The Grouch reads: Mary Margaret Mackenzie , Plato on Punishment.
Mackenzie complains that if we are determinists, we cannot adequately understand our natural tendency toward anger when we are transgressed upon.
Our picture of ourselves as agents, she claims, is destroyed.
That's just not true.
Recall the Platonic/Socratic claim that all desire is for the good.
I may get angry with someone who shits on me, and I may even do it automatically.
But there is still lots of room for me to wonder what is best. Am I really improving my
life if I strike out at the fellow? Am I improving his life? What is the best thing to do?
What will contribute to a better future rather than a worse one?
And, if you tell me that when I reason thusly, I am obeying that Socratic/Platonic
law.....that I am aiming at The Good, then you will be right. And, that is precisely my point.
Reference:
p. 224, Chapter 12, Plato on Punishment, Univ. of California Press, 1981.
Note:
In effect when M. cites Morris on how Plato's view threaten "our vital sense of ourselves as persons", she is half right. The Platonic view would require us to think differently (along the lines I sketched above), but that's hardly any kind of conclusive objection.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
I dream of escape.
When life is as empty and dirty, dusty as this desert,
unpleasantness heaped on unpleasantness,
with not even one sincere smile,
not even one friendly conversation with a person for whom I have the least genuine affection,
death seems an attractive option,
an improvement.
--After all, what I am experiencing now
is nothing more than a living death.
A violent death would be more honest than this slow torture.
How can the inhabitants of this site of unending misery stand it?
Why do they not scream and pull out their hair?
Why do they not pound their fists and wail?
I find myself forced to draw the conclusion
that all of them died long ago,
and I am surrounded by their ghosts.
unpleasantness heaped on unpleasantness,
with not even one sincere smile,
not even one friendly conversation with a person for whom I have the least genuine affection,
death seems an attractive option,
an improvement.
--After all, what I am experiencing now
is nothing more than a living death.
A violent death would be more honest than this slow torture.
How can the inhabitants of this site of unending misery stand it?
Why do they not scream and pull out their hair?
Why do they not pound their fists and wail?
I find myself forced to draw the conclusion
that all of them died long ago,
and I am surrounded by their ghosts.
Yo tambien soy indignato.
I, too, am indignant.
in solidarity with Los Indignatos; Sunday, May 13, 2012
I am indignant after hearing a lifetime of lies.
I turn away in indignation at a country that has lied to me non-stop, every day of my life.
I remember with indignation the miserable schools of my youth—places where anything I learned was despite the influence of teachers who themselves knew nothing of freedom and culture. And, if those teachers believed the lies they had been told, then they are blameless because that is how one survives in the cruel politicial and economic system called capitalism.
And if there were one or two teachers who encouraged freedom and creativity, their influence was not enough to overcome the tremendous weight of an evil system of conformity and control.
I am indignant when I think of the impersonality and factory-like nature of the so-called “higher” education which I received at the University of Texas-Austin. And whenever I hear that someone would like to credit that institution for any of my achievements, I recoil in deep and bitter indignation. There, too, basic humanity was lacking---except for one or two or three individuals who were an exception to the rule of factory production.
I am indignant when I think of my parents’ faith that by helping me get an education they were helping me to have a better life than they have had. I have had nothing but insecure, temporary employment----and that includes short-term jobs with universities when I was given a fancy title. It would have been more accurate to describe me as a Professor-Temp.
I am indignant when I think that all of my education was warped and twisted by the Capitalist’s refusal to recognize that education is a right, a social good, not a commodity. And that decision by a small number of evil individuals ruined my access to real culture. –Not evil in a metaphysical way, not evil as an imaginary creature with horns, but evil in the only way humans can be evil, when they encourage, participate in, and profit from a system of exploitation. Capitalism perverted and twisted what should have been something only good in my life so that it was an unpleasant experience with only moments of pleasure and insight.
I am indignant at the joylessness of my life, the anti-social nature of my schooling experiences and my childhood---due in large measure to the over-expenditure on highways and freeways, the obsession with climate-destroying indivisually-piloted vehicles of destruction.
I look back on my life with indignation. I look back on the lives of my parents with indignation.
