Not for Children

Every once in a while I get an idea for a children's book - simple, allegorical story with lots of illustrations. (I have only completed one so far, but I have at least two more sitting at the back of my head for that mythical period "when I have time"). The problem with these, in general, is that they're not really for kids at all; they're fairly adult, not in the sense that American culture often thinks - having graphic violence and/or sexual innuendo - but actual adult themes.*

So, my latest book idea is called "The Selfish Ant."

[Some back-story here: I'm concurrently reading A.S. Byatt's Angels & Insects (thanks, Mom!) and GWF Hegel's Philosophy of Right (for reasons that I'll probably talk about in another post) when I'm not grading essays. Byatt is relevant because there is an extended discussion of ants and their social order, along with "evolution v intelligent design," as part of the narrative; Hegel is relevant because he starts with the assumption that we are essentially social creatures with socially mediated wants and desires - rather than little autonomous creatures with natural wants and desires. This is not - despite the ant analogy - the same as mindless collectivism: it's merely acknowledging that whatever we do as individuals is shaped by the social environment in which we were raised and continue to operate.]

In my story, there's a little ant who doesn't think she is sufficiently appreciated, and despite the fact that she is virtually identical with all of her sisters, thinks of herself as smarter, harder working and all-around just-plain special in all sorts of ways. She comes to believe that the colony couldn't function without her, and eventually "goes Galt." She leaves the colony and doesn't quite realize she can't really function by herself until she starves to death. (I'm undecided at this point if the remaining ants should carry her corpse back to the colony in order to chop her up and feed her to to the larvae or not.) Note here that if the Queen did this, the colony really would collapse ala Ayn Rand; but the Queen not only truly is special, she's also a hereditary monarch - born to her position, rather than achieving it through a combination of genius and hard work. I think a series of pen-and-ink illustrations would be sufficient, but I don't know if there's a market for it beyond a couple friends (which probably excludes both the anarchists and the libertarians).

Speaking of libertarians, a while back I promised a rant: this post may have to suffice.

Oh, and merry Christmas!

*One of my favorite Calvin and Hobbes cartoons plays with this: "what's an adult movie?" "You know, going to work, paying taxes, that sort of thing." One of the many reasons I like Calvin and Hobbes so much.

To be a philosopher

I've been thinking about Brad DeLong's recent use of Nietzsche to characterize the resistance of some to various economic measures that have a demonstratively positive impact on the economy as a whole (not just the individuals who are the recipients). Some of the pieces work nicely, and others - notably the resistence on tax hikes - do not; I'm still working out how all these things fit together. Along with this, I'm working on a sermon for the UUCR on Nietzsche; I suspect they'd be just as happy, if not happier, if I hadn't gone to seminary. Regardless, in thinking about these things, and trying to anticipate various criticisms, it occurred to me that many people don't understand what I mean when I say that I'm a philosopher. That is particularly true for the people with whom I have had most of my arguments lately. Therefore, it seems useful to state that clearly, even if few people read this, and the people who do read this aren't the people with whom I have been arguing.

When most people think of philosophy, they tend to confuse it with psychology; insofar as they correctly apprehend the subject matter, they seem to think of it as concerning "big questions" and rather fuzzy answers. If they've had a philosophy class, they might even remember what seems to be a pointless philosophical conundrum (or two). But thinking as a philosopher doesn't involve content as much as method. I'm currently reading an introductory text in philosophy which starts with Aristotle's definition of logic as a science - a normative science - and a liberal art (in a similar way that, e.g., arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, music, grammar and rhetoric are all liberal arts). But I suspect that it won't do to say that I think "logically" even if I can give a very precise definition of that; most people think of themselves as logical (even if I can poke holes in their arguments). So let me tell a story.

