April 02, 2005
Gefen
In Diary of an Anti-Chomskyite Benjamin Kerstein proves himself to be a talented writer of great intellectual depth - as well as a popular blogger. I must admit, however, that the political, or even the human, Chomsky doesn't interest me enough to hold my attention for very long (the linguistic Chomsky is another matter). So I would like to draw your attention to Benjamin's other blog, Gefen, where he directs his talent to, what is for me, more accessible subjects. His last two posts, for example, are exceptionally beautiful and fascinating.
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Nadav and Avihu'
Several years ago there was a terrible accident involving a school bus in which a large number of children were killed. Shortly after, some silly rabbi said that the reason the children were killed was that they were driving on Shabat (שבת) - the Sabbath. This is the kind of story that the Israeli press loves, for it both confirms their prejudices, and is guaranteed to generate business (i.e. news) for them. Never mind that most rabbis condemn this line of thinking: the idea that we can understand God's motives, that we can ever know why He does anything.
At the time I was sharing an office with a left-wing anti-religious coworker (I very nice guy, don't get me wrong) who, of course, brought up the subject with me. To illustrate the notion that he was more truly religious than the avowedly religious he said, "I can't believe in a God that would kill innocent children because they violated Shabat". Without arguing his premise, I answered, "But you can believe in a God that would kill innocent children because the brakes failed?"
This week's parasha (פרשה) - Tora portion - contains the story of Nadav and Avihu':
וַיִּקְחוּ בְנֵי אַהֲרֹן נָדָב וַאֲבִיהוּא אִישׁ מַחְתָּתוֹ
וַיִּתְּנוּ בָהֵן אֵשׁ וַיָּשִׂימוּ עָלֶיהָ קְטֹרֶת
וַיַּקְרִיבוּ לִפְנֵי
ה' אֵשׁ זָרָה
אֲשֶׁר לֹא צִוָּה אֹתָם
וַתֵּצֵא אֵשׁ מִלִּפְנֵי ה'
וַתֹּאכַל אוֹתָם
וַיָּמֻתוּ לִפְנֵי ה'
Vayiqhu b'ney aharon nadav va'avihu' ish mahtato
Vayitnu vahem esh vayasimu `aleyha q'toret
Vayaqrivu lifney H' esh zara
Asher lo' siva otam
Vatese' esh milifney H'
Vatokhal otam
Vayamutu lifney H'
And the sons of Aaron, Nadav and Avihu each took his censer
And gave in them fire and put in them incense
And sacrificed before the Lord strange fire
That He hadn't commanded them
And fire went out from before the Lord
And consumed them
And they died before the Lord
This is considered a difficult story, for no reason is given for their death other than that God had not commanded them to do what they did. Indeed, the traditional reading of this passage is that Nadav and Avihu' had the best of intentions when they did what they did, and God punished them anyway. When it's written in the Bible it's considered a difficult story, yet we see this same story all around us: the best of intentions will not save us from being punished for our mistakes. It is one of the great mysteries of the world, and though we can neither understand it, nor avoid it, we can at least know how to confront it: to learn.
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Comment:Well, if we consider that God settle rules for the Universe, that are the best posible ones, but still are rules, then it is posible that those rules sometimes lead to terrible results even being optimal.
A God that takes care of everything, all the time, never would allow children to die because of failed brakes. A God that restricts itself by Nature Laws, can allow it, because it is a result of His Laws, that are optimal but impersonal.
Maimonides thinked that God never breaks the Natural Law (with the exception of the miracles of Moses that in Maimonidean cosmovision are supposed to be special, and diffrent from the rest of miracles).
Posted by: Kantor at April 4, 2005 08:22 PM Permalink
Pursuit of justice
It is a continual theme of our lives, of great drama, folktales, a minor key in our music and art, a driving force in our religions, worldviews, and ideologies: the pursuit of justice.
צֶדֶק צֶדֶק תִּרְדֹּף לְמַעַן תִּחְיֶה
Sedeq sedeq tirdof l'ma`an tihye
Justice, justice you shall pursue in order that you might live
And its thematic beauty is its persistent tragedy: we persist in believing, against all evidence, that justice can be done. This, I think likely, is one of the driving forces our religions: the necessity of reconciling our deep belief in justice (not merely its temporal imperfection, but even its platonic ideal) with the terrible foreboding that in fact there is no justice, and it cannot be done.
When I cast my eye over the world's problems I see numerous root causes, for the most part quite different from those seen by they who like to proclaim them - and I wonder what blinds so many people to things so obvious. I think this is one: the unwillingness to abandon the notion that justice can be done in this world, and its corollary: a villain must be found.
I didn't pay much attention to the Schiavo story until the last week or so, when its ubiquity made it unavoidable. Frankly, I found it boring, and I think that Amritas put his finger on its fascination for so many when he speculated about it last week: It is a psychodrama in which the villain has committed a heinous crime against the victim - but we don't know which is which. If only we can figure it out, though, justice will be done.
