(The following piece was written in response to The Columbia Journalism Practice Admissions Test for 2003 [Section 1B, Questioni #5 ] A recent survey of 42 countries showed that Anti-American attitudes have increased significantly since September 11th, and that an initial wave of sympathy following the terrorist attacks has dissipated. A story about the survey reported, ?While many people still admire U.S. technological
achievements and cultural exports, majorities in nearly every country said they disliked the spread of U.S. influence.? Discuss possible reasons for this decline in U.S. favorability and its ramifications for the United States.)
On Sept. 11th, 2001 citizens from around the world expressed their deepest sympathies and commiserated with our loss of over three-thousand lives and one of the most recognizable symbols of modern American success - The World Trade Center. On television, the internet, newspapers, magazines and even personal letters and phone calls, people from the world over shared our shock and outrage at being victimized by a decentralized band of Islamic fundamentalists known as Al Quaida.
But in the two years since that tragedy occurred, sympathies have waned in the face of our, some would say, incongruous response to that crisis. Within hours, The President of The United States swore to find those responsible and bring them to justice, yet shied away from concentrating on the source country of those terrorists, the monarchy of Saudi Arabia. Within days he divided the world, and our allies, into those who were either "with us or against us" and abandoned long-held alliances with meaningful allies in favor of championing the sycophantic "me too's" of NATO hopefuls. Within weeks, Congress had laid the groundwork for laws which would later stress or outright impinge on the rights and freedoms of U.S. citizens, especially if those citizens were of Middle Eastern decent. And within months, our president had fired-up the largest, most technologically proficient military machine the world has ever known and pointed it at Afghanistan, the most destitute and technologically backward nation in the middle east. Our national tragedy, the worst attack on domestic soil in American history, had sparked an reactionary need to lash-out in revenge, to make "them" pay for what "they" had done.
In our haste to punish the enemy, whoever they were, we forgot ourselves, our friends and the importance of their perceptions of our success in the world. Our unheeding actions broadcast a "me first" world view that has isolated and insulated the U.S. from its allies and confirmed their worst fears of our intentions. Like a mortified lover who has witnessed her suitor who's defended her honor with a bloody fist, the first world has slunk away from the U.S. and its conspicuous self-righteousness; spiriting away "enemy combatants" to exotic locales for interrogation at a safe distance from American soil, laws and human rights; using spurious intelligence, tenuous terrorist links, scare tactics and outright lies to rationalize a mideast policy that was penned over a decade before the trade towers fell; allowing the President and Vice President, with more than coincidental ties to oil and energy firms who would greatly benefit from such policies, to bilk the taxpayers for billions and give away non-competitive handouts to their former companies, friends and associates; and conveniently forgetting which government trained Osama Bin Laden to terrorize and supplied Saddam Hussein with WMD in the first place. These facts and more caused our friends to blush for our embarrassment.
Our leaders didn't blush, however. With the benefit of a mostly ill-informed, nearsighted and over-entertained citizenry, our conspicuous faults were cloaked in red, white & blue and the majority proudly marched in lock-step while the world quietly grimaced. Our populace chanted nationalistic slogans, sang patriotic songs and decorated their homes and vehicles with the same, simultaneously fueling the passions of xenophobic reactionaries and Islamic bogeymen alike. The United States preemptively (i.e. offensively) invaded two countries under the guise of fighting terrorism and spreading democracy. Yet, to date, our citizenry is no safer from terrorism and democracy no more secure in the middle east.
What is not in question is our nation's lack of humility in the face of overwhelming dissent from both our allies and our enemies. Like a stubborn child who refuses to heed the wisdom of a parent's greater sense of history, we insist on ignoring world opinion to revisit the quagmires of our short and muddied past. We insist on defending our bad reputation instead of confessing our guilts and searching for truly effective solutions to recurring problems. For a country that professes to champion Christian values, we as a nation have not humbled ourselves before God and asked for His forgiveness. Instead we greedily horde more than our share of the world's resources and perpetuate an unsustainable lifestyle for those privileged few who thumb their noses at Kyoto. We protect pharmaceutical companies who insist on unreasonable profit-margins at home and in third-world countries where entire generations are lost to manageable diseases. We export more good jobs and import more worthless junk and celebrate those short-term gains at our children's peril. We champion the wisdom of our markets while CEO's, CFO's, and other so-called financial "Trustees" embezzle our future for personal gain. We have collectively agreed, with the Supreme Court's blessing, that getting what you can, while you can is the American Way.
