The Shield.

An old man with wire frame glasses sat at the desk, staring intently at the notes that lay before him. In one hand, he held his pencil which occasionally moved to scribble some little note on the already messy papers. In the other, he had the bottle of cheap alcohol that he always kept in in drawers. The air in the room was dank and moist. The only illumination came from a lamp on the desk he was working on. He seemed absorbed in his work, not noticing the distinct chill that the air had, nor the annoyingly persistent sounds of the dripping faucet in the attached bathroom. This was his world. The very place that gave birth to the scourge that I was here to destroy.

"Working late again, I see," I said.

He didn't reply. He just stared straight at his papers and kept mumbling under his breath. If he had heard me, he didn't show it. I repeated my statement.

"I heard you the first time. I merely assumed that my ignoring of your obvious observation would be ample evidence that I have nothing to say to you, nor am I remotely interested in what you may have to say to me," he replied.

"Charming as always, Arthur. You know, not everyone thinks that your smart mouth is cute. If you kept it clammed up a bit more, I suspect you would not have driven away those women that were insane enough to even give you half a chance."

"I am well aware of my alleged character deficiencies, Cassandra. Unless you are here to proposition me with a night of passion, I suggest you leave me to my work."

I smiled. "I don't think either one of us wants that, Arthur."

"Really? I always imagined you would look rather nice underneath me. Of course, you could go on top if that's what rocks your boat, but my imagination always puts you firmly between me and the poor creaking mattress."

"You know why I'm here, Arthur."

"Of course I do. And you already know what I'm going to say. You know your coming here is pointless, but you just had to go through the motions so you can tell yourself that you did something." He was facing me as he spoke now, his eyes staring straight at me as if he was trying to bore a hole in my skull with his gaze.

"You are going to help me Arthur."

"Am I? A bit presumptuous aren't you? Tell me, Cassandra. Why would I suddenly decide to do something that I have refused to do for the past 40 years? My conviction of the evils that lie outside are still as strong today as they have always been. I have no reason to listen to you."

I bit my lip. He was being a pain in the ass, as I knew he would be.

"And yet you are talking to me, Arthur. My presence here is still worthy of your attention. What do you think that means?" I retorted.

He chuckled. "Mind games! Lovely!"

There was a pause. "You think that I feel guilty about building that shield? You think that I have changed my mind?" He shook his head.

"You weren't even born when I drew up the designs. You have no idea," he continued.

"The necessity of the shield was brought into question even then Arthur. I've read the parliamentary transcripts. There were those that opposed you alarmist reaction to the 'evil' posed by the rest of the world." I wasn't about to let his squirm away.

"Alarmist? My observations were sound and if it weren't for your stupid press and their ridiculous spin, I'd still have a good number of people believing in the greater good of this shield. How do you think the city's prosperity from the past 20 or so years came about? You think we would have grown so well if we weren't so well isolated from the filth that live outside?" He was getting angry now.

"The filth you talk about seem to be doing pretty well themselves. I don't see why they would be holding us back," I said.

Another pause. "Look, Arthur. We are going to break the shield whether you like it or not. I'm just offering you the chance to help us minimize the casualties that will be incurred when we do it. The desire to break out is becoming overwhelming, and someone might just do something stupid. Like lob a nuke at the damn thing. You know what would happen if someone did that don't you? Do you want that kind of blood on your hands?"

I continued. "You built it a long time ago. It has long outlived its usefulness. Its a dangerous relic of an isolationist past. Let it go, Arthur. Help us bring it down."

I moved over to him and straddled his lap. Giving him a crooked smile, I whispered in his ear, "You know where to find me if you change your mind."

I probably left him in a pool of drool and I felt a bit dirty inside for doing what I just did. But it didn't matter. It was all for the greater good.

What happens in my head.

Well, I'm not exactly going to talk about everything that goes on in my head. No. That would be much too disturbing.

You know there are certain thoughts in your head that are just taboo. You know, stuff that is in your brain, but your consciousness will never acknowledge exists. Its a condition that I frequently call self delusion. I'm guilty of that to some extent, but thankfully not to the point where people around me get worried enough to want to forcibly snap me out of it.

Well, my brain has a very weird way of shutting out all these unpleasant thoughts. I think I'll call it the ninja reflex.

Everytime I come across something I don't want to think about anymore, I think of violent sword fights.

I know. Its ridiculous, and I have no explanation for it. When I drift off and suddenly arrive at the memory of some embarrassing moment that I have had in my life, my brain takes over and shows me scenes of sword fights. Its quite an international affair, really, so the ninja reflex might not be that appropriate a name. The blades come from all kinds of popular culture that we see. Japanese, old english, high fantasy. They are all there. No curved Arabian blades so far though.

I'm not sure what this means. I'm not even sure I care what it all means. It probably explains why my metaphorical fiction stories are so graphic and violent. Those stories normally provoke memory of unpleasant emotion and fear.

So yeah. I'm a sadistic little arse-head. So there.

Women and musicians..

Its conventional wisdom that knowing how to play music makes a guy popular with the ladies. In fact, when a guy who has never really shown any inclination to play music starts to learn, the first assumption will be that he is trying to raise his networth somewhat. Might not be a fair assessment, but that just goes to show how much this image has been ingrained into culture.

But why? There has to be a reason that girls find guitarists or pianists or violinists attractive. I think it has something to do with natural selection.

An article in the Economist once observed that humans find mates that are liberal with their resources attractive. In the modern context, its material wealth for men, and the willingness to care for others for women. Apparently, generous men and unusually compassionate women are found to be more attractive by the opposite sex. Women want a man who is willing and capable of taking care of them in the traditional role of breadwinner (thus the eye for material wealth) . Men want a woman who will take care of the family in the role of housekeeper (thus the need for a woman who is charitable with her energy). The bottom line is, the more likely a person is able to spare resources, the more attractive they become.

I think that the ability to play music is a show of an abundance of resource. Music isn't an easy skill to master, and requires a lot of practice and dedication. Looking at it from a survival perspective, music is useless. Music is a luxury, not a necessity. Only a person who has his necessities more than covered for extended periods of time will be able to come up with a decent tune. So that automatically means that they have their bases covered. Which would mean that if you manage to nail him you got all your bases covered too.

This theory has its problems. If it were true, then all forms of art would share the same status as music, but they don't. A painter doesn't get panties thrown at him, a musician does. I concede that they are other factors that have to be taken into consideration. The scale of appeal of the different forms of art, the audiences that they cater to. Painters may not be able to make girls squeal, but they can make ladies swoon (see Titanic). The underlying principles are the same.

All this talk of love might seem like I'm generalizing women into neat little categories. Some might get a bit pissed, because they say I'm stereotyping. Others might wonder why there is a focus on women. Well, to answer all that, first off, I'm a guy. Of course I'm more interested in women. Second, male reactions are boring. The simple equation boobie = erection pretty much sums it up. Women are much more complex, much more fun to form ideas about.

And no, I don't see the entire female population as a bunch of experimental lab rats to be put into a glass case and observed. It is possible to study human attraction, speak very clinically about it and still be put under its influence. Helen Fisher confessed to have had her fair share, and knowing about it and having an academic curiosity never dampened the magic for her. So there..

The army and I

I was going to blog a third part to my 'love' observations, and had the idea nicely line up in my head. But I decided against it, mostly because I think that I need to take a step away from ranting and visceral fiction.

So, a bit of relatively light material today.

This post struck me as I was watching 'We are Marshall'. Actually, two things stuck me in that show. One of it was the reason that American football is the most popular sport in that country. The other was the way that the movie made me feel.

I felt the exact same way watching Band of Brothers. For some reason, and movie the properly depicts esprit de corps is to me the equivalent of the notebook to most girls. It can drive me to tears.

For that reason, I really think that if I wasn't born here and if I didn't have so much contempt for the values that this country stands for, watching something like that could very well have made me a soldier. It might sound a little gay, especially since a lot of that has to do with male compatriots bonding, and dying for each other. But it isn't. I just don't know what part of me puts my tear ducts into gear when I see a captain or a coach stand before his men and rally them. And just trying to put yourself in their position, and feeling the very same drive that surges through the team. The belief that the impossible can be done. Its all terribly corny. Which is why I think the comparisons to notebook type movies works very well.

Fighting for the fallen, making their sacrifices count, battling on to make the unit proud of itself. All those things probably elicit eyerolls form a lot of people. But I'm not ashamed to say that I feel for them. Of course, knowing that most of it is based on a true story helps. This really happened, in some way or another. Not everyone is an asshole.

Banning Love.

The last time I talked about this, I was in the passenger seat being driven back to campus by my brother. I brought the topic up and we got into a fairly heated argument. He ended up saying, "This is why I don't debate. You guys always talk about thing that don't matter at all." I didn't bother pointing out that I wasn't debating, but putting forward an idea for discussion. I didn't really believe in what I was talking about, I just wanted other people to consider it and see what they can come up with. But after that response from him, I dropped it and moved on.

Reading Helen Fisher made me revisit. It was her idea (seen on her TED video) that sparked this particularly controversial idea and I wasn't surprised to see it in her book. I have to point out that she never said anything about banning love. She just came up with the research that I'm piggy backing. So, why ban love?

It stems from the finding that romantic love really is an addiction. FMRI scans of the brain indicate that the parts of the brain that light up when a love struck person looks at a picture of the sweetheart are the same as the ones that light up when cocaine addicts get their fix. Cocaine. That the stuff that not even Holland has legalized. The cocktail of chemicals that runs in your blood when you fall in love are just as dangerous as blow. We already have proof of this in the news. Crimes of passion happen all the time. And as Dr. Fisher observed, the withdrawal symptoms showed by cocaine addicts are hauntingly similar to the signs of heartbreak. Loss of appetite, inability to focus, the constant craving. They are all there.

We ban cocaine not because it gets us high. We ban it because its addictive. We ban it because it does everything that love does to us, admittedly with less destructive consequences. But on principle, love deserves banning just as much as cocaine. So on that basis, now that we understand it better and exposed some of its inner workings, it should stand trail the same way every other drug did. On principle, we need to look at it and decide if it really is doing enough harm to warrant it being removed. To ignore the effects of love just because we have never known life without it is being a tad hypocritical.

Some might argue that love is essential to reproduction and it evolved in us for a reason. I have said before that our physical evolution is taking place at a much slower rate than our changes in cultural ideas. I think that the same idea works her as well. When we were driven by primordial urges, and listened solely to instinct, love was essential to the continuation of the human race. But it isn't now, and the legacy of our past could very well be a burden.

Then of course comes the question of whether it can be done or not. Can we stop people from falling in love? For now, no. But our understanding of human brain and how it connects to all the aspects of life that makes us human is expanding rapidly. At some point, someone will find a way to put a roadblock on one of the processes that are involved in falling in love. As it is, we can turn promiscuous rats into doting fathers with one injection. And we can turn the most faithful species into uber playboys with the opposing drug. I think its no longer a question of if, but a question of when.

Okay, premise set. There is a problem, and there might be a solution. Should we do it? In my opinion, no. Most people will agree with me at this point I suspect, but for different reasons. I cannot accept 'We cannot ban love because we just can't do something like that. I mean do you have any idea what you are doing? We're talking about love here!' as a valid argument against the banning of love, although I'm sorely tempted to. I'm sure that kind of an emotional appeal would work nowadays, because the idea really is quite unthinkable. But humans change their minds really fast. Things that were unthinkable 50 years ago are quite commonplace now. Banning slavery was an insanity not too long ago. Now people who enslave are prosecuted and thrown into jail. A society in the future that sits down and has a serious discussion about the relevance of love to humanity is not really that far fetched an idea if you ask me.

But I am not too fond of the idea of messing with something like human reproduction. Of course the option of voluntarily blocking off love for yourself will always be open, but to treat it like cocaine could be dangerous. Science has screwed up before, and while that may not be a good excuse to stop applying the findings of science, this is too big a risk to take. Only absolute certainty is acceptable, and there can be no absolute certainty.

Why we love.

Okay. Everyone of you who snorted when you read the title of the post, slap yourselves now. Done? Lets move on...

I bought and read the book Why we love written by Helen Fisher, one of the leading anthropologists in the world. To be honest, the book was a little dry, and unless you have a keen interest, you probably shouldn't read it. But an evolutionary insight to arguably one of the most celebrated aspects of our culture is always exciting (to me, at least).

So, why do we love? It took Dr. Fisher one whole book to explain it, and I really don't think I can satisfactorily summarize the book in one post. But I can tell you some interesting stuff. Men will always think about sex, and women will always be money grubbers. Both these traits have been the butt of jokes, but they remain true. And they are there for a reason. Thousands of years of evolution have forced men and women into different roles, and to maximize their chance of survival, we have developed those traits. I think the reason for those traits being there are quite self evident, so I won't patronize you by telling you what they are. All of us know this. There is a difference between what I used to believe and what I believe in now.

Before this, I thought those traits were tendencies. Now, I know that they are hardwired somewhere in our genes. It means that whatever we do, short of genetic engineering ourselves, there is no running away from these stereotypes.

She says that women are programmed to look for successful mates. Mates that can support them, and provide for them, even when they don't need providing for. This is where Helen Fisher's ideas stop, and where mine come in. How many times have you read articles written by young successful women lamenting about how hard it is to find a good man. They always say that the good ones are always either taken or gay. Well, of course they are, especially if your definition of good is 'earns more than you'. Think about it for a while. You earn $400,000 a year, live in a million dollar apartment, and drive a BMW. Okay, those figures are a tad exaggerated, but the idea is there. How many guys around your age do you think are as successful as you are? Maybe its better to look at it in percentages. Assume you are the in the top 10% of young professional women when it comes to income per annum. To simplify things, lets also assume that all men and women are equal and that only the top 10% of men will be able to match your earning power. You are genetically predispositioned to exclude the other 90% from your potential husbands. That is a hell of a lot of men. Is it all that surprising that you have such a hard time now?

The higher a woman climbs, the harder it is for her to find someone that she will consider good enough for her. They are programmed to look up, not down. People say to leaders, 'It is lonely at the top'. That is all the more true for women, in a totally different context.

We can look at this and tell ourselves that true love will overcome all these obstacles. We can think about fate, and all the other romantic ideals that poets and the like have spawned over the centuries. But ask yourselves honestly, when you think about a highly successful woman in a relationship with a man that can never hope to match her achievements, what do you think of? Do you get this strange sensation that something isn't right? Thats your genetic programming talking. There is no fighting it, true love or not.

So what can be done? I don't know. The options I can see all involve compromise. A lot of women have quit their positions to become mothers. Sure, the excuse that they want to take care of the kids is perfectly believable, but think of the fallout if the woman continues and earns more than the husband. Men are programmed to be heroes as much as women are programmed to look for rich hubbies. (the stupider males pull off deadly stunts) To deny them the right to be the hero of the family would be a cruel blow. This has nothing to do with male ego. This cannot be controlled, and much as we would like to think that it is.

Or the women can choose to lower their standards and choose men from outside the income bracket that their genes have predetermined. The above problem will rise again, and the happiness of both the man and the woman are at stake. But it is possible to override these primordial needs. It requires a hell of a lot of will, a deep understanding of what you are doing and a thick skin in the face of snide remarks that will inevitably come.

Sometimes, I do pity you superwomen. Your talent could very well be a double edged sword.

Untitled.

Anonymous: "Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body but rather to skid in sideways - Chardonnay in one hand, chocolate in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming: "Woo hoo, what a ride!"

Now, reading that really smacked me in the face. All my earlier posts about doing stuff and being spontaneous summarized rather brutally in one paragraph. Never mind the fact that I have no idea what Chardonnay is. Probably something alcoholic.

But the fact remains that I think I'm likely to be one of those 9 to 5ers clocking in early every day and getting home, plonking myself down on the couch for a while, and then going to bed early because I'm tired. That very thought depresses me. Knowing that you are headed that way and not really knowing what to do to stop it is the thing that bothers me most.

I know its a long shot, but Auntie, you could very well be my way out. Teach me the art of living, so that I may have my mid-life crisis without regretting how I spent my youth. I'm not even sure if one can learn such a thing, but if you are willing to talk about it, I'm all ears.

Angkasawan.

Fine. I'll admit it. I do have a grudging respect for the Malaysian astronaut. Is having a Malaysian in space something to be proud of? I suppose. Is this event being milked for every ounce of political leverage that could possibly come out of it? Yes it is. Why am I surprised? I honestly don't know.

Najib said that we can now stand a few inches taller. Badawi was equally nauseating. I was trying to put a finger on why I was feeling so aggrieved over the whole thing and trying to identify if all my cynicism for our administrators was causing this. What I came up with is this.

National pride can be attributed to many things. Lets look at the biggest one. That this is a big step forward for Malaysia. Is it? No. The reason Yuri Gagarin was a success was because of the effort that it took to get him there? The same goes for Niel Armstrong. Did Malaysia have anything to do with our Malaysian going to space? Apart from buying the Sukois from the Russians and getting a free ride, no. We could go into all the support that we gave our astronaut, but I'm not going to count anything that we can't quite prove had an actual impact. The trip is a milestone for our young doctor who had to go through the whole training program. He pulled through, and thats an achievement for him, not us.

Which led me to thinking about a similar idea when we are talking national pride. Sports. Athletes overcoming great obstacles brings great pride to a country, and its still largely an individual effort. Yet the whole country gets to take pride. Why should an astronaut be any different? Why can't we be proud that a Malaysian managed to be declared fit to board and serve on a rocket, and share in the pride? Well, because there are a lot of people that can do it. Our astronaut pulled through, and I'm happy for him. But it doesn't mean that there aren't thousands of other Malaysians who would have done a great job as well. Finding a Malaysian who can be an astronaut isn't quite as hard as finding one who can run faster than everyone else in the world. Very different situations.

It was then that it hit me. I now know why I felt half lame about having a countryman in space. Its because all our declarations of glory are likely to fade away into nothingness because we don't have the will or the interest to build on it. It just feels like we have bitten off more than we can chew. To say that we are now on par with the other nations is so much of a stretch that I won't be surprised if we have plastic deformation. (sorry, material science joke). We don't have a space program. We are no where near the point where we can build anything that can escape orbit. It makes absolutely no economic sense for us to pursue a space program, and unless we do that, sending our astronauts to space will have a distinctly hollow feel to it. Any country can do that.

Could the Thais have bought a bunch of fighter jets and picked one of its military officers to go on a free ride to space. Sure, they could. Could the Argentineans have done it? Yeap.

Sure, having a man in space is special. But the fact that you are part of an elite club because everyone else just can't really be bothered to join is just a bit deflating.

Still, Malaysia Boleh right?

Shed a tear.

Violence is deplorable. Yes, I know it is, and I'm not going to deny that.

I suppose I have been quite critical of my lack of response to the images that appear in the media depicting the suffering of innocent people at the hands of others. I questioned my humanity at one point, asking myself why I didn't feel as others felt. Perhaps I have been desensitized to violence because I have seen so many pictures of it. Or perhaps I have never suffered as the victims have, and so I'll never be able to relate. But when I look at the final results, my impact on the suffering is the same as the impact that others make. Others who write to the newspapers slamming the perpetrators and demanding justice. (Who is listening, I wonder) Others who look at a picture of a starving child, absentmindedly shake their heads, mutter a 'tsk,tsk' and go back to eating their double cheeseburger. Zero impact. I'm not saying that we shouldn't feel pity. I'm saying that pity that involves a sudden surge of revulsion that is quickly forgotten amidst the luxuries that surround you is quite pointless. What we need is a little of the momentum that the surge created to be sustained and turned into something positive.

I tend to view violence as part of human nature. Every civilization that has ever spawned has resorted to violence before, and that in itself is enough proof to me that violence is hardwired into the human brain. It is the most basic and instinctive of the many conflict resolution techniques that exist. To tell mankind to stop being violent is like telling man not to have sex. Its completely counter-intuitive. If violence is to be stopped, there must be a better way of solving conflicts, a way that will appeal to the self preservation instinct that ticks in every one of us. So, can violence be stopped? I think so, yes. Just not by harping on moral principles, and how we human beings should be better than that.

In an effort to win a convert, Christians have asked me if I thought that we live in violent times. I said yes. In retrospect, I would have said no. Steven Pinker's talk has given me a whole new perspective of violence in the world. He says a lot of things in that talk, some of which some people will find very hard to swallow. Especially the idea that we really are much less violent than our ancestors were, on multiple time scales. The idea of the good old days with reference to relative peace in the past is an illusion. He discussed possible reasons for the drop in violence, and those, I can extrapolate to being possible solutions to the pockets of violence that flare up in the world today.

Understanding the other person's perspective, is I think one of the most powerful deterrence to someone being violent. The rapid expansion of humanist thinking ever since the Enlightenment has discouraged people from thinking of other people as sub-human, and thus deserving of violent behaviour. He has other theories too, like the Leviathan theory that works a lot like the concept of Mutually Assured Destruction that people toss around all the time in nuclear weapon discussions. But thats irrelevant to this post because we can't put the Leviathan into action. That system calls for a single democratic entity that has the legal authority to use violence to oversee the rest of the world. (A bit like what the U.N. security council is supposed to do).

But understanding is something that we can do. See the misunderstanding from another set of eyes, and maybe, it will turn out to be less of a conflict than previously thought. Jehane Noujaim has done something about it. Full credit to her. There are examples I could use to make this clearer, but they could quite easily be misinterpreted as me implying that certain groups of people are stubborn and refuse to see other perspectives. Look around you. I'm sure you can find a few examples yourself.

Winning a million dollar TED prize and using that money to produce a film to promote understanding between the Israelis and the Palestinians is a tall order that not many have the will or the ability to achieve. But we needn't go that far. We just need to start with what we have around us.

Boys and danger.

I have always been an advocate for the recognition of gender differences in children and the restructuring of societal perception, especially in education to accommodate these differences. I am also one of those people who can get excited over a bunch of words, constantly obsessing over a well written article that hits an issue, and hits it well. Which is why I felt this familiar high after I finished reading 'Risk is fun' in The Star today.

Its about a man who has written a book about his childhood, about growing up with his brothers and their 'Black Cat' club. He called the book The Dangerous Book for Boys. And he talked about stuff that made so much sense to me, yet I couldn't really justify it. I'll quote directly.

Its safer to put a boy in front of the Playstation for a while, but not in the long run. The irony of making boys' lives too safe is that they later take worse risks on their own. You only have to push a baby boy hard on a swing once to see his face light up. Its not learned behaviour - he is hardwired to enjoy a little risk. Ask any man for a good memory from childhood and he'll tell you about testing his courage or getting injured. No one wants to see a child getting hurt, but we really did think that the bumps and scratches were badges of honour, once.

He ended the article this way.

We all care about our sons - scabby knees, competitive spirits and all. Its about time we let our schools and governments know how much we care. Let the pendulum swing.

I know exactly what he is talking about. I had my own little adventures as a child, pretending that the Lake Gardens playground was this alien planet and the slides and the monkey bars were all part of my spaceship. Yet, I have been so indoctrinated with the whole 'children must be kept as far away form danger as possible at all times' idea that I probably wouldn't have been able to write anything like I read in that article. I find justifying risk to children horrifying, and I was torn between shock and recognition of truth.

He also talked about his experiences as a teacher, and how every textbook had a girl achieving her dream while all the boys were morons. When he asked why, the reply was 'boys had had it their was for too long, and now its the girls' turn.' Sure, that example might be a tad extreme, and might not be entirely true, but its symptomatic of the kind of environment that young boys have to grow up in.

Refusal to recognize boys for what they are is a problem. Boys will be boys. Turning them into something else is a prospect that depresses me like almost nothing else can.

Note : I was prepared to write a lengthy rant on the article beside it about the confessions of a shopaholic, but decided that talking about boys' childhood is more important than slamming an addict for daring to glorify her problem and admitting that she has a problem but refusing to do anything about it because he husband lets her get away with it. What a selfish, pompous ass.

The problem that atheists have.

Is the incredible diversity of religion.

This is particularly true when an atheist is trying to justify his or her own beliefs, I think. Its near impossible to pin point a group of unifying principles that can be used to describe all religions. Heck, its even hard enough identifying the core beliefs of all the different sects within one religion. And then we have those who claim "but what I believe isn't a religion, its just a way of life. You have your facts wrong". The funny thing is, their way of life has been officially classified as a religion by pretty much every government in the world, and they don't seem to be disputing the matter.

Anyways, the diversity that we see ultimately leads to one conclusion. Discussions about theology between an atheist and a theist end up with the theist saying, "Oh, you got it all wrong. Thats not what we believe at all". And the atheist points at another theist and says "But thats what he said". The reply to that is normally, "Well, he got it wrong too."

I remember going to a temple and asking one of the more respected people there about Buddhism. We eventually came to the subject of reincarnation and the cause and effect sutra. As a child, I read the sutra ( largely because it was full of pictures) and took it to be the truth. It was simple and made a lot of sense. Later on, I saw that it cannot possibly be that simple, and started asking questions. They were never really answered, but now, at that temple, I'm told that the sutra is rubbish. Apparently, its just one monk's opinion of what would happen.

Then there was this one time in the SPR when a Christian got into a small argument with a Buddhist. I distinctly remember the Christian hurling accusations at the Buddhist and the Buddhist indignantly saying that there was a misunderstanding. "Thats not what Buddhists believe or do". I couldn't help wondering what a Buddhist actually believes. And the funny thing is, as I look back now, I don't think either person knew what they were talking about.

I dare say that the Buddhists are the most fragmented of the lot, especially since they are allowed to not believe certain things if it doesn't make sense to them. (at least thats what i was told). But other religions have the same problem as well. Less so with Islam in Malaysia, since any interpretation that deviates from the official one is immediately surpressed. Most of the discussions I've had with Christians leads to them telling me that I have things all wrong. I'm not sure how these Christians manage to avoid telling each other that the other party has it wrong. Maybe its some unofficial code of conduct or something. I dunno.

I suppose atheists will only have this problem if they get into a discussion with the theists. Maybe atheists should just do what Dawkins does to creationists. Snub them. But knowing atheists, they will sit down and listen, just in case something interesting comes up for them to consider.

Visiting Christians, Take 3

Yeap. They came again, in their shirts, nice pants and skirts and tried to sell God to me.

/smile

Initially it was just this lady and her son. They talked to me for a while and I ended up giving them some advice on how to preach. That was fun, especially when I talked about other religious perspectives and how they really need to know what other people think and believe before they can try to prove that they are right. It really is amazing how few people have actually given alternative explanations a chance. Eventually the big gun came. He's one of those people who has rehearsed the answers to most common questions and can point to relevant passages in the Bible within 10 seconds. This is what I learned from him.

Jehovah's witnesses don't believe that sinners burn in hell. They just believe that sinners don't go to heaven. If you don't accept Christ, then you cease to exist after death.

Wow. Thats a pretty good deal isn't it? No punishment? So I can do whatever I want, and in the end, all that happens is that I cease to exist? Thats a bloody reward if you ask me. I mean, you could make the argument that I will never understand just how blissful paradise is, but I can tell you that I wouldn't want an eternity in paradise if it was anything like its portrayed in their pamphlets. Sure, it looks very nice, but I can't help feeling that I'd be bored out of my skull within a week. And anyone who knows me can tell you that ceasing to exist is probably the best thing that could happen to me after death. So to get what I want, I need to be evil? That puts me in a bit of a fix, really.

Anyways, I really don't understand why they keep going back to their book for proof. Doing that just gives the impression that they found a conclusion and then later started gathering evidence to support that conclusion. Of course the Bible is going to validate what you say. Everything you believe in came from there anyway. Its like trying to prove that philosopher A was right, and then pulling out a book that he wrote and proudly proclaiming "Here is your proof".

If you expect me to read some vague passage about how humans need guidance, and then nod solemnly at the wisdom of those words, then you're quite mistaken. Its quite self evident that humans need guidance, and everyone has a different perspective on what that guidance should be. The Christians believe that it be belief in a bunch of principles that a martyr gave us 2000 years ago. The Muslims seem to have a bunch of strict rules from the Quran that are to be followed (or not, depending on your interpretation). The Buddhist believe that we should disconnect ourselves as much as possible from worldly desires. All different forms of guidance, all somewhat valid. Anyone who has given other religions a fair chance would have noticed this, and would have proper answers to the questions that will come out of comparisons.

Picking fights.

This post is something that has been simmering for a long time, I just never actually understood the simmering well enough to recognize it for what it is.

Learning to pick the correct fights is a skill that I have always misinterpreted. I thought of it as choosing to fight when you can win, battles that you have a statistical chance of coming out on tops. It took me some time to realize that its far more important to choose my battles for the right reasons.

Maybe its in my nature to be somewhat combative. I've been at odds with my natural aggression before, sometimes blaming it for the way my life turned out. The 'if only' arguments are far too familiar. But its a bloodlust. It rises without me realizing it, taking over part of my conscience. I live for this kind of thing. I thrive on it. It gives me a high like nothing can. Left to be unleashed without any limiter, I picked fights that I didn't really give much thought to. In retrospect, I probably wouldn't have done it.

I could be very vague with this blog post. But not this time. I think this time I will use specific examples.

The examples that shine the brightest all happened in the SPB. Don't ask me why. It could be because I was a writer unleashed at that time, or because there were people there that eventually helped me to make more sense of fighting.

I think the fight that I never really wanted to pick was with SPARC. True, I do somewhat hold their ideals in contempt, but my intention was never to go to war. I do not regret writing that article, and the ideas that I expressed in that article are still opinions that I keep. But as I looked at the reasons I wrote the article, I realized that it wasn't really to promote any change or to inform. It was to show how much the organizers' objectives were indefensible on an intellectual level. It was meant to humiliate. The intentions were not noble at all, and I took moral high ground. It became somewhat apparent when I went to meet with the organizers with Sangheetha. I realized then that there was something wrong, and I froze. In doing that, I left my editor in chief without backup against a pack of defensive, snarling, offended SPARC members. I never said this before, but I'm sorry. I wrote that article, and it should have been me defending it.

There were other occasions as well, especially when it came to sticking it to authority. I seized every chance to take a swipe at STAD, whether it was warranted or not. My thinking was simple. I came up with the conclusion that STAD had no idea what the students are capable of and that their one and only objective was control. To a large extent, that is true. But when I found myself throwing punches even when there was no reason to, that same creeping feeling that something was wrong came back. Sometimes, they really are trying to be helpful. They aren't always deserving of hatred.

Perhaps it was ego that stopped me from rethinking all of this earlier. Maybe it was fear of the repercussions.

But the biggest conflict that this had led me into is the splinter in the SPB. In that case, it looked increasingly like there were two sides, and it was obvious which side I was going to have to pick. It was then that I went into fight mode. My single minded objective was to destroy the enemy, till the point that the reason for the war was lost to me. The same funny feeling came back, and showed a little when I found myself admitting that I would do nothing but keep the organization running as it was. I think that publishership became something I had to deal with in the event I won the war. The objective was to win, nothing else. The ideals I was fighting for got lost in translation. I'm not saying that those ideals weren't worth fighting for. I just needed to give them a little more thought.

I think I have learnt that now. Above all else, the reasons I fight should be kept in mind. Only then will I be able to trust myself to do the right thing.

Indoctrination of children?

More on parenting. I was actually quite taken by Dawkin's argument that there should be no religious indoctrination by parents. I'm not going to elaborate more, largely because I think that anyone who reads this blog is intelligent enough to extrapolate the implications of such a philosophy in this country. I don't like the idea of jail. But what got me thinking wasn't so much the religious imprinting that parents leave on their children. I started wondering about the other values that parents leave on their children.

Two very prominent examples exist for me, one potentially defensible, the other just some biased rant.

The first is racial bigotry. I think this is the most dangerous form of imprinting currently being practiced by Malaysians. I cringe every time a group of Chinese sit down and get talking about politics and eventually start agreeing with each other how lazy all Malays are. Or when the Malays start talking about how the Chinese are always plotting against them, and how the pork eating infidels deserve to die. Or when the Indians are generalized as a bunch of drunkards. I have a very strong suspicion that most of the venom spewed out by the younger generation is just an updated version of the evil that they heard over the coffee table during their parents' gatherings. In the face of such racism, I'm not sure if we ever can truly consider Malaysia to be a truly racially integrated society. The ideas of racial supremacy is likely to be perpetuated through the generations.

The second is self destructive behaviour that cannot be justified. I'm going to use a personal example. I think you might be able to find your own experiences using the same idea.

My mum had an aunt that was incredibly house proud. Her standards were insanely high, and there really isn't any reason for such levels of devotion to cleanliness. The question of what can be considered acceptable levels of cleanliness is in itself debatable and I'm not going to go into that too much. I personally think that if a place doesn't make people sick, then its clean enough. If you want it to be any cleaner, thats your prerogative. It cannot be made into some universal standard of acceptable cleanliness.

But my mum was made to live to such standards. Admittedly, my mum would be considered sloppy by the Aunt's standards. The pressures of a working life does force some compromise. But by my standards, its still a bit nutty.

It might seem like a petty gripe. I have a lot of petty gripes, and most are not blog worthy. But this one isn't petty. My mum is almost religiously devoted to keeping those standards, and its scary. Nothing else matters, not her quality of life, not her health. Even when she is dead tired, the scheduled cleaning must go on. Occasional deviations from the usual cleaning to do something fun is unheard of. The minimum standard takes top priority, and whenever I challenge her to explain why it should be so important, I get brushed away.

There is no explanation. Its cultural indoctrination, and till now, I slightly resent that aunt for imprinting my mum with such a mindset.

I'm not saying that parents shouldn't teach their children their values. Its just that sometimes doing that can be dangerous.

And yes, parents are not perfect. No, we shouldn't have to bow to their every whim in the name of filial piety. Respect must be accorded to them, but the line has to be drawn somewhere. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and when filial piety gives them the power to dictate all terms without having to be held accountable, there is way too much room for abuse of power, be it a conscious decision or not. (The last paragraph is pretty much unrelated to the bulk of the post. It is meant for you people who think that parents should not have to answer to their children, no matter what they do. You know who you are.)

Nagging.

Why talk about nagging? I was thinking, since I'm already on the subject of parenting..... why the hell not?

Of all the parenting techniques, I'm probably the most biased against this form of punishment. Probably because I got it the most. I still get it a lot, actually. And it annoys the hell out of me.

I feel the need to distinguish nagging from a genuine explanation and a telling off. The differences between nagging and a yelling are quite obvious. Yelling always comes with a large dose of anger, characterized by raised voices and obvious signs of displeasure. I think that the use of yelling is very much like corporal punishment, it intimidates and uses fear to achieve its aim. Yelling probably leads to corporal punishment anyways.

The line between nagging and a genuine desire to explain a wrongdoing, however, is much thinner. This is particularly annoying because a lot of people (mothers especially) justify their nagging by claiming that they have the best interests of the victim at heart. I suspect that they confuse the two because they are both oral in nature. Here is the difference.

Nagging always comes with a condescending tone. It is mostly applied in situations where the perpetrator thinks that the offense committed is common sense, and should never have happened in the first place. This is particularly glaring when there is a difference in opinion on what is considered normal. In an attempt to normalize the behavior of the offender, nagging is used.

Nagging is also completely immune to all forms of logical reason, which is, I think, the primary distinguishing feature that it has. I think that all forms of nagging probably started as an attempt to explain "the proper way of doing things" but became nagging when it was ignored. It doesn't matter if the original reason that the explanation of "the proper way of doing things" was ignored is the fact that "the proper way of doing things" contained no logic in the first place. In a relationship of equals, rebuttals using reason must be taken into consideration. In a situation where one party has the power to initiate nagging, it doesn't. When someone intends to explain his or her opinion about why something has been done wrong, there is always an avenue for self defense. The explaining party is always open to rebuttals, and always ready to be proven wrong. People who nag think in absolutes. And they are always absolutely right. The have complete control of the argument, and hold veto power over everything. That is exactly where the condescending tone comes from. From the fact that they can tell you something that you are likely to contend, and there is nothing you can do to defend yourself.