Such an analysis makes good fiction, unfortunately it doesn't have much to do with reality. Reality: The injustice had already been done, Terri Schiavo was in a "vegetative state", nothing could undo it. And most likely, there were no villains - indeed, the real injustice is the appetite of the public to find one. It is this injustice, this human-created injustice that we find in every difficult story - not least the one I live in: the Middle East.
In fact, neither legal nor ethical systems exist in order to create justice. Note that the passage above does not say, "pursue justice in order to establish it" - it says, "pursue justice in order that you might live". Their purpose is to create a system that is most conducive to living. Righting wrongs is rarely within the realm of possibility, but a good system will minimize their occurrence in the first place.
This is where justice comes in. Justice is not something that is administered, as we so often hear. The only thing that can be administered, in fact, is injustice. The only moral reason we have for administering injustice is to keep the system from disintegrating, to prevent, as much as possible, injustice from happening in the first place. And this, as the repetition of the word "justice" in the passage implies, is an unending task:
לֹא עָלֶיךָ הַמְּלָאכָה לִגְמוֹר וְלֹא אַתָּה בֶן חוֹרִין לִבָּטֵל מִמֶּנָּה
Lo' `aleykha hamlakha ligmor v'lo' ata ben horin libatel mimena
You are not required to complete the work and you are not free to desist from it
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I recognise this "tzedek, tzedek..." sentence from my Biblical Hebrew class, we've had it there. At first I didn't know what it meant. I'm currently doing a "home exam" in Hebrew. I'm almost done. Imagine the time consulting you would have saved me!
Posted by: Maria at April 4, 2005 03:35 AM Permalink
Imagine the time consulting you would have saved me
Feel free to consult me!
Posted by: David Boxenhorn at April 4, 2005 08:49 AM Permalink
April 03, 2005
Inspired by Ayaan Hirsi Ali
Razib of Gene Expression writes a beautiful manifesto, inspired by Ayaan Hirsi Ali. I don't have time, at the moment, to comment to the extent that I would like, but I would like to proclaim my support. This, despite the fact that I am not, as he says, of those "who brook no restrictions of custom and tradition, who take little interest in the wisdom of their fathers". I am a great supporter of diversity, I enjoy it esthetically, intellectually, and simply out of affection. But the key qualifier is: choice. My utopian society would facilitate diversity at the level of both the individual and group, but would simultaneously guarantee the individual's right to choose among the options available, or create a new one.
The thing that I would like to talk about more - and I don't know if I get to it at all (there is so much that I never get to...) is the experience of living with others' expectations of difference. It is an odd, and not always unpleasant, experience to be the incarnation of another's mythology. It is something that Razib and I share.
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well...spatial separation helps maximize choice by constraining conflicts. i have a preference of how i think people in the arab world should treat women, for example, but it is not something that i believe the west should take militant action on from basic considerations of prudence and utilitarianism. on the other hand, the treatment of women by immigrant groups is something that is important in the west because it quickly can change the tenor of a culture and alter the perception of what a "good society" is in terms of social consensus. in a large nation like the USA spatial separation can still be maintained. in a small nation like holland it can not in the same sense (yes, broad swaths of the netherlands outside of the cities are still white, but they are very accessible to anyone who wants to take a day trip).
Posted by: razib at April 3, 2005 11:34 AM Permalink
I think that maintaining individual choice requires enforcement of a certain degree of respect for women's rights. Obviously, a policy of live-and-let-live breaks down when one party doesn't respect it.
Posted by: David Boxenhorn at April 3, 2005 11:46 AM Permalink
There is a fulcrum between individualism and collectivism (by which I mean "group," "culture," any identity-marker outside one's own skin) that marks the ideal balance. As a thinking and feeling individual, I constantly seek that fulcrum. Thank you David, for pointing to Razib's blog...it helps me to stay balanced.
Posted by: savtadotty at April 4, 2005 09:03 AM Permalink
>diversity at the level of both the individual and group ... but would simultaneously guarantee the individual's right to choose among the options available
To put this to the test: one of the options must be for any member to be able to leave the group without paying a crippling price (emotionally, financially, with one's life, etc.)
So which collectives pass the test? Islam: no. Freemasons: don't know. Judaism: yes. Catholics: don't know (can one still be excommunicated?) Anglican church: yes. Nation states: no. Family: no.