I am indignant when I see the privileges of doctors and the way my elderly parents are treated.
I am indignant when I see frail elderly adults struggling to travel to the office of a much younger, much healthier doctor who might easily and comfortably travel to them.
I am indignant when I see the constant demand that my parents' justify their need for help----and most indignant of all when I realize that no such parallel demand is ever made upon those who manufacture weapons of killing.
We have been lied to and used. And, as if that were not enough, my country, the USA has abused many other nations, and continues to do so.
The place of my birth, which can never be my spiritual home, is a place of militarism and racism. It is a hypocritical purveyor of disorder throughout the world, a greedy beast which devours the innocent at home and in foreign lands.
Enough is enough. It is time to say that it is all a lie. It is time for justice and an end to wars of aggression, time for real education which liberates rather than limits the imagination, time for relations between human beings which are not based upon exploitation and fear. It is time for courage and imagination to triumph over pettiness and violence. But, first of all, we must speak truly, and
say what's going on, and what has been going on. It is needful to describe the ugliness of existing institutions without shrinking back. And with even a half accurate description, anyone with a shred of honesty must turn away with disgust, indignation, and anger.
They will of course invoke a taboo and attempt to stop you from such emotional honesty. That, too, is a device of control. Indeed, companies sell software packages to measure that bad honesty!
But I laugh, laugh, laugh at such idiocy.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
The Ignorance of My Sisters
The Ignorance of My Sisters is Infinite.
Three years ago, when my father had a bad fall, one requiring hospitalization, it was suggested that I should come home, to take care of my parents.
Now, I later discovered, that it had, in effect, been agreed without consulting me, without discussing it with me, that I was the right one to take care of the elderly parents because I was unmarried.
As it turns out, my sisters imagine that an unmarried person has no life worthy of considering, and no responsibilities---least of all responsibilities to one's own self. (So if I have no job currently, or no health care, or no friends, or no chance to pursue my talents, all of that counts for nothing.)
The hypocritical aspect of the whole thing is this: both sisters have adult children. So, it's certainly not the children which prevent them from caring for my parents. Furthermore, their adult husbands are not invalids. So, they surely do not require the care and attention of another person.
Of course, the simple fact is that my sisters are incapable of even imagining the displacement and disruption to my life entailed by a move from Central Europe to a stagnant backwater of the USA.
First of all, because I lived by myself, with my own apartment--oh Silence! blessed silence! No interruptions from annoying phone calls from bored sisters or health care workers or a thousand sorts of annoying unwanted calls, no shouting parents, not television noises echoing endlessly through a small house---- and in the process of moving I had to leave things behind----books and clothing. I also left people--friends---behind, and electronic communication just is not the real thing! All that represents a real cost, a real loss to myself a drastic diminution in the quality of my life.
But according to the book-keeping of my sisters, all of that counts for nothing.
Furthermore, I did have a job in Europe, and I have left that behind. I don't say it was a great job,
but I had an income, and managed to survive. Moreover, I had a routine, a schedule, which allowed me time for myself, time to read, write, and study. And, I even had a research program of sorts. I had managed to have one article accepted for publication just before leaving, and I had plans to continue writing. But, all of that was interrupted and destroyed in the move to a different country.
Now, it is impossible for me to have any kind of consistent work schedule.--Here I refer to scholarly activities not activities performed for the benefit of the capitalist class. I have no space of my own where I can work. I am trapped in the home of two elderly persons, and it is filled with clothes that no one wears, books that no one reads, and assorted other items that are here merely because no one will throw them out. And, I cannot simply throw them out---because they are not mine. Indeed, the paradox is that the necessary things in the house increasingly don't work----e.g. toilets are always breaking, while unnecessary things which no one uses fill up every empty space, sitting idle and collecting dust, making it impossible to open a window and let light or air into this cave of hollow consumption.
I can only close this post by saying I would visit upon my sisters a plague of mammoth proportions as a punishment for their blindness and stupidity, their willful lack of consideration--- if it were in my power.
