole thing and give it up. I suppose Catholics and Anglicans can do the same sudoku over and over, occasionally saying "oops" everytime they make a mistake; ah, the joys of absolution.

     Now, having said all of this, I leave you with this sudoku happening that I found on the internet:

"In June 2008, an Australian drugs-related jury trial costing over $1 million (AU$) was     aborted when it was discovered that five of the twelve jurors had been playing Sudoku instead of listening to evidence."

Now do you take Sudoku seriously? Next time, think about what your airplane pilot is actually doing.

Opposite Directions: Mexico and the U. S. Respond to Swine Flu

     My friend Jim Ellsworth, a permanent resident in San Miguel de Allende, was the first to introduce me to this old parable about Mexicans. "Two men -- one American, one Mexican -- try unsuccessfully to catch  a departing bus.  The American says: 'Damn, I missed the bus.' The Mexican says: 'The bus left without me.'" This popular portrayal of Mexicans as people who do not take personal responsibility, who do not admit their failings, or do not acknowledge that they need to correct something that has gone wrong, is becoming increasingly inaccurate. But even when it resonates with accuracy, it is just a reflection of a country in which great wealth held by a few overwhelms the great mass of people who have very little. The parable of not being responsible is the parable of a people with limited personal agency. They cannot be the author of their destinies since those are controlled by a system of class and wealth that is nearly closed. So, why should they assume personal responsibility when such a claim of agency (responsibility) can only be taken in the negative -- applied against their failings, and never taken in the positive -- never applied to their advancement and advantage.

     Americans, by contrast, see themselves as possessing nothing but personal agency, from colonial Puritans (ironically) to modern day marketing majors. Each one of us, it is presumed (often inaccurately), are the agents of our own future and of our own success and wealth. Unfortunately, when a sense of agency is exaggerated -- as it invariably is in the United States -- the consequences can be grotesque. First, if someone or some group of people are the necessary human agents behind a turn of events, then when bad things happen on a broad scale, someone has to be responsible for inflicting these bad consequences upon us. Historically, if Americans have not been able to identify the villain(s) clearly, this psychology leads to conspiracy theories. Secondly, if the villain(s) who have inflicted bad things cannot be identified early on, and the bad things persist and grow (e.g., the recent swine flu "pandemic"), Americans react with fear and suspicion. Both of these tendencies were historically revealed most fully and clearly in the Red Scare of 1919, and the Communist Conspiracy scare of the early 1950s.

     I watched with perverse interest, therefore, when the "swine flu" emerged from Mexico last month. I say "perverse" interest because, although I was residing in Mexico at the time, I got almost all of my "news" from CNN (the only English language news channel available in our casita). The grotesque appeal to fear and panic by CNN (an appeal offered in the face of the testimony of the "experts" they interviewed, who counseled calm attentiveness), would have been humorous, if the CNN appeal had not been so cravenly driven by the pretty girls and pretty boys who pose as serious journalists on CNN's broadcasts. After a few days of watching

CNN, we clearly understood only two things:  that we were learning precious little of value about the swine flu, and that 90% of what we heard and saw was the moral equivalent of brainwashing.

     The message was two-fold:  first, there was the thinly veiled accusation

that Mexico and Mexicans were the responsible agents (which fit well into the CNN and Lou Dobbs's vision of the Mexican threat); and, secondly, that Mexico had been and continued to be so irresponsible that the lives of Americans, well, of most of America actually, were threatened, and that we had much to fear.

     Because we watched a lot (too much) of CNN for that first week (April 21-28), it came as a surprise when, overnight, CNN decided this story of responsibility and fear was no longer selling too well, and suddenly pushed it off the headlines. They moved on to evaluating (read "judging") President Obama in his first 100 days -- another comical and exaggerated exercise in applying human agency and responsibility to one person (a person who was not the agent of what he was trying to fix, for that matter).

     In the end, we found out two things about the "swine flu" by living in Mexico:  first, Mexicans did not panic, partly out of a sense of fatalism (there are benefits to not believing that human agents stand behind all things good or bad), and partly out of common sense.  Mexico City alone has more than 20 million people (maybe 22-23 million); if we

triple the number of swine flu cases identified or suspected, from 2,000 to 6,000, we are still left with a very miniscule percentage of cases in Mexico City (you do the math). How much can you do about the spread of "swine flu" in a congested population like Mexico City's in any case? Secondly, Mexico City did respond quickly. They were transparent about the disease. They did get on it right away. Mexico took extraordinary measures to cut down on the spread of the disease (shutting down public events very early on; preaching public caution through hand cleaning, masks, etc.; sharing information readily with WHO and other countries). They punished their economy, especially small businesses in Mexico, probably much more than they should have.

