That day, running out the door to catch my ride, I was met with somber faces and talk radio in place of the usual laughter and hip hop jams when I opened the car door.  I stepped up to get into the jeep when my friend simply asked, “Did you hear?”  Hear what?  I ran back into the house to my dad in his suit and told him the twin towers in New York had just been attacked, to which he responded by laughing out loud, so great was his disbelief.  So, I told him to turn on the TV, and there, clear as day, was footage of a plane exploding into one of the twin towers.  We sat and watched for a minute, watched the second tower go down, and then I ran back out to the car for the sullen ride to school.

We talked about the attack in almost every one of my classes that day.  Unfortunately, or fortunately, my first class of the day was “Faith in Action” or “Good kids pretend to do Christian things but just end up setting up chapel” class.  We prayed and talked and reflected.  What I remember from that day is being wary.  Very wary.

this is the america we live in

Following that day there was an outpouring of nationalism.  I remember the tension I felt, the internal battle between what is good and right and just and what is blinded by fear and pain and uncertainty masquerading as goodness and righteousness and justice. This tension never really went away, even as the dust around ground zero cleared and our sights were set on God knows who else.  Quite the contrary, actually, as I felt increasingly ambivalent about the situation, with new events, intelligence, and attacks only adding to the confusion as to who was and how to determine what constituted the good and the right and the just.  Then we found ourselves in the midst of war.  “War.”  Our war was a war on ideas, and ideas can never be “won” short of total elimination of their proselytizers, and what about that is not genocide?  And, then, in what situation, EVER, is genocide good and right and just?

This continued unease makes it impossible, certainly, to celebrate the death of Bin Laden, but also to be ever so quick to promulgate pacifism and (nearly) chastise those who experience and exhibit joy in the wake of this monumental event.  As many of my friends have intimated throughout the last 16 hours, we do not celebrate the death of anyone and any act of violence is surely indicative of brokenness rather than strength.  But, it is also true that I will never know what it felt like to have a loved one die in the twin towers, a seemingly senseless death (at least directly).  And, I do not know what it is like to have someone close to me shipped off and broken because of this War on Terror that we were so quick to declare.  So, how can I say what is good and right and just to them?

No matter what our part as a people and as a nation in contributing to the beliefs that led to the enduring conflict that provided the context for September 11, most of those people did not even know they were a part of it, may never know they were a part of it.  The war was theoretical to them, not participatory.  Strength in self and each other, retribution, and a plan…these were all things that made sense to them.  Yet, these were all things that finally made me feel truly afraid.  Too many were ready to take up arms and the rally cry, too many were willing to sacrifice quality for propaganda.  It was strange to realize the danger that such nationalism could engender simply by listening to the radio.  Terrible, terrible songs were hailed as great anthems, simply by talking about loving America and kicking ass and killing Bin Laden or Muslims or whatever group of middle eastern terrorists (or non-terrorists) our ignorant American minds could muster out of perceptions of outgroup homogeneity and a desire to blame.

Given all of that, I do not have a response to last night’s events that can be summed up in a phrase or quote or two.  I think sentiment in one direction or the other ultimately fails to do justice to either.  I have enjoyed reading my friends’ comments on the side of peace and caution (what can I say, I have awesome, liberal, pro-peace people in my life) and cannot escape the excitement and relief captured by countless media outlets.  What I would like to add to the commentary is simply an observation.  Throughout the past nearly 10 years, we yearned for an enemy that we could call by name, one who would allow us to ignore all of the aspects of ourselves that we feared to face and to focus on something much easier.  Yes, Osama Bin Laden has done terrifying, terrifying things and more than deserved to be brought to justice.  But, as many have stated already, this is not the end.  Just as the death of Hitler did not stop beliefs of white power and anti-Semitism, and the death of Martin Luther King, Jr. did not stop beliefs of equality and the civil rights movement, the death of Osama Bin Laden will not stop cultural dissension and militant nationalism.  It will not even stop this war.  Instead, I see the death of Bin Laden as a second chance, providing us with another opportunity to take a good look at ourselves and the state of this world, an opportunity to finally face what we are so afraid to face, and to begin the arduous but life-giving, life-celebrating process of humble progress and loving, justice-filled change.  I hope, pray, plead that we do not let this opportunity, yet again, pass us by unmet.

