Virtues and Vices

They say that ignorance is bliss. I think that this is true, not because ignorance itself is particularly virtuous, but rather because knowledge imparts two heavy burdens. I say two, but perhaps they are more like the opposing faces of the coin than entirely independent things. The first is responsibility. The second is power.

Let us consider this for a moment in terms of a painfully first world problem: ethical clothing choices. The average American wants cheap clothing, and to get it, we've turned a blind eye toward inhumane practices and the relatively poor quality of the goods we're so eagerly consuming. It's awkward when we find out that our shoes were produced in a sweat shop in Cambodia. Why should someone suffer so I can wear name brand kicks? And yet... How can I even begin to care about someone I've never met and will never meet, care about them more than my competing priorities for social status?

Even if the factory conditions are fair and the workers are being treated well, there's a second issue to which I have already alluded: the cheapness of the clothing manifests itself in poor quality, leading us to always be purchasing new things and often to wasting the old. It's a huge culture of waste and consumption that basically requires low quality in order to ensure its continued existence.

In a world of newsfeeds, it's so much more comfortable to check out and disengage from these difficult realities. And they demand something effortful from us, something we don't want to give. So yes, given our bent toward inertia, we do find ignorance to be blissful. But it's also naive and utterly unsustainable.

It's naive to think that this culture can go on forever without returning the harm to us. It's unsustainable to consume and consume without consideration for our future selves and others who will share our world. 

Kierkegaard was a rather melancholic philosopher and in his Sickness Unto Death he argues that knowledge and specifically self-knowledge are incredibly depressing, but that awareness, for all its pain, is better than ignorance.

When we obtain knowledge about something, we also gain a responsibility to act in accordance with the dictates of conscience and, such as it is, truth. At the same time, we gain a certain measure of power over the thing in question, even if we don't always see it in that light.

For example, I personally don't have the power to change the clothing industry to make it more humane and less wasteful, nor, arguably, do I have that responsibility. What I do have is the responsibility and power to change my own habits of consumption and to urge my friends to do likewise. 

One person can only do so much, save by the strange machinations of history and social events, but it is still better to see the iceberg and to do one's part than to ignore it entirely and go on dancing through life merely to spare one's peace of mind.

Some Conclusions

Today marks the one month goal, and I'm pretty happy with the results. Honestly, just proving to myself that I could do it feels pretty significant. To some extent, the fact that I'm publishing what I wrote holds me accountable, even if no one else is keeping track. And yes, there were days when I felt like I couldn't muster a subject, much less incisive, interesting, or original commentary on it. But I'm actually quite proud of some of the writing that came out of it, and even bizarrely got 60-some-odd views on one of the posts. 

One of my goals was to work on eliminating certain quirks in my style. For example, I have a tendency to use a lot of "softening" words, like "I think maybe" or "perhaps it's the case that" or "I guess." Those are fine in the right time and place--everything in moderation, including wife beating?--but I use them so much that at times I am undermining the validity of my own points.

Another thing that I was doing more or less consciously was to try to organize my thoughts more coherently and to keep a tighter rein on the tangents I took. I can occasionally take very long detours and end up in strange places, usually when I'm not sure where I'm going from the beginning. I think I have improved on this a bit, although to be fair, I didn't actually write that many long pieces.

I want to reflect on the experience a bit more, but I have some important stuff going on tomorrow and, just in time, an energy-devouring upper respiratory infection has set in to make me totes exhausted. Christy must make sleep, not blog posts. Until next time...

Pros, Cons, and Happiness in Strange Places

I had this funny moment recently, when I was thinking longingly about what my yearly salary would be if I manage to get one of the jobs I'm interviewing for on Friday (it's roughly 2.5 times my current wage, and honestly that sounds like leprechauns and unicorns to my dazed mind). Obviously, I don't have the job, and after a year of being rejected on any number of grounds, I think I might be past the nerves and the heart-set-on-it hoping to a point where I'm just going to do my damnedest and call it a day. No unhatched chickens are being counted.

BUT. Pretty much regardless of what job I manage to get, I will be making more than my present wage and tips. You can actually do pretty well at an established coffee shop since tips tend to be quite nice (and yes, I do have another coffee shop interview... pride is irrelevant when you have bills to pay and a cat to feed), but even a relatively low paying writing job would be a step up from where I am now. And one of my first thoughts was: "Oh hey, I can go out for drinks again."

It's a small pleasure, but it has been an expense that I can't justify. Food is food, so if I spend a few extra dollars to eat out, I'm not as concerned. But alcohol is a luxury, as you quickly discover when you're just trying to make ends meet. I did splurge and buy a bottle of whiskey when I got my tax refund (because it's cheaper to drink at home), but for the most part, that money went toward more responsible things like a car inspection, renter's insurance, and my savings account. Right now the mere thought of casually going out in the evening with a friend for a drink sounds like the height of indulgence. Which is actually really pleasant, as perspectives go. How much more do we enjoy things when we can't or don't have them very often?

