“The fact is that liberty, in any true sense, is a concept that lies quite beyond the reach of the inferior man’s mind.”

— H.L. Mencken, Notes on Democracy, 1926

Way back when Mencken wrote this, it was a biting commentary by a powerfully intelligent cynic.  He thought the vast majority of people really were inferior sorts and that the Palmer raids, Scopes trial and Prohibition were pretty convincing evidence.  Probably most people believed it was an overstatement.

As polling techniques developed over the next 30 or so years, it turned out that maybe it wasn’t going too far at all.  It didn’t take long to find out that most Americans were perfectly happy with taking away the Bill of Rights for communists, atheists, and whoever else they considered bad.  Seminal academic works by Herbert McClosky and Samuel Stouffer established what would become rather widely accepted knowledge.  Most citizens simply don’t understand and have little attachment to the politics of rights, liberty, and law.  We depend on a narrow group of intellectual and political elites to maintain our freedom and form of government.

This is important to keep in mind as the hearings on NSA spying ramp up over the next few weeks. Glenn Greenwald, a civil liberties lawyer with an extremely well-written blog, is the best resource on this.  He’s been articulating the outrage so many of us feel at the administration’s theory that it simply does not have to follow any laws.  Recently, he created a list of questions for Alberto Gonzalez that will be forwarded to the Senate Judiciary committee. The theory of all this is that if we can just get the true story out, it will be possible to create public pressure.  If Americans only understood the outrageousness of what is happening, how the Bush regime is subverting our constitutional system, they would rise up in protest.

This theory is probably just wrong.  If Bush is unpopular enough, it might be possible to make a scandal stick.  This won’t happen because of the nature of the scandal, though, but from an emotional reaction.  No amount of reasoned explanation is likely to do it.

Mencken later would say that “if the American people really tire of democracy and want to make a trial of Fascism, I shall be the last person to object. But if that is their mood, then they had better proceed toward their aim by changing the Constitution and not by forgetting it.”  

Terrible as this sounds, it may end up being the best we can do.  As Tristero said on Digby’s Blog, “Another president like Bush and even the most cautious amongst us will be forced to conclude that the project of American democracy — or at least the version of it I learned about and, yes, admire — is over.”

I’m sorry to be so hopeless today.  But, as H.L. said, “The fact that I have no remedy for all the sorrows of the world is no reason for my accepting yours. It simply supports the strong probability that yours is a fake.”

Pete DeWan

Brokeback Mountain, Ang Lee’s film about two gay cowboys who fall in love, leads this year’s Oscar nominations by contending in eight categories, including the prestigious triumvirate of best picture, best director, and best actor awards. And unlike TV’s recent superficial and flitting obsession with all things gay and metrosexual, the film’s multiple nominations lends gay issues a visibility and conversations about them a weight that it hitherto lacked in the mainstream media.  

Being gay became almost faddish in the media recently, with the slew of TV programs — Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, Boy Meets Boy — that, while they didn’t normalize homosexuality, certainly increased its visibility. Ever the vanguard of truly trashy television, the Fox network almost waded into hitherto unimaginably tasteless ground in 2004 with a show that was to be called Seriously, Dude, I’m Gay. Bowing to pressure and a startling sense of decency, Fox cancelled the two-hour show, ostensibly for “creative reasons.” But these shows, while giving airtime to gay TV personalities, reduced homosexuality to a facile stereotype of the consumerist, vain, and fashion-conscious gay man.

Brokeback Mountain refuses to stoop to the grotesque stereotypes that the Fox and Bravo networks so greedily capitalized on, and its multiple nominations legitimize its foray into addressing gay issues. The Academy Awards will be aired on March 5th.

Mimi Hanaoka

It’s impossible to know where to begin dissecting the broken sewer main that is the movie, Hostel.  Of course, any critique of a film with such obviously skyscraping levels of suckage begs the question of why someone like me didn’t see it coming.  Here, I admit to being a horror fan from childhood who, having had a few ecstatic scares before I had pubic hair, have been chasing the “first high” ever since.  

Hostel plays like it was written by two of the stupidest frat boys on the planet after a bong-fueled conversation where everyone thought their ideas were brilliant.  This is usually accomplished by the absence of anyone actually brilliant in the room.  The first three-quarters of the movie involve a group of friends and their casual sex travelogue through Europe.  Of course an enterprising foreigner tells them about this hostel tucked away in the Eastern bloc where the model-hot local girls tumble out of the trees, legs spread, waiting to get screwed by shitfaced lugs.  But, of course, the women are merely lures (evil, evil vaginas) leading the young men to a pay-per-kill dungeon where psychos act out protracted and theatrical murders.  