Part 2 expresses my complete exasperation at it all:

The Pacifist’s Rant (and Subsequent Plea)

Are there no good people left on earth? Did they ever exist in the first place? I try not to think of people as inherently bad, unjust, and unkind; to not give into the convenient conclusion that we are birthed with a desire to inflict grievances upon our fellow people with the rest of our lives spent suppressing this base persuasion. But it seems that, at least amidst the pages of Zinn, there is no good to be found. Providing a different historical perspective, we see that our fearless and righteous leaders were money-grubbing, manipulating, power-driven elitists using the people and their oppression for their own advancement, comfort, and security. Every good word they spoke was only honorable at the surface, for skulking below their woven tale of freedom and prosperity was a classist hierarchy preserving and nurturing the current disparity between peoples. The elites hid their intentions behind promises of upward mobility and unified country. As a consequence, and often rightly so, the oppressed rose up in protest of this injustice. They could feel, if not always articulate, the wrongs committed against them. But where does the oppressor’s “bad” end and the oppressed’s “good” begin? It seems that no line between the two is ever drawn, for the oppressed push back with violence and a destructive hunger equal in magnitude, if not direction or impact, to that of the oppressors.

I had wanted to spend these assignments improving my writing, developing the ability to explore richly dense material and reconciling fact with personal theory to create a cogent and concise essay. And yet, only four chapters and two papers in, I have already succumbed to an emotional free write. Maybe it was that the iniquities of the American Revolution read less obviously ignoble than that of Columbus’ conquests; fewer mentions of maiming, family dividing, racial degrading, and total genocide. Or maybe I’m just weak. Either way the impassioned rallying cry against Empire that was elicited last week has given way to a frustrated resignation aimed at all of humanity. Is there really no answer apart from a violent one? How am I to ally with either side when both espouse violence as a means to a self-interested (though sometimes just) end? I found no inspiration or pride in the rebellion of the colonists in America. From the riots against unfair treatment inflicted by the British to uprisings by the disillusioned poor and underrepresented against the new American ruling class, destruction permeated all leaving on both sides pain and ruination in its wreckage.

I suppose one could argue that nonviolent methods are more for a story and sympathy and to act as a symbol than to accomplish any actual righting of wrongs. In our most depressed interpretation of Martin Luther King’s nonviolent civil rights movement or Gandhi’s nonviolent resistance of British imperial rule, we could say that both achieved little. While the discrimination and injustice outed by these movements might now find a place in our collective conscience, racism has not left us and countries are still subject to cultural and economic colonization. And what about Oscar Romero’s pacifistic plight in El Salvador? MLK and Gandhi serve as the heroes of the quixotic, with their wise words displayed on banners and quote walls, and Oscar Romero as a paragon of the Christian attempt at solidarity. But it is Che Guevara’s face that is screened on the shirts of social activists with fists in the air.  It was his involvement in the violent Cuban revolution that brought about something tangible, something real that people could see and feel everyday. Evidence, like this, of violence affecting change, inspires people to follow this precedent and commits them to the belief of violence as the first and most appropriate response.

History’s statement regarding the efficacy of nonviolence does not offer much to assuage my frustration.  And unfortunately, other fields of study don’t seem to provide any consolation either.  The sciences failed to provide me with an alternative avenue for hope, relinquishing the potential for nonviolent means to accomplish the great societal changes that are imperative to ameliorate the strained relationships in our world.  There is research that shows that nonviolent individuals use higher-level brain regions involved in rational judgment, self-control, and forgiveness. In short, nonviolence takes more effort to enlist as an option as well as to implement over aggression. At the same time, nonviolence involves putting others’ well-being as a priority along with or above one’s own self-interest. This is considered by many psychologists as costly to the nonviolent individual as well as anti-evolutionary. Taken together, there seems to be little incentive to act nonviolently. And the apparent impotence of nonviolent action only compounds this disincentive.  Does this render violence as the only sustainable solution?  Does this really mean that we are left with no other truly influential modes of positive social change?

Given, I’m being somewhat dramatic here.  Research shows that it takes extra energy and cognitive resources to be nonviolent, but not that it is impossible.  Self-sacrifice might go against evolution, but it still exists.  And though history, when subject to a critical examination, might reveal many disappointments and discouragements surrounding both the efficacy of nonviolence and people’s potential to rise to the challenge of nonviolent action, concrete progress can be made.  All that to say, it’s still difficult to see where our hope lies and whether or not that hope is merely well-intentioned but over-idealistic and naive.  Sometimes it feels like violence – as the weapon of the oppressor, the protest of the victim, and the revolutionary action of the oppressed – is the lifeblood of the majority.  I wholeheartedly agree that the structures need dismantling, that the systems need reforming, and that perpetrators need to be made privy to their crimes and victims.  However, I depart on the ways in which these exigencies should be addressed.  Violence only begets more violence, dragging us into a terrible cycle that we cannot always see and rarely can escape from.  I’m sure there are others who feel the same.  I am counting on them and their optimism to renew my vigor for justice, my belief in the possibility of change, and most importantly my faith in humanity.

