Lost premiered its fourth season last night. Wow. I’ve given up trying to theorize about where this show is headed. It’s a fun ride, though, and they throw in all these seemingly random references to literature and mythology and political theory and physics that you think you must be learning something. (Yes, John Locke was a 17th-century English philosopher, Our Mutual Friend was Dickens’ last novel, B.F. Skinner was a 20th-century American psychologist … and, yes, treastises on free will and critiques of materialism and theories of operant conditioning … but did you notice what beautiful skin these people have?). I just hope that the writers know what they’re doing, and that all these disjointed plot points are leading us toward some fitting conclusion, and not down the rabbit hole of bizarre screenwriter logic, a la The Matrix or Twin Peaks.

I’m glad to see that Lance Reddick from The Wire showed up in last night’s episode, and that Ken Leung (who was terrific in The Sopranos‘ last season) will also be playing a recurring character this season. Just fly in James Gandolfini and the show will be perfect.

One thing I like about Lost is that it tries to be global and multicultural in its outlook — much more than other Hollywood fare, at least — and yet it doesn’t have everyone around a campfire singing "Kumbaya." There were cultural conflicts aplenty among the survivors in the early episodes, but the interesting thing is how those differences became somewhat muted once armed conflict with another group on the Island — "The Others" — took precedence. In the last season we started to understand what makes The Others tick, and suddenly they’re not (well, with one exception) the monsters they once were, but another group trying to survive, feeling threatened, and setting up in their minds that instinctual divide between us and them that is the root of all misunderstanding and conflict.

It’s a state of nature, in other words, with a social contract being cobbled together, and guys named Rousseau and Locke and Bakunin and Hume duking it out … yeah, I hope these writers know what they’re doing.

Victor Tan Chen Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

Edwards is out.

I think he waged an important and worthy campaign. The former senator played a defining role in the Democratic Party over the past year, by setting the agenda that others followed on issues like health care and the Iraq War, and by shining much-needed light on the fact that one in eight people live in poverty in the world’s richest country. (Full disclosure: Edwards wrote the foreword to my book, so I’m biased. But I voted for the guy in the 2004 primary, too, so I’ve been biased for a long time.)

Speaking of bias, this article talks about how Edwards’ decision to end his presidential campaign may have been influenced by the "antsiness" of "several major contributors," who wanted to line up behind Clinton or Obama. There’s nothing wrong about listening to your supporters, of course. But it made me wonder how much say these "major contributors" have over presidential (or any) candidates, even those brave souls trying to reform the system. How much do they call the shots regarding whether you run, how you run, whether you stop running — and, for that matter, what you do when you get in office? Perhaps what we really need to focus on is another signature theme of the Edwards campaign: reining in the influence of money in politics.

For more on that, you might want to check out this book Free Lunch, which has interesting things to say about the ways that monied interests are corrupting our political system, and generally screwing over everyone.

Update: I also need to mention that I was a contributor to Edwards’ campaign, but not a "major contributor" — more like a "random guy on the Internet" contributor. Now excuse me while I line up behind Obama.

Victor Tan Chen Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

I’m jealous of all those people with HBO who can watch the final season of The Wire. According to many critics, it’s one of the best TV shows of all time. At its most basic, The Wire is about drug gangs in Baltimore and the cops who chase (or fail to chase) them, but really the show is much broader in its ambitions, managing the remarkable feat of both empathizing deeply with the struggles of each and very character and understanding deeply the institutions that shape and limit those individuals.

Recently I watched the fourth season on DVD. The storyline centered around four boys who clearly could accomplish great things if they were growing up in a more nurturing environment. You look at Randy’s entrepreneurial skills, Duquan and Namond’s intelligence, and Michael’s heart, and then you wonder what might have been if those talents had not been beaten down by the streets or (in Michael’s case) diverted to criminality. This is a running theme in the entire show: The indisputable organizational and entrepreneurial genius that the drug kingpins (above all, Stringer Bell) show could have brought about so much good in society, but instead leads to more sickness and squandering of talent. 

This is what The Wire shows us: the incredible waste — economic, social, and moral — that results from this tangled knot of poverty and criminality, and our collective failure to do anything about it.

Do yourself a favor and catch The Wire on HBO or on DVD. Did I mention it’s hilarious, too? It’s like Greek tragedy with jokes.

Victor Tan Chen Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen