Hopefully those of you expecting books from me received them by now. I gather the packaging for the Practical RDF book did not hold up particularly well to shipment; again, hopefully, none were lost in the mail. If so, and the books separated from the packaging and the addressees were lost, then at the least I hope they increase the semantic awareness of our US postal system.
Year: 2006
Categories
On commentary
Thanks to Danny Ayers, I’ve now heard about CoComment a service to track your comments. Thanks to Phil at Squash, I’ve also heard about the so-called conversation index originated by Stowe Boyd.
I don’t comment in other weblogs enough to care about CoComment (and shame on me for not doing more). It will be interesting to see this in action, but for now, it’s a closed door application so I’ll withhold further comment–pun not intended.
As for this conversation index, my database shows that I have 2669 posts and 19,495 comments (no trackbacks, since my software doesn’t support trackbacks). I gather this gives me a conversation index of 7 or so comments per post. What does this mean? Beats hell out of me.
Categories
Freedom without responsibility
Recovered from the Wayback Machine.
I read an opinion piece yesterday that reflects much of what I feel about the publication of the cartoons depicting Muhammad. In the piece, Simon Jenkins wrote:
A newspaper is not a monastery, its mind blind to the world and deaf to reaction. Every inch of published print reflects the views of its writers and the judgment of its editors. Every day newspapers decide on the balance of boldness, offence, taste, discretion and recklessness. They must decide who is to be allowed a voice and who not. They are curbed by libel laws, common decency and their own sense of what is acceptable to readers. Speech is free only on a mountain top; all else is editing.
Despite Britons’ robust attitude to religion, no newspaper would let a cartoonist depict Jesus Christ dropping cluster bombs, or lampoon the Holocaust. Pictures of bodies are not carried if they are likely to be seen by family members. Privacy and dignity are respected, even if such restraint is usually unknown to readers. Over every page hovers a censor, even if he is graced with the title of editor.
We seem to believe that any form of censorship is inevitably evil. Yet we censor our speech every day. I don’t tell the overweight woman in the checkout line that the twinkies she’s buying are harmful; I don’t get into a battle at work with the co-worker who wants to hang a cross in his or her cubicle, not because I don’t have beliefs of my own, but because I pick my battles and I make them work. I practice some self-control.
Sometimes the truest freedom of speech is knowing when to speak, and when to shut up.
I am a huge believer of freedom of speech, but this really isn’t the issue in regards to the recent protests and the continuing publication of these same cartoons in different newspapers. If the issue was freedom of speech, then the same people who support the publication of these cartoons would also support the burning of crosses in Jewish townships; the publication of white supremacist slogans in black neighborhoods; the rising number of Nazi symbols in European countries where once this symbol meant death to those who are different.
These cartoons are nothing more than anti-Muslim sentiment, thinly veneered with the respectability of freedom of speech; in the normal course of events, we would condemn them. Consider the irony that in the UK, while the BBC proudly proclaims its freedom of speech rights and re-publishes the cartoons, Nick Griffin walks free from a court room where he had been charged with inciting racial hatred. This is the same Nick Griffin who accused Asians of wanting to drug and rape white women; blacks of being pedophiles; asylum seekers as cockroaches.
For those clamoring for freedom of speech, how would you feel seeing blacks portrayed as monkeys in your local newspaper? How would you feel seeing Chinese portrayed as ‘evil yellow men’ in your favorite magazine? I would imagine that most of you would be disgusted and would condemn the actions, at a minimum demand that those responsible be fired. Yet you’ll smile and point with superiority at the Islamic people’s reactions to seeing their faith, themselves really, portrayed as a religion based on terrorism.
We say all speech, even hate speech, should be free–but there is no responsibility tagged on to this freedom, and as such, then it is a cheap, toss-away of what freedom of speech truly means. Speech such as this inevitably leads to actions and it is only a tarnished tinsel thin step from words to actions in our societies. Haven’t we learned from our own past that ’saying’ blacks aren’t really human is almost always a precursor to action? To a rope being wrapped tight around a black man while he is dragged behind a vehicle until his body is torn to pieces? Or that if all gays are perverts, taking hatchets to their faces is just and Godly?
There is no responsibility for the actions that result from these expressions of ‘free speech’. Those who support the free expression of speech either benefit directly from them, or divorce themselves completely from the consequences.
(As for those who condemn all religions, I am beginning to find that those of you who eschew religion are just as blind to the faults of your belief as those who follow some God. Yes, your belief. There is a new religion; it is called atheism and is just as intolerant as any other faith built around being a ‘true believer’. )
I have seen many of the cartoons in question, and they are incredibly offensive. Yet I still, because I must, support freedom of speech–yes even hate-filled speech such as those exhibited by these cartoons. It makes me angry. It makes me angry that I have to defend these cartoons, or give up my belief in this freedom. I will defend the rights of those who publish such works, but I am not going to applaud the actions of the cartoonists, or the newspapers, in publishing these cartoons. They have not struck a blow for freedom of speech; they’ve only cheapened it, and themselves.