     In short, Mexico shouldered the burden in this matter. They should be applauded for their responsibility. Americans, especially CNN, should be castigated for their fear-mongering and attempt to arouse hysteria. But beyond that, as Mexico shows itself to be an increasingly modern democracy with a sense of global responsibility, the United States continues to be ethnocentric and inward looking. While Americans prefer to wallow in fear (FDR should have said:  "All you have . . . is fear itself"), while they make a psychological hobby out of fearing those things that are beyond human control, Mexico has made the best of its sense that some bad things just happen, and no one is responsible, while at the same time, at an official government level, accommodating the world at large in every way possible to check the disease. Mexico seems to have succeeded in both ways, and they are the better country for it.

To Stay in Mexico

   Because of the death of our friend Carl, part of our stay in Mexico has left us feeling out of place and time. Our grieving has known no locality, and we both often snap back to "reality," puzzled over where we are, and sometimes even wondering what season it is. The little essay that below is not about that part of our "stay" ("holiday" is grossly wrong; "vacation" hardly right; "travel" would be right, if we moved more; "stay" seems more right given the total experience). What I will say here will not be news to many who are familiar with Mexico, or at least with those of you who have seen more than the gated-beach-resort Mexico. Still, many things below bear repeating, to myself if no one else.

1. The Assault on the Senses -

     Color confronts you everywhere in Mexico, from flowers in bloom to the bougainvillea on our garden wall in San Miguel that proves more hardy than the most common weed. 

Not content with nature, Mexicans produce their own riot of color -- in fabrics, in clothing, in buildings, in kid's plastic toys. 

 

Chiapas and Oaxaca

 

    And, while colors often appear to be primary, and therefore easy to imitate, the fact is that they are much more subtle than you first imagine, especially in fabrics and stuccoed walls. We have often stared at exterior and interior walls in Mexico (usually painted in a faux style), and said, we can do that. The fact is -- we cannot. Our friends, Kathleen and Jim Ellsworth of San Miguel de Allende, have painted house interiors for decades (and they can do this kind of painting) but they will readily testify to the nuances in this kind of house painting.

    

Oaxaca

     Ruins (ruinas), cobblestone streets (in old colonial towns like San Miguel) and dust are the second assault on sight and the senses. Ruins like the Mayan complex at Palenque (Chiapas)or the Zapotec ruins of Monte Alban (Oaxaca) are justly shown off with pride.

"Second rank" ruins, like the ex-convento at Cuiapan (construction begun in 1530 and shutdown in 1550 because Philip V thought them too expensive), barely get a glance.

In fact, the whole country often appears to be ruins covered in dust, as were all of the buildings surrounding the gold and silver mines of Minerales de Pozos below.

And, after all, what town, or even village, does not have a church dating to the 1500s (well, almost none, actually).

All of this is to say nothing of rickety, termite-eaten gates (in every city and town) -- behind which may lie a mansion worth millions of dollars or the humble residence of a poor Mexican family. Who is to know.

     Streets are barely navigable in most old towns. The sidewalks are narrow, and the holes, big enough and sometimes deep enough to swallow a whole person, wait uncovered and unmarked for the first "gringo" to make a mistake. Anyone with a propensity to twist their ankle should never come to Mexico. We often walk in the street, dodging whatever car or truck comes along. Those who drive confront "topes" (speed bumps) every little distance. A man who took us by van from San Cristobal de las casas to Palenque (a distance of 200km that took over five hours) shrugged and said to me:  "200 kilometers of road; 350 topes." He was apologizing, not exaggerating.

     Sounds in Mexico are something else. Road traffic, blaring horns, dogs barking and fighting, birds singing, church bells being rung at every imaginable hour (with no apparent reason; often in the middle of the night), fireworks (especially in San Miguel; hey, you have a birthday, "let's fire off major fireworks from 4am to, say, 10am."), people barking their wares. Total disregard for others in making sounds of every sort define the equivalent total lack of privacy in Mexico, just as that privacy is lacking in many traditional societies.

     Smell is another thing. For June, it is the smell of fresh corn tortillas, sold from little shops along the street. For me, it is a bakery two houses away down the street (again, you would have no idea it was a bakery because it is located behind a set of rotting wooden doors -- there are actually people who make rotting wooden doors here -- real nice ones -- I am not kidding you). Every other day of so, we get the sweet smell of bread (Mexicans are really keen on sweet; less on salt). But if you try to guess which day you might get bread (these folks seem to wholesale it for other tiendas - stores), you are likely to be disappointed.

