Monday, October 2, 2017

Ea

Have you ever hit a point where everything you’re doing, reading, seeing, thinking, practising, all come from the same place? And it makes perfect sense because everything you’re learning about lately is about how everything is a part of something, all interconnected, and so everything is everything and something. Clear? No, I suppose not.
              Well, time is meaningless but still let me try at a beginning if not the beginning.
              For the spiritual who aren’t faithful, trying to sort out your existential feelings is tricky. Many find themselves drawn to pure atheism or to some sort of traditional religion but with several asterixis attached. My own walk has always seen me drawn to nature, to the Gaia concept but free from a particular deity’s involvement and certainly free of all church dogma. I don’t believe there is nothing because I cannot look at a river or a lovely tree and not feel something. I once famously quoted to myself that “You can’t be an atheist on the side of a mountain.”
              The good thing about religions is they offer answers. However, the bad thing about religions is the same thing. Those of us who don’t need answers but need to feel like we know why we do what we do and how to follow our own moral compass.
              Alright, so rocks and trees are good. Don’t pollute. Be nice to birdies. All fairly granola. Yes, I believe in renewable energy, I’m anti-tarsands, and I do think humans are spoiling the planet for everyone else. But I’m also a meat-eater, and I don’t think the universe hands me stuff, has a plane for me, or is the reason my battery died.

              I believe in an interconnectivity in our world, that all things and all people have some kind of a connection. And I believe what will be will be. I call it Eรค. I stole this concept from the Tolkien creation story in The Silmarillion.  

Friday, September 1, 2017

Wilful Ignorance, Revisited

Given that it’s back to school this week, it’s appropriate that education’s on my mind, although it’s education in a grander, societal sense. In the Trump era we say the words “How stupid can he be?” and—worse—“How stupid can we think he are?” and—horrifying—“How stupid can you be to support him?” a lot more than we’re comfortable with. And we lived through the Dubya administration, remember?
              Being a news junkie, I can’t shut it off, nor can I shut off my repugnance. Not for the horrors that so often make the headlines, but more often I’m struck dumb by the dumb. The evidence of the uneducated, stupid actions or stupid people, by the wilfully ignorant never ceases to move me. The wilfully ignorant feel it’s right to think what they want to think—ironically—and to form opinions before consulting evidence. Usually they avoid evidence completely.
              Click on your news app, your radio, your phone. Go anywhere. Right now you are going to hear about climate change deniers, whooping cough anti-vaxxers, and Nazis. They may not all be stupid people, but they’re exercising the right to act stupid by ignoring the obvious and the documented that would educate them out of the cave of their own wilful ignorance.
              Nazis. Seriously.
              Santayana said “Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it” and Wells said “History is a race between education and catastrophe” but I don’t know how either would take people who know they don’t want to know better. What do you do with someone who refuses to learn? It makes me think of Homer Simpson smashing a plate over his head rather than listen to rational thought.
              War is the last resort of any but the sadistic and the violently stupid. It’s humanity’s worst creation, a petty, ugly thing that we’ve convinced ourselves is more glory than gorey. Usually, those in power us it as an excuse to attain something, or as a distraction.
              I say again: Nazis. Seriously. The people in the news are Americans entitled by a racist, sexist billionaire president with the morals of a rapist and the intelligence of a damp throw-rug, but they’re everywhere. Idiots who call themselves Nazis because it comes with more fear and fewer syllables than “White Supremacists” and because it represents something they can take pride in, because they’re wilfully ignorant enough to think there’s anything proud about National Socialism.
              Nazis were themselves idiots, ideologically-speaking. They followed the hackneyed racial profiling that a failed Austrian artist literally made up while killing time in jail as a means of justifying violence. Fact-checking was a heinous crime in the Reich.
              (Are we getting tired of the Hitler/Trump parallels? Well then he should quit living them.)
              These modern Nazis had fathers and grandfathers who fought against facism, who fought against the wilfully ignorant who goose-stepped along behind another big talker who said a lot of nothing. A modern Nazi is either a moron, or a sad little coward who needs to convince himself he can control a world he barely comprehends. Easy answers to complex questions are for the stupid. Racial and cultural superiority is for the stupid. And not learning from the past means you’ll be an embarrassing clip in your grandchild’s history class someday.
              Southern Alberta is experiencing an outbreak of whooping cough and the strain of this defeated disease is finding its legs in the unvaccinated, chiefly fundamentalist population. It’s the part of the province rife with the homeschooled, the modern-denying Mennonite, the traditional Dutch. People who insulate themselves from their world, its knowledge, from education, from the obvious.
              It’s enough to make us secular folks with religious tolerance choke on our own sweet numbing booze as we watch faith raised as a wall between the believer and common sense. Why think when you can pray? Why learn when you can just believe? When did being on your knees before your god make people suck?
              Faith is taking the place of what is known, and that sort of insularity is especially ignorant, especially wilful.
              And lastly, there’s the criticism that makes me feel a bit of a pariah given the updates daily from Texas, but given as well how much bad climate news is the norm, there’s no good time to talk about it. Our world is changing and we changed it, the crises has begun. BC is suffering a historical wildfire season, most of Western Canada is suffering what could be the beginning of years of drought, and the Gulf Coast spits out yet another beyond-record hurricane. Extreme weather is the new normal, and yet as the planet we live on that sustains us rejects the poisons we spew into it, the wilful ignorant still claim that this is “Just the way it is.” As if mass extinction and cataclysmic biosphere shifts are, hey, business.
              Of course this leaves the door wide open for the greedy and the stupid—The Trump villains—to step in and continue the planet’s degradation unchecked. People aren’t just unaware of the disaster, they’re denying it, denying the facts in front of them. Wilful ignorance means to form your opinion on the changing climate, drawing pale reference to the Ice Age (years versus centuries, uh huh) or some Haliburton spokesman who made sense once and, hey, how else you gonna get the oil outta the ground? Life goes on, game’s on.
              Wilful ignorance can be beaten because it’s usually not malicious, it’s mostly just lazy. As education takes a hit in this age of unreason, though, we have to ask ourselves not how stupid are we, but how stupid are we willing to be?