More importantly, the irresponsible use of one of our more important rights could ultimately lead to the loss of this right. As Jenkins wrote:
The question is not whether Muslims should or should not “grow up” or respect freedom of speech. It is whether we truly want to share a world in peace with those who have values and religious beliefs different from our own. The demand by foreign journalists that British newspapers compound their offence shows that moral arrogance is as alive in the editing rooms of northern Europe as in the streets of Falluja. That causing religious offence should be regarded a sign of western machismo is obscene.
The traditional balance between free speech and respect for the feelings of others is evidently becoming harder to sustain. The resulting turbulence can only feed the propaganda of the right to attack or expel immigrants and those of alien culture. And it can only feed the appetite of government to restrain free speech where it really matters, as in criticising itself.
As for the violence in certain countries, to extrapolate from this to a condemnation of followers of the religion as a whole only serves to justify the hate–on both sides of this particular fence. Those who gleefully point out the burning of the Danish embassies as some form of justification for their support of hate speech, neglect to point out the peaceful protests in this country and many others; or the fact that many (most) religious leaders in the Islamic community strongly encourage only peaceful protest, and condemn any form of violence.
The second Times article I linked wrote on speech that is deliberate provocation:
The bottom line, say some critics, is that provocation is counter-productive. It feeds the paranoia and influence of small extremist groups who can do disproportionate damage to British society in the name of the wider Muslim population, most of whom do not share their views.
Years ago when we protested the Vietnam war, there were those in the protests who deliberately sought to inflame the others who marched peacefully. They exercised their freedom of speech in order to flame the anger that always exists, deep in the heart of any protest; exists, but is contained for the most part. Then when the inevitable confrontation would occur, they would melt away into the crowd, their goal of creating chaos and disruption having been met for the day.
Did such actions lead to the Vietnam war ending earlier? Not a bit of it. Speech that is deliberately done, in order to provoke a violent response, never leads to anything constructive in the end. Martin Luther King did not cry out, “I have a hate”, he called out “I have a dream”. What we remember from Tiananmen Square is one man standing, silent, in front of the tanks–not with brick in hand, to the side. If we want to remember what’s truly at stake in regards to freedom of speech, this latter image is the one I would rather celebrate, than that mockery of ‘freedom’ that came out of Denmark.
Yule Heibel disagrees, strongly, with Simon Jenkins.
Other webloggers weigh in.
So now we know what it takes to get the Arab Street genuinely angry – print some cartoons. Invade a Muslim nation: Nothing. Invade an Arab nation: Nada. Publish a few unfunny cartoons, however, and suddenly they’re burning Western embassies. From here, the Arab world looks like a bunch of big babies. Dangerous babies with firebombs, but still.
I never wanted this Terror War to escalate into Samuel Huntington’s “clash of civilizations.” The way I figured it, going into Iraq was our one best chance to give someplace in the Arab World their one best chance to produce a civil society. And I mean “civil society” in a Western way. I mean it with an almost-jingoist, Anglospherical fervor. I mean, they need to learn to fight words with words and not with firebombs. I didn’t expect results overnight, but it’s obvious that we (and they) have a long, long way to go.
As compared to Juan Cole:
Muslims mind caricatures of Muhammad because they view him as the exemplar of all that is good in human beings. Most Western taboos are instead negative ones, not disallowal of attacks on symbols of goodness but the questioning of symbols of evil.
Thus, it is insupportable to say that the Nazi ideology was right and to praise Hitler. In Germany if one took that sort of thing too far one would be breaking the law. Even in France, Bernard Lewis was fined for playing down the Armenian holocaust. It is insupportable to say that slavery was right, and if you proclaimed that in the wrong urban neighborhoods, you could count on a violent response.
So once you admit that there are things that can be said that are insupportable, then the Muslim feelings about the caricatures become one reaction in an entire set of such reactions.
Two great women passed away this last week: Coretta Scott King and Betty Friedan.
King did more than just fight for the rights for blacks–she fought for the rights for every person, black or white or yellow or red; regardless of religion, gender, or sexual orientation. Much of the King legacy must be equally shared by Coretta as much as her husband.
I remember reading publication after publication talking about how Coretta spent her whole life fighting for her husband’s legacy. She didn’t spend her whole life fighting for some ghostly image of MLK; she spent her life fighting for the same cause that took her husband’s life. If we can’t respect all that she accomplished, as an individual, in her life, at least we can honor her in her death.
Oddly enough, this is something Friedan would say–that Coretta Scott King was more than just the widow of Martin Luther King. She was an icon of the civil rights movement in and of herself.
Friedan: where would I be today if not for her work. Where would many of us women be. I was too young to be in the beginning of the women’s movement in the 1960’s but I have benefited from it.
I don’t think many people remember what it was like when blacks rode the back of the buses. I definitely don’t think people remember what it was like when women’s primary function, one of the few allowed by society, was to stay at home and take care of the kiddies. If they remembered what it was like, they wouldn’t say such silly tripe as, “I don’t agree with Friedan. I don’t agree with most feminism. I don’t believe women should get preferential treatment. I believe we should be treated equally”.