When I was an undergraduate, long long ago, I believed various things about the way the world is. This included belief in a material body and a distinct mental self; and the idea that the mental self (I think I would have avoided using the word "soul" even then, but perhaps not) was itself divided into three distinct parts, ala Freud (or, although I wouldn't have identified it like this at the time, Plato). Further, I thought it was unproblematic that we have freedom of will, in the sense that our mental self make decisions and causes the material body to do various things; we are "free" if (this is the way various philosophers phrase it) "in exactly the same circumstances, I could have done otherwise" (for the trivial, such as having oatmeal for breakfast rather than eggs, or for the more serious, such as deciding to go to University of Portland rather than Duke as an undergraduate). In the course of taking various classes in philosophy (and psychology, since they're not completely unrelated), I tried to articulate these positions; finding my own arguments lacking, I tried to find others who had previously defended these positions. What I found surprised me: no one had offered particularly good arguments for either dualism (having two distinct components of the self, physical and mental) or for freedom of will. Even the clumsy arguments for determinism, such as John Hosper's Freudian determinism, were laid out with more rigor than any of the arguments defending the so-called common sense view that we have "free will." And here's the punch line: I changed my mind on these topics.

Etymologically, the philosopher is the "lover of, or pursuer of, the truth," rather than someone who has the truth. I am not dogmatically attached to any of my positions, although, for the things I care about, I am increasingly skeptical that anyone has an argument that would convince me that I am mistaken. My skepticism grows when I ask someone with more knowledge of a particular topic to explain why I might be mistaken, and either I get a condescending "explanation" which ignores my concerns, or I am flatly dismissed. My skepticism also grows when I try to point out how reality seems to match the predictions I have been reading (in a rather Popperian way, whatever reservations you may have about Karl Popper), and again my concerns are dismissed (or deleted). For me, to be a philosopher is to follow the arguments where they lead; if you don't like my conclusions, you're welcome to point out the flaws in my arguments and pose counter argument. If you take me seriously, I will take you seriously; however, taking you seriously includes pointing out flaws in your arguments as well. That includes both structural flaws (since logic is the domain of philosophers) and empirical problems. Pushing back is a sign of respect; dismissing is not.

All of this is to say, I will probably come back to Brad DeLong at some point and talk about his use of Nietzsche in diagnosing the current situation (recognizing that if I wait too long, it will no longer be the current situation).

(I may also post a draft of the sermon in the next couple days.)

UPDATE: I've just had another exchange with one of the people I was thinking about when I wrote this. I posted a link to a blog post about economics, and I got a straw person argument as a comment. I try to be kinder to my friends who aren't academics, but there's just a certain rigor I try to bring to everything I write, and I expect the same from people who would like to join the conversation. The funny thing about this is, the comment was in regard to a portion of the blog post which was poorly thought-out and certainly deserving of criticism; it was also not the main point. There were good arguments to be marshaled; it's not my blog post, fire away! Even if it was one of my arguments, go ahead and fire away - philosophy as a discipline is about building good arguments and finding the flaws in arguments, other people's or your own. If there's a problem, I want to know - can it be addressed, how might I go back and change it, what other factors ought I include? Or was it just poorly thought through? Do I need to scrap it entirely? I'm happy to scrap bad ideas, and I'm happy to let good ideas go through a refining process.

But don't just fling shit at me, and then sulk when I point out, "hey, that's shit!"

Oh oh oh, it's magic...

One of the things that I've been thinking about on and off for the past few years is the boundaries that might be set for the Religious Society of Friends. I could say a lot more about that - the history and theological trends that led Hicksite Friends to be fairly wide open - but even I sometimes think that there need to be better boundaries. Talking about "the Light" shouldn't give you an automatic free pass.

An important part of integrity is having distinct boundaries. To a certain extent, it seems as though people are somewhat self-selecting, but I'm still occasionally surprised at the people who want to be among Quakers. Let me suggest a modest boundary: pagans.

It's fine to find the Divine in nature; the Bible encourages that. And the Bible also has Feminine images of God. Christianity has folded in various pagan images throughout history - not just the Easter Bunny with it's eggs, and the Christmas tree, but also the Celtic cross. There has been a fairly consistent trend among Quakers to excise those pagan elements, including the names for the days of the week and the months of the year, although personally I think that insisting on "First Day" and such can be idolatrous in it's own right; I don't particularly find my thoughts drawn to worship of the Norse God of Thunder on Thursday, for instance. It's just an oddity of language.