Part 1 is what I like to think of as the rallying cry. (Though you’ll likely note that I ran out of time there at the end and it all just sort of tapers off into oblivion rather anticlimactically.)

Destruction: The Panacea of the Empire

The Europeans were a determined and confident people: Determined to succeed, determined to follow-through, and confident in their methods. Empowered by this determination and confidence, their goal was clear – be it attainment of wealth, land, resources, or progress – and any obstruction of their ambition was dealt with in the most immediately effective and exacting way. Simply put, to destroy it. However, their display of power and self-assuredness was only a mask for their cowardice. Often their arrival to new lands was met with a multitude of obstacles. But rather than address these challenges with a calculated plan and conviction, they sought a scapegoat in the indigenous people. The responsibility to ensure Europe’s success fell to the Indians but more importantly, the indigenous people were held accountable for the often certain and unavoidable failure of the Europeans. With this displacement of blame the Indians were seen as an obstruction preventing Europe from acquiring their goal, an obstruction that needed to be dealt with by destroying it so that Europe’s path to success was smooth and clear.

Americans are also a people empowered by their determination and confidence. They unwaveringly believe the answer to any problem that crosses their path is to destroy it. Feeling a threat upon their virtues of democracy, freedom, and American liberalism the United States responded with a resolute position. No one can attack the United States and its moral authority without retribution. And that is how we find ourselves in the midst of the War on Terror. But it is all a front. The US cannot destroy terror. Terror is an idea, a strategy, an intangible and you cannot destroy these things. So in the way of the Empire, the United States sought to scapegoat “the other”. With this scapegoating the US conveyed that certain people embody terror and that these “terrorists” are an obstruction preventing American ideology from spreading and flourishing.  And while we cannot destroy terror, we can destroy people.

If Europeans and Americans were deserving of the virtues they bestowed upon themselves, they would realize that there is no panacea for their problems. Obstacles will arise and the truly confident meet them with humility and respect, not destruction. While developing peaceful relationships that allow us to live in community rather than in competition with each other may initially prove difficult, such perseverance has its rewards: “Why will you take by force what you may have quietly by love? Why will you destroy us who supply you with food? What can you get by war?” (Zinn 13). But the Empire disguises its weakness in ostentatious power. The Empire distracts from its cowardice by pointing fingers at others. The Empire diverts us from its craven character with flagrant destruction. And the Empire always takes the easy way out.

I’m five chapters in, but not quite out of the Nutritionism section, which is probably to blame for my defensiveness.  Let me preface this with the comment that, at the root of his argument, I agree with Pollan.  We both have clear issues with reducing our food to insufficient components (vitamins, nutrients, fats, etc.) that mean little outside of context, relationships, biochemistry, and behavior.  We also both think that policy, public health, and industry have many ulterior motives that do not seem to include public well-being.  Further, we often find science, or “science” as I like to call it, in bed with the latter three.  Finally, food modification (abomination) is simply out of hand.  I don’t need cows to eat flaxseed (instead of grain feed which is eaten instead of grass) to give me Omega-3 fatty acids when I eat a steak.  And, I have often wondered what in the hell a “natural flavor” is.  If it’s so natural, why don’t you tell me it’s real name?  And, if it’s artificially created in a lab to be chemically identical to the real thing, then fucking just tell me that.  I might actually be less creeped out by that then simply “natural flavor”.  It’s so mysterious.

With that said, there are a few things I would challenge, or at least question, in Pollan’s argument thus far.  First, it seems (though not yet explicitly stated) that Pollan believes a “commonsense” theory of food would lead us to healthier and happier people.  In fact, he states that before nutrition science, we did and were just that.  Fine.  But I have to say this: commonsense is only better than science if commonsense is sound, which is the same that can be said for science.  Pollan has yet to posit anything inherently wrong with science, and I would argue the many negative implications of science cited thus far can be attributed to bad science and a complete (though possibly intentional) misinterpretation and misuse  of science (more on that in a bit). 

As an undergraduate, my physiological psychology professor gave a lecture on natural remedies that exemplified and clarified my reflexive disdain for these types of treatment (this is related to the present topic, I promise).  Unfortunately, my notes are in Portland so I can’t give any specific examples, but her point was that yes, natural remedies can work (and sometimes produce fewer side effects, which is a really good thing).  But, it’s not because they’re magic.  It’s because they, too, are made up of chemicals just like regular medication made in a lab and often these chemicals are very similar to or have similar properties as those in regular medication.  In addition, these chemicals interact with other chemicals that we may come into contact with on a regular basis (food, anyone?) and thus have potential risks just like regular medication.  That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t use natural remedies, but it means we shouldn’t be ignorant about them.  One, because it’s just annoying, but more importantly, two, it can have dire consequences for your health (drug interactions = bad).  As much as we don’t want to believe it, things that work – even if they’re natural – work for a reason.

