In Memoriam: Leonard Nimoy

I discovered Star Trek in my early teen years, sneaking watching the show when my fundamentalist parents were away. It was everything I could ask for in television–spaceships, adventures to new worlds, a universe of characters who showed that life still has meaning, even when surrounded by and built on machines. And more than that, when it was at its best, the series asked deep questions about philosophy, morality, politics, and science.

With that in mind, it comes as a shock–not an unexpected one, alas–to see the death of Leonard Nimoy. He was, of course, many things–a photographer, poet, director, and actor in many roles on stage and screen, but just as with other people who became icons for one role, he will always be remembered first for one character he brought to life:

In these last few years, he also made his mark on Twitter @TheRealNimoy. His final tweet, found here, reminiscent of Candide, sums up how we must all now feel:

A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP

Live long and prosper in that undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns. You will be remembered.

Crossposted on Greg Camp’s Weblog.

The Belief of an Atheist

I run across arguments on Twitter frequently on the subject of whether atheism is a religion.

People claiming that it is often have a desire to remove the teaching of evolution from public schools on the grounds that such instruction constitutes establishment of religion–taking a valid argument about separation of religion and state and twisting it to its opposite–or at least to insert the teaching of creationism. But let’s test the claim here.

First, we must consider what religion means. This is a difficult subject to define, since the beliefs in question deal with things that are often outside the logical or factual, but here’s my attempt:

Religion: a set of beliefs and practices dealing with questions of ultimate meaning, often including the supernatural, that approaches said questions through narrative means.

Notice that I didn’t say “necessarily including the supernatural.” Some branches of Taoism and Buddhism, for example, see no need to deal in matters beyond the natural world. But the essential characteristic is using narrative means to answer questions.

Now let’s address the question of whether an atheist is a religious person. There are three possible positions to hold regarding divine beings: atheism, agnosticism, or theism. A theist asserts the existence of one or more gods, regardless of the particular variations in belief about those gods. Atheism, by contrast, asserts the positive statement that no god exists. The third category, agnostic, states that there isn’t sufficient evidence to give a certain answer to the question of the existence of any god, whether yes or no.

Two of those categories, then, are beliefs–atheism and theism–while agnosticism is a lack of belief. So is atheism a religion?

Curiously, not even all theists are religious, at least according to my definition. A theist may believe that some divine being exists without finding meaning in stories of the gods and without engaging in any relevant practices. But do atheists engage in religious belief or activity?

Some do, though they may be doing it as a parody or a social event. But essentially, atheism, while a belief, is a rejection of religious methodology. Its arguments aren’t based on narratives, and it makes no specific rituals obligatory. Thus atheism is a philosophy or a political ideology, but it is not fundamentally a religion.

Je Suis Charlie

Yesterday (7 January 2015), three pathetic cowards who can’t handle criticism of their beliefs attacked the office of the French satirical magazine, Charlie Hebdo. Their cartoons can be seen all over the Internet now, showing that the people working there understood–and will continue to understand and practice–the value of comic criticism in a free society.

Words can’t do justice to the rage that all good people feel toward the oozing piles of dogshit that would kill to censor ideas. The best response is to use something from the culture that the attackers claim to defend, but, in fact, are dishonoring:

Crossposted at Greg Camp’s Weblog.

A Mix Up Happened on the Way to the Tavern

Ancient peoples gave us many gifts, the first of which was the Agricultural Revolution, leading to civilization itself. Among the latter’s boons–or possibly its cause–was alcohol, used as a means of preserving food in the days before refrigeration, but also as a way to sterilize contaminated water. But as always, time allows some things to ferment into greater potency, while leaving other things to rot. Language too often takes advantage of time to decay.

One example of this is the way many attach -ology to Modern English words. Best practice is to take -ology, a suffix formed from the ancient Greek word, λόγος (logos), meaning, word or more broadly, reasoning. Best practice is to find a Greek noun for the subject that is to be studied when forming a new word. Unfortunately, too many would-be coiners of terms are lazy and just slap -ology to modern words.