I won’t spend too much time savaging the plot for the simple reason that it’d be shooting fish on your plate at Red Lobster.  But I was intrigued by the almost backhanded inclusion of repeated homosexual panic, as the main characters police each other’s behavior with casual homophobia.  Methinks they doth repress too much. For those with fine-tuned gaydar, nothing is quite as obvious as the conquistador penis, the man desperate to prove his masculinity by having human-to-meat interactions with as many women as possible, as if sexuality can be denied with enough bed post notches.  In my experience, there are far too many men who hate women because they dig men.  When the entire film leads to a climax with the two nearly naked male protagonists getting tortured, I couldn’t help but wonder, why doesn’t everybody in this movie fuck so we could have less violence?  It sort of cements the sexual panic theory for me that one of the killers turns out to be an older man who had previously come on to one of the characters on a bus in a clearly dangerous spasm of gay.  Open homosexuals really must be the epitome of horror for closet-case jocks.

One side note that I must admit made me laugh out loud.  At one point Jay Hernandez’ character saves this Asian woman who just had her eye plucked out.  Of course she scrambles and fights to survive only to see herself in the mirror and commit suicide by train rather than live a life of imperfection.  Don’t they have plastic surgery in her country of origin?  I guess Asian women must be so obsessed with their looks that they’d rather die than face a life of asymmetry.  Since none of Gwen Stefani’s back-up Asians have glass eyes, the writers of Hostel couldn’t imagine a world where a woman they considered unattractive would want to live.    

Terry Sawyer

With recent race-related riots in Birmingham, Sydney, and Paris, it should be heartening to see a coalition of Muslims, evangelical Christians, and secular humanists all demonstrating for a common cause.  Except that the common cause that has drawn these disparate groups together threatens the very fabric of public debate.  

The British government is currently teasing out the details of the proposed Racial and Religious Hatred Bill, which would confer upon religious groups the same legal protection against hate crimes as racial groups. Since British courts already regard Sikhs and Jews as races, this new bill would apply, for example, to Muslims and Christians. Individuals guilty of inciting racial hatred would be subject to a maximum of seven years in prison.
  
Protection against hate crimes is all well and good, except that the House of Commons has signaled its intentions to reserve crucial changes made to the bill in the House of Lords.

In short, the House of Lords amended the bill so that in order to protect free speech, the hate crimes bill would include threatening words and behavior. Insults and abuse would not be considered hate crimes. Furthermore, the hate crime would need to be intentional. Excluded from the definition of hate crimes are proselytizing, discussion, criticism, and insult.  Abusing or ridiculing religious beliefs or practices would not be considered hate crimes. And this is how the bill should stand.  The House of Commons, which will be voting shortly on the bill, wants to reverse these amendments made by the House of Lords.  

Rowan Atkinson, the British comedian (known precisely for his acerbic wit), concisely stated his reservations about the bill, which opponents say would smother free speech and unduly threaten artists: “No one deserves a right to freedom from criticism.”

Mimi Hanaoka

January 21, 2006

Song and saturnalia ignited the Edinburgh Castle this evening with a tribute to one of Scotland’s most acclaimed poets, Robert Burns. Here at the twelfth annual “Burns Day” celebration, the essence of the Scottish experience in America was in full effect, complete with Scottish accents, beer, dance, kilts, songs, whiskey, and indeed…a haggis. Scottish flags suspended from the rafters above the audience members who occupied every inch of available space to witness a deeply engaging performance by Jana, a Scottish Zen Monk. Jana’s love of Burn’s work arose in Scotland, where she grew up listening to her grandfather recite Burn’s most notable poem, Tam O’Shanter. Jana rendered radiant verses from a pile of poetic pieces that touched her heart as a means to propel this traditional cycle. She began the evening with words from another Burns poem, “Hey Johnny Lad, Cock up your Beaver,” in honor of the Scottish struggle to salvage freedom and identity during English oppression. With glasses in hand, admirers and spectators alike paid respect to the passionate and often romantic words of Burns.

Robert Burns (1759-1796) was born the son of a farmer, William Burns. His family rented acreage in the farmlands of Scotland. After his father died Burns and his brother continued the family legacy on the farm. Burns found pleasure in a modest living, and held onto a healthy dose of disrespect for the Victorian conservatives, whom he referred to as “the dirt o’ gentry.” Still and all, this ardent intellectual harbored deep-seated dreams that expanded past the boundaries of rural pasture. It was at this time that Robert Burns began writing poetry for inspiration. His words speak for the lives and values of Scotland’s lower class. He wrote mainly about men and their ways, as well as his position in the world.  Robert Burns was a man of prominent integrity. He engaged in a vivacious lifestyle, which he articulated beautifully with his command over the written word. His poetry rejoiced in the plebian life that he led, and ridiculed the conservatives who wished to subdue him. “He dignified simple life and spoke with zest of those even lower down than himself” (Fitzhugh, 12).

