Environmental Fascism

Villages [in Zimbabwe] sell elephant licenses. Hunters currently pay as much as $30,000 for the privilege. It is a lot of money in a country where the per capita annual income is around $2000. What about the morality of sport hunting? Is it something a sane person would do? Winston Churchill once shot a rhinoceros, but failed to kill it. The wounded rhino charged. The hunting party opened fire. The rhino kept coming into a hail of bullets, swerving aside at the last moment before more bullets finally brought it down. Churchill later wrote that, even in the midst of the charge, "There is time to reflect with some detachment that, after all, we it is who have forced the conflict by an unprovoked assault with murderous intent upon a peaceful herbivore; that if there is such a thing as right and wrong between man and beast - and who shall say there is not? - right is plainly on his side.

-pg 19-20

Do we have the right to put a stop to [animal culling]? Animal rights organizations say no. Their approach is individualistic rather than holistic. They focus on each and every animal rather than on larger questions about species or habitat. Their view is particularly salient in the case of elephants. When rangers cull elephants, they take out whole families in order to avoid leaving orphans and other remnants of shattered families. The horrible thing is that, under favorable conditions, elephants can hear the sound of a culling operation up to thirty kilometres away, and elephants are smart -- smart enough to understand and sgare the terror of the ones being shot. Cynthia Moss, who has written fascinating and convincing books about what it is like to be an elephant, says elephants deserve something better than to be exterminated like rodents. She has a point.

Lawrence Johnson, though, argues that there are times when "the interests of species are not adequately protected by a concern for individuals." The individualistic animal rights position is powerful, given the nature of elephants, but it leaves us in a horrible quandary, for the price of absolute rights may be extinction. Nonetheless, elephants are not like zebra. They are not the kind of creature that we have a right to treat as mere means. Cynthia Moss (p.226) said she would rather see elephants go extinct than see individual animals murdered for sake of population control, and she is not alone. If elephants had a voice in the matter, perhaps, they would thank Moss for her stand. Perhaps not.

- pg. 22-23, David Schmidtz: When Preservationism Doesn't Preserve.

I'm with Cynthia Moss on this one, even if the price to pay is the extinction or suffering of the entire herd.

Lunch and society

Lunch for today, Hup Hup bak chor mee at Ang Moh Kio Central Block 724 Food Centre. Supposedly very good, but it wasn't really to my liking. Ingredients were good and plenty for $2.50, noodles were bouncy, soup was tasty. But I like bak chor mee with the strong vinegar taste, for this one the tomato ketchup taste was too strong. Or maybe they got my order wrong, and gave me the no-chilli version instead of the less-chilli version. You would have thought mee kia with the vinegar taste would be pretty common everywhere but in recent times a new style seems to have replaced it. This new style, like the one I had for lunch, seems to emphasise the ketchup taste more, at the expense of the vinegar taste. It's hard to find the older style these days, at least at the areas around me.

I had no problems finding the place but I forgot the way back and so after lunch I got lost among the shophouses and HDB flats. Not that I minded though, it's always nice and peaceful to stroll around neighbourhoods and stretches of shophouses after lunch. I saw school kids with uniforms tucked out and long j-pop style hair accentuating their perceived wildness, mothers screaming at babies in trolleys screaming back at them, mobile-phone shop attendants with dyed hair dyed blonde looking listless in their small counters in the hot afternoon weather, old folk some in groups some alone all walking at a slow pace in any case. I missed the train, waited 6 minutes for it, saw people rushing for seats when it came, noted that there will always be more people than there are seats. This is how society is, this is how society will ever be.

Examination theories

I've got a number of theories as to why I have been feeling restless and completely unmotivated to revise my work.

Theory 1: I've read what I need to read. In fact, I've already gone through some of the content twice, especially those covered for midterms. I am the sort of person who hates going through things again. The interest is just lost. This theory explains why I feel a significant sense of repulsion at the mere thought of revision. The counter to this explanation is that it's not entirely true my interest is lost at everything I've already read.

Theory 2: I've crammed a lot of stuff in the past week, I'm burned out. This theory explains why I feel generally lethargic, such that revision is not possible. What this theory needs to explain though, is why sleep doesn't remove the mental lethargy. Also, what is there in having been exposed to too much information that leads one to feeling 'burned out'?

