Heroism

Heroism. What is it? Who needs it? These are the questions of the- Oh, sorry. Got carried away there for a moment (it's been done by more famous men than me when talking about heroism). Among many other circular definitions, dictionary.com defines heroism as "exceptional or heroic courage when facing danger (especially in battle)" (like I said, lots of circular definitions) and "great bravery." Bravery is, of course, "a quality of spirit that enables you to face danger or pain without showing fear" (again with many circular definitions).

That suggests a few things. Specifically, the ideas of "heroism" and "bravery" seem to be active in nature rather than passive. That is, a person must do something, not merely be in the right place at the right -- or wrong -- time.

The United States Department of State states on their 9-11 website states (emphasis added):

September 11 created a new generation of heroes for America and the world. They came from diverse cultures, and many from faraway lands, but on September 11 — whether they perished in the attacks or bore witness — all were victims and each was a hero. From Pakistan, India, China and Nigeria, their stories are remarkably the same. A human being, not a nationality, saw strangers in need, and in many cases risked — and gave — their own life in order to save another. The global heroes of September 11 spoke different languages, but shared a common humanity.

Are they really heroes? Those who gave their lives? Possibly. Those who fell screaming down forty flights while diving from a collapsing building? No. They were most certainly brave in the sense that a rat fleeing a sinking ship is brave, but not in the same sense that a soldier rising an American flag above Iwo Jima is brave. They did not, in other words, have "a quality of spirit that enabled them to face danger or pain without fear."

Neither, I can hear you saying now, did the soldiers at Iwo Jima face death without fear. No. They did not. But they did have courage. That is, the soldiers at Iwo Jima -- indeed most soldiers -- share a "state or quality of mind ... that enables one to face danger [or] fear ... with self-possession, confidence, and resolution." Giving in to natural instincts does not require courage -- that is, fleeing a sinking ship, or leaping from a collapsing building (knowing there is effectively no chance of survival whether you leap or not) is not an act of courage, but one of self-preservation (no matter how misguided). Self-preservation is not heroism; they are not mutually exclusive, but neither are they the same thing.

I have to say that no matter how pathetic an excuse for an individual "Rockwell" might be, I agree when s/he points out that "being a victim doesn't mean you are de facto a 'hero'." Were there heroes on September 11, 2001? Of course. There are heroes every day all around the world (whether or not you recognize them as such and regardless of their political agenda). Were the victims, unable to do more than die, heroes? Absolutely not.

Victory through Manipulation; or, Why Reason Will Never Win A Political Debate (Part I)

Wordy title, huh?

There are 42 logical fallacies, give or take, and each of them holds a special place in my heart. A fallacious argument is an argument in which the conclusion is not supported adequately by the premises. So, when Emperor Bush says, "Do we stay the course or do we cut and run," he's using employing a false dilemma. After all, there other choices to be made -- a slow withdrawal, for instance. Obviously Bush is an idiot (personal attack).

Here's the thing, though: logicians want us to rely purely on logical arguments. Ask any logician and s/he'll tell you logical fallacies will carry the day for a while, but once people have a chance to think about the argument, they'll realize they've been had (so to speak) and disbelieve the argument until it's merits are proven logically(hasty generalization). It always seemed to me that this was something of an appeal to authority, but I'll be the first to admit I don't always get logic.

Honestly, I neither entirely agree, nor entirely disagree, with this belief. I've always held that if you want to win a war, you use every weapon in your arsenal; the same holds true for an argument. Fallacies, according to one of my logic professors, have short term affects; logical arguments have long-lasting affects. At the risk of making a fallacious argument myself, it seems that the best arguments are those that attack multiple points simultaneously rather than relying merely on long-term "feel-goods" (appeal to ridicule).

Case in point: politics. Politicians rely, in large part, on fallacies when they're running for government. A particular example from the news I heard yesterday was an argument between presidential candidates Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. Obama appealed to spite (keeping in mind that Democrats tend to frown on Big Business) during the Democratic caucus in South Carolina, stating that she had been a lawyer for Wal-Mart while he was defending the poor (or some rubbish of that sort); she returned with Obama's guilt by association, pointing out that when she had been working to help people, he had been defending criminals in Chicago. Whatever the fallacy used, they were both attacking using illogical arguments.

But is that wrong? Ignoring my own predilection for moral relativism for the time being, I don't think so. The problem with politicians isn't that they use fallacious arguments. It's not that they don't use logical arguments -- sometimes they manage, quite by mistake I'm sure, to do so. I am of the opinion that there is a middle ground between the logicians' "use no fallacy" and the politicians' "use no logic."

At this point is seems appropriate to point out that everyone uses fallacies (appeal to popularity), even logicians (ad hominem tu quoque). Fallacies are a political tool used since before the dawn of time, in all probability, and certainly since the Roman Republic (appeal to tradition). More importantly, they work. People don't like to think; they like to be told what to do -- it's easier (hasty generalization). Even if that wasn't true, however -- even if they loved to think about things without the least bit interest in following one another like so many cattle -- a person's initial reaction tends to be a knee-jerk emotional reaction. Not always, and it depends greatly on the situation in question. But in general, people react like puppets when confronted with certain types of arguments.