The following is an excerpt from one of Robert Burn’s early works, Epistle to Davie:

It’s no in titles nor in rank:
It’s no in wealth like Lon’on Bank,
To purchase peace and rest.
It’s no in makin muckle (much), mair (more);
It’s no in books, it’s no in lear(ning),
To make us truly blest:

If happiness hae not her seat
An’ center in the breast,
We may be wise, or rich, or great,
But never can be blest!

Nae treasures nor pleasures
Can make us happy lang;
The heart ay’s the part ay
That makes us right or wrong.

His words demonstrate that money and power do not always bring happiness. Happiness is found in health, and health is wealth.

By 1786, at the age of 27, Robert Burns had failed as a farmer, and had composed a sound body of poems that he published in Kilmarnock, Scotland. His book was well received, and it earned him respect from a well-to-do section of Scotland’s aristocracy. He tailored some of his later poetry to the cadence of song (as seen below in Song, Untitled), and continued this practice until the day he died:

See the smoking bowl before us,
Mark our jovial, ragged ring!
Round and round take up the Chorus,
And in raptures let us sing—

(Chorus)
A fig for those by law protected!
Liberty’s a glorious feast!
Courts for Cowards were erected,
Churches built to please the Priest.

What is title, what is treasure,
What is Reputation’s care?
If we lead life of pleasure,
‘Tis no matter how or where.

With the ready trick and fable
Round we wander all the day;
And at night, in barn or stable,
Hug our doxies on the hay.

Does the train-attended carriage
Thro’ the country lighter rove?
Does the sober bed of marriage
Witness brighter scenes of love?

Life is all a Variorum
We regard not how it goes’
Let them cant about Decorum,
Who have character to lose.

Here’s to Budgets, Bags, and Wallets!
Here’s to all the wandering train!
Here’s to our ragged Brats and Callets!
One and all cry out, Amen!

A fig for those protected,
Liberty’s a glorious feast!
Courts for Cowards were erected,
Churches built to please the priest.

Burn’s songs revel in the realities that supplement everyday life. He envisions a free body encircling the light of truth, and denounces the formalities of law and church. Instead, the focus falls upon enjoying life’s natural pleasures. Burns Night at the Edinburgh Castle is truly an homage to this focal point.  

Allen Black, manager of the Edinburgh Castle and Master of Ceremonies, conducted a Haggis Sacrament in honor of Robert Burns with none other than the legendary Scottish Bagpiper, Jack Cunningham, accompanying him.

After swiftly parading the boiled sheep’s stomach up and down the pub, Black exhaled a fleeting entreaty for the soul of Robbie Burns before fashioning the symbol of a cross into the haggis with a ritualistic Scottish knife and enlivening the innards with a shot of whiskey. One skin satchel of haggis was enough to feed an ample segment of the two hundred casual Scots who attended the event.

The fervor of performance poetry, song, and conversation lasted late into the night, and legend of Robert Burns was rekindled in the hearts of those who recognize what the man stood for.

Sources
Fitzhugh, Robert. “Robert Burns: The Man and the Poet.” Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1970.

ahodgdon

It is hard to review a film when the focus of the story can’t be revealed because it’ll spoil the fun, but suffice it to say Fox Searchlight’s British romantic comedy, Imagine Me & You, is a film about love at first sight, unrequited love, platonic love, love that hurts, and love that saves you.  First-time writer-director Ol Parker takes some real-life experiences, puts them in a blender, and concocts a funny, sometimes sweet, sometimes thought-provoking gem of a movie with characters that genuinely engage, even though at times you may want to slap some sense into them.

The film stars Piper Perabo (Coyote Ugly, Cheaper By The Dozen I & II) as Rachel, a typical British thirty-something finally tying the knot with her long-time childhood love, Heck, played by the likeable Matthew Goode (Chasing Liberty, Match Point) who, at least in this film, looks and acts like a British version of American TV’s Ed (Tom Cavanaugh).  As Rachel is heading up the aisle at their wedding, her eyes grab a glimpse of another and from that moment something changes inside her as she begins to question her love for Heck.  