     More likely smells are auto and truck exhaust emissions (forget fighting for clean air emissions; Mexico alone will defeat the world on that score). And, even more, the sweet smell of the sewer. It hits you anywhere, anytime. It may be a big drain on the street; it may be the drains in the house. Despite having the knowledge to know how to handle this in homes, Mexican plumbing continues to develop without using elbow traps, vent stacks, or good closed sewers. My father, a plumber, would be appalled.

     Touch should not be left out. Every surface in Mexico has a texture, even a smooth wall. Stucco, brick, cobblestones, steel fixtures, wooden chairs, thin plate glass, iron-work gates and windows are all ubiquitous, all immediate.

II. Mexico the Mysterious --

     You really don't know what you are going to encounter in Mexico. Last night we went to a restaurant we had eaten at two years ago. The same guitar player was playing. He is just about as good as any jazz guitarist (and classical for that matter) that you are ever going to hear.  He, however, is always going to be eking out a living a "Mama Mias." Kathleen took us on a trip and stopped at a small humble house where the owner builds musical instruments, including the most fantastic drums I have ever seen or heard (people from far away commission him to build them). He also builds beautiful sounding flutes and recorders. But his life is still humble.

On that same trip, while looking at a ruina way out on a nearly impassable dirt road in the middle of a desert, I heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. I guessed it was a pick-up. It wasn't; it was a fully loaded Coca-Cola truck, lurching and swaying its way across the seemingly empty desert. It had probably been to some very small miscelania or tienda near some houses where the four kids in the neighbourhood needed their daily intact of Coke (bad teeth and diabetes are major afflictions in Mexico now).

   Excursions to towns on their market days always surprise you -- whether it is an old woman carrying an enormous live turkey upside down around the stalls, bargaining hard to sell it, or this goat, being kept cool and safe in a novel way before being sold.

Some mysteries are anticipated, yet they still surprise you. These women are part of the Easter Sunday procession (about two hours and a mile long, including an orchestra and a couple of choirs); maybe it is just seeing middle-aged women carrying heavy platforms with icons for such a long time.

Other things are puzzles of a sort, and gringoes seem to be drawn into these just as much as anyone. Many walls of elegant houses expose the bricks beneath the stucco, as if to suggest that the stucco had fallen off, and the house was a shambles outside. This one, near our home, was weirder yet. The message over the door read, "Cantina of the Dogs," and an accompanying plaque read: "No women. No uniformed people. No minors allowed." And, it pictured dogs fighting -- as if it were Michael Vick's house.  All a bad joke; the house is an ordinary (though rich) residence.

     Not all mysteries are to be seen or smelled or heard. Our "lavanderia" posts hours 8 to 8, Mon. through Fri. But many days they are not open until 10, and then sometimes you see one of the family working there at 10pm at night. It is all a suggestion (much like traffic signs). This is 

not to bad mouth Mexicans. They are hard workers; anyone working a mere 60 hour week is an executive or a slackard. They are polite, often very friendly, and they love their children without reservation.

     In fact, the economy of  the vast majority of semi-poor or poor Mexicans is interesting. Everyone seems to be selling something. Hawkers can be very much in your face. No space is free from someone selling something. Restaurants are assaulted outdoors and often indoors by old women selling trinkets or flower sellers and even sometimes by someone selling food! One day I said to June, "I wonder which of these sellers is allowed to move up and down the corridors of the Mexican Congress." She immediately replied, "Why, all of them, of course."  And, so it seems. Yet, for all of this "selling," most people have no change. "Cambio" is hard to come by in Mexico, and everyone we talk to (meaning native Mexicans) says it is just laziness on the part of sellers:  if you want it, the buyer must have or get the right change. In fact, June and I think we should start a "cambio" business in Mexico; we would make a fortune.

     Well, we probably would not. Hordes of people all selling the same goods, or nearly the same goods, feel some social compunction to try to make a sale just because the culture demands the social gesture. But in the real economy underneath this false entrepreneurship, they all know that the number of buyers is limited. And, if any seller does something special in their peddling, that peddler knows that within days everyone will be doing the same thing. They have learned the hard-knocks side of capitalism. Where there is a void, a need, a want, someone will fill it. But in Mexico, thousands will fill it, and no one will move up. That is the economy here; no one will move up, except the small percentage of elites and the small number of lucky souls who get advanced educations. The social-class order fixes everything, and entrepreneurship is a joke. So, why have "cambio" ready.

