The Fallout III

So, a year has passed. Time goes more quickly the older you get, or seems to, which may be the same thing. It’s really a function of proportion. When you’re four, a year is a quarter of your life, when you’re thirty, well, one thirtieth. But it still feels to me like the last year has flown by. I have no reason to assume that it shouldn’t, for the reason stated above, as well as that fact that many other better and worse people I have known have lived and died; the world runs on regardless. But she was my mother.

I cannot bear to think of her now as she is – I omit to even continue the line of thought here. It is not something which I can do, and I believe it is not something which is even accurate. My mother is not the body lying beneath the ground now, nor is she anything so cold or gruesome; nor is she some silent spirit which guides me and my family through life, providing subtle but noticeable help in times of need. No, she is the memories in the minds of those she left behind, the way they act and the emotions they feel; she is the influence she left in all of us. The influence is strong, and it leads me to my next thought.

I feel like I have made little progress, or perhaps, that little progress is there to be made. Not in any arrogant sense; I wouldn’t claim that I have all the answers and have simply been recalling them as needed. What I mean is that I think my approach has been correct, and I don’t think it is circular to credit it to my mother in the first place. You see, I have looked at what happened, or rather, how I should deal with what happened, through the lens of how my mother would have advised me to, at least in a frame of mind context, rather than anything theological. (You know my thoughts on this aspect, and I won’t reiterate them here.)

The approach has been to remember the love, fun, and happiness, and to continue living as best I can, while improving myself through a study of those points of behaviour which my mother taught me have value, both through explanation and demonstration. (I doubt if she always knew she was teaching me, but as an example, I have had none better.) These have been the guidelines for me. I do not say that it has been without pain, without tears, without the comfort which, in similar circumstances, I would have looked to find in the one person who was necessarily unable to provide it. But, it has been the best way I can think of.

It is difficult if not impossible not to think of what could have been. It is hard to ignore the time lost, the empty hours of a life cut short, hours which will never gently sound her voice or bring to me the image of her smile. In remembering the good, my thoughts inevitably drift to these considerations, and I am melancholy. This is part of the process too, I think. It would be foolish to pretend otherwise. The pain will be what it will be, but my belief is that in the end it will lessen, to be eased away by memories of smiles and laughter, the indelible remnants of a life lived happily and well, and of love given freely and openly.

Time, as I have noted, goes on. I will not labour the point. Perhaps this chapter is closed, or set aside. I do not mean that my thoughts will turn or fade away. I only mean that I am determined to continue the approach I have started. Walking along that path I can foresee only success, made possible by the life and words of a woman who can never be forgotten.

Eugenics

The topic of eugenics, or ‘people husbandry’ as it has been called, is one which receives far less attention than it would have were it not for the nefarious influence of one A. Hitler and his ragtag band of genocidal maniacs some seventy years ago. The fact that the Nazis believed that they could create, from their own stock of course, a ‘master race’, and that they carried out many horrible experiments to that end, has inevitably made discussion of the concept sensitive, if not taboo, in many circles.

The fact remains, however, that prior to World War Two, and all the horrors which went along with it, eugenics was a highly popular idea, and was supported by many eminent scientists and thninkers of note, both in Europe and beyond. The modern ability to be aware of genetic disorders prior to birth, to manipulate genes in ways previously unthinkable, as well as the success of the Human Genome Project, means that the idea is due to come back to us in a big way, and no amount of social nicety will divert the power of science in this regard.

I would like to think about the issue in a way which ignores the negative connotations of the past, and focus on an examination of the rights and wrongs of various aspects of the practice. To be clear, eugenics is ‘the study of or belief in the possibility of improving the qualities of the human species or a human population, especially by such means as discouraging reproduction by persons having genetic defects or presumed to have inheritable undesirable traits (negative eugenics) or encouraging reproduction by persons presumed to have inheritable desirable traits (positive eugenics)’. I have borrowed this definition from dictionary.com.

To take the first aspect first, I think it is fairly clear to a Western sensibility, that forcing someone to have children with another, simply because it is believed that the resulting children will be genetically desirable, is not something we would consider morally right. Eastern philosophy, if you will, is more amenable to the idea of arranged (and sometimes forced) marriage, with all the inherent benefits which result (i.e. children). However, marriage and children are not interchangeable, and I think, for myself, I would take the position that forcing two people to have children with each other is not a practice which a just society would foster. Again, cultural considerations may cause differences of opinion on this regard.