Imagine Me & You isn’t a great film, but it offers a refreshing take on classic romantic comedy, of which I can’t explain, unfortunately.  The film is packed with plenty of the charming moments and sheer electric sparks found in the best romantic comedies, such as Sleepless in Seattle, When Harry Met Sally, and Adam’s Rib.  In most genres, a film doesn’t really need a big star to make the film good or even exceptional, but in romantic comedies I believe it sure helps, and romantic pairings such as Tracy & Hepburn, Day and Hudson, and Hanks and Ryan turned mediocre stories into classics.  Piper Perabo is a likeable enough lead, but my feeling is that a bigger star, such as Reese Witherspoon, Scarlett Johansson, or Drew Barrymore, could have elevated this film to a higher level.  It’s understandable that a first-time director doesn’t have the street cred to attract big names, and it is possible to enjoy this film as presented.

The comedy is very British and with a cast mainly from BBC comedies, some of the humor may leave you shaking your head. But for the most part, the script relies on universal musings of relationships that everyone on both sides of the pond can enjoy.

In some respects, Imagine Me & You is like the light comedy companion to another issue-stretching romantic film in theaters right now, but I can’t see this little picture causing any furor, which takes me back to the problem of revealing too much.  All I can say is this is definitely a chick flick in more ways than one but a film that I think even your date will enjoy, whoever that may be.

You could easily place Imagine Me & You with all those other British romantic comedies of recent memory like Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill, and Love Actually, but only time will tell if it’ll play as much on cable as it seems those films have (see star power above).  The rest of the cast is serviceable with two standouts, Lena Headey (The Brothers Grimm, Ripley’s Game) as florist Luce who looks for love in all the wrong places but finds it when least expected and newcomer Boo Jackson as Rachel’s eight-year-old sister ‘H’ whose smart charm deserves her own pre-teen romantic comedy.

With all the heavy-handed, Oscar-nominated films out there now, Imagine Me & You is a delightful escape that’ll not only make you smile and chuckle but make you think about what romantic love means in today’s ever-changing world.

Imagine Me & You opens in Los Angeles, New York, and San Francisco on January 27th and on February 24th nationwide.  Rated PG-13.  93 minutes.  Released through Fox Searchlight.

Rich Burlingham

West Virginia is now desperate. With a stunning 46 percent of fifth-graders tested in the state’s coronary artery risk project over six years turning out to be overweight or obese, West Virginia is willing to do just about anything to slim down the state’s chubby little children and the attendant health risks they suffer. The solution? Dance Dance Revolution!

Rolling in Konami’s Dance Dance Revolution — a video game in which the participant mimics the foot movements on a footpad to correspond with those shown on the screen — from the arcade into the public school system, West Virginia will allow ten- to fourteen-year-old students (almost 280,000 of them) to opt for the video game in lieu of participating in other sports.  

The theory behind the Dance Dance Revolution project is that the children who dislike certain sports will enjoy and turn to the game for fitness instead of forgoing fitness altogether. And this, while somewhat odd, is preferable to allowing the children to do nothing. However, to allow young children to opt for a video game in lieu of more serious physical education and participation misses the point; students need to enjoy sport, but they also need to develop an understanding of fitness and a sense of physical versatility. And Dance Dance Revolution, while fun, can hardly provide all of that.

West Virginia’s situation is certainly desperately unhealthy — within the U.S., it has the highest blood pressure rate, is within the top three for obesity, and is the fourth highest for diabetes — and hopefully this desperate measure will begin to make a dent in the state’s collective and lethargic consciousness.  

Mimi Hanaoka

We look into the mirror of popular media hoping to see ourselves — only a better, a glossier version of ourselves — something we can aspire to. We are also looking for a sense of belonging with the culture at large.

What if, in looking in the media mirror, you see no reflection but are a “societal vampire”? (In vampire lore, a vampire’s reflection cannot be seen in a mirror.) What if you can’t see yourself in that mirror at all? Or, what if your image is so distorted as to represent not a sublimated version of self but a monstrosity?

Minorities marginalized in media is an ongoing concern.

I was excited to read about this, an oportunity to have a hand in “silvering the mirror,” over at feministing.com:

WAM!’s annual conference, now in its third year, invites progressive journalists, authors, activists, bloggers, students, and fed-up TV viewers to come together to share skills, trade information, exchange strategies, and inform and inspire one another to make noise and make change.

Sponsored by the Center for New Words and the MIT Program in Women’s Studies, the WAM! conference is from March 31 – April 2 in Cambridge, MA.

The Center for New Words is dedicated to a simple mission (from the site): “To use the power and creativity of words and ideas to strengthen the voice of progressive and marginalized women in society.”