What does this have to do with Pollan and food?  I only mean to say that commonsense is not magic either.  More likely it is the automatization of learned practices, and thus is only as good as the soundness of those initial practices.  If commonsense “works” then it, too, works for a reason.  Which (sort of) brings me to my next point:

Whoa with the bad science!  I’m going to go ahead and go out on a limb here and say that this “[scientists are] trained to keep moving forward, doing yet more science to add to the increments of our knowledge, patching up and preserving whatever of the current consensus can be preserved until the next big idea comes along” (p. 46) is not science.  Given, the scientific industry is not without its flaws and politicization for sure.  But, come on, this stuff is embarrassing for science.  Further, when a critical review of the lipid hypothesis research (lipid hypothesis is basically fat = coronary heart disease and thus the recommendation of stay the eff away from fats) finds that the majority of research has found little evidence for the link of fat to heart disease, then science was pretty much doing its job.  It found that there was no link.  Why the lipid hypothesis was still promulgated and policy and public health recommendations were given based on its scientific non-findings, I can’t tell you.  Obviously that was stupid and sadly detrimental.  So, what’s the real problem here?  That some people (scientists included) are unable or unwilling to loudly proclaim the truth about food.  That most people have no idea what it is that food does when we eat it.  And that we’re scared shitless about everything without knowing anything.

I know you’re all “duh Katie likes science”, but biochem and (real) nutrition science can be incredibly cool and useful (even Pollan thinks so, though he doesn’t say it outright).  For example, according to my undergrad anatomy and physiology professor, the brain and central nervous system are dependent on glucose for energy.  Glucose is almost predominantly (Klug can probably correct me on this if I’m wrong) found in starches and carbohydrates.  Starches and carbohydrates are hated on by many diets (I’m looking at you, Atkins) and this sentiment has managed to pervade the commonsense minds of America.  Fail.

How about this?  Per my undergrad Maternal and Child Nutrition course: Some vitamins and minerals can be toxic at certain levels.  More interestingly, many vitamins and minerals work in groups within the human body and are inversely related to each other.  Calcium can interfere with absorption of iron, whereas Vitamin C will aid the absorption of iron.

Back to Anat and Phys: How about the fact that we need sodium and potassium to move our  muscles, and when we sweat we lose both.  However, our bodies generally are better at retaining sodium than they are at potassium, so after a long run you’d do well to eat a banana rather than guzzle that sports drink.  Drinking too much water, in contrast, can deplete the sodium and potassium in your body (pee much?) and cause your heart to stop (right, because it’s a muscle?).  I mean, you have to drink a shit ton of water for that to happen, but isn’t that so awesome?  That’s also one of the reasons why bulemia is so hard on the heart, because constantly throwing up throws off your electrolyte balance and dehydrates you, again screwing with things like potassium and sodium which are needed to make your heart pump.

And finally, my favorite from Physio Psych: It’s not the turkey that makes you sleepy at Thanksgiving, it’s that you consume turkey with potatoes.  Only with the help of carbohydrates from the potatoes can the tryptophan in the turkey make its journey into becoming serotonin whose release results in your drowsiness.

God I love this stuff.  What was the point of this post?  Michael Pollan.  Right.  Even he has an example of his own: Funny that we hate fats considering fats are all over our bodies in good ways – sheathing our neurons, constituting 60% of our brain, making sure we have cell membranes – and without fats all of those fat-soluble vitamins can’t make it in (p. 49).  Science – real science done right and appropriately used – points us back to eating as Pollan and “commonsense” think we should.

As I said in my other post on my other blog, I’m hoping to write my thoughts regarding various books I will be attempting to read simultaneously.  These thoughts, while I wish they were well thought out and worded for maximum impact, will likely be haphazard and stream of consciousness (my specialty).  I’m not the writer many of my friends are and that will most certainly come to the fore in this (hopefully realized) series of writing.  My hope is that I’ll be able to formulate some essay-like prose, but as I am prone to making lists, my thoughts may come in bulleted fashion more often than I would like.  With that said, here goes.

The books:

1. In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan

2. The Gift of the Good Land by Wendell Berry. (If I somehow manage to get my hands on the Unsettling of America instead – which I once had a copy and now seem to no longer possess – I will be substituting that in instead, as it is somewhat of a forerunner to The Gift of the Good Land.)

3. Deep Economy by Bill McKibben.

4. Nevertheless by John Howard Yoder.  (Because you probably can’t tell by the title, this book is a typology of the various forms of religious pacifism.  Hopefully I’ll figure out which one I am by the conclusion of my reading, because I’m tired of defending something so nebulous for most people.)