It does bother me that some people think of magic as real, and think that it's possible to believe in magic and be a Quaker. It seems like there are two possible responses to "magic": you can dismiss it, or you can take it seriously. If you dismiss it, I can't imagine why you would tolerate Friends practicing magic any more than you would tolerate Friends who thought the earth was flat; that is, it's not just an idiosyncratic belief, but demonstrably wrongheaded and potentially harmful.

But you don't have to dismiss magic: I don't take it seriously, but I know people who do. But if you take it seriously, and you want to be a Quaker, it must be rejected. Not because it's necessarily Satanic - although I suppose you could make that argument - but because it necessarily usurps God's powers. Can people make traffic lights change, or control the weather, or call (or send) animals (as at least one member of the administrative faculty of a Quaker seminary believes)? I would say no; these people are just being silly. But if you say yes, then you're usurping God's powers.

If this post is muddled - and I'll admit it is, more than I'd like - it's not because I haven't thought enough about the issue, but because I've thought about it too long. This isn't just about attacking one particular person, because I know several members of the Religious Society of Friends who believe in this nonsense; but I also think the people attacking Harry Potter are silly, too. But it seems as though the proper response to pagan magic is rejection, one way or another. That would be a nice first step to reasserting boundaries for Hicksite Friends.

(The title references a song by Pilot, if you were wondering)

Howdy

I haven't gotten anything quite to the point where I'd be happy to post the stuff I'm thinking about - which is somewhat surprising, given the amount of time I'm in the car - but I wanted to say hi in any case.

Hi!

Q. Should we allow Muslims to build a mosque near Ground Zero?

I'm back in the classroom this semester, after taking this past year off (which is its own long story, not relevant today). So, as part of the introduction to the course, I asked the students to write their names, their hometowns, and their majors on an index card, along with any question they might want me to answer. One of the students posed the question in the title, but I didn't get around to answering it during class.

A. Yes. I think there are two main reasons for this. The first is that religious freedom is basic to this country. While only two of the original colonies had religious tolerance as part of their founding principles, even those colonies with an established religion set that aside with the founding of the republic. I'm most familiar with Virginia's history here, but I think it's particularly relevant: Patrick Henry, an Episcopalian, wanted to have Christianity as the established religion in the state of Virginia; the people who opposed the establishment of a non-denominational "Christianity" were not atheists or members of some non-Christian religion, but Baptists and Presbyterians (and members of other, smaller denominations). They were committed Christians, but they worried that the dominant denomination - the Episcopalians - would control the narrative of what it means to be truly "Christian." Thus, they thought it best to leave it as a private matter, rather than a public one.

My second reason is related to the first: who gets to control the narrative of Islam? That is, just as the Baptists and Presbyterians had different ideas about what it means to be Christian than the Episcopalians (and each other), so there is diversity within the Muslim world.

Following 9/11, people criticized the leaders of the Muslim community in the US for not condemning the attacks. The sad thing about that is that those leaders did condemn the attacks, but no one was listening. The vast majority of Muslims in the US and around the world condemn terrorism, but the radical anti-Western minority seems to control the narrative of what Islam is in this country. I believe having a community center, on par with a YMCA, near Ground Zero, would help correct that.

Ignorance of History

Earlier this week, Julie and I were eating dinner at a family restaurant in Central Square, and overheard a conversation from the guys in the booth behind us regarding the Founders of the United States. They remembered that the Declaration of Independence states that we have been "endowed by [our] Creator with certain unalienable Rights." They also assumed that the Constitution says something about God (it doesn't), and the the Founders were all Christian - "One Nation, Under God." (And just to be absolutely explicit about that last reference, the Pledge of Allegiance was written at the end of the 19th century -without "under God," which was added in the 1950s).

The particularly irritating thing for me is people's appropriation (or misappropriation) of Thomas Jefferson; he gets edited out of textbooks in Texas, but "patriots" wear t-shirts with his quote, "The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants." (You know, "patriots" such as the fellow who committed the worst terrorist attack on US soil prior to 9/11.) Many other quotes are also falsely attributed to him. But to cite him as an instance of a Christian is particularly grating.