Posted by: Tom at April 5, 2005 04:37 AM Permalink
April 04, 2005
Hebrew, Modern and Mishnaic
Every once in a while I hear someone talk about
how Modern Hebrew is not really true to its origins, that it has become a
"European language" or some such thing. Though linguists can list many
differences between Modern and Mishnaic Hebrew (its last spoken form before
Modern Hebrew) I think that this is misleading, to say the least. Yes, Modern
Hebrew has a large number of borrowed words, but the vast majority of them (I'd
say something like 95%) are neo-Greco-Latin terms which can be said to be as
foreign to English as they are to Hebrew. None of this takes into account the
overall impression Mishnaic Hebrew gives to the Modern Hebrew reader: It seems
old-fashioned, but not too different, and not hard at all to understand. I'd say
it's comparable to reading a 17th or 18th century text in English. And what
gives it its old-fashioned feel is not grammar, and not even vocabulary (very
much) but more than anything else, its style. Take the first sentence of the
Mishna:
מֵאֵימָתַי קוֹרִין אֶת שְׁמַע בְּעַרְבִית
מִשָּׁעָה שֶׁהַכֹּהֲנִים נִכְנָסִים לֶאֱכֹל בִּתְרוּמָתָן
עַד סוֹף הָאַשְׁמוּרָה הָרִאשׁוֹנָה דִּבְרֵי רַבִּי אֱלִיעֶזֶר
וַחֲכָמִים אוֹמְרִים עַד חֲצוֹת
רַבָּן גַּמְלִיאֵל אוֹמֵר עַד שֶׁיַּעֲלֶה עַמּוּד הַשַּׁחַר
Me'eymatay qorin et shma` b`aravit
Misha`a shehakohanim nikhnasim le'ekhol bitrumatan
`Ad sof ha'ashmora harishona divrey rabi eli`ezer
Vahakhamim omrim `ad hasot
Raban gamli'el omer `ad sheya`ale `amud hashahar
From when do they read 'Hear O Israel' in the evening?
From the hour that the priests go in to eat of their contributions
Until the end of the first shift, according to Rabbi Eliezer
And wise men say until midnight
Rabbi Gamliel says, until the the column of dawn goes up
If this text were written today it would probably be something like this:
According to rabbinic tradition, 'Hear O Israel' is read in the evening from the hour that the priests go in to eat their contributions, until midnight. However, according to Rabbi Eliezer, it is only until the end of the first shift, while according to Rabbi Gamliel it can be read until the column of dawn comes up.
I'm having trouble putting to words this difference in style. Can anyone help me out?
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In English, it feels like the difference between poetry and prose. But I am not an expert in literary styles, and furthermore comparing English translations, even if done by an expert, would be inauthentic. One would have to compare a modern Hebrew version to the Mishnaic Hebrew, which I'm even less able to do, sadly.
Posted by: savtadotty at April 4, 2005 09:44 PM Permalink
I considered writing it in Hebrew, but I realized that the point I'm getting at comes through equally well in English.
Posted by: David Boxenhorn at April 4, 2005 10:10 PM Permalink
The people that say that Hebrew has become a European language refer to lost consonant sounds. For convenience sake, one can say that Modern Hebrew has taken vowels from the Mizrahim, the consontants from the Ashkenazim:
Vowels:
Kamatz: Nearly always 'a', while Ashkenazim read it often as 'o'.
Tsere: They ashkenazi 'ei' sound is dying out, and is replaced by a flat 'e'.
e.g.: Shalom Alekhem (Modern Hebrew) vs. Sholem Aleikhem (Yiddish)Consontants - Hebrew lost the consonants that Yiddish-speakers couldn't pronouce
'Het: I love the yemenite het, but it's on the way out, pronounced like khaf.
'Ain: Ditto, pronounced like alef.
Qof, Tet: Already dead, pronounced like kaf and tav.
Resh: The modern resh is like Yiddish, almost as guttural as french 'r', not like the original which was pronounced in the front of the mouth.
Unemphasized gimel, dalet, and tav: Used to be pronounced respectively as 'gh' (that weird half-g half-r sound arabs can make), soft 'th' (as in 'that') and hard 'th' (as in 'think').
Vav: Used to be pronounced as 'w' - a sound that doesn't exist in Yiddish.
Tsadi: The 'ts' sound is a yiddishism. Used to sound closer to 's'.Also, this isn't an ashkenazi thing, but lots of people nowadays drop their aitches. So add heh to the list.
All in all, the language has changed quite a bit.
Posted by: Danny at April 5, 2005 08:34 PM Permalink
Oh, yeah, and about your question: it's a very rhetorical style, introducing a question that is then answered, with three different variants, presented one after another, each variant extending the previous one.
Obviously, a text meant to be read out loud.
Posted by: Danny at April 5, 2005 08:47 PM Permalink
Wow I learned a lot that I didn't know both from the post and Danny's detailed comment. My curiosity is peaked -- how did Tet and Qof used to sound before they pretty much died out as independent sounds? I find resh, particularly when it comes at the end of a word, to be extremely difficult to pronounce (does the Yiddish pronounciation of r deviate greatly from German, because resh is not pronounced at all like a germanic r)?
Thanks guys for some interesting things to think about!
Posted by: katie-yael at April 6, 2005 06:50 AM Permalink
All languages go thru such shifts; one could even say that they are the sign of a living language.