These are all books I once meant to read and never followed through with (no surprise there).  I’m almost certain at least one will drop from the list as I get further in, though think that they all may have an interesting way of speaking to each other.  I also think some of the information will be redundant, thus allowing me to navigate multiple rather than few.  We’ll see.  First thoughts after the jump.

Deep Economy: Growth is on the mind, as the first chapter takes 45 pages to hammer in the message that it is not just things gone wrong that are resulting in our dire environmental and economic situation, but merely things gone exactly as they should in too large a quantity that are responsible for the degradation of the earth and sustainability.  I agree with McKibben here, so have moved on to more philosophical questions (or forays into philosophical pointless masturbation as some may call it).  What struck me most is that humankind feels such a pull to growth as an end in itself.  What about growth is so desirable?  When was this deep desire for progress first instantiated and imparted on us? As a psychologist and one who was forced to read his entire 700+ page biography, I can’t help but wonder if Darwin is somewhat to blame.  Or, more accurately, our interpretation of Darwin’s theory.  I’m sure goals of progress were established well before Darwin’s time, but recently I have been asking myself what life would be like without the implicit knowledge of evolutionary theory.  The greater details of that question are for another time, but the relevant portion is that many read Darwin’s theory as nature’s inclination toward progress.  In my reading of Darwin and his theory, it is less obvious that overall progress was a natural consequence of evolution.  Rather, a fitting of oneself in one’s current environment was considered “progress”, but really all this implied was survival.  The best suited for survival in a particular (and inevitably ever-changing) environment was equated with success, or as we may want to call it, progress.

All that to say, I wonder what happens when we care less about progress and more about survival?  And, no, I don’t necessarily mean half-naked, bare all, violent battle to the death (or, for the winner, life) survival.  I simply mean, if we are concerned only with survival, might we be freed to tread more lightly on the earth, to allow concerns regarding peaceful relations between people groups (survival is most certainly dependent on interdependence), and to provide for all?  It would be a sad joke (quite an understatement for some) if what led us to value and vehemently pursue progress and growth (Darwin and scientific evolutionary theory) would, in its true understanding, lead us not to the pursuit of progress but rather its negation – nothing more than survival.

The latter half of the chapter was devoted to the many evidences of more and money not equaling happiness.  This is a common argument that many like to make.  For the most part, I would agree.  However, as a psychologist, this is a very messy place to stake claim.  I’ll spare you all the details, but there are a few points I would like to make in response to this sort of argument:

1) In our assessment of “happiness” we have to be very careful in our interpretation of these data.  Apart from people being swayed by all sorts of survey construction issues, people likely underestimate the role in which income and money play in their other predictors of happiness (those things they say make them happy, such as marriage, health, etc.)  Don’t forget that one of the biggest problems in marriage is finances and that without adequate health care, which comes at a cost, you do not necessarily have health.  Etc.

2) A psychologist at NYU, John Jost, has done extensive research on Social Justification Theory.  Basically the theory states that we use complementary stereotypes to maintain the status quo.  The relevant example here is that wealthy people are miserable and poor people are happy, thus allowing us to justify the economic disparity that exists.  McKibben does some justice to the romanticized notion that poor people are happy, explaining that to a certain extent increased income does correspond with an increase in happiness, but this is likely due to the meeting of basic needs and security.  Beyond that it’s a mixed bag.  Yet, I think it is important to recognize this alluring pitfall of complementary stereotypes and romanticization of the poor and move away from the money does not equal happiness argument that I think isn’t strong enough to combat the purveyors of our current economic system.

A shout out to behavioral economics!  McKibben cites quite a few psychologists (including Kahneman who won the Nobel Prize for Economics and whom I have read for my multi-agent modeling course) and recognizes the importance of understanding consumer behavior rather than just economic utility and other basic economic models.  And a point of caution: While McKibben, in his exploration and refutation of money = happiness, wants to say that what we buy doesn’t really matter, he’d be wise not to forget the identity signaling that our purchases so often satisfy.  Meaning, when we buy things that are somehow relevant and important to our group memberships (our identity), they signal who we are and who we are not – which is a very, very strong need.

Finally, why are none of my friends doing economics??  He talks about Bob Costanza’s Gund Institute for Ecological Economics at U. of Vermont, which sounds awesome.  Someone needs to venture into enemy territory so we can better plan our dismantling of the current economic system, right?