Among his many other pursuits, Thomas Jefferson edited the Gospels into what has come to be known as the "Jefferson Bible." He's not the first to try to harmonize the competing and sometimes conflicting stories told in the Gospels; but he may be the first to edit out all the miracles. I won't go into all of the particular edits (and we could have a fruitful conversation regarding whether the various miracles attributed to Jesus are necessary to believe in order to be a Christian, but not today); but one stands out, and is significant.

"There laid they Jesus,

And rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulcher, and departed."

Why is that so significant? Because it's the last line of the Jefferson Bible. Suffered under Pontius Pilate, crucified, dead and buried; the end. It almost makes me want to carry the Jefferson Bible around with me, just to take out when I overhear conversations where Jefferson is mentioned as a Good Christian Founding Father.

Pre-rant musings

I've relocated several hundred miles north, and I'm not really settled.

However, I've been thinking about my ethics classes and how I approach certain subjects. [Caveat: this is a blog post, not an ethics class, so the presentation here has been modified.]

Are you conservative or liberal? Two issues: crime and welfare.

For the purposes of this post, we have to make some background assumptions. With regard to crime, we assume that some people are innocent and some people are guilty (i.e., you can neither start with the premise that all people are guilty, nor with the premise that one's circumstances exonerate one's responsibility). With regard to welfare, we assume that some people are deserving and some people aren't (i.e., some people are poor for reasons beyond their control and therefore deserve some help from the state, where private charity is insufficient; and being lazy is not a "reason beyond their control"). Further, for both, we have to assume that the system (for prosecution and for distribution, respectively) is always flawed; the best system will still find some innocent people guilty, some guilty people innocent, some deserving poor will be excluded, and some undeserving people will receive assistance. If you don't think these are acceptable premises, then we cannot move forward here.

With regard to crime: is it more important to maximize the number of guilty people punished (knowing that some innocent people will be unjustly punished) or to minimize the number of unjustly punished innocents (knowing that some guilty people will escape their due punishment)? That is, given a flawed system in which perfect justice is elusive, do you emphasize the guilty or the innocent? (When I was growing up, there was a popular phrase, "kill 'em all, let God sort 'em out" which seems to embody the conservative ethos here.)

The situation with welfare is a mirror image: is it more important to maximize the number of deserving poor receiving welfare (knowing that some undeserving people will exploit the system), or to minimize the number of people fraudulently receiving assistance from the state (knowing that some deserving poor - i.e., children in poverty - will get left out)? Again, given a necessarily flawed system, do you emphasize the deserving poor or the welfare cheats?

There are other issues that don't really fit into this schema, and there are additional complexities that this papers over, but I like this as a quick-and-dirty classification, and captures two very distinct ways of looking at the world.

Final in the Alphabet series: Fin.

I've still been thinking about hard-line economic positions, but I've also been drawing cartoons about them. Which is to say, there will not be a rant about libertarians to accompany this picture, but there may be an illustrated rant at some point in the future.

Just to keep you up to date, I've primarily been thinking about moving - from Roanoke, up to New York. For those of you who haven't been following along, that's Central New York, not The City. Very different. I still don't have a firm date for departure, but it will within the next two weeks. Unfortunately, my next job doesn't start until September 7th.

I now plan on returning to my usual mix of cartoons and paintings. Since my plans often don't work out as expected, who knows what's next. Perhaps sculpture!

Y indeed: the penultimate post (in this series)

When I'm painting houses I think a lot. That's not really a hazard of the profession, but it is a hazard for the philosopher stuck painting houses. Lately I've been thinking about the problem with hard-line economic positions.

Let me start with Marxism. I sometimes identify as a Marxist - sometimes to irritate others, but I really do find Marx's critique of capitalism right on target. He peers into the machinery which makes it all tick, and finds it wanting. He could not have been expected to imagine, for instance, the reduction of the university to yet another capitalist machine in which underpaid, overspecialized and imminently replaceable drones (the adjuncts who teach the majority - yes, majority - of introductory level classes in the US) who asked to work harder for less money (e.g., online teaching), and churn out a sub-par product that people keep consuming anyway (because we've been raised to think that a college diploma is the ticket to a better job and therefore lifestyle than our parents, even if that's not true anymore - the actually goal of education lost amid short-sighted economic interest). And yet, look how well his analysis works for the current state of higher education. It's not just for textile mills anymore!

