Mark @ 171
No worries at all. I think for a lot of people in this thread, myself included, what started out as an illuminating discussion got heavy very quickly. And it is true that, in my desire to look at the issue from every angle I could think of, I was getting dangerously close to "blame the victim" land. Xopher and you made sure as hell I didn't stay there though! :) Seriously, thanks to you both.
How quickly and how close I strayed into that territory, though, is part of what is rattling me about this whole topic. I was bullied, and maybe I've just come across another scar from it that I never noticed before.
I'll quiet down on this topic for a while, maybe go read about spaceships or something cerebral for a while and then come back and see what y'all have come up with.
Xopher @ 159 and Janet Croft @163
Gandhi could do it -- offer up his own body to physical harm until his abusers had a moral awakening. A non-violent adult religious martyr can do it, choosing escape from the game through death, even.
In fact, despite the spicy, seductive quality of Carse's thought, which aims to transform abuse into voluntary suffering through thought alone, I am beginning to wonder how all ennobling philosophy, Christian, Buddhist, etc. applies to the suffering of children at all. Even Taoism, with its cult of unrefined virtue, demands adulthood to really work.
I will just go ahead and say right now that while I think Carse's reading, and the general idea that we can learn from bullies, is potentially very powerful for grownups with memories of bullying or with grownup opponents, it just doesn't work for young people. Can you sit down and teach a nine-year old how to be a stoic, or a Nietzschean, or a Buddhist?
Xopher @ 158
I have scoured my memory, and though I can come up with a host of moments, none of them are of such physical bullying, no. I can remember the threat on several occasions, but never the reality. Thank you for your candor.
By invoking the world of children you've done two things:
1) Uncovered a thicket of questions which I need to take some time to think about.
2) Awakened some strong emotions which I need some time to process. I was never physically bullied, but I suffered all the other kinds for years. It's amazing how gulfs of time can be erased by this issue.
And for some reason I can't stop thinking of Ursula LeGuin's short story "Those Who Walk Away From Omelas." There might be some answers there. I'll reread it tonight.
Any theorizing I've been doing in this thread is in the interests of figuring out how to liberate ways of thinking about (or remembering) bullies. I don't mean to trivialize what you, Xopher, or anybody else has suffered.
Whew. This is the first conversation I've ever really waded deep into here at Making Light (though I've been a lurker for years), and the candor, rigor, and civility of this community are indeed singular in my internet experience.
heresiarch @ 155
Another interesting wrinkle. Even if the game has more than just the two players, there is still, shall we say, a shared horizon, a shared gameboard between the bully and his victim. I am in no way exonerating the behavior of the bully here, but I am saying that in order to be a victim of bullying, you have to buy into the (always impoverished, oppressive, or otherwise odious) terms of play as the bully defines them. The bullying can be done to defeat the victim or exalt the bully in comparison to others, but the play must still be engaged in by the victim.
Example:
Two people enter a room, where they are told by a third person, quite unexpectedly, that they can either choose between a fine or a physical punishment. The victim chooses one. The non-victim simply leaves the room. Whether the performace was enacted for the benefit of an observer does not change the dynamic.
99 people out of a hundred will stay in the room, and every bully knows this.
To all who responded to my post about Finite and Infinite Games, I didn't mean to create a thread where I explain Carse's book. I've responded below, but I'll point you to this amazing talk, where Carse does a much better job than I can of explaining his ideas.
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-962221125884493114#
Reading his book, which is pure philosophy and not self-help, actually did help me deal with some grown-up bullies who were spoiling a part of my life.
Lee @ 132
Carse defines social prestige as a kind of prize, and prizes are always the reward for winning a finite game. Infinite players are always willing to mess with the definitions of victory. Finite players want their victory to last forever.
Xopher @ 136 and Carrie S. @ 140
Yes, Carrie says what I would've said.