In Defense of Food: I already wrote a book about Deep Economy, so I’ll keep this short (and end abruptly).  What struck me here was the downtrodden perspective on nutrition science.  I don’t really know shit about nutrition science, but I will say this: Science is only as good as those conducting it.  Meaning, if we reduce nutrition based on ill-informed politicians and agendas, of course we will come up with a less than helpful nutritional recommendation.  Maybe I’m only defending nutrition science because I am a scientist and believe in its worth, but I think that if able to find the correct and right components of food that are helpful in keeping us healthy and combating cancer, etc., then it’s worthwhile to know that.  All truth is worth knowing, if it is truth.  Where we find fault is when we decide that we don’t need to qualify and fully state our findings.  Or when the lay-public decide they can disregard those ever-important qualifications.  No offense to non-scientists (and, really, we should all sort of be scientists because in this modern – because we’re not really postmodern and I’m not sure postmodernism is a good alternative in the first place – society you better know your shit), but it’d be helpful if you stopped fucking up our research.  I’m working my ass off over here in scientific academia trying to get people to be more responsible for their research and better at explaining, connecting, and applying their science to normal people stuff, but it’d be helpful if you took it upon yourself to also not misinterpret and reduce everything we do.  Let’s meet halfway, okay?

“I bowled a 129…It’s like – it was like the Special Olympics, or something.”

That is the presidential equivalent of saying, “That’s retarded.” Well, isn’t this fitting in light of Eugene Cho’s post on sojoblog?  Calling out Miley Cyrus and that one Jonas Brother for racist photo poses is one thing, but what do you do when it is the President of the United States making an offhand joke about the Special Olympics? And not just any president, but a recently-elected and much-beloved president who is also publicly heralded as evidence of the progress our country has made toward equality.

I think Donnie Simpson provided a solid analysis of the situation. Despite the multiple e-mails he’d received that morning dismissing the comment and relieving the President of any bad intent, Simpson made clear that the comment was offensive and should not have been said. What Simpson was saying is that President Obama was wrong. Take a moment and let that sink in.

And yet, he went on to say that he understands there are times in comedy when people make jokes about certain groups. Some people find those jokes funny and others do not (and you can argue whether this is right or wrong), but that is the nature of comedy. Simpson made clear, however, that the President is not a comedian. While the lightheartedness of the interview did much to show the President in a human light (we all joke around, we all create March Madness brackets, and we all slip up with what we say), Barack Obama holds significant influence over the American people and must always be aware of his responsibility.

Simpson’s final words before I hit the snooze button highlighted the importance of Obama’s response to the event. Before the interview even aired, Obama called the Director of the Special Olympics from Air Force One to apologize profusely about his statement. He conveyed his regret over his comment and his deep respect for the Special Olympics. The President also offered to fly Special Olympics participants to the White House for a visit. According to TimesOnline, the President recognized the weight of his words in the instant he said them.

Of course, Barack Obama has swarms of people paid to analyze his every word and action, righting wrongs before they even happen. But, for once, I care little about who told him to do what. As President, Obama sets an example. It’s clear here that his example was to educate yourself so you know when something is offensive, to admit when you are wrong, to apologize, and to seek reconciliation. As a Korean American woman, I’m offended by this recent trend of slitted eye photo poses, but I’d feel a bit more at ease if people started to follow the President’s lead.

Everyone’s wrong sometimes and everyone offends sometimes. Know when you’ve done it. Say that you’re wrong. That’s what forgiveness and grace are for. Then do something to build that relationship, that bond, rather than let your pride and self-righteousness dig you into an insensitive hole.

And let’s not forget to give credit where credit is due: Thanks, Donnie Simpson, for being an example of how to honestly critique and hold accountable those around us, even when it’s the President of the United States.

Or something like that. Creative license, etc.

Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Policy Punishes GW ROTC Freshman

Todd Belok, a freshman enrolled in the Naval ROTC program at GW, was recently dismissed for kissing another boy at a party. Two fellow midshipmen, Perry and Trimis, witnessed the kiss and reported the breach to ROTC higher-ups. Despite contradicting GW’s own antidiscrimination policy, the university decided to uphold federal law without a fight. What in the hell is going on here?

Apparently, according to the article, homosexual acts like a kiss make for an “uncomfortable situation” for some ROTC kids. Ninety percent of women in the military who are under the age of 50 report sexual harrassment, with 1/3 of all women reporting sexual assault. Recently, guards humiliated, abused, and dehumanized detainees at the Abu Ghraib prison. Rape and torture, whatever, but a kiss between boys really makes me squirm. “Strong words, Katie, you’re a wee bit off your mark here.” Sure, maybe. But I’m also a just a wee bit incensed here. The Don’t Ask Don’t Tell military policy has to be one of the dumbest and most bigoted long-standing policies around. How can such flagrant human rights abuses be taken in stride by the military, but Todd Belok gets dismissed for a kiss?