As the most cynical, the most shrewd, the most corrupt, the largest and most powerful capital machine the world has ever known, we should not be surprised, even in our post 9/11 grief, that humanity resents us for leading it down a path to oblivion. Quite sanely, I think, the peoples of the world have decided there just has to be another way.
- Sudrakarma
Saturday, November 29, 2003
Friday, November 21, 2003
Not My Hometown Anymore
It used to be that when the name of my hometown popped up in conversation I would pipe-in and say, "Hey, I'm from ****ford. I grew up there. Lived there all my life." There used to be a certain amount of pride that came with saying that. But all that has changed: now that million-dollar homes and mini-malls crowd the landscape; now that farmland has been erased from the memories of its residents; now that the hills I used to play in as a child, camped in as a child, rode my bike through as a child on the way home from school - have been "developed" into something wholely unrecognizable.
I used to think, as a child, that my town would make a place for me and that I would naturally find my way there, into a place and position that was made just for me. Silly, naive and misguided thoughts in modern America. I don't think like that anymore. My home town is no longer my home - it's just a place where I live. I'm a ghost from another era, an unwelcome working-class slob whose been relegated to the outskirts of town, barely able to claim residency in this gentrified version of my boyhood home.
I used to think, as a child, that my town would make a place for me and that I would naturally find my way there, into a place and position that was made just for me. Silly, naive and misguided thoughts in modern America. I don't think like that anymore. My home town is no longer my home - it's just a place where I live. I'm a ghost from another era, an unwelcome working-class slob whose been relegated to the outskirts of town, barely able to claim residency in this gentrified version of my boyhood home.
Monday, November 10, 2003
Home Sick / Work Ethic / Aristotle
My daughter and I are both suffering from a head cold today due to a sudden drop in temperatures over the past weekend. I've been conditioned to feel guilty about calling in to work (by my parents, my teachers, my bosses and societal norms) unless I'm deathly ill and/or would further contaminate my coworkers. Suffering this guilt is considered to be part of a good "Work Ethic". I have a very good work ethic.
Ever since our country was first settled by religious Puritans, working hard has been considered an opportunity to prove our moral worth. That attitude has survived to this day. People who show up on time, work dilligently and at a fast pace are considered to be righteous and good. People who are late, call in sick or work at a slower than average pace are considered, in today's vernacular, "slackers". I recognize that moral fear in myself, albeit less and less as I grow older and begin to question the fruits of my labors. I've already put twenty-two years of manual labor into this society in one form or another and have very little to show for it. At what point may I rest my weary back, well-worn joints and weathered skin to excercise my other faculties? I'd much rather strain my brain instead of my back for the next two decades. Is writing in my Blog morally righteous work, or the mental masturbation of a blue-collar slacker who's having fantasies above his station?
Aristotle, arguably one of the greatest minds in Ancient Greece, felt that the only life befitting a free man was one of leisure. Of course, that probably assumed that "free-man" had slaves to do his bidding while he was steeped in speculation about loftier ideas. But he also believed, out of fashion for his time, that learning,..' is a natural pleasure, not confined to philosophers, but common to all men.' For my own mental health and sense of self-worth, I have to believe that. I write because I'm compelled by a natural pleasure. True, I don't have letters bestowed upon me by the establishment that proclaims my right to a certain "degree" of respect (economic barries and other circumstances saw to that failure), but I do love to learn about myself, others and the world around me.
Apparently my little girl does too. She's done playing with her harmonica now and she wants me to help her with an as-yet unopened science kit. So it's time to put the blog away and discover the wonderful world of creating polymers out of paper-glue, Borax, water and liquid starch. Slime awaits a sick slacker.
-Sudrakarma
Ever since our country was first settled by religious Puritans, working hard has been considered an opportunity to prove our moral worth. That attitude has survived to this day. People who show up on time, work dilligently and at a fast pace are considered to be righteous and good. People who are late, call in sick or work at a slower than average pace are considered, in today's vernacular, "slackers". I recognize that moral fear in myself, albeit less and less as I grow older and begin to question the fruits of my labors. I've already put twenty-two years of manual labor into this society in one form or another and have very little to show for it. At what point may I rest my weary back, well-worn joints and weathered skin to excercise my other faculties? I'd much rather strain my brain instead of my back for the next two decades. Is writing in my Blog morally righteous work, or the mental masturbation of a blue-collar slacker who's having fantasies above his station?