Back in the early days of the web, there were two browsers. For the sake of our story, we’ll call them “Cane” and “Able”.
Cane and Able could do many of the same things: serve web pages, run scripts, display pictures, and provide for interaction among the Small Beings who became dependent on them. However, Cane did something that Able couldn’t: it rode a mighty chariot and because of this, could replicate itself at will and did so, willy nilly, until one couldn’t go to the marketplace without Cane appearing in front of you. Able, though a solid performer, didn’t have this ability, and over time it fell further and further back into the shadows cast by Cane’s light.
Eventually, Cane grew arrogant with its power, and begin to do things that Able couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do. It demanded that the world change to suit it, rather than it having to suit the world. It broke laws, and then laughed with impunity at the Small Beings who protested. It’s ways played havoc and soon the world fell into a chaos of incompatibility–with little buttons appearing on web pages, each announcing the page’s allegiance: either to Able, or to Cane.
Web page developers wailed and gnashed their teeth at Cane’s cruelty; forced to don sack cloth and smear themselves with ashes as they took up the weight of the cross-browser; herded into this burden by the demands of a world seemingly mesmerized by a spinning blue orb and people who jumped about like monkeys.
Cane was content, for a time, with this devotion–tossing a crumb now and again to the masses as reward; exciting them anew and pushing poor Able away until, finally, exhausted and depleted of resources, Able succumbed to its fates and entered a dark and vast void, to fade away until few remembered its name. Cane, then, was left alone–to stand on a hill and look around it and gloat in its power.
The world, also, was content with Cane’s dominance. Content, that is, until Cane, satiated by feeding on the souls of millions, fell into a somnolence; leaving the Small Beings to pick their way through, however they could, the debris of its passing.
Dark Things came out of the night and plagued the Small Beings. Things that tore at them and took from them and left them dressed in tattered rags. The Small Beings were sore afraid, and shivering in their nakedness, cried softly among themselves and wondered if there could be any to save them.
But all was not lost. Among the ashes of Able’s passing, a new hope was rising–the child of Able. This child was weak at first, as all children are. It moved slowly about gathering strength until finally, one day, the world became aware of its movements. As the child of Able grew, it cast light into the shadows on the land, and the people basked in its gentle warmth, smiled at is kindly tickling.
The Small Beings then turned an eye to the dark unmoving Mass that was Cane and cried out, “What have you done to us?” “Why have you forsaken us?” But Cane was too lost in sleep to waken, to indifferent to the puny cries of those whose only purpose was to service it, and the chariot it rode.
Able heard, though, and reached out to succor the people, to give them hope. Soon, many of the world were turned away from the spinning blue orb to feast on a new vista–one based on the fire of re-birth rather than the despair of old, cold greed.
This Small Being and that Small Being woke from their dreamless night and embraced the fire, and Able grew in numbers until one day, Cane was moved to awaken and when it looked about itself, grew alarmed at the loss of those who would worship it. “This will never do”, it thought to itself, and begin anew to weave a web to draw back in those who would drift away.
It appeared before the masses as a humbled shell of its former self, and begged forgiveness for past abuse. It promised to do better, to not break the laws, to bring about nothing but goodness. It even embraced this child of its own nemeses, this new Able, and promised to work as brethren rather than adversaries.
Still, the people were reluctant to embrace this, their old overlord. They remembered the too many years of darkness and confusion and were hesitant to believe in Cane’s newfound humility. Desperate to find a hook with which to lure the Small Beings back, Cane looked about and spotted a mob within the masses, a noisy mob that pretended to great power and felt a strange form of kinship with this mob. “These are as like to me as no other”, Cane thought. It also noticed that the mob waved a flag above its head, a flag that looked as follows:
“Aha!”, it thought to itself. “If I were to wave this flag, too, all my past ills will be forgotten and I will be as beloved as I once was before I abandoned these Small Beings to their fate.” So Cane grabbed the flag and waved it most strenuously and cried out its joy in the Cause and its promise of adherence to all that was righteous in the land. And many of the people looked on from their commune with 864 others of their kind and saw that this was good.
Times had changed, though, in the aeons since Cane slept. Though the new Cane was lithesome in many eyes, others noticed that it still rode a chariot where other browsers walked. More, this was a new chariot: one that was wider and taller and more massive and as such, could not reach into the places where once it had traveled. Because Cane rode this new chariot, many of its followers would be left in the dark when it finally arose into the sky.
Those that noticed this questioned why this was so and Cane, puzzled, could only reply that it had to ride this chariot in order to be safe. Many nodded, of course–Cane had to ride the chariot in order to be safe.
But, questioned those naysayers, those irritants, those not with the program: could not Cane learn to walk as other browser do? Walk and still be safe? Walk, like the child of Able can walk? Walk, like Able’s friends, the songster and the lion? Walk so that all may share it’s glory?
Cane just laughed, and the sound was as of a thousand coins of gold rained down from the heavens. Many heard the laughter, and felt comforted. Others, though, knew Cane for what it was: the same Cane as old, only polished, shiny and new.