However -- and I just remembered this -- another characteristic of a finite game is that both players in some sense have to agree to it. Carse says "Those who are forced to play cannot play." It's another way of phrasing that most infuriating statement: "Well, you wouldn't be picked on if you didn't let them." Both the bullied person and the bully have to share the same conditions for victory -- otherwise the bully wouldn't be able to win because there would be no game.
albatross @ 135
Fascinating. I never thought about the lame duck predicament as a function of reduced capacity to wield punishment and reward. Essentially, reduced power to successfully conclude a series of short, finite games. I wonder if a president could succeed in playing with the rules enough to retain power in those final months ...
Lee at 104
"when he has nothing more of use to teach you" Yep, that is what I meant. I guess I was trying to be as gnomic and efficient in my language as Marcus Aurelius. My point was that, in my experience, the bullied individual has to come to the awareness on their own -- painful, but true. In that sense, the bully becomes a kind of "teacher" in the way that all adversity can teach. You don't know the lesson is over until just after it's over, until it has no more power over you.
heresiarch et al,
for the entire thread: A book that I really wish I could use to discuss bullying with all you clever people:
Finite and Infinite Games by James P. Carse.
Basic premise: there are (at least) two kinds of games. Finite games, in which the players seek to end the game by winning, and infinite games, where the players seek to keep the game going at all costs.
Premise for debate: Bullies are always playing the finite game.
for Emily H. @ #236
"The only people opposed to escape are the jailors"
-Tolkien
And what about the idea of being a versatile reader?
Sorry, couldn't resist. But seriously, it does provide a compelling metaphor for what goes on when I choose to pick up Henry James v. P.D. James, say.
Avram@70 on Asimov servicing his own kink.
This explains both his output (what else but a compulsive activity could've produced so much) and the occasional whiff of unexplainable creepiness I get from his books, that stale odor of old cigars and uncirculated air, of being not unwelcome as a reader, but not totally necessary either.
"For me, writing is just thinking out loud," Asimov once said.
JackWomack @190 on being a power bottom.
First, wow. Second, I am eyeing the copy of "Going, Going, Gone" on the shelf over my head somewhat suspicioulsy now.
Sean @59 on tops and bottoms
I will never quite think about reading in the same way. A new piece of mental furniture added, thank you.
But I have to ask, what about those bottoms, power bottoms especially (thank you Mr. Womack, for giving me permission to use that term here on Making Light) who are secretly in control of the relationship, getting all the satisfaction they want, all the protection, and all the while leading their partner to new places. I think, if Gene Wolfe, for example is any kind of bottom, he is that kind. I can't believe I just typed that. I mean, this is a guy whose major work is about a torturer with some serious kinks to work out, right? All the masks and hidden sexual violence of Severian. It all makes sense now ...
Sean @ #157
I am a veteran of the Yale English department, and that article took me straight back to my dark days of befuddlement and confusion under the tutelage of the corrosive, joyless sophistry that passes for a literary education at Yale. And to the moments of inspiration that are, perhaps, brighter in contrast.
Three things saved me from hating books forever, and I hope Yale never abandons them.
1) English 125. It's a survey of major English poets and the syllabus hasn't changed too much since the curriculum was set by T.S. Eliot in the 1920s. Hearing the first 45 lines of Paradise Lost read aloud in class was a conversion experience for me. And so was having to memorize the first 20 or so lines of the Canterbury Tales. Depsite their best efforts to destory the joy of reading, Yale's English Professors are still powerless in the face of the actual poetry. I hope they never stop making this class and its syllabus a requirement. Getting an English degree is still worth it for the forced exposure to difficult books--they change you, their power is unassailable, immune to the periodic waves of nonsense that lap at every society.
2) Science Fiction & Science Fact. This was a science class I took because it was easy. You had to read Sci-Fi novels and then write a paper or two about the scientific concepts in them. On the syllabus was "Foundation" by Isaac Asimov. And, after I read it, my life was never the same. That class gave me a deeper, more honest love of books than anything I encountered in the English department. Somehow, Asimov struck me as a continuation of reading Milton in a way that all the criticism I had to read just wasn't.