To attempt fairness, the benefit of the doubt: Perry and Trimis may have meant no harm (Perry even later expressed regret over having reported Belok to the Lt). It’s no secret that the military depends on obedience and rigorous adherence to regulations. They’ve been trained to rat out infractions. They were probably just following the rules as they have been rewarded to do. And GW, well, we all know that educational institutions are being hit by the economic recession. Add in the usual politicking that runs rampant in universities – the administration not wanting to piss off the board of trustees who don’t want to piss off the wealthy, conservative donors, and on and on – and you get a hotbed of fear-driven compliance for the sake of education.

Both the blind obedience revered in the military and the politicized structure of the higher education system breed an environment of complicity. It’s very difficult to stand up for what is right when you’re buried in this muck. But that’s why we all need to do something. Cliche yet likely true: If one stands up, others are likely to follow. Milgram’s famous psychological study, inspired by the overlooked atrocities during the Jewish holocaust, found that two-thirds of people will inflict the maximum shock (450 volts) to another human for no other reason than the experimenter said it was necessary for the study (this amidst victims’ cries of pain and heart problems). When two other people refused to continue the shocks, the number of people obeying the experimenter fell to 10%. It’s frightening and really hard to go against the norm, to go against authority, but at times, like in Belok’s case, it is necessary. I hope when Belok finds himself at GW, stripped of his ROTC uniform and protesting the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy, he is not standing alone.

When asked, Belok explained he wanted to join ROTC in order to build character and serve his country. He wanted to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather who had been in the Navy. One day our country will find a way for men (and women) to come of age, to build character, and to gain honor that exists outside of military and war. Hopefully this alternative will be more worthy of these virtuous attributes. Luckily our new president is taking that step by popularizing alternative ways to serve our country: building communities rather than bombing them, feeding people rather than torturing them, nurturing culture rather than raping it. I hope the kid finds some minor consolation in the fact that at least now he won’t have to shoot anyone. Can someone e-mail Belok and let him know that, while he waits for the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Policy to cede to equality, we’d be happy to show him the world of community organizing and servant leadership. And tell him his boyfriend can come too.

A quick note: For someone who has been a Christian for the last twenty-five years, I know very little about the Bible. I’ve lived my life and my faith in the gray area world of the Biblical Big Picture that exists under the larger moral arc of Christian love. Thus the following questions I pose and premises I depend on are tenuous at best. I welcome the aspiring Biblical scholars and theologians, historians and anthropologists, and those of you who’ve spent time in scripture and prayer to shake your head and let me know “how it really is.”

On Sin and Action: What is with our obsession with sin and depravity? Am I sinful? Sure. Am I imperfect? Obviously. Do I need God to save me from all of this? Yes, I do. But so much focus on the complete wreckage that is humanity can make it incredibly difficult to move: move to action, move to seek justice, move to make peace, move to love. And where is the merit in that? Humility is vital to working toward all of those virtues (and what better way to humble oneself than reflecting on the many ways we fail to measure up?), but it doesn’t necessarily require continuously dredging through our mire of insufficiencies. We needn’t endlessly suffer to the point of immobility to remind us of our dependence on God’s grace, and, likewise, God’s offering of grace is not contingent on us drowning in our sins.

On Human Nature and Action: If we are inherently bad, we can’t change. We can’t overcome. We can’t be made new. We can try to not give into human nature, but this is merely a continuous struggle to refrain from doing bad rather than being good. A recovered alcoholic is still an alcoholic. They’re just an alcoholic who doesn’t take a drink anymore. Conversely then, are we inherently good? Are we born pure only to then have time, the world, and the weight of the fall take its toll? But this leads us to a similar quandary: if we are inherently good, then there is no need to change. Leave us to our natural devices and eventually the world will be beautiful and true. Instead we should see ourselves as inherently capable of good and bad. We are not one or the other, but rather have the potential to do both. Human nature holds no value judgment, but the ways in which our natural inclinations play themselves out (our beliefs, our actions, our words) can be either good or bad or some confluence of the two. This means we don’t have to endure suffering and wait for the world to right itself. This means, while we will sin and fail and make mistakes, we can change. We are freed and empowered to act with real consequence.

On Suffering and Action: I don’t believe that God calls us to suffering as an end in itself. We suffer as a means to empathize, to understand, to gain insight, all of which help us to seek the kingdom rather than the empire. These two competing perspectives are embodied in the crucifixion. Some view Jesus’s death as a sacrificial act atoning for our sins, saving us from the eternal consequences of our imperfections. This is the view that I grew up with. However, an alternative reading of the crucifixion understands Jesus’s death as the putting down of a subversive threat to empire. I don’t think the acceptance of one perspective forces the rejection of the other. If we look outside the traditional framework we can see that there is room for both takes on the crucifixion to coexist. Jesus is still savior, but allowing for the crucifixion to stand for the punishment of rebellion provides a model of how we should suffer and speaks to why we suffer.