My only hope is that someday I can escape. For now I am in prison, a prison not of my making, but one created by two sisters who gave not a thought to my happiness, and thereby managed to preserve their own habits and conveniences. In order to preserve their comfort and convenience, they have---insofar as they were able----destroyed my life.
Three years ago, when my father had a bad fall, one requiring hospitalization, it was suggested that I should come home, to take care of my parents.
Now, I later discovered, that it had, in effect, been agreed without consulting me, without discussing it with me, that I was the right one to take care of the elderly parents because I was unmarried.
As it turns out, my sisters imagine that an unmarried person has no life worthy of considering, and no responsibilities---least of all responsibilities to one's own self. (So if I have no job currently, or no health care, or no friends, or no chance to pursue my talents, all of that counts for nothing.)
The hypocritical aspect of the whole thing is this: both sisters have adult children. So, it's certainly not the children which prevent them from caring for my parents. Furthermore, their adult husbands are not invalids. So, they surely do not require the care and attention of another person.
Of course, the simple fact is that my sisters are incapable of even imagining the displacement and disruption to my life entailed by a move from Central Europe to a stagnant backwater of the USA.
First of all, because I lived by myself, with my own apartment--oh Silence! blessed silence! No interruptions from annoying phone calls from bored sisters or health care workers or a thousand sorts of annoying unwanted calls, no shouting parents, not television noises echoing endlessly through a small house---- and in the process of moving I had to leave things behind----books and clothing. I also left people--friends---behind, and electronic communication just is not the real thing! All that represents a real cost, a real loss to myself a drastic diminution in the quality of my life.
But according to the book-keeping of my sisters, all of that counts for nothing.
Furthermore, I did have a job in Europe, and I have left that behind. I don't say it was a great job,
but I had an income, and managed to survive. Moreover, I had a routine, a schedule, which allowed me time for myself, time to read, write, and study. And, I even had a research program of sorts. I had managed to have one article accepted for publication just before leaving, and I had plans to continue writing. But, all of that was interrupted and destroyed in the move to a different country.
Now, it is impossible for me to have any kind of consistent work schedule.--Here I refer to scholarly activities not activities performed for the benefit of the capitalist class. I have no space of my own where I can work. I am trapped in the home of two elderly persons, and it is filled with clothes that no one wears, books that no one reads, and assorted other items that are here merely because no one will throw them out. And, I cannot simply throw them out---because they are not mine. Indeed, the paradox is that the necessary things in the house increasingly don't work----e.g. toilets are always breaking, while unnecessary things which no one uses fill up every empty space, sitting idle and collecting dust, making it impossible to open a window and let light or air into this cave of hollow consumption.
I can only close this post by saying I would visit upon my sisters a plague of mammoth proportions as a punishment for their blindness and stupidity, their willful lack of consideration--- if it were in my power.
My only hope is that someday I can escape. For now I am in prison, a prison not of my making, but one created by two sisters who gave not a thought to my happiness, and thereby managed to preserve their own habits and conveniences. In order to preserve their comfort and convenience, they have---insofar as they were able----destroyed my life.
the stupidity of nurse supervisors
"Is Mark working?"
The correct answer: Look you stupid cow! Mark does work. He cooks. He shops. He buys the groceries. He helps his father with his exercise. And he does other things to help his parents.
Sub-text:
The stupidity of the nurse supervisor: She accepts the conventional wisdom (stupidity really) about what work is. Work is when you receive money because one of the Capitalist Class manages to increase their wealth by your activity.
More diplomatic answer: Mark has a Ph.D. in Philosophy, but in the current world, the powers that be are destroying the public education system. That means that there are fewer jobs for Philosophy Ph.D.'s every year. Do you realistically think he has a chance of getting a job? Do you expect him to work part time with low pay and no health benefits or pension? Do you honestly imagine that this would be better than spending more time at home where he can help his parents?
As I said, these visits are intrusive. Undoubtedly, the Nurse-Supervisor (No, not "Nurse Ratchet', but perhaps "Nurse Wretched") thought her question "innocent'------But then people who behave badly often do so in ignorance, and quickly forget what they have done because its badness was never registered by them.........Eichmann, after all, seemed a very sane, normal, moral man to the health care professionals who met him!