As for the difference between the texts, I would say, as a geek, that they look like the same data structured to be parsed by different compilers.
Posted by: triticale at April 7, 2005 01:34 AM Permalink
April 07, 2005
John Paul II, RIP
I liked the Pope. And admired him. And, I think he is one of the heroes of the 20th century for his role in downfall of communism (not yet finished). This, despite the fact that I disagree with many of his stands on a wide variety of issues. For example, I agree with this:
There was a sense of divine intervention at the election of Karol Jozef Wojtyla as Pope John Paul II.
The first John Paul lasted only a few weeks before dropping dead. Albino Luciani was another in the long line of Italian-only Popes, stretching through five centuries, a vicar from the industrial shoreline behind Venice, a compromise candidate from the College of Cardinals, unsure of himself in his first official acts; a good man by the account of those who knew him, but promising to be ineffectual.
When he died, it was as if God called the cardinals back from the airport.
"Try again." They now went to the opposite extreme, and chose an "outsider," a Pole, a man of large human experience not only as priest, but before he ever became a priest.
The very greatest leaders in history are often, perhaps usually, outsiders - unlikely choices for the destiny that befalls them, at least in prospect. In retrospect, they seem as inevitable as John Paul II, or as Winston Churchill, or (on a lesser scale) as that other playwright-turned-saviour, Vaclav Havel.
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Moderation / Toleration
The original version of my previous post went on at some length about the various ways in which I disagreed with the the late Pope. I deleted those sections (ending up with a pretty bare-bones post) because I think it's in very poor taste to list the faults of a great man in his obituary. Great men will and should be remembered for their greatness, and not for their mediocrity, which is not to say that the Pope was in any way mediocre.
Most of the obituaries that I read mentioned briefly his importance in bringing down communism, and went on at great length criticizing him for his religious conservatism. What I want to know is, why do they care? If they are religious Catholics, then I know the answer to that question, and it is a good one: it is their church as much as the Pope's. But I doubt that many of the obituaries I read were written by religious Catholics. Most were probably written by post-Christian (or post-Jewish) New Yorkers or other urbanites. In what way does it bother them that their Catholic neighbors don't think it's right to have an abortion or get a divorce? And if they want to marry a person of the same sex? There are plenty of churches that will oblige. Inevitably what they call for is "moderation". Translation: views closer to their own.
And since when is moderation necessarily a good thing? The United States of America wasn't founded by moderates, it was founded by radical extremists who believed "that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights". Be suspicious of people calling for moderation, it is usually a play on words intended to deceive you, and usually used by people lacking in a completely different virtue: toleration.
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Cognitive Dissonance
I was once told, in a tone of contempt, that observant Jews who live in the "modern world" live with cognitive dissonance: How can they believe those "Bible stories" and also believe evolution, geology, astronomy?
Well, as I have said before, Judaism is not too particular about how you believe the "Bible stories"- though, most would say that you do have to believe them. Here are some of the most common answers:
1. Don't answer. Most people don't feel the need to answer this question.
2. Believe them literally. In other words, disbelieve the answers that science gives to evolution, geology, astronomy.
3. Believe them allegorically. In other words, the stories have a deep meaning, and are not meant to be taken literally.
4. Reconcile them. In other words, the Bible stories aren't really in conflict with science, if you understand them correctly.
None of these are my answer. Instead, I embrace cognitive dissonance. You see, there are two kinds of thought: rational and associative, and I see no particular reason why they both have to give the same answers in order for both of them to be true. Rational is: X implies Y. Associative is: X reminds me of Y. Science uses rational thought to establish its truth, and it is a very powerful method, for if we can prove X, or choose to accept it axiomatically, then we can know with surety that Y is also true. But associative thought is also powerful. It it the result of the workings of billions of neurons, and it is where those hypothetical Y's come from, which we prove by X. It is also the reason that we appreciate art, recognize our friends, and love our spouses. It is also, in my opinion, the way to understand the Bible. The truth of the Bible is literal, but not in describing the external world. Instead, it describes our inner world, the world of a hundred billion neurons.
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A couple of years ago I was asked to sit on a panel with a topic of "Orthodox Jews in Academia". The other three panelists were Israelis on sabbatical in the US. They were in all in the humanities, I was the token non-Israeli scientist. The common theme was exactly a kind of congnitive disconnect. At some level, the observant Jew seems to have to partition off some of his Torah learning and outlook in order to be able to function within academia.
P.S. Thanks for the link. I've reciprocated in my newly established blogroll.
Posted by: The Observer at April 7, 2005 10:20 PM Permalink
I understand that a set of associations between key ethical ideas and the stories in a holy text could be useful. It's a way of organising those ideas in memory, facilitating conversations with those who do likewise, and transmitting the ideas to the next generation.