But Marx was naïve about human nature. The workers may grumble about their state of affairs, but are happy enough with a 40 hour work week, some sort of a pension plan, maybe health insurance... hm, we may be due for another revolution. In any case, the workers have not risen up to overthrow Rich Uncle Pennybags, establishing a state which eventually whithers away. The so-called communist states have merely re-established the same sort of societal structures that they were suppose to replace: (I really hate to quote the Who here, but), "meet the new boss, same as the old boss." But that's not because Marx failed to properly critique capitalism, it's because he had an overly optimistic view of human nature. (Kant demonstrates that you can have a view of human nature as containing the seeds of "radical evil" without resorting to theology, i.e., original sin, but that's a topic for another post.)

So, let me be clear in conclusion: I reject a hard-line Marxism which says that a workers paradise is just around the world-historical corner. But I do think he has something important to say about the failures of our current economic system, and, let's face it, the benefits of thinking collectively at least some of the time, as opposed to being relentlessly individualistic.

Twenty fourth in a series, soon to be complete

It has occurred to me that, not only have I slowed down on this series, but I'm thinking more about a larger project lately. And I'm also thinking about moving. So, I need to wrap this up.

I feel as though I ought to add some edifying thought, but I'm not really thinking of anything right at the moment. Perhaps later.

Twenty third in a series

John Lennon sang, "the Walrus was Paul," but that may only have been because when he wrote, "I am the Walrus," he was thinking of Lewis Carroll's poem, "The Walrus and the Carpenter." Except he hadn't read the poem in a while, and forgot that the Walrus is a pretty bad fellow.

I remember reading somewhere that the poem is an allegory about Kantian and Utilitarian ethics - perhaps here - but it seems unlikely that was what John was thinking about.

Twenty second in a series

Reminded of a Simpsons quote:

"Marge, I've got to get out of this rut and back into the groove!"

Twenty first in a series

Sorry for the delay - it's been a busy month, with a surprising amount of travel.

I keep wanting these to be cartoons, and I try to resist the urge; in this one, for instance, I was thinking I might add the Tyrannosaurus Wrench in the background, yelling, "THAT'S LATIN FOR 'BEAR'!"

But I didn't.

Unscheduled interuption

In addition to the various other things I've been trying out lately - when I find the time between work and applying for jobs in Central New York - I've also been working on collages.

These aren't part of a larger series, at least not yet, although both of them suggest a story that I haven't been told.

Yet.

Twentieth

Hm, this started out as an exercise to get me to draw/paint every day... and that seems to be failing.

The reasons for it failing are good, though: I'm back to painting (houses) more or less full time, is more lucrative than my art (for the time being, at least) - and I've gotten a firm job offer up in Rochester (which is not Syracuse, but is a lot closer than Roanoke). Which is to say, I've been busy doing things that are productive, although not as restorative as doodling.

Hey Nineteen

I've had the idea for this addition to the series since March 24th (yes, it was dated) and just haven't gotten around to drawing it.

What's new with you?

10010 or, Inappropriate reading materials?

Car repair: I took Hauerwas' A Cross-Shattered Church. Intended to be hopeful, the final bill was several hundred dollars.

DMV: Kafka's The Castle. Supposed to be ironic, but they sent me away because my papers weren't in order.

Bah.

XVII

Update: B'Yo! pointed out that "Q" could also be for Quaker, or for quacker (quack quack quack).

Or I could have had Q stand for "Quelle," and left the picture blank (or perhaps just muddy). I'm still self-amused by my singing "tryin' hard to recreate what had yet to be created" in class in response to this book.

Who knew that "Q" would be such a popular letter? Well, not in Denmark: according to Wikipedia, they "abolished the letter in 1872, although it's still part of the alphabet." If it's still part of the alphabet, then it sounds as if they didn't really abolish it - unless you're talking about some sort of Hegelian Aufhebung, which would surprise me since it happened after Kierkegaard.