Theory 3: Final exams are quite pointless to me. Getting a list of As has never been part of my game plan. Learning has been though. Unfortunately, I think final semester exams are a poor way to test one's learning and skills. All I think it tests is how well-read you are (sometimes involves memorisation) and how well you can apply knowledge in given questions. There is nothing inherently wrong in being tested in your ability to think on-the-spot and apply what you've learnt in the confine of 2 hours - I just don't see the value of the goal of such tests. If the goal is to ensure that students have internalised knowledge that they should internalise, then I fail to see the need of a timed test; if the goal is to test students' critical thinking skills, then I fail to see how projects and term papers don't already do that. One can further argue against the former by pointing out that firstly, some exams are open-book anyway. Secondly, most arts papers have a number of essay questions one can choose from, so the examination obviously isn't out to test whether a student knows all salient points of the course. Thirdly, if the goal is to test if students' have come out of the course with the knowledge they should have, then I fail to see how bell-curving has any relevance at all.

And the issue is made worse by the fact that they don't return examination scripts, even upon request. Students therefore can't learn what they did right or wrong, so I really don't see the value of such tests. It is only natural, then, that I feel totally unmotivated. It's kind of like putting you in a room and asking you to walk in a circle and being graded in how well you can walk in a perfect circle. The exercise seems quite pointless, and one can hardly blame one for failing to feel motivated to do well in the task. We can say that doing the deed can get you out of the room - and that's precisely why I am doing the deed, that is, not sitting in the corner of the room and not walking at all. But again, the motivation to walk in a perfect circle is not there, and that's the focus here. To make things worse, you may walk in a perfect circle but still be told it is an oval; or you may walk in an oval but still get a standing ovation from the authorities watching you. And you just simply can't figure out the reasons why.

Theory 4: The weather's pretty good. This is not a theory to be taken lightly. As someone said somewhere, this weather tests my resolve not to sleep. This theory probably accounts for why I'm sleeping so much these days; it fails to account for the significant sense of repulsiveness when I think of revision though.

Theory 5: I lack willpower, discipline. Definitely a theory to be taken seriously. But the question one can pose here is why. Why do I lack willpower? I submit that it is either the case I was born with a limited amount of willpower and an unlimited amount of restlessness, or that Theories 1-4 are at work here, in any combination.

Low Morale

Come December, my usual board game partners will all out of town.

People always don't want to try (Fringe)

Tonight's episode of Fringe wasn't bad at all. The show to date hasn't been impressive, though the female protagonist is very suave. Her looks are very good, her acting isn't bad, and she has some facial expressions that are quite unique, including her look of perplexity that is mild and ambiguous in some way I cannot put into words.

In this particular episode Dunham (that's the female character) was told by a leading bad guy to pass test 1 of 10 tests designed for unwilling recruits of some cult that that our world is at war with a parallel world. The test came in the form of a wooden box with bulbs on it, and the test is for Dunham to turn off the lights, after they have been switched on, mentally. If she completes it successfully, the bad guy would reveal information pertaining to the location of a bomb that will detonate and release a deadly toxin in the city. So she cheated. With the help of her colleague who reprogrammed the bulbs discreetly she completed the task, got the location and went down to de-activate the bomb.

The twist - and I think it is a good one - is that the same setup of lit bulbs were found on the bomb, and to turn off the bulbs mentally is the only way to de-activate it without harm. So she tried to do so this time and it worked.

This whole thing might sound amateurish but the appeal lies in the ambiguity of the plot. Beneath the thread of cultish science fiction, that the writer probably anticipated it to repel many a scientific person, is the possibility that the whole thing might have been a hoax. Dunham was unsure how she could have managed the feat - and an explanation was offered by her colleague that the lights were probably pre-programmed by the bad guy himself, so as to convince her that she does have some power and therefore be still a pawn in his depravity. That is, beside incredulous science fiction is also the simpler notion of psychopathology; the whims of a a para-normal individual becomes more like the whims of a psychotic individual who just wants to play games with people. But Dunham asks how it is possible he could have known what time she would have arrived at the bomb site. Again, the focus here is the ambiguity - no clear answer is given yet, and the viewer is left curious over how the plot at large would play out.

One other interesting point of the show came up when they were reading a manifesto written many years ago presumably by a member of the cult. I can't remember the exact words, and they are definitely more poetic than my summary, but essentially the manifesto said that: all our brains have infinite power, and this power is limited by physical forces, social forces, etc.