But how is it a separate kind of thought? Yes, a trial theory Y is usually generated by analogy with existing knowledge but to qualify as thought there additionally has to be a testing phase. This is the part where one tries to render what the world looks like if Y is actually true.
If there is no logical connection between the holy text and the ideas (which is my position as an atheist), then the intricate map of associations is going to be somewhat arbitrary. This suggests that the trial Y’s are no more likely to be fruitful than random fragments of movies, books, conversations, math, etc (which pop into my head as new problems arise).
It's true that the way our knowledge is structured is important in generating new ideas, or impeding their generation.
Perhaps pigeonholing one’s philosophical theories within a lengthy and complicated text can be understood not only as a sort of metaphysical tattoo (identifying membership of the collective), but also as a brake on change -- a safeguard which helps to conserve important traditions.
A great deal of spaghetti has to be untangled before any morally significant memetic mutation can get established.
Embracing cognitive dissonance doesn't seem like a sound policy, but rather a form of self-coercion, and rather painful! I don't want to live my life through gritted teeth.
Posted by: Tom at April 8, 2005 02:58 AM Permalink
Cognitive dissonance, yeah! Is that anything like the ATQ (I just invented that one)? The ATQ is the Ambiguity Tolerance Quotient. A would think with a low ATQ sees the world in a polarized way - good/bad, white/black, yes/no, etc., and someone with a high ATQ could, like you, spend more time investigating and wondering about ambiguity and cognitive dissonance. The modern world just gets more and more complicated, don't it?
Posted by: savtadotty at April 8, 2005 09:36 AM Permalink
Savtadotty: I think you are right. The bottom line is not that it "makes sense" in a rational way, but that it works as a way of life.
Posted by: David Boxenhorn at April 8, 2005 10:22 AM Permalink
Observer: What's your answer? If you answer on your blog, I'll link to it.
Posted by: David Boxenhorn at April 8, 2005 12:36 PM Permalink
April 10, 2005
Coyote Blog and School Choice
I recently added Coyote Blog to my blogroll. It's a great blog all around, and one of the the great things about it is he shares my opinion of school choice - that there's something in it for everyone, and the best thing about it is, well, choice:
At the end of the day, one-size-fits-all public schools are never going to be able to satisfy everyone on this type thing, as it is impossible to educate kids in a values-neutral way. Statist parents object to too much positive material on the founding fathers and the Constitution. Secular parents object to mentions of God and overly-positive descriptions of religion in history. Religious parents object to secularized science and sex education. Free market parents object to enforced environmental activism and statist economics. Some parents want no grades and an emphasis on feeling good and self-esteem, while others want tough grading and tough feedback when kids aren't learning what they are supposed to.
I have always thought that these "softer" issues, rather than just test scores and class sizes, were the real "killer-app" that might one day drive acceptance of school choice in this country. Certainly increases in home-schooling rates have been driven as much by these softer values-related issues (mainly to date from the Right) than by just the three R's.
So here is my invitation to the Left: come over to the dark side. Reconsider your historic opposition to school choice. I'm not talking about rolling back government spending or government commitment to funding education for all. I am talking about allowing parents to use that money that government spends on their behalf at the school of their choice. Parents want their kids to learn creationism - fine, they can find a school for that. Parents want a strict, secular focus on basic skills - fine, another school for that. Parents want their kids to spend time learning the three R's while also learning to love nature and protect the environment - fine, do it.
Most of the time you hear about the quality issue, that public schools are failing, etc. While this is true, I, personally, don't find it very inspiring, and neither, it seems, does the public. Much more inspiring, I think, is the potential to educate your children the way you want. A positive vision is always more compelling than a negative one. It's also easier to communicate. The average person understands very little about economics, and hears some people saying that a free market will improve schools, while others say it will destroy the schools. Such a person thinks, "better play it safe, and leave things as they are". But how can you argue with a slogan like: "Educate your children the way you want"?
This is the kind of advertising campaign I'd like to see:
Two beautiful, well-dressed women walk into a car dealer, one black, one white. They both say, "I'd like to buy a car". The salesman asks the white woman, "Where do you live?" She answers with the name of some upscale neighborhood (the exact neighborhood would be chosen according to the metropolitan area of the ad). The salesman looks in a book, then rolls out a beautiful sports car. He then asks the black woman, "Where do you live?" She answers with the name of a poor neighborhood. Again, the salesman looks in his book, and rolls out a beat-up old car. Tagline: "You wouldn't let the government tell you which car to buy, why do you let them tell you where to educate your children?"
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I have strong feelings about public elementary education, and most of them are in direct opposition to what you have written, I think. But first, our one point of agreement: "Educate your children the way you want." Absolutely. I would not delegate the job of teaching Values to anyone. As far as I'm concerned, that's my job as a parent. As for school, where my children are supposed to meet other children and adults (their teachers) who come from other homes, I have a very pragmatic, minimalist view: 1) is the school environment physically safe, compared to, say, the local grocery store? 2) are the teachers and other kids actively preventing my kids from learning basic skills? 3) do the teachers like children? 4) do the teachers like parents? 5) are the school administrators burned out? If the answers to 1, 3, and 4 are "Yes" and the answers to 2 and 5 are "No," the rest of school is a Giant Game called Survival in the Modern World, and that's the only useful thing I can't teach them alone. High School and College are a different story.
Posted by: savtadotty at April 10, 2005 03:02 PM Permalink
Savtadotty: Just one thing, who do you think is better able to make those judgments, you or the State?
Okay, one more thing: After a judgment is made, who do you think is more capable of doing something about it, you (through school choice, or at the extreme, founding your own school) or the state (trough the government bureaucracy)?
Posted by: David Boxenhorn at April 10, 2005 03:10 PM Permalink
I don´t want jihadist madrassas in my neighbourhood.I don´t want "diversity" on issues as man-woman equality or darwinism.
The spillovers of some kinds of education could lead my society to civil war. Probably it would do the same to yours, even faster.
Common knowledge of some issues is a matter of national security, democratic sustenibility and personal freedom.
Yes I know, who decide what is that common ground that all education forms should share? Well, the libertarian approach of "no comon ground" is as arbitrary as any other choice.
Zero is not an special number. "No social choice" is a particular and generally suboptimal of form of social choice.
Posted by: Kantor at April 10, 2005 10:12 PM Permalink
Kantor: It wouldn't bother me too much if the State mandated a minimal curriculum and prohibited the teaching of intolerance or disrespect for the law. That still leaves an awful lot of room for variation - all the important stuff, really.
Posted by: David Boxenhorn at April 10, 2005 10:23 PM Permalink
I agree.I worote (in Spanish) about (half-)free schooling on my blog:
http://kantor-blog.blogspot.com/2005/03/educacin-ii-identidad-y-regulacin.html#comments
and this one about the effects of "political correctness" in the education system:
http://kantor-blog.blogspot.com/2005/03/educacin-i-pequeos-fascistas.html#comments
I don´t know how good are translation programs, so perhaps you will loose all the beauty of the original text ;-)
Posted by: Kantor at April 10, 2005 10:41 PM Permalink
David - I'm not sure which judgments you're referring to. If you mean the answers to my five basic questions, I make them. But then the issue becomes, if the answers don't meet my minimal requirements, what do I do? My answer was: move to a place where they do, rather than set up an alternative State of my own or Privatize and pay double (taxes + tuition). I grant you, bureaucracy in Israel is a tougher foe to battle at the grass roots level than it is in the USA. A more representative and accountable form of government here would give us more voter power on issues of domestic policy. If I were a young parent, I would spend my energy working for that.
Posted by: savtadotty at April 11, 2005 09:05 AM Permalink
Savtadotty: So you would exercise school choice by moving to a different locality. But wouldn't it be better if you could do so without moving? And you must be aware that large segments of the population don't have the means to move, and so are stuck in inferior schools.
Moreover, some choices are simply not available. If you want to send you kids to a sex-and-drug free school, for example, in the US, you won't find it, unless, as you say, you pay twice and send your kids to private school.
As for Israeli bureaucracy, this is one issue where it's easier in Israel than in the US. In the US is simply impossible to set up a new school with a different curriculum or teaching method. But in Israel, it can happen, and does. The result is a wide range of school choice - not enough, but compared to the US, a paradise.
Posted by: David Boxenhorn at April 11, 2005 09:17 AM Permalink
Now I'm confused (or now I finally realize that we may be talking about different education systems): are we comparing Israeli public education with US public education, or just the various education options in Israel? Or something else? In any case, I wanted sex-and-drug-free kids, no matter what went on in the schools they attended. And Thank G_d that's what I got. That's what I meant by parental values. After all, we lived in an individualistic (not tribal) society there, so they needed to be strong individuals.
Posted by: savtadotty at April 11, 2005 06:34 PM Permalink
We have a few (hetero)sex-free schools in Madrid. They are only for males. Well, as I said, they are only hetero-sex-free.
Our Moroccan neighbours have also (hetero)sex-free schools. The full country is hetero-sex-free, so if your are a handsome hetero-guy, don´t go there for hollidays.
The iranians have a sex & alcohol free society...
and 3.000.000 people adicted to heroine.Demand for pleasure is strongly inelastic.So if you make imposible people enjoy with high quality pleasures, the will go for low quality ones.
It is not to tell teenagrs not to have sex, but to explain them, and to teach them that with love, sex is simply better.And going for low quality things having high quality ones is not only a waste, but algo wrong.
Posted by: Kantor (as the ghost of Stuart Mill) at April 11, 2005 11:09 PM Permalink
Dear Savtadotty,
“the rest of school is a Giant Game called Survival in the Modern World, and that's the only useful thing I can't teach them alone.”
I would advocate children deciding how much of that game to play with parental assistance and how much of it to play independently. Sending one’s child to the school of one’s choice forces them to play a lot of it without one’s help.
An alternative is NOT to force one’s children to go to school. That is the ultimate in school choice. They can learn Survival in the Modern World actually in the modern world rather in an artificial version of it with bizarre power structures and a completely unrealistic demographic.
And the child can decide when and how to develop their independence, with parent as advocate and guide when desired.
Posted by: emma at April 12, 2005 09:48 AM Permalink
Emma: I do agree about children deciding how much help they need, with parents playing the role of coaches, regardless of what school they attend. I also think a parent has a tough time today when it comes to balancing many factors and priorities before sending a child to school. You'd be amazed how many people (mostly in the USA, I think) do Home Schooling, which in my opinion is "school choice" taken to its (il-)logical extreme.
I'm curious: what kind of power structures do you think are bizarre? (Is the the bizarre power structure you refer to part of the "modern world" or the "artificial" version?) There's a lot of artifice in modernity, so I'm not sure of your point.
Posted by: savtadotty at April 12, 2005 12:51 PM Permalink
Sorry for the delay in responding...
The bizarre power structures are between teachers and pupils. I understand that if someone wants to force 30 children to attempt to learn the same thing at the same time, they are going to have to coerce some if not all of them. But punishment and other coercion are never going to be good motivators.
School power structures assume that instead of being well-intentioned but bored/frightened/confused, recalcitrent children are ill-intentioned, behaviourally disturbed, and to blame for not getting anything out of the class.
I'd rather trust children to continue what they did as babies and toddlers - to learn what they want and need to learn when they want and need to learn it, in the company of adults and other children who will help them, guide them, and learn from them in return. And for that, school is a ridiculous waste of time.
Posted by: emma at April 17, 2005 02:14 PM Permalink
Another take on the future
John Derbyshire predicts the future:
Looking back across the past few decades, it’s hard not to think that post-industrial modernism is headed all one way, everywhere it has taken a firm grip. Pleasure-giving gadgets and drugs are ever cheaper and more accessible. The distresses of life, especially physical sickness and pain, are gradually being pushed to the margins. As scientists probe deeper into the human genome, the human nervous system, and the biology of human social arrangements, that divine spark of person-hood that we all feel to be the essence of ourselves is being chased along narrower and darker passageways of the brain and the tribal folkways. Happiness itself, it seems, is genetic. And all this is headed…where?
We all know the answer to that one. It is headed to Brave New World. Our flesh is supposed to creep when our adversary in argument plays the Brave New World card. Brave New World! Empty and soulless! Eeeek!
This gravely underestimates the power of Aldous Huxley’s tremendous novel, which he sat down to begin writing just 74 years ago this month. The issue posed by the novel, as every thoughtful commentator (Francis Fukuyama and Leon Kass, to name two) has pointed out, is: What exactly is objectionable about the world of Year 632 After Ford? As Kass says, the dehumanized people of that world don’t know they are dehumanized, and wouldn’t care if they knew. They are happy; and if they feel any momentary unhappiness, a pharmacological remedy is ready to hand. If being human means enduring sorrow, pain, grief envy, loss, accidie, loneliness, and humiliation, why on earth should anyone be expected to prefer a “fully human” life over a dehumanized one?
Most people won’t.
Needless to say, I have a different take on how it will play out.
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I loathe Kass and Fukayama with the fire of a thousand suns. Fracking luddites.
see Lysenko's Revenge.
http://hot_needle_of_inquiry.blogspot.com/2005/04/lysenkos-revenge.html
What good is it to bury your head in the sand like an ostrich? The future is breathing down our necks. Better we should learn to deal with it now!Oh, happy pesach! (((david))) ;)
Posted by: jinnderella at April 21, 2005 05:17 PM Permalink
Well, I think that Derbyshire is correct in predicting some people's future. Other's, however, will adapt and ultimately inherit it.
Posted by: David Boxenhorn at April 21, 2005 06:17 PM Permalink
April 14, 2005
Combat is the best, brother
You have to see this Israeli commercial (via Balagan), advertising Baraq's fast Internet access. It depicts an Israeli visiting Iran, walking though markets, mosques, etc. wearing a T-shirt that says, q'ravi ze hakhi, ahi (קרבי זה הכי אחי) - [serving in a] combat [unit] is the best, my brother. It's very beautifully filmed. It ends with: bahayim ze `adayin bilti efshari aval ba'internet q'sharim k'elu nosarim b'khol yom (בחיים זה עדיין בלתי אפשרי אבל באינטרנט קשרים כאלו נוצרים בכל יום) - in [real] life this is still impossible but on the Internet connections like these are formed every day.
To fully understand the impact of this commercial you have to understand how deeply Israelis long for normalcy, how oppressed Israelis feel by the situation. It's much more than dealing with conflict every day, it's a feeling of isolation. Israelis are painfully aware that there's a big, beautiful world out there where we're not wanted. In the commercial, this is expressed by the Israeli walking nonchalantly, without apparent concern, as the Iranians eye him suspiciously - as if to say, "Even though you are suspicious of me, I would love to tour your country." It is an expression of the asymmetry of the situation: an Iranian really could walk though the streets of Tel Aviv safely, if he wanted to, and if he could get out of Iran. For an Israeli it's the reverse.
UPDATE: The English translation of the T-shirt requires some explanation. The word "combat" in Hebrew is clearly an adjective, so the mind automatically fills in the word "unit" - most people who serve in the army don't serve in combat units, and the combat units really are considered "the best". In English, on the other hand, the word "combat" alone would be assumed to be a noun, so it would sound like the guy is expressing his love of making war.
UPDATE: If what I wrote doesn't make sense to you, it might be because I left out an important detail in my description of the commercial. If you watch it, you will know why.
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Trackback from Solomonia, A Telling Vision:
Read David's post and then watch the Israeli TV commercial he links to. Then ask yourself in what other countries would that commercial fly? Iran? The PA? Keep guessing. And be real now. That game should tell you quite a...
Our tv's rather limited to channel 1 http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/2005/04/musings-111-theater-of-absurd.html and Jordan sports, so I haven't seen the commercial, but you caught something very important in the psyche of Israel as a nation.
I'm going to link this post to http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
Posted by: muse at April 15, 2005 05:45 AM Permalink
Douglas: Nice bumping into you, I hope you come back. I can't comment on your blog, though, for some reason.
Posted by: David Boxenhorn at April 16, 2005 09:58 PM Permalink
It is an expression of the asymmetry of the situation: an Iranian really could walk though the streets of Tel Aviv safely, if he wanted to, and if he could get out of Iran.
Well...yes and no. If an Iranian actually got into Israel, he might be able to walk through Tel Aviv freely. But does anyone really believe that Israeli security would let an Iranian national in the country? Don't think so.
Doesn't change the power of the commercial though, or how it captures the Israeli psyche.
Posted by: Tamouz at April 18, 2005 08:49 PM Permalink
Tamouz: Israeli security lets everyone through eventually. Though, he might be very well searched beforehand. In fact, I once knew an Iranian Moslem from a well-to-do family who somehow got to Israel, I think by way of the SLA, and asked for asylum. This was shortly after the revolution. I met him in 1982.
Posted by: David Boxenhorn at April 18, 2005 09:00 PM Permalink
"Israelis are painfully aware that there's a big, beautiful world out there where we're not wanted"
I really believe you.
If you feel opressed and isolated, think about the 500.000 dead children as a consequence of Irak War I ('91) and the subsequent blockade.
In another posting, very close to this one, you praise the war against the very same people you regret being "not wanted" by.
Well, if it is necessary to explain it: they don't like you because you want them dead, or in the best of cases, you don't give a **** if USA bombs them. Does it sounds so strange to you?
Now I see what Israeli's psyche is: contradictory. You cannot have peace and war at the same time. You cannot kill others and "being wanted".
And believe me: nobody wants war, except those who benefit from it. Ask yourself: are you one of them?
Posted by: Ernest at May 12, 2005 03:28 AM Permalink
April 17, 2005
Archeological destruction is PC
I wanted to write about this, but the topic is so upsetting to me that I can barely read the stories. Luckily, Solomonia has done the work for me:
You didn't need to be a Buddhist to have been disgusted by the Taliban when they blew up those ancient Buddhist statues, and you don't have to be a Jew to be disgusted at the wanton Muslim destruction of ancient archaeological ruins on the Temple Mount.
Israeli archaeologists are sifting through the rubble of a garbage dump in order to recover the remains of antiquities destroyed and history lost as the Islamic Wakf, responsible for the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, built a new, enormous underground mosque and simply dumped what they didn't destroy.
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And then they get to shrug their shoulders and say "what Temple?" there isn't any archaelogical record of a Temple!" (sigh)
Posted by: Rachel Ann at April 17, 2005 07:44 PM Permalink
April 18, 2005
What we sound like
David Boxenhorn's Linguistic Profile: |
Mrs. Boxenhorn's Linguistic Profile: |
| 45% General American English | 50% General American English |
| 35% Yankee | 30% Yankee |
| 10% Dixie | 15% Upper Midwestern |
| 5% Upper Midwestern | 5% Dixie |
| 0% Midwestern | 0% Midwestern |
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I got:
Posted by: savtadotty at April 18, 2005 11:12 PM Permalink
40% General American English
40% Yankee
15% Dixie
5% Upper Midwestern
0% Midwestern
Too bad they don't seem to have an explanation of their ratings. I hardly think I'm 20% Dixie, having grown up in the suburbs of New York.
Posted by: Attila (Pillage Idiot) at April 20, 2005 06:46 PM Permalink