              

Monday, May 1, 2017

Catholic School Controversy: It is Because It Shouldn't Be

              My first eight school years were spent in the Catholic (or “separate”) system. I had a nun for Grade 1 which shows my age because nuns as teachers were relics of when my mother and her siblings entered the same school, a school their father had helped in seeing created. That school has existed for decades, offering a town of around 2000 people an option for K-7 (and in fits and starts attempts at 8) Catholic education, and every year since it has opened has been knelled as its last. The town is too small for two schools, its enrollment is low despite the very Catholic production levels some families show. It just can't last. They were saying that when I entered it in 1982, when I left it in 1990, and when I subbed at it—recognizing that I had at least one cousin in any class of any grade I taught there—in 2001 and again in 2003. They are saying it today.
              I have fond memories of my time at that school, and though I don’t believe for an instant that this current hiccup will kill it, I feel no need to cry out for it or any other religious school’s preservation amid the grind of these secular times. I don’t myself believe in Catholic, Christian, or any sort of single-denominational religious education, but I am a firm believer in living and letting live. Until your actions affect me or mine, or anyone else. That’s why since I was old enough to learn that “separate” means the division of dollars, I have been against public funds and resources being routed to religious education. Putting it bluntly: the recent controversy in Saskatchewan has exposed a system that is outdated and, worse, not what it claims to be; nor is it often accessed for what it says it is—but more on that below.
              Hypocrite? Heathen? Perhaps. Certainly the latter. But I have a unique perspective given that I went to a Catholic school until joining the public system in Grade 8, and today I am an educator and a parent. School is my life. The bible is not. And my roles as an educator and a parent matter much more than my religious disposition (or lack thereof).
              Those of you already sharpening knives in order to slit the throat of this lost sheep need to allow me the explanation that I was baptized and even confirmed Catholic, though it was more out of family tradition than a strong passion for the faith. I’ve always referred to my mother as a “thinking man’s” Catholic, and my father is a non-practising Lutheran. Nothing was ever levelled down on us, and critical thinking was encouraged—which is why I annoyed Sister Mary so much; well that and because I was a six-year-old boy. In a fumbly, confused way I may have seen myself as a Catholic until I was 14 or so, but I was never a good one (sorry Grandpa).
              I’m not a Catholic now. I’m not even a Christian, though I am a spiritual man and—I’ll say again—all good with people having faith as long as they keep it out of my face. Sadly, there’s that evangelical and fundamental nature to so many religions. Maybe that’s why I dig Buddhists and Jews so much . . .
              My Catholic school was in southwest Saskatchewan, and I currently live and teach in southern Alberta; these are the only two provinces in the country with this separate education system, and of course this whole issue stems from a Saskatchewan stereotype: a very small town with two schools. Theodore, a town of fewer than 400, opened a 26-student Catholic school as a “healthy alternative” to its 42-student rural school. (There are classes in my school the size of these schools). The tempest raged far outside the teapot when the Court of Queen’s Bench judge’s 200+ page ruling said that although the extremely dated religious protection laws couldn’t be eliminated entirely from education because the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms does protect religious and minority freedom, the judge could rule something very obvious: only Catholics could attend Catholic School.       
              Simple? Elementary? About dang time?
              No, Armageddon. Pass the Kool-Aid.
              See, this separated education system has led to years of competition. Catholic schools have often used faith-based education, small teacher/pupil ratios, school proximity, sometimes French Immersion, or the exclusion of coded or at-risk students (allegedly) to draw parents. Christians of another stripe would often plug their noses and let the Catholics teach their kids rather than us heathens. Then a judicial decision ripped this away from them.
              And who’s complaining? The non-Catholics who want access to the Catholic schools for one of the above reasons, who want to choose to send their kids and tax dollars to a school based on a system rooted in a faith that they themselves don’t belong to.
Would it be possible? Only if the entire education system in Saskatchewan was started over. It’s a bad, bad system, but it’s deeply entrenched. Okay, but if so, when? Not for years and years thanks to trial and retrial. Time enough for Alberta to maybe consider the same thing. Here's hoping anyway.
              Enter Brad Wall, who busts in as the conquering hero and uses the notwithstanding clause to overrule the decision. Ah, Wall, once again saving Saskatchewanites from the evils of recession (expect he didn’t) and liberalism (except it’s not his jurisdiction), and now from the persecution of the exploitation of loopholes. Except he doesn’t care. He’s doing this to a) once again get himself in the national news and b) to test his muscles so he can look at overturning rulings on, say, labour laws—things more attuned to his own interests.
              It’s been interesting watching this from one of the few Alberta towns where the Catholic option has not always been there; it’s only about twenty years old here and has nowhere near the muscle. Locals find the dichotomy that most of us in these two provinces—in towns or cities—have always taken for granted strange and impractical. Because it is!
Battle lines are being sharply drawn: public versus Catholic. Secular education versus religious indoctrination. Many non-Catholic Christians who have sent their children to Catholic schools were also looking for this indoctrination (which goes against what education is) and/or to hide their children from the evils of society (which goes against what Jesus told his apostles to do). Big appeal in ultra-Christian (but not necessarily Catholic) Southern Alberta. Some who can’t find the way to closet their kids off in homeschooling havebtaken this as a second-best option, knowing that if they can’t brainwash against evil public school policies—things like gender equality, racial harmony, and vaccinations—in the comfort of their own home, well at least at the Catholic school they’d do it with the endorsement of Jesus.
              Having publicly funded Catholic schools is like Coke funded Pepsi machines. It’s not just worldview, they’re doing two different things. Public funding should not be going to private interests, Catholic or otherwise. That this option exists means not only a splitting of tax dollars, but a splitting of bureaucracy and resources. Catholic schools should have always been privately funded by the parents that feel that indoctrinating their children matters more than educating them, that telling them that following a set of beliefs matters more than challenging oneself as a critical thinker.
              This is the purpose of education: to teach children to think, not to follow, not to believe.
              If the public system were all-encompassing had access to the funds wasted on Catholic systems, we would see class sizes shrink, quality of materials improve, and an end to the spreading of quality educators between systems. And true Catholics (or Muslims, Jews, etc.) could pool their resources and buy their own private schools if they really felt that their beliefs needed to be delivered every day in school, even though education comes from the State, where religion has no place. That is, if they’d rather see their kids fed a faith, rather than challenging and examining it as a part of a world, not hidden from it. But then I’ve always thought a faith has to be examined to succeed. (Mine failed before midterms).
              I am not a Christian, but I have no issue with Christians. Same for most other faiths. The school I teach at has several Latter Day Saints students who have no issues attending a public school while attending seminary in the mornings and church on Sundays, going on their missions after they graduate. They are somehow able to remain faithful without how to go about that showing up in their textbooks. 
            If creationism is challenged by Science class, go home and discuss it with your parents. I tell my own children that there are people who believe that Jesus was the Son of God and good for them; I tell my kids that I believe that he was a very good and yet controversial teacher, and believe what you will about him, most of what he said is a pretty good way to approach living. If my kids want to challenge that, I’ll discuss it with them rather than tell them they must believe what I do. I thought that’s what parenting was.
              To me, Christianity has no place in our schools unless it is being studied scientifically and as an equal of its peers. It should be recognized as the most important Western religion, just as Islam is given the same significance in the Middle East and Buddhism in Asia.