Aristotle, arguably one of the greatest minds in Ancient Greece, felt that the only life befitting a free man was one of leisure. Of course, that probably assumed that "free-man" had slaves to do his bidding while he was steeped in speculation about loftier ideas. But he also believed, out of fashion for his time, that learning,..' is a natural pleasure, not confined to philosophers, but common to all men.' For my own mental health and sense of self-worth, I have to believe that. I write because I'm compelled by a natural pleasure. True, I don't have letters bestowed upon me by the establishment that proclaims my right to a certain "degree" of respect (economic barries and other circumstances saw to that failure), but I do love to learn about myself, others and the world around me.
Apparently my little girl does too. She's done playing with her harmonica now and she wants me to help her with an as-yet unopened science kit. So it's time to put the blog away and discover the wonderful world of creating polymers out of paper-glue, Borax, water and liquid starch. Slime awaits a sick slacker.
-Sudrakarma
Sunday, November 09, 2003
Market Intrusiveness: Radio Tags
So my mailbox is stuffed with unsolicited advertising, as is my e-mail account. I have to tell Kroger, CVS, Blockbuster precisely what I buy via their club-cards every time I frequent their establishment or I'll either be refused service or subjected to a higher pricing scheme - a pricing scheme that, I might add, has been pre-determined based on my zip-code (perhaps this will bring bargain-shoppers back to the inner-cities. No that won't work -those locations have been closed down). But I digress...
Now, I hear on the news, that Wall•Mart is planning on using a product tracking device that uses radio waves to transmit where that item is located - in their store and at your home. I'm not making this up. Listen to the RealAudio program Wall Mart Takes Lead On Radio Tags on NPR. Now, the products you buy at Wall Mart will be broadcasting their location "...to better serve you."
I don't know about you, but Wall Mart can better serve me by keeping their radio-tags and paying their employees a living wage instead, stop subjecting them to those embarrassing cheerleading sessions (have you every seen one of these?), and stay the hell out of my house. When I leave a store, I don't want it following me home.
In less than a decade, your personal shopping habits have become your most coveted asset. I think somebody should have to pay for that information. -Sudrakarma
Now, I hear on the news, that Wall•Mart is planning on using a product tracking device that uses radio waves to transmit where that item is located - in their store and at your home. I'm not making this up. Listen to the RealAudio program Wall Mart Takes Lead On Radio Tags on NPR. Now, the products you buy at Wall Mart will be broadcasting their location "...to better serve you."
I don't know about you, but Wall Mart can better serve me by keeping their radio-tags and paying their employees a living wage instead, stop subjecting them to those embarrassing cheerleading sessions (have you every seen one of these?), and stay the hell out of my house. When I leave a store, I don't want it following me home.
In less than a decade, your personal shopping habits have become your most coveted asset. I think somebody should have to pay for that information. -Sudrakarma
HTML / My Life: part II / Mental Chatter
Spent the entire morning screwing around with HTML, to see what will and won't work with Blogger and then deleted the post. There's no sense in me clogging this blog with images and tables. You can view the posting and editing tips here. I'm going to keep this blog litter-free as much as possible.
Just to clarify a few things about my family from the first post: I have one brother and one sister, both older. My mother hasn't drank in twenty years and all have recovered from the mess that was our childhood - as much as possible. I only mention my childhood for context. What's past is prologue and there is no escaping it. It makes us who we are as much as genetics. You can deny where you come from, but it only adds to the emotional baggage that clutters up your personality.
So much mental clutter. Not even sleep seems to quiet it down. When I awake, It's with the cacophony of thoughts, ideas, fears, and illogical relationships that collide in my brain. That must be what yoga is for - to shut that debris storm down. I heard on NPR (I'm a public radio junkie - in good standing) that research has shown that the older you get, the less your brain is able to filter out all that mental chatter. Which is why it is so important to train your mind - because you never know what it will come up with next.
The older I get the less tolerant I am of advertising. It's forced its way into every orifice of our cultural body. I know it's the engine of the economy, but there seem to be fewer and fewer quiet spaces where you can take a breather from it.
Just to clarify a few things about my family from the first post: I have one brother and one sister, both older. My mother hasn't drank in twenty years and all have recovered from the mess that was our childhood - as much as possible. I only mention my childhood for context. What's past is prologue and there is no escaping it. It makes us who we are as much as genetics. You can deny where you come from, but it only adds to the emotional baggage that clutters up your personality.
So much mental clutter. Not even sleep seems to quiet it down. When I awake, It's with the cacophony of thoughts, ideas, fears, and illogical relationships that collide in my brain. That must be what yoga is for - to shut that debris storm down. I heard on NPR (I'm a public radio junkie - in good standing) that research has shown that the older you get, the less your brain is able to filter out all that mental chatter. Which is why it is so important to train your mind - because you never know what it will come up with next.