     In many ways your heart breaks in Mexico, but in other ways, on reflection, one wonders about our so-called "values" -- including modernization, capitalism, education, and so on.

The Loss of a Close Friend -- from a Great Distance

     Two days ago a very close friend of mine, Carl Granzow, died suddenly of cancer. A year ago he had been treated for bone marrow cancer, and went into remission. I had a good year with him after those treatments, probably better than many we had had in the recent past. He helped me with some design and engineering issues regarding home renovations; I spent time with him in his shop, joked about utterly unimportant things with him, and went "shopping" for trucks (one of his favorite wasting-time pastimes). Our families had some very good times together. It had been much like the early years of our friendship, over twenty-five years ago.

     It was a friendship for which I can express no regrets. Many years ago I told him that I considered him a brother (despite the fact that I have a brother I see too infrequently and who I love). A few years later, quite independent of my declaration, he said the same thing to me (despite the fact that he had a brother he saw too infrequently who he also loved). Over the years, my wife and I became close friends of their family, so close that his wife and their children are like extended family to us. Although my friend and his family had their own large, extended family -- a family about as close as any family ever could be -- they even tried to bring us into their tent. Well, quite literally, since every year they all went camping together in August, and they always tried to get us to go along.

     I think we all made it clear how we felt about each other, and that is the important message of this blog. My generation, at least, is usually too circumspect about telling others exactly how we feel about them. We either think the words are too lavish and inappropriate -- telling a robust, very masculine man that you love him like a brother -- or we worry that the sentiment will not be reciprocated. Both are a foolish caution; we are all fragile human beings who need to tell others how we feel about them; to do less is parsimonious and irresponsible. Years ago, when she was in her later years, my mother-in-law told me that, in the end, all we can do is love one another. I was so pleased to hear her say this (since we did not share religious beliefs), that I did not say: "well, of course, that's all we human beings have."

     In my last blog, I criticized one aspect of the internet -- "Facebook." I don't take back anything I said about "Facebook." But, because we are in Mexico and my friend died in Canada, I will say that the internet has been a benefit beyond description for us. We got a chance to talk to our friend via "Vonage Talk" telephone service, and the reception was clear and good. We have been kept up-to-date by many other very important friends via phone and email. We have remained in touch with a wide community. And, for all of that, we are thankful for modern technology. We are also thankful for having had such a good, generous and loving friend.

Too Much Information? Too Many "Friends"? The Culture of "Facebook"

   The internet is undeniably one of the greatest boons to humankind -- ever. It has democratized information. It has democratized opinion. It has democratized democracy.

   As we are now traveling in Mexico, I can assure you that the internet has made the practicalities of life much easier. You not only can buy airline tickets online, but in Mexico, at least, you can buy bus tickets online as well (buses being essential travel in Mexico) and even many van and taxis services in more remote places. Almost everyone has some kind of wi-fi service here (even if some servers are slow and unpredictable). You can stay in touch with family and friends via "Vonage Talk" or "Skype" or, for Americans, via some small USB connector telephone device -- all with very little cost to the user.

   But in regard to the way we appear to others, the evolution of the internet has taken some peculiar twists, in my humble opinion. (It must be humble because despite being an early user of computers -- from main frame computers in the 1970s to laptops today -- I am NOT, and never can be, part of a cybernetic culture, simply as a consequence of my age and the pre-cybernetic culture that formed my character). The internet has changed discourse, as many people smarter than I have observed. It has supposedly created new "communities," which, if you stretch the definition of community to its breaking point, one might grudgingly admit. But it has also accentuated the most powerful drive among individuals for autonomy, agency, and authority. In everyone's quest to present themselves as they would wish to be seen, it has also become a vehicle of egoism (and sometimes narcissism and exhibitionism).

   Not long ago, I enjoyed sending and receiving e-mails. While not examples of the best writing, e-mails allowed me to send information and ideas and so on to my family and friends, and to receive e-mails, in a private way. Today, I seldom receive personal e-mails, except tiresome marketing ones from my "friends" at Amazon and VRBO and Expedia and Eddie Bauer. Sometimes folks write a short note to me, sometimes with accompanying pictures, etc., but e-mail as an important internet method for anything other than formal business is as dead as the proverbial dodo. The death of personal letters, and now the death of personal e-mails, might be seen as the death of the paragraph and narrative communication in everyday life.

