And does us all a great service, by providing a concrete, graphical representation of polibabble.
I know I'm beating a dead horse here, but the speech is even worse than I thought, chock full of factual and grammatical errors to go along with the inherent nonsense of the content. Note to Republicans - this is why liberals don't care that Obama uses a teleprompter (to deliver speeches that he's written himself, I might add). We want our President to sound polished.
The damage is here
For a good challenge,see how many lines you can go without a laugh. My first chuckle came when she screwed up the history of the very state she served as governor.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
This Is All Funny Until It Begins To Get Dangerous
Imagine if a Democrat politician had said something like this during the Bush administration. The question "Do the Republicans know what they're doing?" takes on new dimensions every day.
H/T: Jed at Daily Kos
Around the Culture-sphere
This week in culture writing and news:
James Walcott reveals every literary geek's darkest secret.
Ok, you got me. This is why as long as my wife is forcing me to read books with titles like "The Art of Getting Things Done," I'll either a. be refraining from reading on the subway or b. be using a bookcover. The Kindle is looking pretty attractive right now.
But then again, there's this.
Oh literary irony, must you always be so obvious...?
Meanwhile, Roger Ebert reveals his greatest regret in life
Was it...
A. Not wishing colon cancer back on Vincent Gallo?
B. Giving a poor review to A Clockwork Orange?
C. Hiring Roeper?
or D. Never having won the New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest?
As Roger says, if you answered D, there's gifts awaiting you.
Anyway, Roger, I wouldn't take it so personally. It's probably just because you're from Chicago.
James Walcott reveals every literary geek's darkest secret.
Ok, you got me. This is why as long as my wife is forcing me to read books with titles like "The Art of Getting Things Done," I'll either a. be refraining from reading on the subway or b. be using a bookcover. The Kindle is looking pretty attractive right now.
But then again, there's this.
Oh literary irony, must you always be so obvious...?
Meanwhile, Roger Ebert reveals his greatest regret in life
Was it...
A. Not wishing colon cancer back on Vincent Gallo?
B. Giving a poor review to A Clockwork Orange?
C. Hiring Roeper?
or D. Never having won the New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest?
As Roger says, if you answered D, there's gifts awaiting you.
Anyway, Roger, I wouldn't take it so personally. It's probably just because you're from Chicago.
The Human Desire for Order
My good friend Agraphia Agraphia(or as he sometimes prefers to be called: "The Great Granddaddy of Funk") has a fascinating post up about an old development in Hong Kong called Hak Nam that was abandoned by both British and Chinese authorities for over 50 years, prompting its development into a self contained, literal urban jungle where streets and buildings sprung up with no planning and, from the sound of things, little contact with or regard for those outside of its walls.
This reminded me of an exhibition I attended recently at the Cooper-Hewitt National Museum of Design which focused on tulou, an ancient Chinese model of development involving circular, top-down, self sustaining villages. Urban planners in China have been returning to the idea of the tulou as a solution to the problem of mass migration from the countryside into the country's overcrowded cities and the subsequent housing problems that have emerged.
In many ways the tulou stands on the opposite end of the spectrum from Hak Nam though both employ an enclosed, vertical orientation. The tulou is perfectly calculated, wholly intuitive, a product of man's desire to have everything they need available in close proximity and accessible with minimal effort. One imagines that the communities that live within them are invariably conventional and close knit, an outcrop of their environment.
Hak Nam on the other hand has been romanticized as an anarchist's paradise, a place where people lived without boundaries or inhibitions, be they creative or otherwise. While this prospect certainly provides riper fruit for the imagination, the question remains as to which is more natural.
While uninhibited, unorganized growth is certainly a feature of nature itself, in human hands, the results tend to be less than ideal. I grew up in the suburbs of Houston, Texas, and it's hard to imagine a more perfect realization of the American ideal of decentralization. Yet far from a paradise of individualism and undefined creativity, the surroundings have produced only more conformity, more pressure to succumb to pressure from the top. New York on the other hand, with its rectangular grid, strict zoning, and centuries old neighborhoods has always been a beacon of diversity and eccentricity, place where citizens feel comparatively empowered and motivated to take action (it's hard to imagine neighborhood residents in Texas coming together to stop construction on an apartment complex. I don't even think there's a mechanism for them to voice their complaints). Like the human skeleton, the arranged streets provide a vessel for living tissue.