If you must have a faith-based school then pay for it yourselves, and if you must have a faith-based school then it should be of your own faith, not some reasonable facsimile that you can send your kids to thanks to gentle rules and positive funding models. It’s a fairly simple logic but those are the sorts of logics that usually ring true. No dramatic change is coming, but at least a system that has never made sense is being examined—for challenge is what improves a thing or kills it. (‘Scuse my Darwinism.)

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Modern Science Fiction Films: The Rise of the Plausible

           
www.screenrant.com
  Art is reflective of its time and place. Look at the sculpture and theatre of the Renaissance, the paintings of the pastoral during the Industrial Revolution, the protest music of the 1960s. Some of the these shifts are minor, or only in one aspect of art reflecting one value or response to a time, but they are always noteworthy.
              Of late there has been a shift in interest—specific to films although often they’re films based on novels—in the realm of plausible science fiction (as opposed to ludicrous but fun Star Wars or Star Trek or their ilk).
              It’s certainly true that none of these recent great films—examples such as Gravity, Interstellar, Ex Machina, The Martian, and Arrival—is confined to just science, just exploration, just the plausible. They all must reach, they all must give themselves over to something to satisfy Hollywood. For a story to work it must have conflict and for a story to work for Hollywood it must have a conflict of physical (preferably violent) danger and some asshole somewhere ruining things for everyone else. And the success of these films in appealing to Hollywood need only be noted in their fairing in their particular award seasons.
              But still the smarts are there.
              Despite the contrived conflict cop-out, they do enough real science fiction as well in that they employ research, synthesis, and explanation for far beyond the expected amount of time in just another exciting flick. Everything could happen, and, with the exception of Arrival, none of these threats come in the otherworldly, and with Arrival the alien threat is only a vessel for the puzzle that entrenches this story as a character piece first, a linguistic piece second.
              Science, or at least semi-plausible science. Filmmakers are once again exploring the subtleties of our universe in these and thus saying more about our species as a result. The cosmos shines the mirror at our little blue orb.
              But why? Where has this resurgence come from?
              I’m old enough, perceptive enough, and creative enough to impose patterns I see on the layers of art I’ve experienced over the years I’ve lived. The films of the 60s reflected tumult and protest and the Cold War and the death of martyrs and growing communism and consumerism. The 70s and 80s reflected decadence, materialism, and an ever-present certainty of a nuclear holocaust. The 90s a brief glimmer of hope for a coming century and a black exposure of the true nature of the human spirit, the latter winning out as that hope was shattered by genocide, ethnic cleansing, and the fall of the Twin Towers. The reign of democratic oligarchs like Bush II and Harper saw the rise again of protest, of art inspired by tin tyrants, and this is one thing I look forward to in a hopefully short Trump administration.
              The films I listed above say something about their time, that is the time in which they were made. What exactly? What is it about science fiction that employs vivid realism rather than pure escapism? What’s happening in our world to draw that out?
              A theme that crosses all of these films is logic and learning attempting to compete with impending disaster. Smarts finding a way. Brains over brawn. Interstellar, The Martian, and Arrival are all built around the idea of finding hope for humans (or humanity) after the damage we have done to ourselves.
              We’re living in a time of nearly unprecedented ignorance, of wilful stupidity, and of course this is ironically happening while the entirety of human learning across our whole history is available to all people at all time in all places and on device that fits in your pocket.
               I’m not going to get political nor am I going to rage against social media. I don’t have to dwell on these to point out that fundamentalism, xenophobia, rejection of modern science and medicine, and the inability to question information sources and presentation critically and thoughtfully (and reasonably!) all show that despite 2017 being the height of human knowledge and technical advancement, there are those who reject our world because it’s simply too hard to understand. Decisions don’t come easily when you let yourself see shades of grey.
              Take the proliferation of zombie apocalypse material in the past decade, for what is the zombie apocalypse? It’s simplification. It is the stripping away of all that makes a society complex and real but also hard to understand and makes it simple. Life is survival: seeking food, water, and shelter. The goals are obvious and so are the bad guys; there’s no moral ambiguity.
              These greater films show a desperation to appeal to our learning, to advance our knowledge and to say that life doesn’t have easy decisions, obvious goals, or obvious bad guys (and I say this in the time of Putin and Trump). What life does have is opportunity, potential, and a willingness and indeed a need to evolve, to reject ignorance and simplicity. To be better than stupid.   