3) The Elizabethan Club. A private club on campus grounds where graduate students can mix with undergrads and professors to have unpretentious, interested discussions of whatever, and tea every day from 4-6. There's also a kick-ass rare book vault that's open one day of the week. I learned more about the realities of academic life (which I subsequently avoided as a profession), and about the world of ideas than I ever did in class. Yale used to be filled with literary societies, which were all bought by the university and turned into office buildings for faculty. I can only hope this one stays open as long as the University does. Yes, only a small number of selected students get to enjoy it, but otherwise it would be swamped. Yale needs more clubs like this.
What makes this debate so compelling, and enduring?
1) We have all invested a great deal of time reading books. We want to make sure we have read the best ones -- the ones that will enrich our lives and spirits.
2) We are all secretly concerned that literature is a failing enterprise anyway, and we hope that by restoring the qualities it had during the 19th century, what Ursula LeGuin called "The Century of the Book," it might once again reclaim it's place as the main focus of cultural energy.
3) We are all nerds who love categorizing and recategorizing the books in our heads just for the sake of it, dammit!
4) Somewhere at the intersection of the taxonomizing of literary tribes, wondering how books work, and evaluating what effects literature has on our minds -- there is a set of instructions, or the shape of a posture towards life, that is profoundly liberating and joyful, and if we just keep talking about it enough, we might find out what it is.
Deep thanks to Patrick for this post -- I was almost convinved by Grossman, but I couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere in his article, I'd been had.
And finally, I direct all perplexed readers to "The Superstitous Ethics of the Reader" by Borges. It's three pages on style v. substance that'll change the way you think about this question forever.
David @22:
Once an oppressed person decides to stop agreeing to a set of rules that denies them their freedom, the price of doing so becomes strangely unimportant, even if that price is their body or even their life.
Anybody with a toddler-age child understands this.
But seriously, to bring in a little SFnal wisdom. From Starship Troopers:
"This very personal relationship, "value", has two factors for a human being: first, what he can do with a thing, its use to him … and second, what he must do to get it, its cost to him. There is an old song which asserts that "the best things in life are free". Not true! Utterly false! This was the tragic fallacy which brought on the decadence and collapse of the democracies of the twentieth century; those noble experiments failed because the people had been led to believe that they could simply vote for whatever they wanted … and get it, without toil, without sweat, without tears."
That is the insight at the center of nonviolent AND violent protest. Actual protest, not just marching in parades--though that can be fun. (Happy Pride, everybody!)
Gandhi risked his life just as much as any soldier. MLK paid with his. It wasn't because they were backed by violence; it was because they were backed by the moral equivalent of violence -- the absolute authority that comes from anybody who is willing to give up their life to preserve their vision.
People pay attention to that. On the surface, it might seem to be about force, but underneath it's really about recognizing who is bad-ass enough to change the rules no matter what. Those people always win. And those people are always rare, be they soldiers or martyrs.
Drag queens decide every day when they leave the house: safety or freedom. That's why they led the charge, because they already knew the price.
If you live in New York, all of these things are a slam dunk. Except the porch, but we have stoops, which function like porches sometimes.
New Yorkers out there, what are some extra ways to save America?
“There is no consistent character profile of the parent who does this to his or her child.â€
Or, as Xopher at #169 says “importance is only one factor in whether you forget something.â€
After I recovered from the emotional shock of this article, I couldn’t help but agree even more with David Allen, Merlin Mann, etc. who tell us to hack own weaknesses instead of judging them– sometimes the productive way to see personal behavior is as a pattern. Judging yourself for the pattern is a waste of time because it doesn’t change the pattern – i.e. it’s impossible to blame yourself into remembering your keys, you have to find a practical, external way to short circuit your pattern of forgetting.
For me, it’s unpacking my bag when I get home – all of it, even if it’s something I’ve taken with me every day for years. It all goes on the same shelf. Every time. If the shelf’s not empty before I leave for the day, I know I’m forgetting something. If I need to remember something in the morning, it goes on the shelf the night before.