The second aspect, discouraging, or prohibiting reproduction amongst certain individuals, is a murkier area. While many would take the view that people have a right to have children, I do not believe that this is the case, and I believe there is some value to the argument that people should be fit and able to provide for their children, before being permitted to bring them into the world. But this is far from saying potential parents should be genetically screened before being permitted to conceive. Eugenics goes even further than this, or it can, in the sense that it would prevent people with certain genetic defects (Down’s syndrome, Turner’s syndrome, muscular dystrophy and so on) from having children, thereby eventually eliminating these problems from the gene pool , and hence the population. Some of these defects are self-limiting, in the sense that those who have them cannot reproduce, and others are not. So, is it fair to prevent people with these defects from having children?

Any consideration of the question must necessarily involve a balance of the rights of the individual against the rights of the state (i.e. everyone else). To simply, let us assume the embryo growing inside a particular woman has been found to have Turner’s syndrome. Assuming it is early enough to abort, and assuming also that the woman herself wants to keep the child, then the child must be kept, because if I can say nothing else for certain, I can say that forced abortion is something I could never countenance. However, taking a step back from this, we must consider the ‘right’ of the parents to conceive a child in the first place. If genetic disorders could be eliminated, by preventing people who had them from, essentially, having sex, would this be a desirable option?

For myself, I am unsure. While I don’t believe people have the right to children, I think denying people children on the basis of their genes is a slippery slope. Should a woman married to someone with depression be prevented from having a child? What about a woman with a murderer for a husband (issues of conjugal visits aside)? The argument is moot for the moment, but should there come a time when we are able, through technology, to tell the likelihood that a particular couple will conceive a child which will suffer from cystic fibrosis, or phenylketonuria, or the desire to touch children; I say, should there come a time when we are able to tell this to a high degree of certainty for any given couple in the population at any time, then the question will have to be answered: do we allow such children life, or do we improve life for everyone else by denying them a chance at their own?

As I have said, it is hard to come to a satisfactory conclusion in this regard. It is hard to dispute that the human race would be measurably improved by the elimination of certain genes, certain characteristics, but as I mentioned, this is a tricky idea, in the sense of knowing where to stop. Do we soon weed out intolerance, or a melancholic disposition, known to be an attribute when settled in an artistic mind; do we remove dissatisfaction, and the inclination to protest? Manipulation of the gene pool could be a powerful tool in the hands of a technologically advanced fascistic regime. I guess this brings us back to the Nazis again. The ultimate question would be: who decides what is desirable, and what is not? Since we cannot agree on this at present, I find it hard to believe that we will ever have consensus on this in future. And if we are to embark upon a programme which would change the essence of who we are, before we begin, we’d better be damn sure we know who it is we want to become.

Monarchy

In an evolving modern world, the question of monarchy will eventually have to be addressed. To have people making major decisions for your country, and representing it at a national level (whether or not there is also an elected parliament), is simply undemocratic. Today’s monarchs, particularly in Europe, are the same as they always were: descendants of so-called ‘high’ families who strove to be even higher by attaining, for their own advancement, positions of power. These families were never elected by the people. In the past, they justified their position by invoking a ‘divine right’; nowadays, the arguments usually used are tourism, commerce, and tradition.

I’ll tackle the tradition argument first, as it is easily dispelled. You simply have to imagine a tradition which is so unfavourable as to have been discarded despite its hallowed past, or in fact, look to history. The long-standing tradition in which women could not vote, rather than being kept around due to its having been around for so long (or for other dubious merits which were applied to it during the suffrage years), had been done away with, tradition notwithstanding. Perhaps you could say this is not a true tradition, but what is tradition other than the habitual practice of some custom?

In terms of tourism, and indeed commerce, well, these are where strength of the argument truly lies. The monarchy should be kept, people argue, because they are good for the country. They generate wealth, revenue. This is not in dispute. The Queen of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and her family do much to enhance the international profile of the UK, and as well as their many and varied financial achievements, also contribute much to the worst-off of the nation via their charitable works. For this, we should applaud them.

However, there is a catch. Because these royals are the latest in a long line of power-grabbing families, whose real concern (in the past) had nothing to do with the people and everything to do with themselves; well, because of this, our only obligation to them now lies in their usefulness to us. Our decision about whether or not to retain a monarchy lies solely in their worth to the people, in how well they perform their job (and it is a job) of protecting, providing, and caring for the people. If they cease to do these things, they cease to be anything more than expensive showpieces.