The older I get the less tolerant I am of advertising. It's forced its way into every orifice of our cultural body. I know it's the engine of the economy, but there seem to be fewer and fewer quiet spaces where you can take a breather from it.
Saturday, November 08, 2003
"Sudrakarma" defined
Sudra
(n.) The lowest of the four great castes among the Hindoos. See Caste.
Karma
(n.) One's acts considered as fixing one's lot in the future existence. (Theos.) The doctrine of fate as the inflexible result of cause and effect; the theory of inevitable consequence.
Just in case you were wondering.... and no, I'm not Indian. -Sudrakarma
(n.) The lowest of the four great castes among the Hindoos. See Caste.
Karma
(n.) One's acts considered as fixing one's lot in the future existence. (Theos.) The doctrine of fate as the inflexible result of cause and effect; the theory of inevitable consequence.
Just in case you were wondering.... and no, I'm not Indian. -Sudrakarma
Welcome / My Life Part I / Dilettante Writer
Welcome to The Non-Adventurous Life of sudrakarma. From now on this will be the place where I post comments on the news of the day, bitch about life & people, or just to dispose of mental debris that would otherwise clog my mind.
Here's a quick synopsis of my life to date: I was born youngest of three to a working-class family that had major issues with alcoholism and drug abuse: Alcoholic, pill-popping mother with artistic inclinations and a passive-aggressive father with no ambitions other than keeping his alcoholic wife relatively quiet. At fourteen I picked up the guitar. At fifteen I followed my brother to a Hare krsna temple to work for a summer (It shaped my worldview - more about this later). At sixteen I discovered peer pressure and various types of intoxication (including sex). I worked as club musician from my late teens and throughout my twenties. I gave up the exitement and glitz of bowling-alley celebrity when I turned thirty and started a family. Since I had little or no job training up to that point other than some dead-end jobs (basically I drank, smoked, screwed around when I should have been finishing college - I dropped out after the second year with an A- average due to depression), I took whatever steady work I could find - it turned out to be maintenance. I've been a maintenance man for eight years now and, though it pays the bills and I've learned so many wonderful and useful things like, how to burn the first three layers of skin off your scalp while attempting to solder a 3/4" copper pipe over your head, behind a water heater and pinned against a wall. That pretty much sums up my joy in becoming a maintenance man instead of, say, a writer.
But I do write. In fact, I'm writing now. I write music reviews for a Michigan-based indie website that an acquaintence and I started three years ago - so you'll be hearing about that too from time to time. Of course, I don't make any money at it. Actually, I never really tried but that gets into fear psychology, self-image, confidence and other issues that may take years and thousands of dollars of therapy to address (or perhaps, just one little 'blog ).
So there it is and here I am and welcome to my non-adventurous, yet highly-analyzed life and pastimes. - Sudrakarma
Here's a quick synopsis of my life to date: I was born youngest of three to a working-class family that had major issues with alcoholism and drug abuse: Alcoholic, pill-popping mother with artistic inclinations and a passive-aggressive father with no ambitions other than keeping his alcoholic wife relatively quiet. At fourteen I picked up the guitar. At fifteen I followed my brother to a Hare krsna temple to work for a summer (It shaped my worldview - more about this later). At sixteen I discovered peer pressure and various types of intoxication (including sex). I worked as club musician from my late teens and throughout my twenties. I gave up the exitement and glitz of bowling-alley celebrity when I turned thirty and started a family. Since I had little or no job training up to that point other than some dead-end jobs (basically I drank, smoked, screwed around when I should have been finishing college - I dropped out after the second year with an A- average due to depression), I took whatever steady work I could find - it turned out to be maintenance. I've been a maintenance man for eight years now and, though it pays the bills and I've learned so many wonderful and useful things like, how to burn the first three layers of skin off your scalp while attempting to solder a 3/4" copper pipe over your head, behind a water heater and pinned against a wall. That pretty much sums up my joy in becoming a maintenance man instead of, say, a writer.
But I do write. In fact, I'm writing now. I write music reviews for a Michigan-based indie website that an acquaintence and I started three years ago - so you'll be hearing about that too from time to time. Of course, I don't make any money at it. Actually, I never really tried but that gets into fear psychology, self-image, confidence and other issues that may take years and thousands of dollars of therapy to address (or perhaps, just one little 'blog ).
So there it is and here I am and welcome to my non-adventurous, yet highly-analyzed life and pastimes. - Sudrakarma
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