   Most of my family and friends are now members of "Facebook," or some like service. This seemed great at the start, and still is in some ways. You could see how everyone was doing at a glance, including what was on their mind, and how their lives were unfolding daily. You could post your whereabouts, the progress of your work, your very, very latest opinion on politics, links to interesting sites, causes you cared about, etc.

   Then it gradually changed (well, hell, gradually in cybernetic time). In my case, my family actually seldom uses it (except for outgoing mail from my wife and me), despite my having signed my sons on as "friends" and now as "family" ("Facebook has now started encouraging you to categorize folks in a certain way, to compartmentalize your discussion of yourself and with others in the framework they want to lay out). But now I may ditch the whole thing, if one can do that; I understand that no one ever really "leaves" "Facebook"; apparently "Facebook" is much harder to remove than a tattoo. I am getting uneasy as well as unsatisfied.

   Before the "Facebook" people sue me for defamation, let me say that their service, with all of its bells and whistles (comments to post, walls to write on, messages to send, photos to mount, notifications to peruse, etc., etc.) is something I have readily embraced. Now, however, using "Facebook," even opening it up, is beginning to creep me out. Here are the reasons.

   1. Logging into "Facebook" makes me feel like a voyeur. No, I take that back, it literally makes me a voyeur. Before going on, I need to admit that the idea of this blog came from a truly voyeuristic experience we had last week. While lolling away our lives on a small beach in the state of Oaxaca, a group of young people (mid-20s?) arrived. One of them was a woman who enjoyed being topless. Well, I should correct that by saying she enjoyed being topless in front of the rest of us. (Now, don't get me wrong, I didn't object, nor did the other men there). Her exhibitionism -- in the surf, doing exercises on the beach, getting a tan -- was transparently directed at the rest of us -- the audience. Yet, if it were not for a few things she said, that we happened to overhear, we actually would have known little about her; the human anatomy is, after all, a lot more universal, and in most ways, less individually revealing than we often admit. So, in fact, this young woman actually exposed far less of herself by being nude than by identifying herself as a self-centered exhibitionist. In an odd sort of way, the presentation of self on "Facebook" is just as revealing, and revealing to more eyes.

   Despite the fact that I have very narrowly restricted my "friends" list, it is obvious when I read my friends' postings that I am observing a great deal -- maybe a great deal too much -- about their daily lives. But that, as you all know, is only the tip of the iceberg. Most importantly, your "friends" have other "friends," completely unknown to you, who comment on your friends' "statuses." ("Facebook," as you all know, likes words like "status" -- ingenuously twisting the word "status," with its implication of gravity and centeredness, into meaning something enormously fluid -- something moment to moment -- not something permanent and anchored). You see some intimate comments from those friends and, of course, when you make a comment about those, hundreds of pesons you do not know can read that comment as well. It is an incredible and interesting irony, I believe, that generations younger than mine are outspoken on behalf of their "right" to privacy yet they willingly expose much about themselves through "Facebook."

   2. "Facebook" culture has made us all a little more egotistic, at best. OK, I am basing this on the example of one person -- me. We seek out those who will be our "friends," taking comfort and cheer when people agree to be our "friend." Some, well, very many according to what I have heard, collect as many "friends" as possible in some kind of egoistic frenzy. It is all very reminiscent of Valentine's Day in 5th grade. We then post something, and are disappointed if no one comments. We comment on others posts, and are disappointed if no one comments on the comment. We publish a profile with clever or ironic photos of ourselves. We put pictures on "Facebook," often to draw attention to our lives and how we are living them. And, I fear, some people may be actually transferring their egos entirely to "Facebook" as the medium to display their lives. In this regard, it is informative to look at Erving Goffman's The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, a work published sixty years ago. His brilliant discussion of how we dramatize and represent ourselves in front of different audiences could well be applied to our presentation of ourselves on the internet. I hope some scholar will take up applying his theories to things like "Facebook."

   3. Our use of "Facebook" may diminish our capacity to communicate well and to be part of a real community. It does not necessarily lead to this, of course, but the one-sentence-culture of "Facebook" seems more like passing notes to one another in 7th grade (only doing it now in a manner so that ALL of the classes in the school can see it; intimacy shared -- that is, exhibitionism). The recent rise of "twittering" seems a further extension of this mode of "discussion" and "comment." "Twittering" is simply gossiping. And, from what I have read, "twittering" occurs at something like the junior high school level of discourse, moral conduct, and linguistic elegance as well. The difference with "twittering" is that it seems to be a status thing; just which important people will listen to you "twitter" (i.e., which important kids in school will listen and talk to you); who can you get to respond to your "twitter," and so on.