I’ve read about some people who throw their keys onto the front porch of the house – if they don’t hear that metallic clunk before the door closes, their brain tells them something is wrong.
The key is realizing that details are always important, no matter how big or small the task is.
Sometimes life hacks are life-saving hacks, you never know, (heresiarch @ 141, I am sure you agree)
Fragano at #161
Ah, yes. A fellow teacher of mine has the best metaphor for student writing:
"You ask for a simple machine; they hand you a jar of iron filings."
As for that first quotation, I think there's a whole new novel in there: Emma meets the three fates!
-pretending to know who Luciano Berrio was for ten minutes.
-I thought the brown-haired boy who worked at Forbidden Planet was cute, so I let him talk me into reading this odd looking book called "Neuromancer."
-being assigned to Branford.
-My grandpa not throwing out a box he found in the garage in 1988. It contained the entire "Trixie Belden" series.
-buying a moleskine notebook because it was next the register.
-"Well, we don't have an extra bedroom, exactly, but there is a kind of closet--it was the old maid's quarters. I suppose you could live there for a few months."
Blum @ 33
"Being approached by a librarian ..." What a delightful way to begin your answer.
Jenny @ 56
Thanks for including something negative. Took me to some tough places, mentally, but thanks.
As a reader and infrequent poster ("lurker?") I'll say that the comments on this post showed me how liberated the Making Light salon is. A kind of bohemia of shared sensibility. Touching, and inspiring. Thanks for always being fascinating.
What does the first moment of enlightenment look like? Just like every other moment.
Bruce @14
I like your paranoia about the propaganda of ever-increasing work as both the supposed virtue of the overclass, and the actual scourge of the underclasses.
There is a really haunting moment in Manufacturing Consent (movie) where Chomsky says that he is a propagandist because, as an academic, he has the time to be. Nobody who has to suffer the isolation and exhaustion of work has time or enough energy to figure out what the ruling class is really getting up to (pan out to a shot of hundreds of windows in which we see lonley people vegging out in front of their TVs -- what else do they have energy for at the end of the day?).
As with all Chomsky's killer ideas, the conspiracy is not present in any one person or agenda, but in the environment created by interlocking institutions. Not to go all tinfoil-hat or anything, but it's compelling to think about things that way.
Makes me think of the leisure revolutionaries in the (very underrated) Islands in the Net, by Bruce Sterling. After years of fruitful unemployment because of a (now less futuristic) global economic crash, they realized that work was a form of control, not a necessity. Satire, sure, but so was William Gibson's idea of "cyberspace" before it sprung to a kind of real life.
I cannot help but think of Mrs. Jellyby from Bleak House. Her letter-strewn London townhouse is the Dickensian nightmare vision of David Allen’s cluttered inbox, and her hen-pecked and bankrupted husband, who sat despondently with his head against the wall during dinner, is the image of any soul dissipated by sprawling disorganization. Mrs. Jellyby’s activities, by the way, were all volunteer work.
My advice for digging yourself out is counter-intuitive. Find something sustaining, healthy, and not work related and keep it going at all costs. It should be solitary, not too brainy, and something you genuinely enjoy. Don’t feel guilty about it, and pledge that no matter how much work you will do to dig yourself out, you will make time for that activity. If you don’t have it, your mind and body will rightly recoil from months of nothing but work-as-punishment for your sins.
Reading, cooking, knitting, fencing, whatever. The rest of the time, happily work your butt off.
As another New York state voter a little confused about the Working Families Party, thank you Patrick, and thanks to all above for being so informed and lucid.
Since it makes me nervous (for admittedly irrational reasons) not to vote for Obama as a Democrat, I won't be voting for him on "Row E." But I will continue to support Working Families at the state level.
| Year | Number of comments posted |
|---|---|
| 2009 | 19 |
| 2008 | 2 |
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