This leads me to believe that artists may have been looking at order in the wrong way. For better or worse, a majority of human beings have an aversion to violence (at least in their immediate person) and an impulse to group together. We are happy when we are at peace with our environment and free of stress from outside sources. You could even go as far as to say that the only way humans can achieve this sense of freedom from coercion is by being organized enough that the power of these outside influences is checked. In this way, one card argue that laws protect freedom, not encroach on it, by constraining the actions of people who hold power.
The same goes with regards to creativity. We often assume that systems exert a force that negates creativity. This is not necessarily the case. Systems can be used to refine and strengthen creativity. The great mistake that many without creativity have made, and the one which is the true source of annoyance for those who have it, is not to say that systems and creativity can coincide but that systems can be used to generate it.
Great art often comes from the most boring of places. Markets free of regulation have done little to encourage the diversification of business. These statements are at once paradoxical and ,in my opinion , indisputable. I wonder if we would have enjoyed meeting the people who actually lived inside the walls of Hak Nam.
This reminded me of an exhibition I attended recently at the Cooper-Hewitt National Museum of Design which focused on tulou, an ancient Chinese model of development involving circular, top-down, self sustaining villages. Urban planners in China have been returning to the idea of the tulou as a solution to the problem of mass migration from the countryside into the country's overcrowded cities and the subsequent housing problems that have emerged.
In many ways the tulou stands on the opposite end of the spectrum from Hak Nam though both employ an enclosed, vertical orientation. The tulou is perfectly calculated, wholly intuitive, a product of man's desire to have everything they need available in close proximity and accessible with minimal effort. One imagines that the communities that live within them are invariably conventional and close knit, an outcrop of their environment.
Hak Nam on the other hand has been romanticized as an anarchist's paradise, a place where people lived without boundaries or inhibitions, be they creative or otherwise. While this prospect certainly provides riper fruit for the imagination, the question remains as to which is more natural.
While uninhibited, unorganized growth is certainly a feature of nature itself, in human hands, the results tend to be less than ideal. I grew up in the suburbs of Houston, Texas, and it's hard to imagine a more perfect realization of the American ideal of decentralization. Yet far from a paradise of individualism and undefined creativity, the surroundings have produced only more conformity, more pressure to succumb to pressure from the top. New York on the other hand, with its rectangular grid, strict zoning, and centuries old neighborhoods has always been a beacon of diversity and eccentricity, place where citizens feel comparatively empowered and motivated to take action (it's hard to imagine neighborhood residents in Texas coming together to stop construction on an apartment complex. I don't even think there's a mechanism for them to voice their complaints). Like the human skeleton, the arranged streets provide a vessel for living tissue.
This leads me to believe that artists may have been looking at order in the wrong way. For better or worse, a majority of human beings have an aversion to violence (at least in their immediate person) and an impulse to group together. We are happy when we are at peace with our environment and free of stress from outside sources. You could even go as far as to say that the only way humans can achieve this sense of freedom from coercion is by being organized enough that the power of these outside influences is checked. In this way, one card argue that laws protect freedom, not encroach on it, by constraining the actions of people who hold power.
The same goes with regards to creativity. We often assume that systems exert a force that negates creativity. This is not necessarily the case. Systems can be used to refine and strengthen creativity. The great mistake that many without creativity have made, and the one which is the true source of annoyance for those who have it, is not to say that systems and creativity can coincide but that systems can be used to generate it.
Great art often comes from the most boring of places. Markets free of regulation have done little to encourage the diversification of business. These statements are at once paradoxical and ,in my opinion , indisputable. I wonder if we would have enjoyed meeting the people who actually lived inside the walls of Hak Nam.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
Best. Character Endorsement. Ever.
"[Sarah Palin] speaks her mind. She's an incredible lady, but um, there are times that she's not up-front with everybody, but for the most part she is.... She means a lot to me. I do just about anything for her, but I really don't think I'd vote for her if she ran for President," - Levi Johnston.
