Monday, 19 September 2016
Pornography is one of those words which doesn't so much have a monolithic definition as it does a broad collection of meanings underpinned by discrete collections of vague, culture-specific values.
When I come to power, lexical shenanigans like this will not be tolerated. A definition will be chosen and its usage aggressively promulgated and enforced. But the quality of mercy is not strained and so on, so the chosen definition will be a deliberately broad one, as a society cannot be totalitarian unless it is also somewhat inclusive.
Pornography: (n) Any material or representation, literary, visual or created by digital or mechanical means, which has been designed for the sole purpose of creating strong sensations in the audience.
Of course, we'll have to get the professional lexicographers in to clean this up, and maybe to suppress the etymology (pornes: prostitutes, graphy: come on, that's pretty obvious).
Sure, there might be some minor downsides to the enforcement of this new verbal rigour, but think of the benefits. Under my regime, everything created merely for sensation would be subject to obscenity laws. This would mean that publications like the Daily Telegraph would be wrapped in plastic and bought furtively at $14.99 a pop, and it would be highly illegal to expose anyone under the age of 18 to a Miranda Devine column.
In this new world of mine, I envision this redefinition of pornography sweeping across multiple walks of life, even unto political speech. Politicians like Corey Bernardi, Pauline Hanson and Donald Trump would be debarred by law from speaking in public. Those wishing to hear about their ideas would be compelled to do so in dark mirrored booths, dropping coins into a suspiciously sticky slot for every ten minutes they wish to spend furiously titillating their frenzied sense of outrage.
But by far the biggest advantage would be the sheer scope and variety of those who would be relegated to the obscurity of the porn shop. Hate speech consumers of all stripes would be forced to rub shoulders, amongst other things, within the narrow compass of the fringe, awkwardly avoiding each others' eyes as they browse the shelves, or await the onanistic ecstasy of absorbing the concussed parrot ramblings of Pauline, or the sloppy false syllogisms of Trump.
And perhaps, while they're waiting on line, they'll talk. "What are you here for?" a Hansonite might say to the angry Islamist next in line, which could spark a brief waiting room conversation involving the White Supremacist and the Young-Earther pretending not to browse their shelves. And in this situation of enforced, awkward intimacy, they could be brought to discover their essential sameness - the strong bonds of irrationality and hatred which they share to such abundant extent - and thus be brought to peace, if not with us, then at least with each other.
Sunday, 4 September 2016
|I think I should get a trophy for cropping the penis out of this picture of Agon|
When I was five years old, I was a bit of a klutz. I wasn't very good at catching, couldn't run very fast and was basically a bit of a disaster waiting to happen. As I recall, my major talents were limited to walking into doors and falling flat on my face from a standing start.
On my fifth birthday, I remember being in a park with a bunch of children (I don't know where my parents sourced them from, but they seemed friendly enough) when somebody came up with the idea of having a running race. I believe I came second or third last, which made me very unhappy. My parents then organised a re-run of the race in which I was allowed to win. While I knew very well that this was a hollow victory, I was very pleased to accept it. This is because winning matters.
I was reminded of this when, against my better judgement, I agreed to catch up with an old friend at their male offspring's primary school athletics carnival. Despite there being nothing to eat, drink or set fire to at this event, I was still managing to have a fairly good time until I happened to notice that a race had just ended. It appears to have been a multi-directional dash over about thirty metres, ending at a forlorn tape line which only one intrepid mini-me had actually managed to hit.
I wasn't all that concerned at first, until I noticed that every single one of the eight children who had participated was placed on a specially built podium, and each given a ribbon and medal proclaiming them 'winners'. My friend just shrugged, telling me that this kind of thing was pretty well ubiquitous in Australian schools right now.
As you might expect, I have a serious problem with this.
|Being unwilling to photograph other people's children, |
I have sourced some random ones from Google.
Credit goes to Huff Post.
Actually, let's not leave that aside.
I remember, years ago, stumbling across two Classical Greek ideas that have to do with this: 'agon' and 'arete'. These are probably best translated as 'competition' and 'excellence'. Central to the Greek conception of moral living was the idea that a citizen was required to strive for excellence, and to test this excellence in competition with others. This, more than anything else, was activity which would further the development of the individual and the polis. Now, these ideas aren't perfect. For a start, their foundation was breathtakingly sexist, and the idea of agon seems to have fuelled several centuries of incessant internecine warfare, but they have nevertheless been absorbed into the Western psyche.
This absorption has led to a great dichotomy in Western cultures - the conflict between the often self-effacing Judaeo-Christian tradition, and the brash, fame-seeking competitiveness of the Classical mentality. I've always been quite comfortable with this as I feel that, properly managed, one can nicely balance the other. In our rush to construct a more inclusive world on post-modern lines, I think we may have forgotten the 'properly managed' part.
I should point out that I'm not one of the weirdly angry brigade of people who seem to want children to suffer as much humiliation and disappointment as possible. But I do think that this kind of 'inclusion' is just flat-out lazy. It is eminently possible to inculcate a culture of healthy competition, where winners are reminded that their status is temporary, and losers that they could very well be winners tomorrow. This does, however, require a lot more work than just printing out a bunch of participation ribbons.
|Here is your reward. May you find it fulfilling.|
I guess it's not that big a deal. I suppose that it doesn't matter that we seem to be bent on creating a culture where we stroke ourselves for imagined victories, while simultaneously convincing ourselves that our various failures were in fact triumphs of the spirit. Sitting here in the West with our enormous piles of ill-gotten, disproportionate wealth, and our ludicrously high standards of living, it occurs to me that remaining competitive isn't really all that important. I'm sure that the rest of the world will ignore our self-indulgent non-competitiveness and allow us, out of similar generosity, to simply keep all that we have. Ideas of service, of striving for greatness, of competition - these are probably not the keystone or foundation of our civilisation. It's probably high time we dropped them in favour of a pathological unwillingness to hurt anyone's feelings for any reason at any given time.
I'm sure I'm just blowing things out of proportion, and that the values we inculcate in the very short are not at all performative when it comes to the shape of our future.