   Altogether, there is little sustained expression or argumentation in using "Facebook" to "communicate." One reason I started to blog (is that a verb?) was as an antidote to having no other way anymore to communicate thoughts and reflections to other people (although, admittedly, I have no idea whether there is anyone reading these or not, despite my having installed a "status counter"; perhaps this makes blogging just a form of intellectual masturbation. It probably is; for now, I will not go there).

   Having been so critical and condemnatory, I must say again that I, as readily as most, like to go to "Facebook" to see how my real friends and family are getting along. But I remain wary -- very wary -- and suspect that I, along with my family and friends, may be stepping over too many lines (as I argue above) in using "Facebook." In the end, I suspect we all communicate with those who matter to us through more intimate and private means -- the telephone, e-mail perhaps, letters, cards, "Skype," and, above all, through face-to-face engagement.

   Hey, if you liked this blog, push the "like" button, or leave a comment on the link below, or send my blog link on to a "friend," or send me a picture, or . . . .  ; - )

Bicycling to Bliss

     Spring is near upon us, and that turns every young-old man's fancy to bicycling (well, not exclusively). We used to call it "biking" in the old days but motorcyclists stole that from us, and you don't take back what "bikers" have stolen -- at least not without doing yourself almost as much harm as getting clipped by an eighteen-wheeler at 60 miles an hour.

     Popular discourse on "cycling" (hey, we still own that word, don't we?) usually centers on one of two things:  1) those who have recently returned to cycling and are now annoying prophets of the past-time, prepared to proselytize as readily as Jehovah's Witnesses (you know, maybe the latter would be more successful if they rode bicycles); and, 2) those who have recently returned to cycling, and discovered that bicycles are legitimate road vehicles, and now want all legal (to say nothing of moral) authorities to take their side in a religious crusade against the automobile. My wife and I once lived in Maastricht, Netherlands, and within a week, we were ready to start a movement on behalf of pedestrians against those swift and silent bicycles that zoomed across our cross-walks. This latter group of complainers on behalf of cyclist rights is not content (nor am I) with bicycle paths or routes (motorists seem to view signs marking bicycle routes with amusement, as if they read:  "you should take this route, there are fewer cars to get in your way." Bad drivers; drivers on cell phones, whose 

peripheral vision narrows to blot out any view of cyclists; drivers with malicious intent; drivers who don't stop when you have the right of way; drivers who do stop and dumbly treat you like you are a pedestrian, even when you are occupying a driving lane -- these are the bane of all cyclists existence. Feel suicidal? Have a death wish? Don't have a thrill park nearby? Take up cycling.

     The  bicycle itself is the Rodney Dangerfield of vehicular traffic.  How can anyone take

seriously a slight machine that is all skeleton with only a few tendons and ligaments attached. Many apparently see bicycles as a fossile remnant of an antique age. Weren't they just a brief, awkward, unsuccessful evolutionary step between the horse and the automobile? Speaking of evolution (or rather its critics), think of William Paley's argument about coming upon a watch, and examining it. One could only conclude, he declared, using the watch as an allegory for the workings of nature, that a purposeful designer was behind its construction. Now, if you are fond of Paley's argument (I am not, nor have been most philosophers), substitute bicycle for watch. What have you got then? A creator with a sense of humor? A creator that doesn't quite have it all together? A creator that isn't infallible?

     The outward appearance of the bicycle itself is only half of the equation. If you watch the "Tour de France," as I do (despite my suspicion that the top ten riders on any given day are using the newest version of designer drugs), you might find some beauty or elegance to the whole thing. After all, these riders are fit athletes with about 0.0% body fat. One would think

this would allow them to wear skin-tight outfits and maintain the sex appeal of Circe de Soleil performers. But it does not. Something about hunching over handlebars on a pretend seat drains away any latent sexiness. Well, sitting on a bicycle does have a profound negative effect on male prowess (but, hey, so do those steroids). I know of few women or gays who find the Tour de France particularly titilating, no matter how fit the body or meager the outfit. In other words, even professional cyclists look a little bit alien on these machines. When creatures from outer space do appear, I have no doubt they will look a lot like Lance Armstrong on a bicycle (you heard it here first!). What is even worse, most of us ordinary cyclists don't have the bodies to look good even standing on a street corner, let alone after swinging our posteriors up on a saddle that seems to promise some clever torture to follow (which it often does). In short, (and by now you are saying, please cut this short), bicyclists are comic figures riding high ona machine that appears too scant and frail to support the adult human body.