The case I have in mind today is “mixology,” supposedly the study of mixing drinks. But “mix” is the modern form, and it derives from a verb that didn’t involve what Jeopardy refers to a potent potables. The correct verb here is κεράννυμι (kerannymi), which referred to mixing wine with water–recall the purpose of sterilization–in vessels like this:

called a krater. Our word, crater, merely changes the first letter. Now the ancients had some form of distillation way back when, but distilled spirits date from the high Middle Ages at the earliest. Still (if you’ll excuse the pun), the verb whose root is kera relates to alcoholic beverages and thus is accurate in spirit (I can’t help myself). Therefore, the study of mixing drinks is kerology.

Of course, I prefer my drinks neat.

Slàinte!

Jaw, Jaw

Winston Churchill once said that jaw-jaw is better than war-war.

He’s famous for leading Britain in the world’s most recent global war, among other things, and his comment came in 1954, after he had written his history of World War II, but presumably it recognizes the superiority of talking to physical fighting.  More recently, the Dalai Lama, speaking of his nation’s occupation by the Chinese, expressed the idea that dialogue is the only way to solve human problems.

Not that dialogue has done anything to free Tibet, but he’s sticking to his verbal guns.

These statements do raise the question of whether discussion solves any problem.  How often have we heard people insisting that we just need dialogue, that we just need to listen to each other?  And yet, anyone who’s been in an argument with a family member or followed politics or engaged in a conversation on Twitter should know that talking so often doesn’t reach agreement or cooperation on matters that people hold deeply.

As regular readers of my weblogs know, I support both gun rights and gay rights.  I also accept the science of evolution and climate change.  These things make for some interesting discussions on Twitter in which I find myself supported by my fellow Twitterati on one subject, while being vehemently opposed by the same people in other areas.  It’s fascinating to watch someone make what looks like a good argument one day, then turn around and make a sloppy one the next.

Of course, it’s harder to spot the logical and factual errors on a position we support, since we tend to be much less critical of ourselves and our allies, and when given the choice to go after errors, it’s more comfortable to attack an opponent, rather than a supporter.  But of greater concern is the fact that so many people develop a conviction about a topic and then become impervious to facts and logic.

What are we to do about this?  One answer that I’ve addressed before is a slow but steady solution:  education.  The more ideas and information people are exposed to, the more open–it is to be hoped–they are to considering a variety of positions in a logical manner.  Note that this comes from what we call a liberal arts education.  The liberal arts are aimed at teaching the skills and knowledge a person needs to be a free person, rather than focusing on some specific requirement for a particular job.

But as I said, education is a slow process, and even educated people get caught up in the passion of belief.  This leaves us with the question of why we should bother to debate ideas at all.  I offer three answers:

1.  Not everyone is decided on every subject

We must remember that for every infuriating true believer out there, many more people will be undecided on the subject.  Make a good argument, don’t take crap tossed at you, and trust to the potential goodness in all of us.

2.  Support freedom of choice

These debates remain theoretical and intellectually interesting so long as we don’t rush off to pass laws.  This is the reason that I call myself an eleutherian.  Whenever possible, and it’s possible much more often than we’d like to believe, leave people free to act on their own beliefs while we act on our own.

3.  Consider the argument being made

That means keeping this open:

and engaging this:

Those, naturally, are the hardest part.

Crossposted on Greg Camp’s Weblog.

How Do You Know That?

Have you found yourself stating a fact in a conversation–say some arcane statistic from baseball, the conjugation of Lithuanian verbs, or the air speed velocity of an unladen African swallow–only to be asked how you knew such a thing?

The latter of that list illustrates the kind of exchange that often happens:

The question as to how someone knows a particular fact generally carries specific implications with it:

1. Is that in fact a fact?

As the saying goes, 78.6% of all statistics are made up on the spot–including this one.  One reasonable implied challenge in the question above is in regard to the accuracy of the fact being cited.  Take the origin of the Guinness Book of World Records.  Said tome was marketed as a way of settling disputes in bars.  Today, with smartphones as ubiquitous as opinions, a world of information is available at our fingertips–or, at least, thumbtips.  Verifying a statement is easy, so long as we understand the difference between reliable sources and otherwise.  The person who can quote facts from memory is treated as something of a fossil, someone who wastes time and effort by storing knowledge in a biological hard drive.