My second thought, though, was one that caught me off guard. "...But then I won't accomplish as much."

Look, I like having a social life. I like spending time with people, usually only one or two and occasionally small groups. I'm an introvert, but I could do a lot of that one-on-one time without feeling like I'm suffering very much.

And yet, this combination of not getting home till 7, having relatively few friends in the city, and not really having the money to do much anyway has actually been really good for all of my other goals. If you've been following along/know me, you know there are a decent number of those. And I will freely admit that I don't typically make a lot of progress.

But here I am, astonished to find that I've been slowly working my way through my Latin textbook. I've been practicing my German alongside that. I finally made the grid sheet I needed for writing Copperplate. I've written a blog post almost every single day for the past month. I've read relatively enormous quantities of articles and essays. I've finished 9 books already, which puts me just barely on track for my goal of 50 per year. I've applied for quite a few jobs and heard back from four of them for interviews. I've gone to numerous meet ups and even led one of my own. I've knit a couple of things. I finally put my bookbinding press together and contacted a binder in Philadelphia about meeting with him and possibly doing some sort of internship.

And I frankly would not have managed to do even half of that if I had actually had an active social life. Also, if I'm really being honest, I wouldn't have managed a quarter of that if I hadn't had so many dull hours at work when there's literally nothing else to do so why not read an essay on Longform or a few chapters of Debt by David Graeber? As for that last point: I know that I need to at least be doing something that demands more of me and hopefully also pays better, but there's a small part of me that enjoys how much time I have had to feed my love for stories, real and fictional, and to keep abreast of politics. This has been a strange season, but not wholly bad, for all that it included February and some serious personal budgetary crises.

Having had that reprieve, however, March is just around the bend, and with it, the end of this confusingly enjoyable season. Regardless of how the employment situation turns out, I imagine that it will demand more energy, both on a daily basis and with regard to the overarching learning process. I hope, even so, that I will be able to carry some of this momentum into the coming months, or at least, be able to figure out which parts are important enough to continue and which parts can wait their turn. For now, I'm just going to enjoy my last few days or weeks of freedom.

*Fun fact: this is my 300th post on this blog. Hurray!

Today's Reads:
How the U.S. Went Fascist by Juan Cole
Staying Silent: Low-Income Students At Penn by Megan Russo
Taking the Hobbits to Isengard on Speculative Past
The Harms of Accepted, Wanted Advances by Jenny Saul
An Open Letter to Millennials Like Talia by Stefanie Williams
Why Bernie Can Win by Matt Karp
Fetal Cells May Protect Mom From Disease Long After The Baby's Born by Michaeleen Doucleff
A Ghost Among Us by Megan Michelson
Fernando Cardenal, RIP by Erik Loomis
Antonin Scalia and the Death of Originalism by Scott Lemieux
Why Is Richard Shelby Talking Like Bernie Sanders? by David Dayen
After Nevada, Will the GOP's Trump Denial Finally Break? by Brian Beutler
It's Trump's Race to Lose by Russell Berman
A Responsibility I Take Seriously by Barack Obama
Tribute: A Mentor and a Mensch--Remembering Justice Scalia by Danielle Sassoon
Debtor's Prison in 21st-Century America by Whitney Benns and Blake Strode

the laurels on which we rest; the shoulders on which we stand

If I had to put it into words, I would say
It was the hole in her shirt
When we stood there, uncomfortable
All in our sweat-soaked best,
Exchanging nervous pleasantries and
A grief for something dying.
(Maybe for the others there was
The joy of something new.
I don't know. I didn't feel it.)
The anxious hovering in the background,
The way he couldn't walk too fast,
And that moment, while
Trying to chop fruit,
When sweat changed to tears.
But they basically looked the same,
And it didn't matter that much.
It was a crescendo in the expression;
It was a day like any other.

Part II: The Democratic Man and the Numbers Game

"Go back to school," her father said. "All the Democratic Party has to do with Jefferson these days is put his picture up at banquets. Jefferson believed full citizenship was a privilege to be earned by each man, that it was not something given lightly nor to be taken lightly. A man couldn't vote simply because he was a man, in Jefferson's eyes. He had to be a responsible man. A vote was, to Jefferson, a precious privilege a man attained for himself in a—a live-and-let-live economy."
{Harper Lee, Go Set a Watchman}

For the first time since I turned 18 on election day in 2008, I'm planning to vote in a primary. And to be completely honest, I didn't actually vote in the 2012 presidential election, or the off-year election in 2010. I think I did end up voting last year, mostly because I had just spent a semester at Cambridge with someone who frequently got frustrated with her very English, very patronizing supervisor and would soapbox about the merits of the democratic ideal.