(Hat Tip -The Daily Dish and CQ
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Of Orwell and Polibabble
All of us have heard the word psycho-babble - that derogative term used to ridicule the co-opting of psychological jargon by self-help gurus and the strange, numb recitation of those same words by their followers. Believing they were helping confront a particularly American variety of neuroses, these would-be mentors instead became a key component of the overall madness. Babble is distinguished by its lack of resonance, for the way in which it falls from the lips, not flat but with discord, cacophony. Nothing can produce more bodily discomfort in the listener than hearing some middle aged man or woman attempt to explain away their divorce and unemployment as having stemmed from "lack of synergy with their reptilian brain and a need for holistic empowerment."
The idea that imprecise language leads to sloppy thinking is neither new nor confined to TV therapy. Recently, I decided to revisit George Orwell's 1946 essay " Politics and the English Language" to see what sorts of insights it can offer on our modern discourse. The piece is one of Orwell's shorter missives but it acts as a key to much of his other work and has long been a personal favorite. Orwell was a champion of clarity and in an early passage, he offers this description of the political language of the 40's:
"This mixture of vagueness and sheer incompetence is the most marked
characteristic of modern English prose, and especially of any kind of
political writing.
As soon as certain topics are raised, the concrete melts into the
abstract and no one seems able to think of turns of speech that are
not hackneyed: prose consists less and less of words chosen for the
sake of their meaning, and more and more of phrases tacked together
like the sections of a prefabricated henhouse.."
It doesn't take much of an effort to think of areas where this description could be applied today. We live in an era where politicians and pundits alike have lost the ability (or rather the desire) to convey policy to their constituents in a concrete manner; where even basic terms like freedom, law, public, and private, take on loaded connotations in skilled hands, while at the same time corrupting and closing off the very outlet these words once offered to those who hoped to escape from under the thumb of an abusive power structure.
For Orwell, the confusion proffered by men of influence was an intentional one, designed to distract their audience from brutal truths they might otherwise oppose. Today's sleight of hand, though, is not used so much to deflect but, as mentioned above, to disable. Regardless of what one thinks of the economic viability or comparative disadvantages of single payer healthcare, to say that at least a small, select portion of the population would stand to gain from its implementation is a modest, even timid, observation. And yet it was in great part this same portion of the population that stood in opposition to health care reform in the 1990's, driven on by a squadron of republican sooth sayers who spoke bold prophesies of the dangers of "socialized medicine" and told us ominously that "big government would soon be dictating all decisions regarding our health and well being."
This ability to control the terms of debate was one of the master strokes of the modern conservative movement. How does one govern when government in and of itself is inherently bad? The frame left little room for social and economic change. Challenging what one perceived an unjust law became "legislating from the bench"; attempts to regulate business were no longer seen as a way for society to leverage power over corporations and force them to take responsibility for the effects of their actions, but rather fell under the maligned umbrella of " bureaucratic red tape." By the time the conservatives were finished, liberal policies were opposed not only for their specifics but for their goals. Any attempt to use government to better the lives of the public was rejected in principle.
This is, of course, what people mean when they describe the Obama administration as "socialist" or "communist." It's not that they actually find anything threatening in the specifics of say, repealing the Bush tax cuts, but that the very idea of progressive taxation represents some antithesis of the American way of life, where people are supposed to be "free" enough to became as rich as they like. In their minds, giving into the ideals behind income redistribution takes us down the dreaded "slippery slope" (If Orwell was alive today, this particular idiom would surely have made his list of what he called "dying metaphors.)" So the song goes, so it has been sung, to great effect. Until now.
The great mistake that cost the right the presidency and control of both houses of congress was that they failed to see they way in which government involvement in American life was losing its once apocalyptic image. After Hurricane Katrina, it became obvious that some tasks are big enough that only the state can handle be relied upon to handle them. Suddenly, a world of individual responsibility carried new anxieties. People wanted a safety net. And after the stock market crash of 2008, it appeared that the rules of the road created under Roosevelt were not as expendable as they once seemed. But instead of grasping this shift and adjusting accordingly, the right clung desperately to its old stock phrases and customary fix-alls. By election day, John McCain looked more and more like a ventriloquist's doll left alone on stage with noone to give him voice.