On Sacrifice and Action: Jesus was not a quiet subject of the empire, but an arresting dissenter. His mere lifestyle and the values he held countered the status quo, and his presence alone was a threat to the powers. Jesus was a constant reminder of an alternative call, a different way of living, that each day dismantled rather than buttressed Rome’s imperial stronghold. Further, Jesus was a conspicuous subversive. He spoke out against the empire, he actively challenged the powers, all while attracting and leading multitudes in his plight to bring about the kingdom. So Jesus was removed, put down, excoriated by the empire. But if we are merely saddened by his death and grateful for his sacrifice, the empire wins. It was a nice life with good stories and a grace-filled ending, but we strip him of much of his martyrdom. He didn’t just fulfill a prophecy with his death. He wasn’t just an ethereal savior dying for hypothetical people in some beautiful realm of the mystical. He was a real man who lived a real life challenging empire that had very real consequences. Jesus was unjustly tortured and murdered by the empire because they were terrified. We should be outraged! And, we should see how we are called to live.

Freed from sin, empowered by human nature, enlightened by suffering, and inflamed by sacrifice, is it not time to act?

The New York Times has thoroughly covered the incident. The photo was an ad in a Spanish newspaper that also included an identical photo of the women’s basketball team. In order to assuage some of the reactionary discomfort surrounding the ad, the Spanish teams have alluded that it was an “affectionate gesture” between the teams and their Chinese sponsor, Li-Ning footwear company. And as a response to critical accusations from those offended by the ad, we are reminded that the Chinese embassy in Spain does not find it to be racist or offensive.

This seems to imply that everyone else is overreacting: “Look! Even China doesn’t care!” However, I see China’s willingness to overlook the incident as a diplomatic consequence rather than an admission that the act is not a racially loaded and dangerous one. Don’t get me wrong — I’m glad we don’t feel the need to start official conflicts over such things. Being able to recognize intention, distinguish between actions and actors, and, above all, gracefully forgive are hallmarks of mature relationships. But this does not equal rendering the act as “okay” and inoffensive. How do we keep from sacrificing loving accountability for diplomatic tolerance? Or more bluntly, how do we say a racist act is wrong but forgiven, rather than ignore the offended and excuse racism for the sake of appearances?

Let’s bring this down a level: Suppose an acquaintance of mine says to me, with a wink, “Katie, thanks for helping with cleanup. You’re such a good, subservient Asian girl.” Now, I will not punch her in the face and declare her my enemy. However, I most certainly will put an affectionate arm around her shoulders and have a word. It might sound like this (”what I’d say” = “what I’d mean”):

“Ha, ha” = “I can see how you might think that’s funny and clever because I’m Asian and it’s an Asian stereotype.”

“I’m glad we’re friends” = “I believe relationships should be dealt with lovingly. So, I’m not going to punch you in the face.”

“But let me tell you why you’re wrong” = “But it’s not okay. And I am going to use this opportunity to help you understand how and why this hurts people, especially those who are not your friends, because they probably won’t do that. But, they might punch you in your possibly well-intentioned but ignorant face.”

Or something like that. My point is, whether or not the Spanish teams meant nothing bad by the gesture and whether or not the Chinese embassy accepts this, it is still wrong. It offends someone. It misleads someone into thinking it’s okay. It reinforces stereotypes. And it reduces all of someone’s pain that was borne out of the history of such a gesture, such a stereotype, down to a couple of very public photos and a shrugged-off worldwide response. This is what matters.

I am a former student who studied cultural identity and stereotyping and am a Christian who seeks opportunities for reconciliation. Thus my initial reaction upon reading Cho’s blog post was to displace blame (we are all at fault for racism), rigorously find and attack the root problem (Institutions! Apathy! Ignorance!), and mend relationships (let this bring us together rather than divide us further). But I am also an adopted Korean woman living in the United States. I have endured demeaning comments from men (”speak Japanese to me and giggle!”); I have struggled at childhood “beauty parlor” parties because my face didn’t follow the Caucasian fashion magazine rules; I have had good grades discounted because studying and science are “in my racial DNA;” and I have, of course, been subject to people slanting their eyes at me. So when I read Cho’s most recent post about the topic, I took the time to stop thinking and theorizing and problem-solving. Instead I simply looked at the picture of (this time) the Spanish women’s tennis team slanting their eyes at the camera. And I have to be honest, it hurt.