Is it bad to use this to one's advantage? As I've said before, if you're fighting a (conventional) war you use all the tools in your arsenal to win. Debate is a war, too -- it's a war of words, and one that should not be limited by bounds of "honor" except in certain circumstances (like in Ivory Tower classrooms and similar, structured debates in which the purpose is not really victory, but victory using logic). The political arena -- indeed no real life debate -- is bound by the rules of conduct typically found in philosophy and debate clubs; why limit one's tools?

The Kook and the Clown

Big news today! The so-called "video proof" of 9-11 has been proven a hoax. After years of Americans fooling themselves into believing 9-11 was the responsibility of "terrorist masterminds," news reporters have finally vindicated Osama bin Laden and his peace-loving organization, al-Quaida. You can read the full story of the Faking of the Osama bin Laden video.

Oh, and speaking of which, you can also collect the entire Hitler playing card collection.

Why is it that people rely on comedy when dealing with The Bad Guy? (Speaking of which, I can't find a good mockery of Osama bin Laden, but apparently one of his nieces is a model, and another has just signed a six-figure deal to be a porn star...) The art of mockery -- satire -- was born a long time ago, back in the late Renaissance. It flourished in the written and verbal form during the 1700s and, later, took on the visual arts: cartoons, movies and eventually television. Charlie Chaplin was best known for his satire of Adolph Hitler (as shown above, a still from the October 1940 film, The Great Dictator), and he was possibly the first and greatest satirist of the big screen.

We've been trying since. We really have. It's not our fault we're miserable failures in the enemy-as-comic relief department. Ever since Chaplin we've been headed sorta down hill. Exaggeration seems to be the best we can manage -- "Dubbya" has big ears, Stalin is obscenely obese and looks like the Santa from hell, and don't even get me started on satire of Mao Tse-Tung (I couldn't find any particularly good cartoons). Today there's also a new form of satire -- satirical music (best exemplified, in my opinion, by Ray Stevens' Osama, Yo Mama).

But they all pale in comparison to Chas. Is it because Hitler, as opposed to Osama bin Ladin, truly was a terrifying spectre of things to come? I remember when I was about ten years old, sitting in "The Bagel Place" listening to two old men talking about Saddam Hussein and comparing him to Hitler. I also remember thinking, "Not a chance." Hitler had great generals, brilliant strategists, a war machine capable of producing vast amounts of material, and plenty of resources (oil notwithstanding). Hussein, by contrast, had oil. No great generals, no wealth to speak of, no strategists and tacticians, no excess with which to construct materiale. He just had oil.

Anyway, off topic rant there. Today the best we can really manage is satirical cartoons, primarily of our own leaders (who are, admittedly, very often the worst enemy we face). Still, I can't really say I miss the days of Charlie Chaplin, both because I dislike his movies and because the modern satirical cartoons are considerably more vitriolic than ever before.

Maybe one day we'll find an author truly worthy of the satirists from the early years of satire. But I doubt it. The fine art of political mockery has well and truly come into its own in the modern political cartoon -- probably because it's too hard for most readers to get through a book, whereas cartoons are quick and easy.

Well, I've gotten totally off topic. My original purpose was just to share the top two stories, and now I've been babbling about satire and Charlie Chaplin for far too long. Allahu Akbar!

Familiarity and Discomfort

I roleplay. I roleplay because I enjoy it, because it allows me to step into another's shoes, and because it's enjoyable. I roleplay online because it allows me to write and enjoy said writing.

My fiance says that I only play one type of character: the intellectual. That's not entirely true, but I'll give her this: it is my favorite type of character to play. I roleplay primarily on RPOL, RolePlay OnLine. Of my regular characters there, only three are not, in some way, shape or form, members of the intellectual elite.

And of those three, all three can arguably be considered intelligent, if not intellectual. Why? Simple. It's what I know. I don't have to play intellectuals; I choose to. Sometimes I like to stretch my wings and fly, but very often I can do that even while playing an intellectual. One of my characters -- an intellectual -- is also a street kid, down on his luck despite a bit too much good fortune to really be considered normal (such is the life of a mage, though, I guess). Through this, I have discovered just how difficult it is and can be to write from a perspective so utterly alien to me. I've never lived on the streets, can barely imagine what it's like. And yet, to play this character I have to figure out some way to do so. I think I do pretty decently, all things considered.

My three non-intellectuals are an archer, a troubadour and a communications officer. My troubadour is also a female, which can prove difficult, depending on the circumstances, while the communications officer is a rapid xenophobe. The archer stands out as being a fifteen-year-old with somewhat naive ideas about the way the world (doesn't) work, and he is currently in the process of falling into a state of infatuation at the moment.

Each of my characters has something vital that makes roleplaying that character difficult. The archer proves difficult because I haven't been naive in a fairly long time (at least, not about the things he is); the communications officer pushes me to be realistic in my xenophobia; the troubadour forces me to make a believable female. My street kid requires that I put myself in the shoes of a homeless person.

It's somewhat ironic that the two characters I find most difficult to play should be the two that are easiest. One is a hermetic magician, in college, with interests in philosophy and history. The other has lived my life in many ways. By being closer to me, they become more difficult for me to play.

I am a firm believer in playing a character you can identify with strongly. I also believe that the closer you get to yourself with a character, the more difficult it can be to play that character -- it forces you to look at your own flaws, identify them, and learn to overcome them.