I am far from the first person to note that today's Republican party is standing on the edge of irrelevance. But what many in the media have failed to notice is that the conservative ideas that formed the core of the party's image have also lost their sting. Conservatives would like us to believe that the Republican party lost out because it turned its back on its principles. This is the preferred lament of writers in places like The Daily Beast or National Review. Bush
"expanded the size of government" rather than contract it. He bought into a "liberal" foreign policy that sought to reconstruct heaven in the heat of the desert sun. This explanation can only make sense if we accept the premise that Bush's galactic budget deficits were the result of spending on social programs, rather than the truth which is that the money was used to fund a war that was supported by nearly every one of these same pundits, right until the moment they realized the public had lost their will to continue.
While it would be wishful thinking for this liberal to describe conservative thought as dead and buried, the ugly reality for those on the right is that the language they have used to communicate those ideas is, in fact, on the verge of demise. While the old magic spells still hold sway over an increasingly small, and increasingly myopic slice of the social and ethnic pie, it's going to take a fresh set of angles to convince the public that they deserve a seat at the table once again. Until then, we are left with a scrappy band of congressman whose only interest is in maintaining control of the narrow constituency that elected them, and a frightening group of second generation true believers, for whom the rhetoric of Reagan and Gingritch has taken on an air of religious fervor. Like the disciples of psychobabble, they hold little understanding of the texts from which that rhetoric springs. They would feel as uncomfortable holding the books of Milton Friedman as they would John Meynard Keynes and yet they speak with unsettling conviction of the "free market" and "rational economics." It would not be right to refer to these utterances as actual words, rather they can only be termed as polibabble, a ridiculous amalgam of political soup that is so disconnected from reality it approaches the heights of performance art.
The word polibabble has been used for some time by the right to belittle the empty liberal rhetoric that survived too long past the Johnson era. But it seems they forgot that petards have a habit of hoisting the engineer who laid them. The speakers of modern conservative polibabble are as ridiculous and rife for parody as were the hippies at Woodstock who told everyone that if they concentrated their energies they could the rain, or the western marxists of the early 20th century who, as Orwell rightly pointed out, failed to provide an original vocabulary that would hold some meaning for their audience and instead relied on phrases translated from Russian that carried the entire operation into the abstract. When Russians spoke of "white guard" and "revolutionary struggle" the words carried a specific meaning. In the hands of rich American teenagers, they became grating poetry. Sarah Palin should be so lucky.
The idea that imprecise language leads to sloppy thinking is neither new nor confined to TV therapy. Recently, I decided to revisit George Orwell's 1946 essay " Politics and the English Language" to see what sorts of insights it can offer on our modern discourse. The piece is one of Orwell's shorter missives but it acts as a key to much of his other work and has long been a personal favorite. Orwell was a champion of clarity and in an early passage, he offers this description of the political language of the 40's:
"This mixture of vagueness and sheer incompetence is the most marked
characteristic of modern English prose, and especially of any kind of
political writing.
As soon as certain topics are raised, the concrete melts into the
abstract and no one seems able to think of turns of speech that are
not hackneyed: prose consists less and less of words chosen for the
sake of their meaning, and more and more of phrases tacked together
like the sections of a prefabricated henhouse.."
It doesn't take much of an effort to think of areas where this description could be applied today. We live in an era where politicians and pundits alike have lost the ability (or rather the desire) to convey policy to their constituents in a concrete manner; where even basic terms like freedom, law, public, and private, take on loaded connotations in skilled hands, while at the same time corrupting and closing off the very outlet these words once offered to those who hoped to escape from under the thumb of an abusive power structure.
For Orwell, the confusion proffered by men of influence was an intentional one, designed to distract their audience from brutal truths they might otherwise oppose. Today's sleight of hand, though, is not used so much to deflect but, as mentioned above, to disable. Regardless of what one thinks of the economic viability or comparative disadvantages of single payer healthcare, to say that at least a small, select portion of the population would stand to gain from its implementation is a modest, even timid, observation. And yet it was in great part this same portion of the population that stood in opposition to health care reform in the 1990's, driven on by a squadron of republican sooth sayers who spoke bold prophesies of the dangers of "socialized medicine" and told us ominously that "big government would soon be dictating all decisions regarding our health and well being."