Painted this way, nagging sounds like a weapon. It is. Make no mistake about it, the absence of a physical element does not make nagging any less a form of punishment as caning. It has the power of building up frustration and in the face of untouchable authority, the frustrations can boil over and probably cause self harm.

Its quite funny to see how naggers think that they are harmless. I personally think that one of the main rules of parenting is accountability. The parent has to be as accountable as the child, and any form of punishment must have its own reasons. Reasons that are rooted in logic. The apparent lack of elements that traditionally constitute a form of punishment doesn't make a nagger any less liable to explain him/herself when an explanation is called for. And nagging is almost universally done without a second thought. At least parents think twice and weigh the gravity of the offense before using the cane. No such checks are done with nagging.

Why we should listen unquestioningly.

This probably doesn't make any sense.

I was reading the God Delusion today, and reached a point where Dawkins explains the reason human civilization needs religion. It somehow got me thinking about my post on parenting.

Dawkins thinks that our need for religion is a byproduct of nature naturally selecting humans that listen without questioning. There are merits to the concept of unwavering faith in authority. People who listen to their elders who tell them not to play in crocodile infested waters ultimately live long enough to breed. So, a lot of us probably have the faith gene in us already. Because our ancestors did.

So my reasoning is, the child should have unwavering faith in his or her parents. At least until the point where the child can make decisions that do not leave him dead in 5 minutes. (see playing on train tracks example)

So if that faith isn't there, we need an alternative. We could sit the child down and explain the dangers of playing on a train track. After which the child will probably laugh and keep playing because he is just incapable of comprehending death.

Or we could use fear of punishment to stop the child. At least until the child is of age and can be reasoned with. The only other real alternative I can think of is to keep the child away from danger, which would mean wrapping him in a woolly blanket and watching him 24/7.

You might say that death on the train tracks is an easy situation to avoid. Well, there are a lot of situations that are much closer to home. The roadside, knives in the kitchen, glass ornaments, heck, even running about the house at high speed could lead to potentially lethal accidents.

What is a parent supposed to do? Sit down and watch it happen?

Parents.

I met my cousins from Canada for the first time. And they prompted me to write this post that has been brewing for quite some time.

How do you discipline a kid? It might be oversimplistic analysis, but I think there are two schools of thought when it comes to getting a child to toe the line. One end is the nice guy negotiator, while the other just wants to beat the hell out of the kid. Parents normally choose to place themselves somewhere on that scale.

My uncle is very much on the nice guy side of things. He tells his children not to do certain things, and then repeats himself ten times after that, largely because his children don't listen to him. My patience when dealing with those two kids wore dangerously thin after about 20 minutes, so I found myself wondering how he managed to deal with them for 10 years.

I believe in corporal punishment, because thats how I was raised, and so were a good number of my friends. I think it works, just as long as the parents know their limits. When I was younger, I used to think that the caning was just a way for the parents to get some measure of revenge on their kids, in the guise of teaching them a lesson. I still think that, actually. But now I feel that the parents deserve to do that. It might sound incredibly irresponsible on the part of the parents, but parents are humans too. They need to let off too. Which lead me to my next idea of equality.

The shortest and simplest way of teaching a lesson is to punish. The best way is to let them make the mistake and then let them learn, but sometimes, that isn't really an option. Like the lesson of not playing on the railway tracks. Telling them nicely not to do it doesn't really have the same effect as giving them a good stiff smack when they are caught doing it. Ultimately, parenting is a task, and people find ways of making their task easier. Caning is just one such shortcut. And I don't really blame the parents for taking such shortcuts. Life sucks, and thats one way of making things just a little bit easier.

Its the same with grown up politics as well. When someone messes up a job for the fifth time in a row, he gets punished. Pay cut or less allowance. If its bad enough, its the sack. Obviously, sacking your kids really isn't an option. But some form of punishment really should be in order when they cross the line. If the punishment comes with a good explanation, or if the explanation is self evident, then I think the kids will see the light. Punishing children just as you would other people is one measure of equality that they will respect.

Edit:

I'm not saying that I am all for beating children when they make mistakes. I have huge problems with child abuse, and I do admit the line between punishment and abuse is dangerously thin. If a proponent of anti-corporal punishment laws does throw that at me, I admit, I'd be without a retort. As flimsy as it sounds, a mechanism in which a jury can decide if a child was loved or abused is the best way, I think.

What would I do with my child? Answering that now is pointless, because I am nowhere near parenthood (nor am I ready) but I do have opinions on what other people can do. (if they don't write me off for not knowing what I'm talking about because I don't have kids) There are a lot of things that I can try before actual physical contact. I could try yelling and making it perfectly clear that I am not happy. Should the bond between parent and child be strong enough, the thought of making the parent upset should be enough to discourage the repeat. Removal of previlages is another option.

I'm probably a little violent by nature (eg : looking for a shooting range to release stress) but I'd like to think that I have the restraint to deal with the urge to beat the head of a child into the ground.

But then again, this post isn't about what I would do. Its for me to tell any parent out there who loves their children, but beat them anyway, to know that I feel for them. I get it.