What this postmodernist view fails to comprehend is that absorbed information becomes a part of the person holding it.  Who you are is a combination of your memories and your personality.  The more diverse and expansive the former is, the more the latter can make of itself.

2.  How is something learned?

One method of learning is research, the act of combing through available sources to find the desired fact.

Another is that dreaded plague of childhood:

practice.  Whether it’s threading a needle, producing pleasing sounds from a musical instrument, or hitting what you aim at, learning is often a process of doing the same damned thing over and over until the skill is mastered.

The other method, namely experimentation, is illustrated by the first image in this article.  Yoda’s claim that there is no try is silly pablum, evidence that George Lucas would have made a better film if he’d never heard of Eastern mysticism or Joseph Campbell.  There is indeed try.  Try is what we do to find out if a given notion is possible or practical.

But in all of these, the essence is work.  And that’s why some are astonished when a person comes out with some curious bit of lore.  It disturbs their settled laziness to find that someone else put forth such effort.

 3.  How do you know that?

But the most common meaning of titular question is to express surprise that the person addressed has absorbed a particular piece of knowledge.  An example of this comes from my experience discussing Tarot cards with a writing acquaintance of mine.  She was shocked to learn that I know anything about a divination practice, since she held a view of me more suited to the fellow with the pointy ears.  And that’s the point here.  When we find that someone knows a fact that isn’t in keeping with our view of the person, we feel offended.  How dare a person not conform to our theoretical model of the person?

Instead, we recall Aristotle’s opening to the Metaphysics that we all desire to know by nature.  While we may justifiably explore the path a person took to knowledge, ultimately, its possession should come as no surprise.  Learning is one part of the essence of being human.

Deadlines

Writers who are serious about their craft pour a lot of themselves into their writing. I’m a writer myself, so I know how this feels. But having written, the author wants the world to see it. And this urgency creates expectations.

A milestone gives a sense of accomplishment, but it also creates the expectation of more to come on a regular schedule. This is the idea of a deadline.

But consider how long it took you to write your book, story, article, poem, or whatnot. If you write for a newspaper or similar, you follow a formula and crank out the product. That’s hard.

If your work is creative, you have more time.

Unless you’re on a deadline, that is–from your publisher, for example, and may we all suffer that fate.

But this article is about editors. Remember this guy?

Our work combines the creative and the mechanical. Planting commas where they belong and pulling out the strays is something that a machine should be able to do, but efforts to date at getting word processors to check grammar and spelling in a reliable way leave much to be desired. And so we editors plow through manuscripts, seeding and weeding.

That much can be done on a steady pace, determined by how many errors the writer made and how much stamina the editor has.

But there’s more to it. The creative part of writing can’t be done mechanically. And that means that it’s hard to predict how long editing for the flow of the narrative or the motivations of the characters or so forth and such like will take.

This reminds me of the old line about how the work can be done in a good, quick, or cheap manner–pick any two. That’s the fact of life. So you can have your book edited by tomorrow, but it’ll cost you, or the work won’t be worth much. Or you can let your editor do a good job in the time it takes. But whatever choice you make, keep reading, keep writing, and keep submitting.

Crossposted on English 301: Reading and Writing.

In Memoriam: Philip Seymour Hoffman

The news today (2 February 2014) announced the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman.

He was a remarkable actor, able to play roles with great depth, but also able to find the quirky recesses of a personality. I first became aware of him in Scent of a Woman. His list of films is not nearly long enough, but he is unforgettable as Truman Capote, and he found the intensity of Gust Avrakotos in Charlie Wilson’s War. He also could shone in quieter roles, such as a classical violinist in A Late Quartet, alongside Christopher Walken and Capote costar Catherine Keener.

But there is one role that will always be one of my all-time favorites:

The Count

The film fits into my political philosophy, and Hoffman is a master of social revolution.

Mr. Hoffman, you didn’t have to do this to upstage the Superbowl. I’d have watched you bringing to life any role of your choice instead. But you will be remembered.

Crossposted at Oghma Creative Media.

A Piece of My Mind

People love giving advice.

I’ve even been known to offer some myself, considering that this and my other weblog give suggestions about a world of subjects. But as Gildor Inglorion told Frodo,

Seldom give unguarded advice, for advice is a dangerous gift, even from the wise to the wise, and all courses may run ill.

My advice is often general in nature, since I don’t know your circumstances. And that’s the problem with much advice. We’ve all known someone or many someones who swoop in to provide the solution to a given situation. Except they don’t know all of what’s going on, what our desires and motivations are, and too many times don’t even know what they’re talking about. Such people consider that acquaintance is a license to meddle.

And so it is that I offer this piece of advice. It may or may not apply to you, though I would like it if you think carefully about that. Here it is:

Be as frugal about giving advice to those you know as you are about taking it.

Your Book Is on Backorder?

In days gone by–in other words, about a decade ago–an author could expect to have a given book run for a few years, if that long, and then disappear. The only exceptions were books that the publisher decided to make into bestsellers. Soon enough, though, the only place to find many books were used bookstores.

But now that these are widely available:

no, wait, I meant these:

and the like–yes, now that so many are carrying around devices that can store books by the thousands or even more, if they’re willing to have their books stored by someone else–someone who is making lists of everything you buy and read–where was I going with this?

Ah, the point I’m making is that now that books are widely available in digital form, there’s no reason for anything to go out of “print.” Books can be stored in hard drives for transfer at any time, and with print-on-demand becoming respectable, even paper copies can be cranked out whenever anybody wants one.

But with every new thing comes a new set of problems. In those days of auld lang syne, authors like Dan Brown and E. L. James mercifully disappeared after a momentary flash in the pan. But now, literary zombies can continue sucking the brains of their readers forever. Or am I talking about vampires? At any rate, mindless soul-sucking creatures that don’t die in the light, but glow a faint hue of sparkly and whose dialogue wouldn’t challenge the abilities of the New York telephone directory to thrill will be with us until we’re all living in Panem and don’t have time to read anyway. This means that every time readers go looking for a book, there will be many more than there were the last time.

So what’s an author to do? Leading a revolution to ban all books but the ones I write is one option. But that’s not likely to go over too well, especially since we authors are a cantankerous lot, and readers have the annoying habit of wanting a diversity of styles, genre, and subject matter.

Given the changes in technology and the field of publishing, I’ve reached the following conclusions:

1. Publishers must change or die.

Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin, as the writing on the wall declared. Publishers have been weighed in the balance and found wanting. They don’t promote books, except those by authors who are already famous. They are stuck in a world in which a book had to be handed from one person to the next, instead of being copied in an instant. Their business models treat books like boxes of cereal, when in fact books are today more like Internet memes.

2. Authors must produce quality work.

Yes, I know that lots of bad books get cranked out, many of them given away. But I hope that the reading public will come to its senses and realize that spending a little money for something that’s been well written and then edited is worth the expense.

3. Books must be promoted in new ways.

You can’t rely on putting ads in magazines and on librarians recommending your book. Eyeballs are on YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, blogs (such as this one with its many viewers like you), and other places that Charles Dickens never imagined when he sold novels in serial form. No one’s waiting at the docks for the next chapter to arrive from England.

But there is good news. The cost of all this digital publishing and marketing is low. Time and talent are the keys these days. So what’s the secret?

One thing is to exploit the fact that searching for what you want is as easy as putting something on-line. That is, searching is easy if the thing you want is tagged with enough terms that make finding it possible. If I want a book about the Sahara desert, yours just so happens to be about that, you’d better indicate that your book covers sand, the desert, the Sahara, Libya, Egypt, Algeria, Morocco, Mogambo, a guy named Dirk Pitt, and some rivers that have been dry a long time. No matter how tangential, tag it. Even throw in Dirk Benedict if you figure it will help.

Another thing is to get yourself on popular websites that allow comments with linking to more of you and make a name for yourself. I’ve found The Huffington Post to be a good place to practice this, especially since I can work in the occasional link to my blogs in what I say there.

Oh, but you want more, don’t you? Recall how I said it was cheap? That doesn’t mean free. I also said it takes time and talent, and that is for sale. My company, Oghma Creative Media, has a plan for you, a plan designed to make promotion successful and a whole lot easier.

Or you can just buy my books. That’s cheaper.

Crossposted on Greg Camp’s Weblog and Oghma Creative Media.