Sunday, January 1, 2017

Booklist 2016

Booklist 2016

January 1-March 19

1.       The Inconvenient Indian by Thomas King
2.       The Empty Throne by Bernard Cornwell
3.       Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank
4.       Paper: An Elegy by Ian Sansom
5.       Buddhism: A Brief Introduction by the Faculty of Developing Virtue Seconda
6.       Dune by Frank Herbert
7.       The BFG by Roald Dahl
8.       The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz by Mordechai Richler
9.       The Educated Imagination by Northrop Frye
10.   Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg
11.   A Devil on One Shoulder and an Angel on the Other by Greg Prato
12.   Fear and Loathing at the Rolling Stone: The Essential Writing of Hunter S. Thompson
13.   The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie
14.   Hawk by Steven Brust

March 20-June 21

15.   Rush: Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Excellence by Robert Freedman
16.   How to Read a Book by Mortimer J. Adler and Charles Vand Doren
17.   Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald
18.   House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer
19.   The Incrementalists by Steven Brust and Skyler White
20.   Windflower by Gabrielle Roy
21.   A Good Year by Peter Mayle
22.   J.R.R. Tolkien: Author of the Century by Tom Shippey
23.   Lifting Shadows: The Authorized Biography of Dream Theater by Rich Wilson
24.   Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare
25.   Kaupang: the Viking Town by Dafinn Skre and Frans-Arne Stylegar
26.   Dune Messiah by Frank Herbert
27.   Marvel Superheroes: Secret Wars by Jim Shooter and Mike Zeck

June 22-Sept 20
28.   Moby-Dick by Herman Melville
29.   As You Like It by William Shakespeare
30.   The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
31.   War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
32.   Lisey’s Story by Stephen King
33.   Lolita by Vladimir Nabakov
34.   The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame
35.   Sitting Still Like a Frog Eline Snel
36.   Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
37.   Age of Ultron by Brian Michael Bendis
38.   Midnight’s Children by Salmon Rushdie


Sept 20-Dec 31
39.   The Gathering Storm by Winston Churchill
40.   Klondike by Pierre Berton
41.   The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
42.   The Once and Future King by T.H.White
43.   Paradise Lost by John Milton
44.   Writing Through Literature by Linda Anstendig and David Hicks
45.   The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
46.   The Three Sisters Bar and Hotel by Katherine Govier
47.   The Great Blackfoot Treaties by Hugh A. Dempsey
48.   The Long Walk by Stephen King
49.   The Fort by Bernard Cornwall
50.   The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien
51.   Smashing Pumpkins: Tales of a Scorched Earth by Amy Hanson
52.   A Perfect Union of Contrary Things by Sarah Jensen
53.   Dust by Arthur Slade
54. The Children of Hurin by J.R.R. Tolkien