The correct answer: Look you stupid cow! Mark does work. He cooks. He shops. He buys the groceries. He helps his father with his exercise. And he does other things to help his parents.
Sub-text:
The stupidity of the nurse supervisor: She accepts the conventional wisdom (stupidity really) about what work is. Work is when you receive money because one of the Capitalist Class manages to increase their wealth by your activity.
More diplomatic answer: Mark has a Ph.D. in Philosophy, but in the current world, the powers that be are destroying the public education system. That means that there are fewer jobs for Philosophy Ph.D.'s every year. Do you realistically think he has a chance of getting a job? Do you expect him to work part time with low pay and no health benefits or pension? Do you honestly imagine that this would be better than spending more time at home where he can help his parents?
As I said, these visits are intrusive. Undoubtedly, the Nurse-Supervisor (No, not "Nurse Ratchet', but perhaps "Nurse Wretched") thought her question "innocent'------But then people who behave badly often do so in ignorance, and quickly forget what they have done because its badness was never registered by them.........Eichmann, after all, seemed a very sane, normal, moral man to the health care professionals who met him!
visiting nurses
My opinion of Americans, and their overall education level, is very bad. Their heads are full of all sorts of propaganda---and very little knowledge.
(I shall be adding a post illustrating what I have in mind exactly by "propaganda". But, for now, let's say that they are blind to the militarism and racism in their country; and, they additionally freely spout capitalist nonsense. I do have specific examples which I shall provide in a future post.)
The regular visits by a nurse-supervisor are irritating and annoying. They are intrusive and not helpful.
I am afraid I've not quite hit the nail on the head.
So, I shall try again.
About the supervisoryvisits...
We have these regular visits---I can't be sure how often, maybe very ninety days.
And they are idiotic. The woman asks exactly the same questions over and over again.
And the pretense that she is our "friend" is just not sincere. She is not my friend, yet
I am forced to grin and nod like an idiot because I fear she can deny my parents the very
little help they currently get.
I feel like she is inspecting us! Not here to help us, but here to check up on us.
(She asks questions and we answer----a non-egalitarian situation at the most basic level!)
The whole business is intrusive and insulting.
Recall: infinite money if available for weapons. The USA spends more money than any other country on killing machines. And the budgets for those killing machines are not carefully controlled--in fact not really controlled at all.
They are not controlled and inspected the way that my parents and I are inspected by this nurse-supervisor every three months.
This is an insulting, degrading system.
The USA is an insulting, degrading place to live.
(I shall be adding a post illustrating what I have in mind exactly by "propaganda". But, for now, let's say that they are blind to the militarism and racism in their country; and, they additionally freely spout capitalist nonsense. I do have specific examples which I shall provide in a future post.)
The regular visits by a nurse-supervisor are irritating and annoying. They are intrusive and not helpful.
I am afraid I've not quite hit the nail on the head.
So, I shall try again.
About the supervisoryvisits...
We have these regular visits---I can't be sure how often, maybe very ninety days.
And they are idiotic. The woman asks exactly the same questions over and over again.
And the pretense that she is our "friend" is just not sincere. She is not my friend, yet
I am forced to grin and nod like an idiot because I fear she can deny my parents the very
little help they currently get.
I feel like she is inspecting us! Not here to help us, but here to check up on us.
(She asks questions and we answer----a non-egalitarian situation at the most basic level!)
The whole business is intrusive and insulting.
Recall: infinite money if available for weapons. The USA spends more money than any other country on killing machines. And the budgets for those killing machines are not carefully controlled--in fact not really controlled at all.
They are not controlled and inspected the way that my parents and I are inspected by this nurse-supervisor every three months.
This is an insulting, degrading system.
The USA is an insulting, degrading place to live.
Friday, May 11, 2012
New York City as a Home of Anti-Culture
If Socrates himself were re-incarnated as a sixteen year old African-American youth in the Bronx,
he would undoubtedly be ticketed for "belligerence"....
http://therealnews.com/t2/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=31&Itemid=74&jumival=8304
he would undoubtedly be ticketed for "belligerence"....
http://therealnews.com/t2/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=31&Itemid=74&jumival=8304
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