I think it's an intriguing point, if not a particularly mature one to make given our current state of knowledge. The idea that our brains are essentially superhuman but limited immediately by the fact of being born in a social setting, by a biological mother, on this planet that exudes many physical laws and social norms, is an interesting prospect and I would definitely want to take it up in reading or in writing.

I'm looking forward to future episodes now, not least because of Olivia Dunham, who is...Oh I already mentioned. Too bad the male characters aren't very cool; a Lincoln Burrows, T-Bag (Prison Break) or Sawyer-type character (Lost) would have complemented the coolness of the female lead quite well. I think the last two would be good, add some rogue humour and it'd be interesting to see how a cool character like Dunham responds. Traditional pairings have always been physicality and intelligence, hot and cold, good leader and roguish rebel, young and old, streetwise person and savant, witty and witty. It'd be great to see cool and confident with rogue and stand-offish.

Where bears roam free

I was doing a bit of blog hopping when one particular one made me go wow. I don't typically keep in touch with socio-political blogs, be it the intellectually refined kind or the gutter kind, so I must admit I'm quite taken aback to witness the kind of thoughts people are holding. Or rather, I am aware some people out there hold very conservative views; it is, however, quite a different matter to see them fleshed out in the open, in writing.

Now, this is the blog I'm referring to. In this place where bears roam free, the author thinks that the legalization of homosexual acts will lead to the destruction of the family unit, and that there is no such thing as rape in marriage. In the comments of this entry, he/she (actually, we can probably assume it's a he) says: 'In marriage, there is already a blanket consent to sex. How can [there] be rape?' He goes on to say:

It is a UNIVERSAL custom all around the world, with NO EXCEPTION (until the today, no thanks to the work of the Family Busters), that marriage means blanket consent to sex. That is one of the special privileges in marriage since time immemorial.

I would suggest one reads the comments of that entry in greater detail, for a better understanding of the thoughts different people hold.

Reading some of his entries, I'm now more aware of the extent to which heterosexuality has been normalised into our society. I would like to draw your attention to some of the arguments and details I've gleaned from a sociology module I'm taking, a module that I would recommend to every student, but unfortunately I do not have the luxury of time to do so. Suffice it to say that 1) homosexual behavior was not only tolerated but ritualised in many societies in the past and indeed in some even in present times; and 2) it was through, in large part, the hegemonic spread of the ideals of certain religions that heterosexuality is now internalised as appropriate, and that any other behavior contrary to that is deemed as deviant, abnormal, a threat to the family unit, a start to the decline of civilization.

Regarding underage, but consensual sex, my position is the same as with all forms of consensual sex: the state has no business in them.

I've added the website to my list of bookmarks because I need to be more aware of what's going on in the real world. I need to understand how different people think. Only then can one substantiate the claim that the world is a tragedy for those who feel, a comedy for those who think.

People always don't want to try

Let's say you're on the bus reading something. The person beside you is looking at what you're reading in an unabashed manner. You know that he is looking at what you're reading. And unless his social intelligence isn't too well-developed, he should know that you know he is looking at your stuff. It follows naturally that you know that he knows that you know he is looking at your stuff.

Every one of us has achieved a desirable result in our lives at some point of time or another. It could be in video games, it could be winning a dance competition, it could be scoring well for a project, it could be pulling off a nice joke, it could be successfully befriending someone, it could be getting your superior to grant you a pay rise, anything at all. And there are some people in life who, in thinking about success or failure over any particular event or in general, know that they will do well. Of these people there will be a smaller group of people who know that they know that they will do well. And there will be some who know that they know that they know that they will do well. I don't think this chain of thought goes on infinitely.

Let us call the achievement of result the 0th level. If you know that you will do well, you are a confident person, and you are at the 1st level. If you know that you know that you will do well, you are a reflective and confident person, and you are at the 2nd level. If you know that you know that you know you will do well, I think it means your mind wanders a lot while waiting for the bus, and you are at the 3rd level where buses take very long to come. We may think that it's possible to go to level 4, but I think if you're at level 3, you would almost reflexively think that this can carry on forever. Paradoxically, when you think that, the chain of thought collapses and remains at level 3 or somewhere slightly beyond that in a murky darkness.