     But what a ride! Bicycles are made for the rider, not the observer -- open air, speed, the wind and elements right in your face, gliding along with minimal effort (except up hill; this contrast to gliding largely proves the existence of the devil and evil). Looking out from atop a bicycle (if you can forget how others see you who are not on a bicycle) is a grand way to encounter the world (well, except for encounters with cars, of course, which may explain the popularity of trail biking). Those of you of a certain age will remember Schwinn and other bicycles that figuratively weighed nearly as much as your father's Buick, and which literally did weigh as much as a modern Honda Civic. But the modern bicycle has almost no relationship to the old Schwinn. In fact, the bicycle has evolved more technologically that it has in appearance. In some ways, those who produce modern bicycles (Specialized, Giant, Kona, and several even more elegant brands) are more advanced in engineering than car manufacturers (although, given the state of the auto industry, this may not be claiming too much for them). They are light. An ordinary $500 bicycle today may weigh less than an expensive hand crafted bicycle twenty years ago. They have improved brakes and cranks and pedals and shifters, etc., thanks to Shimano and other companies that can now make quality parts at ordinary prices. And, they roll out on silky smooth bearings and improved wheels and tires. Altogether, riding a good bicycle (not even the top of the line bicycle) is like taking a quality sports car for a drive.

     Wait for a nice spring day, and take one for a test ride.

Splitting the Difference: The Sin of the Media, The Danger of "Pragmatism"

     It seems like a very long time ago, although probably it has has been only twenty years since it began, and maybe fifteen years since it became a dangerous virus in journalism and television. I am referring to the now standard practice of so-called "balanced" reporting in the political press and among television interviewers. Contemporary editors, journalists and media opinion seekers simply choose one or more "experts" on the subject at hand from the so-called "Left" and "balance" this off with one or more appropriate "experts" from the "Right." The deployment of this too formulaic method of "splitting the difference" rests upon an enormous act of faith -- that truth or some possible means of resolution of a political problem will emerge from this exercise.

     We all know that this premise is weak and that good solutions are not the consequence of such poor logic. At best, we readers and listeners may, quite inadvertently, get to know what the "Center" thinks, because those in the press who came of age from the 1980s onward falsely believe that the centrists they have chosen for "balance" really represent "Left" ideas. They do not. They are only labelled "liberal" or from the "Left" by the "Right," which since the 1980s has managed the diction and discourse of politics. So, the playing field has been shifted quite far to the right even before "balance" is imposed. Representatives of the "Right" have been identified quite easily by this generation of the press and media because the Republican Party has been unapologetically to the right since the 1980s, and their spokespersons are plentiful throughout America. The "Right" has also managed to fund a number of think-tanks from whom "experts" are not only willing to be interviewed, but whose entire raison d'etre is to be interviewed.

     It is worth a brief few words in contrasting Canada and the United States in regard to this evolution. There are right-wing enthusiasts in Canada, as Barbara Amiel's long tenure at Maclean's magazine attests. But rightist politics as expressed by Amiel, and leftist politics, often expressed in the past by NDP or BLOC representatives and others as well, are always transparently right or left. They are sincere in their positions but they are less likely than their American counterparts to man the barricades and show no quarter to their opposition. They are ideologues "light," and those who are cast themselves in a more American ideological mold are either compelled either to keep quiet or to accept being marginalized. Even right-wing think-tanks in Canada are more modest in their mission statements and declarations of purpose than in the U. S.  The C. D. Howe Institute rather blandly submits that it "aims to improve Canadians' standard of living by fostering sound economic and social policy." The Fraser Institute claims its "vision is a free and prosperous world where individual's benefit from greater choice, competitive markets, and personal responsibility." These are not quite motherhood statements but they come close.

     Contrast these statements of purpose with those of the three leading (and gargantuan) think-tanks in the U. S. The right-wing American Enterprise Institute claims its purpose is "to defend the principles and improve the institutions of American freedom and democratic capitalism -- limited government, private enterprise, individual [and] liberty and responsibility" as its prime goals. Note that the purpose is first nationalistic, then supportive of democracy insofar as it is capitalistic, and that private enterprise is to take full precedence over government. The Heritage Foundation is virtually a replica in purpose:  "To formulate and promote conservative public policies based on the principles of free enterprise, limited government, individual freedom, traditional American values, and a strong national defense." Like so many rightist organizations, they appropriate the word "conservative" when all they care to "conserve" are 19th century Christian values and patriarchy. The Cato Institute, while mirroring the other two institutes cited above, recognizes this latter issue and denies that it is "conservative" in its long statement of philosophy. "'Conservative' smacks of an unwillingness to change," they protest, and, "Only in America do people seem to refer to free-market capitalism -- the most progressive, dynamic, and ever-changing system the world has ever know -- as conservative." Taking up, but not fully embracing the label "libertarian" (which describes a condition as far "right" or "left" on the political spectrum as one can get), they seem to settle for "market liberalism," because "Market liberals appreciate the complexity of a great society," and "they recognize that socialism and government planning are just too clumsy for the modern world." They close with a further shot at anything that is not to the "right":  "Today collectivism and planning are outmoded and backward, a drag on social progress."