When I say worth, I don’t mean of course, the worth of a person. That is another argument entirely. What I mean is the worth of the position. To take a fictional example: if there were an MP whose role was to ensure people apologised to each when spilling hot drinks, we might rightly protest that this position is unworthy of existence, and that the position should be dissolved and his or her salary channelled instead into health or education. This is what I mean about the worth of the royals. Currently they earn their keep. And you can be sure it is in their interest to keep it that way.

And don’t think they won’t be alright if the monarchy is dissolved. Part of the benefit of being a powerful family in charge of a nation for such a long time is the accumulation of wealth and property. Sure, a few things will be handed back, Buckingham Palace maybe, and the crown jewels, but it won’t be Child Benefit for Wills and Kate, of that you can be sure.

To be sure, none of the above takes into account the public’s love of the monarchy, much of it well-deserved based on the character of the people. Or the white trash propensity for styling their daughters princesses based on nothing more than sparkly clothes and wishful thinking. However, for me, an approach based on democratic rule and economic good sense must eventually force itself upon the nation, and it should never be the case that any leaders or rulers are beyond question.

Super Bowl XLVII

As far as I can recall, my first experience with American Football came thanks to my cousin's Sega Mega Drive, which, when it came out, was the coolest piece of equipment on the planet (and the controllers had three buttons). I cannot recall the name of the game, but I do remember him letting me play it for a while; I recall the intrigue I felt, and the thrill of a play successfully executed. Then, for years, nothing. New Zealand, like any country which is not the US, is not massively inundated with NFL news or coverage, and I grew up on a steady diet of football (real football, that is), and rugby.

About this situation, I have no complaints, since the above-mentioned sports are still my two favourites by far, and probably always will be. Like anyone who goes out into the world and lets themself be affected by it, I altered. Through my late teens and early twenties, as my tastes evolved and changed, I grew up and opened myself to new musical genres and new cuisines, and so too I began to watch different sports and see how I liked them. They weren't all great successes (see: handball), but the intrigue I held for 'gridiron', as it was sometimes known, remained, sown away in my mind, waiting for the right conditions to sprout.

As it turned out, the right conditions for sprouting were simply coverage of matches on TV accessible to me, and a team to get behind. One naturally followed the other. Since I discovered NFL on Sky Sports last year, and began randomly watching a game or two (or more accurately, a play or two, since the stop-start nature of the game at first annoyed me), I realised I was going to need a team to cheer for. It's just not really my style to watch a game and cheer for no one (unless it's two teams I hate, like Spurs and Liverpool).

So then, which team to choose. I don't want to look like a glory hunter, given yesternight's events, but I plumped for the Ravens. Well before they were a decent shout for the Super Bowl, mind you. Why? Well, for a start I am fascinated by Baltimore, due to my introduction to The Wire, and other media following on from that fantastic show. But also because ravens are excellent animals, one of my favourites. The final link in the chain was the Poe connection, which makes Baltimore an even more fascinating city still.

Fast forward through a great season and some exhilarating playoff games, to me sat nervously on the edge of my couch watching the Ravens give up seventeen straight points, having been comfortably 28-6 up on the other side of a freakish power cut. Even though I'd only been a fan of the team for a season, I already felt the rising tension that Ravens fans must have felt as the 49ers began to surge back into the game. The Ravens, though, held their nerve. They fought back with a couple of courageous plays, and their defence in the red zone during the final minutes was second to none. A smart move forcing a safety, a punt, and it was all over.

I cheered, but not too loudly, since everyone else in my flat was asleep at 4am, and waved my arms like a lunatic. What a ridiculously tense game, what a great performance by Lewis, Flacco, Bouldin, and Jones, as well as the rest of the Ravens lineup. Oh, and I hit three of my five bets, too, which helped make things even sweeter. I turned off the TV and sank into bed, tired but still buzzing from the excitement and sheer nervous energy of the last quarter. And as my brain finally submitted to sleep and I drifted off, I realised one thing: I'll always be a Ravens fan.

Snow

It so happens that there are times when the weather perfectly reflects your mood, and when this happens, to me at least, it puts me at a strange kind of ease with the world, and makes me understand how people could come to believe that the world was created with humans in mind, and is designed to make us feel content within it. However, a quick glance at nature in general reveals the opposite; we grew into the world, not the other way around. And therefore, for me, these rare moments are more a time for a kind of careless emotionalism, a kind of cathartic self-indulgence which is nonetheless necessary.