The step from level 0 to 1 usually requires that we have some kind of feel to the situation. And this feel usually comes with experience. If you had a certain feel prior to achieving a result, then it is only natural to feel like you would achieve a similar result when that same feel comes. So, for example, if you are playing chess with players of your own league and you had a very good opening and middle game, then you usually start feeling confident because you know from experience that given a good opening and good middle game, you should go on to win the match, barring any careless mistakes. (Note that we don't have to actually do well to know that we will do well)

But I wonder if this feeling one gets is reliable at all. Which is why I started a project some time ago: given a selected event, I would describe my feeling before the release of results, and write down the results to see if feeling is a reliable indicator to result. So far, though, the findings have been inconclusive.

I would also like to mention that the Indian stall in NUS arts canteen is, I think, fantastic. The chicken curry is great - light and salty - and I like the chickpeas and the tandori chicken. Sadly, going by the length of queues, it seems like people either haven't tried it, or tried it and don't like it. I think most would be of the former. People always don't want to try.

It is also worth noting that I am one who likes looking at other people's stuff on the bus, sometimes overtly, sometimes covertly. It's sometimes quite amusing because sometimes I want to blatantly signal that I am interested, and I want to signal that I know that he knows that I am interested. So if someone is sitting on the seat beside me, I would look directly at his or her stuff, and the very mere fact that he or she knows that I know, and also that I know that they know that I know, is enough to tickle me for quite a while. I also generally do not mind if people look at what I'm reading. In fact, I think it's pretty amusing if you signal that you know that they are reading by positioning the material such that it is convenient for both persons to read.

Ah

I'm eating tom yam instant noodles now. I've got a cup of cold milk with me, and I've got no deadlines left. I would be feeling a lot more content with life now if this cup of instant noodles weren't so small.

Sweeter for the larceny of time and flesh, sweeter for the betrayal.

One of the main threads going on in Cormac McCarthy's "All the Pretty Horses" is a 'dangerously ill-fated romance' that sees the story's protagonist falling in love, quite at first sight, with the daughter of his boss at the ranch. As you'd expect, the old folks aren't in favour of their relationship, so they have to do things discreetly. All things constant, I should have put down the book there and then. But there's something egging me on, there's something alluring about his prose, and I think it's best if I put you in his words:

They'd ride at night up along the western mesa two hours from the ranch and sometimes he'd build a fire and they could see the gaslights at the hacienda gates far below them floating in a pool of black and sometimes the lights seemed to move as if the world down there turned on some other center and they saw stars fall to earth by the hundreds and she told him stories of her father's family and of Mexico. Going back they'd walk the horses into the lake and the horses would stand and drink with the water at their chests and the stars in the lake bobbed and tilted where they drank and if it rained in the mountains the air would be close and the night more warm and one night he left her and rode down along the edge of the lake through the sedge and willow and slid from the horses back and pulled off his boots and his clothes and walked out into the lake where the moon slid away before him and ducks gabbled out there in the dark. The water was black and warm and he turned in the lake and spread his arms in the water and the water was so dark and so silky and he watched across the still black surface to where she stood on the shore with the horse and he watched where she stepped from her pooled clothing so pale, so pale, like a chrysalis emerging, and walked into the water.

She paused midway to look back. Standing there trembling in the water and not from the cold for there was none. Do not speak to her. Do not call. When she reached him he held out his hand amd she took it. She was so pale in the lake she seemed to be burning. Like foxfire in a darkened wood. That burned cold. Like the moon that burned cold. Her black hair floating on the water about her, falling and floating on the water. She put her other arm about his shoulder and looked toward the moon in the west do not speak to her do not call and then she turned her face up to him. Sweeter for the larceny of time and flesh, sweeter for the betrayal. Nesting cranes that stood singlefooted among the cane on the south shore had pulled their slender beaks from their wingpits to watch. Me quieres? she said. Yes, he said. He said her name. God yes, he said.
- pg. 144-145.

I was struck by this passage. It left me limp, and for a long time I couldn't understand why. It was like a certain sense of nostalgia came to me, only I couldn't grasp the referent of the feeling. It definitely isn't the man-woman romance here that caught me. I think there's something far more poignant going on than that. After some amount of reflection I think it must have been the idea of sneaking out at night, in the countryside, under a moonlit sky, going into a pool naked, no deadlines, no school, no work, nothing in your head but the splendor of the night and the splendor of life. It's the very dream I have held since I was a kid, a dream which got buried under too many things of late, too many things indeed.