To accomplish this mission, The Center for New Words’ programs support diverse women’s engagement with the entire “word cycle,” from literacy to blogging to literary writing to opinion-making in the media and other domains of influence.

Annette Marie Hyder

Why, every night, do I only dream
of my lucky and dazzling star?
Why, every night, do I only dream
that this star will bring me the happiness
of which, during the day,
I never dream?

Guise deceives,
and every dream
that during the night we dream
the next day chases away.

Life happens only by chance,
one moment you’re up, one moment you’re down.
Life flows like a stream,
and death is like the sea.

Everyone will reach the sea,
some sooner, some later.
Still, the one who loves
shouldn’t lose hope.

When you see miracles in life
only love is capable of—
goldfish soaring above the clouds—
then you will understand.

That life is like water
which love turns into wine,
that love happens by chance,
and there is no happiness without it.

Život je jen náhoda

Proč že se mi každou noc
o tom jen zdá, o tom jen zdá,
jak v mém životě vyšla
má tak šťastná a krásná hvězda.

Proč že se mi každou noc
o tom jen zdá, že ta hvězda
mi dá to štěstí,
o němž se mi ve dne nezdá.

Zdání klame,
mimoto každý sen,
který v noci míváme,
zažene příští den.

Život je jen náhoda,
jednou jsi dole, jednou nahoře.
Život plyne jak voda
a smrt je jako moře.

Každý k moři dopluje,
někdo dříve a někdo později.
Kdo v životě miluje,
ať neztrácí naději.

Až uvidí v životě zázraky,
které jenom láska umí,
zlaté rybky vyletí nad mraky,
pak porozumí.

Že je život jak voda,
kterou láska ve víno promění,
láska že je náhoda
a bez ní štěstí není.

About the poem: First performed in 1932 by the theater trio Ježek, Voskovec, Werich, the song has had such an impact on the Czech language that native speakers cannot think of život (“life”) without the remainder of the line (“happens by chance”).

Listen to the Old Man without the Sea playing the tune.

Listen to the Prague Castle Orchestra interpreting “life.”

Jan Vihan Jan Vihan is a contributing writer for In The Fray.

Recently I was sitting in a room with a number of friends, and they went off on a political discussion, as my friends are wont to do.  In my circles, this means a lot of lefty rhetoric.  “Isn’t it great how Harry Belafonte called Bush a terrorist?”  “Bush hates black people.”  “Those people delaying the mosque in Roxbury are a bunch of racists.”

You’ve heard it all before, so there’s no need to repeat any more.

When I came home, I read up a bit about the NSA wiretapping story.  Basically, this involves the president asserting that he has the right to determine what is legal and that the courts and the legislature really have no say.  This is a pretty serious claim.  Sadly, it hasn’t lead to much serious conversation.  As far as I can tell, the right-wing justification for their lawbreaking consists of calling critics soft on terror.  This substitutes for a meaningful answer no matter what the question.  Do you believe that the president has the legal right to suspend the fourth amendment?  They are doing what is necessary to protect you, and your criticism endangers national security.

You’ve heard all that before as well.

I began to think a bit about what passes for political discourse.  And I began to think it all sounded a lot like the argument against the witch in Monty Python’s The Holy Grail.

Why do witches burn?  
Because they’re made of wood.  

How do we tell whether she is made of wood?  Does wood sink in water?  
No, it floats.  

What also floats in water?  
Very small rocks.  Ducks.  

So, logically, if she weighs the same as a duck, she’s made of wood.

That’s an abridged version, but you all can probably remember the scene as well as I do.

As I was thinking about this, my mind filled with anger and apprehension and admittedly a little resignation about the latest Bush escapade; I wished I knew a right-winger I could argue with.  But I don’t.  Conversations immediately degenerate into something like The Holy Grail.  And it is the same with my lefty friends.  Just as I don’t get into discussions with right-wingers, I avoid saying anything around lefties either.

And I like political discussions.

So today, I would like to make a plea.  It’s not an ideological one.  It’s not a moral one.  It’s merely practical.

I want to stand up for reason.  I want you to stand up for reason.  Just as Habermas claims, it’s the only thing that allows all of us to live together without our hands on each other’s throats all the time.  It’s what makes conversation possible between people with contradictory moral positions.

Next time you’re having a political discussion, think about what your postulates are.  Does your conclusion follow from them?  If somebody gave you evidence against these, would you change your conclusion?  Could you talk to someone with a different ideology and determine where exactly the disagreement lies?  Are your political positions even explicable in these terms?

Right or left, we all need reason.  If it declines into parody, we imperil our government, our society, and even our lives.

Pete DeWan