The emotions themselves can of course vary, and do, depending on the type of weather involved. Invariably the happiest is a blazing summer day, the most miserable a bitchy spring rain determined to get into your socks. But with snow, well, with snow, it's another kind of feeling altogether.

I was at work on Friday, and it snowed from ten until about three. I emerged from the office as the sun was brushing its teeth and preparing its hot water bottle, ready to slide of the edge of the earth and into bed; I walked through a landscape which, had it been a scene in a movie, the director would not have dared to spoil with music. Silence was the key. The hush, and stillness, which descends after a snowfall... well, in this instance it mirrored my mood, chilled and contemplative as it was.

Now, in general it is safe to say I am over snow. It's a pain in the ass, it gets in your face, and it puts the trains to sleep. And it causes (some) girls to screech irritably and run around like maniacs. I doubt this ill will will dissipate any time soon. But, there are times when snow and I get along. This moment was one. It allowed me a moment of serenity and soft introspection of a kind rarely found these days. I wandered through it, enjoying the squeak of my shoes, enjoying the spoiled trail my footprints left across the otherwise unbroken field behind me, enjoying pushing handfuls of the stuff from brick walls and tree branches.

I don't know why it should be so, but as I walked, I felt that there was a chance that I'd be okay. Perhaps it was the growing confidence with my work, or myself, perhaps it was the story ideas running around my head like noisy streams, perhaps it was simply the fact that it was Friday and I had left the workaday shit behind me for a few days. I was unable to find the reason, and I was uninclined to chase it around a snowy field. Instead, I drew a deep breath, took a picture of the scene in my mind, and allowed it to sit there, clean and unspoiled, as I walked away towards the city and my regular life.

Who wants to live forever?

On the face of it, there are many reasons to want to stick around. I am writing this sitting in a hotel in Paris, and one of the reasons which occurred to me first is that I could learn every language that has ever existed, or at least a hell of a lot of them. I mean, I did try Klingon when I was younger, but who has time for that these days? Is there a Rosetta Stone - Klingon? It would be fun to communicate with other nerds incognito. Then of course there's French, Spanish, and various dialects of English I haven't yet mastered.

Speaking of Klingons, one of the main reasons it would be great to live forever would be to see what the future is like. I read an article the other day which predicted the kinds of things we'll have in future, and I, for one, would love to be around when we finally perfect flying cars. And invisibility. And the holodeck (though I'm sure most people will use it for pornographic uses, rather than educational).

And speaking of tech, perhaps I could create some. I mean, I could study EVERYTHING. And you'd have to think, given enough time, I could become good enough at anything to be at least well-respected in the field. Perhaps I could cure cancer. Perhaps I could just live to see it cured. I would be an expert on quantum mechanics and the life cycle of the common house fly; I could invent the successor to the internet, or become the first man on Mars; I could form a world government, or abolish human trafficking worldwide. If I had enough time, what could I not achieve? Not to mention all the fun I could have. Adventures, and cultural experiences, and sex with strangers.

This is all assuming, of course, that my faculties hold. That my body doesn't simply continue to degrade to the point that I am a mere conscious husk of flesh. Unless you add this caveat, or something like it (perhaps a form of cloning, or invention of my consciousness uploaded to an android), infinite life begins to take on a horrible pallor. And that's not to mention the sheer drag of being alive sometimes. There are times even now when I cannot live with myself, when I get sick of the sound of my own thoughts bouncing around inside my skull, when I wish I could simply be elsewhere for a while. But how can one be elsewhere from oneself?

Even assuming vigour of mind and body, and a relative contentment with oneself, still problems arise. I say 'problems', but really I mean loved ones. They would need to be around, too. Imagine living on while your friends all passed away. Imagine watching your children grow old and die while you walked calmly through life unaffected. This, I think, would be the worst thing about being immortal, and surely it would be enough to drive anyone mad. Eventually, I think you would avoid making friends, for watching them blossom and decay in front of you would be too painful.

As hinted at above, I don't think the human mind is built for too long a term. We just don't have the capacity to go on forever, in the sense that it is inimical to our mental well-being. I don't mean that all older people are mentally ill, just that after a few hundred years, I think life would be an increasingly hard thing to deal with. Perhaps I am wrong, or wrong in certain cases, but certainly part of me knows and appreciates that I won't be around forever. The idea might be testable in a few hundred years, when technology and standards of living have lengthened our lives still further, but for now all we can do is speculate.