       These think-tanks provide the main fodder of argumentation for the "Right" in the press and media (even when not interviewed directly). I don't know about you, but I have seldom seen "communists" or "socialists," or "democrats" who favor the poor and working and middle classes, interviewed alongside Cato, Enterprise, or Heritage spokespersons. We all know, and some of us even joke about, the Fox Network and its news and political punditry shows. And, until recently at least, Glenn Beck's face frequently filled our television screens, to say nothing about the ubiquitous Lou Dobbs. Rush Limbaugh needs no introduction -- nor should he get one. Their main counterparts, significantly, are court-jesters -- Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert -- who can make us laugh as they snipe and allude and ridicule, but who can always retreat behind the curtain of entertainment, never compelled to take a clear position on principles or policies.

     But what of the news programs, you might add, and the "liberal" press? Well, yes, there are those columnists at places like The Atlanta Journal-Constitution and The New York Times (Cynthia Tucker, editor of the first, and Frank Rich, political columnist of the latter), but how many of you read, or even know their names.  Most newspapers claim "balance," which means some obvious display of rightist principles and ideas, and some coy inclusion of meek ideas from the political center. Television news programs, other than the shouting matches staged by folks like John McLaughlin, seldom have regular reporters or pundits who are even moderately to the left.

     All of this was driven home to me after I read an old study (4 October, 2006 published by FAIR (Fairness & Accuracy in Reporting) (see their blog). They addressed the issue of "balance" on The Newshour with Jim Lehrer. Our family has pretty well watched this show ever since it was begun by Lehrer and Robin MacNeil. Like others, we were troubled when, in 2005, Kenneth Tomlinson launched a campaign to move both PBS and NPR to the "right" in its political commentary. Bill Moyers show -- NOW -- was dramatically ended (though now reborn as Bill Moyers Journal), and it seemed to us that the Newshour interviewers suddenly began to pitch under-handed softballs to a long line of hard-hitting "rightist" commentators.  It came as a surprise to me, therefore, to learn that Tomlinson had long been happy with the Newhour's balance. FAIR tells why. A 1990 study by FAIR revealed both the elitist and the rightist bias in the Newshour over the past long decade. The Newshour to make a long story short, had moved itself to the right even before heavy pressure from a Republican Congress and a G. W. Bush presidency.

     We all know the reasons for the seemingly unstoppable juggernaut of rightist media and journalism:  the corporate consolidation of the media; the death of independent newspapers; the marketing of news through the hiring of pretty men and women as replacements for real journalists; and the ubiquitous economic bottom line which never seems to be served by anything but the so-called "good news" of so-called "conservatism." Yet, what we have all clung to through this revolution is the fictitious idea of "balance." Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. fathered this modern idea in his dissent in Abrams v. U. S. (1919) when he adopted the laissez-faire economic theory of the 19th century (now famously reborn by the right, with all of its fallacies intact) to argue for a "free trade in ideas." Liberals and the "Left" bought into this idea too readily. The problem is that such "free trade" is not governed by the quality of the ideas; it is not a "free trade in good ideas" but a free trade in whatever ideas have power and resources and a voice. Those latter ideas are not always well derived and not often good. It seems to me that many of the so-called liberal ideas that broadcasters like Walter Cronkhite and others suggested, came from experience, reflection, rationality, and examination. Some of these folks still remain in the press and on television, but precious few.

     Now that many of the consequences of unregulated capitalism (read "greed") have once again been revealed, we might think that real balance can be restored. This seems to be a belief of Barack Obama and his administration as well. But balance will always be much more difficult than first assumed, and organizations like FAIR and other journalism watchdogs are essential in trying to restore responsibility and reason to the press and media. If not, we will continue to see disgraced and wildly radicalized rightists like many Republicans in Congress given equal (or more) time to make their feeble and patently wrong cases. If not, President Obama may, through his desire for consultation and cooperation, continue to strike a middle that is impossible to attain or false from the start. Let's just try to identify good ideas, and nothing else.