This ability to control the terms of debate was one of the master strokes of the modern conservative movement. How does one govern when government in and of itself is inherently bad? The frame left little room for social and economic change. Challenging what one perceived an unjust law became "legislating from the bench"; attempts to regulate business were no longer seen as a way for society to leverage power over corporations and force them to take responsibility for the effects of their actions, but rather fell under the maligned umbrella of " bureaucratic red tape." By the time the conservatives were finished, liberal policies were opposed not only for their specifics but for their goals. Any attempt to use government to better the lives of the public was rejected in principle.
This is, of course, what people mean when they describe the Obama administration as "socialist" or "communist." It's not that they actually find anything threatening in the specifics of say, repealing the Bush tax cuts, but that the very idea of progressive taxation represents some antithesis of the American way of life, where people are supposed to be "free" enough to became as rich as they like. In their minds, giving into the ideals behind income redistribution takes us down the dreaded "slippery slope" (If Orwell was alive today, this particular idiom would surely have made his list of what he called "dying metaphors.)" So the song goes, so it has been sung, to great effect. Until now.
The great mistake that cost the right the presidency and control of both houses of congress was that they failed to see they way in which government involvement in American life was losing its once apocalyptic image. After Hurricane Katrina, it became obvious that some tasks are big enough that only the state can handle be relied upon to handle them. Suddenly, a world of individual responsibility carried new anxieties. People wanted a safety net. And after the stock market crash of 2008, it appeared that the rules of the road created under Roosevelt were not as expendable as they once seemed. But instead of grasping this shift and adjusting accordingly, the right clung desperately to its old stock phrases and customary fix-alls. By election day, John McCain looked more and more like a ventriloquist's doll left alone on stage with noone to give him voice.
I am far from the first person to note that today's Republican party is standing on the edge of irrelevance. But what many in the media have failed to notice is that the conservative ideas that formed the core of the party's image have also lost their sting. Conservatives would like us to believe that the Republican party lost out because it turned its back on its principles. This is the preferred lament of writers in places like The Daily Beast or National Review. Bush
"expanded the size of government" rather than contract it. He bought into a "liberal" foreign policy that sought to reconstruct heaven in the heat of the desert sun. This explanation can only make sense if we accept the premise that Bush's galactic budget deficits were the result of spending on social programs, rather than the truth which is that the money was used to fund a war that was supported by nearly every one of these same pundits, right until the moment they realized the public had lost their will to continue.
While it would be wishful thinking for this liberal to describe conservative thought as dead and buried, the ugly reality for those on the right is that the language they have used to communicate those ideas is, in fact, on the verge of demise. While the old magic spells still hold sway over an increasingly small, and increasingly myopic slice of the social and ethnic pie, it's going to take a fresh set of angles to convince the public that they deserve a seat at the table once again. Until then, we are left with a scrappy band of congressman whose only interest is in maintaining control of the narrow constituency that elected them, and a frightening group of second generation true believers, for whom the rhetoric of Reagan and Gingritch has taken on an air of religious fervor. Like the disciples of psychobabble, they hold little understanding of the texts from which that rhetoric springs. They would feel as uncomfortable holding the books of Milton Friedman as they would John Meynard Keynes and yet they speak with unsettling conviction of the "free market" and "rational economics." It would not be right to refer to these utterances as actual words, rather they can only be termed as polibabble, a ridiculous amalgam of political soup that is so disconnected from reality it approaches the heights of performance art.
The word polibabble has been used for some time by the right to belittle the empty liberal rhetoric that survived too long past the Johnson era. But it seems they forgot that petards have a habit of hoisting the engineer who laid them. The speakers of modern conservative polibabble are as ridiculous and rife for parody as were the hippies at Woodstock who told everyone that if they concentrated their energies they could the rain, or the western marxists of the early 20th century who, as Orwell rightly pointed out, failed to provide an original vocabulary that would hold some meaning for their audience and instead relied on phrases translated from Russian that carried the entire operation into the abstract. When Russians spoke of "white guard" and "revolutionary struggle" the words carried a specific meaning. In the hands of rich American teenagers, they became grating poetry. Sarah Palin should be so lucky.
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