This leads me to the advantages of not living forever, apart from those, in a sense, described above. There are a lot of shitty things you won't have to do anymore, like ironing, and flossing, and being ill. You won't have to worry about work, or looking stupid in front of girls, or global warming, or cholesterol. And indeed, if I am correct in my supposition that being dead is exactly the same as not having been born (remember that? No, of course you don't), you won't have to worry about anything at all.

All of this is purely an intellectual exercise, since there is no way to offer anyone a real choice between death and immortality. At least, not at present. But the question remains: would you want to live forever? And it is an interesting question.

New Year's Resolutions

I'm not really a fan of New Year's resolutions, in the sense that a) if you're resolved about something, the year makes no difference, and if you're not, same goes, and also b) I usually fail the ones I make. Ok, well, perhaps reason b is the more honest reason.

It occurs to me that honesty must be behind any kind of change in attitude or behaviour, or it is doomed to failure. I mean this in the sense of a real understanding of oneself, one's motivations, intentions, and limitations. Temet nosce, and all that. It further occurs to me that I like to think of myself as honest with myself, but of course in many ways this sense of honesty is a lie.

We all know these kind of lies, too. I'll clean my room later, I'll only have one drink, I'll definitely call this girl after tonight. They creep up so easily, and indeed seem to true, in many cases, that one could be said to be prevailing in an Orwellian doublethink for much of one's adult existence. I am at the stage of my life where many of these habitual untruths have been painstakingly peeled away and thrown on the fire, but others grow deeper and are harder to root out.

In one of those horribly deep moments of introspection which comes with too much port (et al), it occurs to me that I have not really been clear with myself about my intentions for myself, even when I believed I was being. I understand this is all a little vague, but suffice it to say I have figured out some things which, when laid out plainly, I can't believe it took me so long to uncover. I mean, they were about as well hidden as Wally in the versions they make for people with visual impairment.

But of course the question: If I can't even be honest about how truthful I am with myself on a daily basis, how can I ever really hope to have meaningful achievements? Well, the next stage is to really examine what I want, and then figure out the lost realistic way to get it while still taking into account a realistic appraisal of myself. If I succeed, it will be a revolution of thinking the likes of which my brain has not seen since it threw off the shackles of a religious upbringing, and decided it was tired of another kind of doublethink.

So, what do I want? Let's stick to goals for 2013 for now, and see how that goes. Baby steps, people:

1) More money. This is not for the sake of money itself; in fact, it may seem disingenuous, but I hate money. It makes people ugly and gives them excuses to destroy each other. However, you gotta have it. More money will allow me to do some of the other things on the list.

2) Tying into number 1, is fulfilment at work. Yes, I know, everyone hates their job, or something like that, but the job I have now is a great opportunity for me to grow, and challenge myself, and all those cliches you trot out in an interview which (who knew?) turn out to be true. I have a chance to really be good at a job, whereas for the last few years perhaps I was cruising. I have a chance to kick some ass, and I intend to take it.

3) I need to write more. I know it's not always easy when you’re god-damn tired, and I definitely know it takes time and effort, but I want to get more done. If I form a habit, I can do a little more each week, and it all adds up. Even if it is just for the twenty or so people who pick my books up online. I have talent and it is going to waste. Yeah I said it.

4) Indulge less. A classic resolution. But really all I mean is if I can tweak my eating habits just a little more, and keep up my exercise, I can lose a bit more weight, and feel a whole lot better. That, and cut down on dem bad tings.

5) Confidence. This will come from success at work (and, sometimes, from mistakes), but mostly I mean chatting up birds. I have forgiven myself for the fact that I suck at it, but I'd like to make a little improvement, if at all possible. This one is the least likely of my ambitions; in this I do know myself.

6) Going back to money, in terms of the capacity it brings, I'd like to travel a bit more, tick off some of the countries on the to-do list, go home for Xmas, see friends get married, and so on and so forth. There is so much to see and so little time to see it.

7) Is that it? Well, lastly, save some money too. I haven't managed much of that recently, and it really needs to be looked into.

Ok, so, seven resolutions which could really be narrowed down to cash, confidence, health, and fitness. Hmmm... now the part where I evaluate whether I can achieve them. Again, they are things I think are achievable, and I do have a history of setting my mind to certain things, but the only real answer, for now, is we will see. Roll on 2013.