But throughout my years in college, I generally felt compelled not to vote. I was not, I hope, merely being lazy and failing to drive a half mile down the road to the elementary school. Rather, I had very little time, between juggling five classes and a part-time job, to properly research candidates and get some idea about who I should be voting for. I thought to myself that it was better not to vote at all than to cast a vote in ignorance.

If I weren't so concerned about the outcome of this year's election, I would probably still hold myself to that standard. And really, I think I am holding myself to that standard, except that I actually have had the time to make good on my aspirations to responsible politics. But reading that passage I've quoted above made me pause for a moment, because it's smack in the middle of the bit where Atticus comes out with the character of his racist sentiments, and I didn't want to agree with him. (Which is fair, I think—better to see your subconscious beliefs and question them, regardless of motive, as long as you're honest in your inquiry.)

We think of voting as a privilege, but one that ought to be open to all people. Since land ownership was removed as a qualification for voting, and African-Americans, women, and individuals under the age of 21 were admitted to the ranks of the eligible, it seems like the glow of accomplishment has worn off and there is a sense that there's nothing special to it. If anybody can do it, why does it matter if I do?

In my head, I want to make a comparison between voting and literacy. I've heard it said that for the first time in history, the vast majority of people in the West at least can read. And yet, poll after poll has shown that approximately 30% of the populace rarely or never read an entire book from cover to cover after high school (and maybe didn't in high school either). The phrase "post-literate society" has been thrown around, perhaps a bit too casually. The suggestion too that by making education for all and insisting on access to public schools has cheapened it in the eyes of the students.

I'm not sure if I'm prepared to stand behind these last explicantia, but in hindsight, it's an interesting comparison to make because those who tend to read books also tend to be more civically engaged, though of course this is a correlation and not a statement of causation.

The point I'm ultimately trying to get at is that we often talk as if the numbers were what counted. Journalists write headlines about record showings at the caucuses or for primaries, and everyone talks about Get Out the Vote initiatives and how many people are registered to vote in the area. The volume is made to seem significant.

But realistically, how many of these people voted straight ticket, or just listened to the opinions of someone authoritative with whom they generally agree, and then went and voted that way? It's not as shady as Chicago politicians slipping dollars to meatpackers, of course, but there's a certain similarity in that both are about the numbers and both rely on a lack of individual, critical thought on the part of the voter. Let Joe Everyman be led by a promise of remuneration or a promise of social inclusion, the result is the same.

I suppose it's ultimately a reflection of two aspects of government. On the one hand, it is meant to be as representative of the will of the people as possible (Ideally. No comment as to how true that actually is...). On the other hand, it's meant to govern said people as well as possible, and sometimes good governance means acknowledging the limits of its ability to express that will.

Insofar as you or I think that we and our interests are best represented by a particular candidate—or party—we may not be too concerned by the details of how those candidates actually intend to govern. If, however, we are concerned about longevity and about what is best for all concerned, then we might actually have to take some time to consider our options and research them as best we are able.

Ultimately, I guess I still side to some extent with Atticus on this question. Oh, I don't think we should set up, say, voter ID laws or poll taxes or any other restriction to ensure that voters are serious about the act of voting. The fact that they even show up seems miraculous in itself at times. But I do think that we are meant to do something more than merely nod our heads and go along with whatever the party we usually side with says. For one thing, we have only two major parties properly represented in the American political system, and that is a severe dearth of expression by contrast with the incredible range of opinions and beliefs that can be held by any one individual. For another, it matters not only who we choose, but also how we choose them, because the depth of our engagement and our willingness to challenge the establishment is our way of participating in a political process where we just don't get to speak as individuals. Even though I think the system has some serious and deep flaws, that doesn't give us an excuse to move to Canada and let the whole thing burn. Quite the contrary: that's when it's time to get serious, man or woman up, and actually try to change things. It might take a long time, but as a woman who lives beyond what many feminists of bygone decades dared to dream of, I kind of have to believe that, some day, it will work.

Today's Reads:
- Single Women Are Now the Most Potent Political Force in America by Rebecca Traister
- The Decline of the American Booklover by Jordan Weissman
- Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas Hasn't Asked a Question in Over a Decade by Jon Schuppe
- We Asked an Expert if Kanye West Could Possibly Be As Broke As He Says He Is by Sam Wolfson (Yes. I totally read this article.)
- The Stigma of Doing Things Alone by Christina Ling
- Looking Back by Jeffrey Toobin
- Bernie and the Millenials by Corey Robin