What were we talking about again?

Sixteenth in a series

Sorry for the delay: 15

My owl looks a little worse for wear, but part of executing this series has been deliberately working quickly - if I fussed over every picture, I'd never get going.

14

Thirteenth in a series

Twelfth in a series

Part of the idea with the series is just to make sure I do something every day, but sometimes I just go too fast and things get wonky.

Eleventh in a series

Tenth in a series

Ninth in a series

Eighth in a series

Series to resume shortly

But I thought you might like a good old fashion cartoon, plus the last installment of the ever-popular "Duck" series.

Seventh in a series

Sixth in a series

Fifth in a series

Fourth in a series

Third in a series

Second in a series

First in a series

Fish & Owl

I haven't yet figured out a decent picture of my paintings which incorporates silver (or gold) paint - it's a great effect in person that doesn't come through.

I've been focusing on getting my Etsy shop working the way I'd like; there are still a few bugs I need to work out. More dogs coming soon, and I'm also working on a friendlier owl.

(This one puts the "owl" in "scowl"!)

Hey Look! I have a shop!

Okay, I didn't use Matt's idea: the shop is just called Miro Roi cards & art. I only have a couple things up at the moment, but I'm working on getting more together.

My biggest problem - for the blog and now for the store - seems to be getting decent pictures of my work.

Here's a couple new paintings: Tommy pauses before entering his apartment building, and a diagram of my understanding of how petitionary prayer works.

Shop Name Contest!

Well, not really a contest, but I'd like some feedback.

The email I use for this blog is "MiroRoi(at)gmail.com" (long story, not important), and I was thinking of using it for my shop name. It's unique, and it links back to my primary cartoon character. I keep hesitating, though; any thoughts about the name, or suggestions for an alternative?

In any case, before I start selling paintings, I'm going to put some cards out there to get a sense of selling things online. These are some of the designs I've got so far: hand painted, blank inside, various sizes. (I'm working on an owl too. Julie likes owls.) Feedback on the cards would also be helpful.

It also occurred to me that I could sell the panels I've been painting on: 24"x24" 1/4 luaun, backed with a cradle made of 1"x2" select pine to prevent warping, all primed. The only things like that on Etsy are pretty small, and I've really enjoyed having a larger surface to work on.

I still have to put The Hand away when I go to bed, though.

If Mechthild is my Monday name...

...then this must be Susana.

This is the same painting in progression - monochromatic underpainting, again about halfway through, and then the final version. Mostly acrylic, but I just can't keep my hands off whatever is near, so it has this and that in it as well.

In other news, I've attempted to put some panels for painting for sale on craigslist. The ones I've finished are 24" square, with a 2" cradle on the back to keep them from warping; primed front and back, with the edges finished. The ad hasn't shown up yet, so I may have done something wrong.

At some point, I'm going to put some of my paintings for sale on Etsy.com - some of the work there is pretty good. I'll keep you posted, but in the meantime if you see anything on here you like, let me know - it could be yours!

As far as the other kind of painting is going, the only news is that my boss has been cited for Nonpoint Source Water Pollution, a class three misdemeanor, and his accountant burned down last week.

No actual work, though.

Duck Duck Goose

A Second Cup

I started reading Gordon Kaufman's An Essay on Theological Method again yesterday; an interesting contrast with Rudolph Bultmann's Jesus and the Word.

Also an interesting contrast with David Jensen's In the Company of Others, which my local book group has been reading on my recommendation.

Well, I recommended that we read it; I'm not sure who has actually done the reading. Are all book groups like this? Not that they haven't been reading: several of the people wanted to talk about another book which they had read (but I had not), Pema Chödrön's Taking the Leap.

I have since read the first chapter, and I'm not terribly impressed. I'd much rather re-read Joko Beck's Everyday Zen.

None of which has to do with the picture here, except that coffee was consumed during the reading of all these various books.

Two paintings

Um, not a whole lot to say today.

Both of these are mixed media pictures based on photos: the cormorant picture from a photo taken by Greg Rogers, a friend living in Florida; the old men sitting on a stone wall... from a book I found in the college library, written in French, with many black and white photos.