Two stories, one true, the other a fable:
First --
Pierre Trudeau -- Canada's greatest, truest prime minister, a man I accidentally met along with Greg Gaspari and Eric Daigle while waiting for movie stars outside of the Sutton Hotel in Toronto back in the fall of '95, a man who signed my paperback copy of Paul Auster's screenplays for SMOKE andBLUE IN THE FACE before he slowly strolled up Bay Street, a small old man who no one gave a second look to -- used to go scuba diving in the Arctic. In his fifties.
(See why he was the greatest?)
After he died, one of Trudeau's companions on those nautical adventures, a long-time doctor friend of his, recalled the glee and the determination the prime minister brought to his dives. He used to sit on the edge of the boat, and smile at the doctor, and look at the wide Arctic sky looming over them, and ask: "How deep do you think we can go?"
Second --
Two guys, one young and one old, are sitting on the top deck of a luxury cruise liner as it slowly bobs it way through the Atlantic ocean. It's a beautiful evening -- cool air, red sun slowly sinking into the water, bikini-clad babes milling around the pool. Lit cigars. Lavender lounge chairs. Red wine. Soft music. The whole deal.
The young guy, taking a puff on his stogie, slowly lets the smoke escape from his lips.
"My first time on a boat," the guy says. "Can you believe that. First time. Just look at that water, man. Look at it!"
"Yeah," the old guy says, smiling, watching a college girl in a two-piece do her laps in the pool in a series of lazy, I-ain't-gotta-be-nowhere strokes. "And you know what?"
"What?" the young guy says, taking another puff.
"That's just the top," the old guy says, turning his gaze to the sea. "That's just the top, kid."
I'll come back to these points in a moment. Honest. Don't go anywhere.
See, the thing is, I've stepped foot in seven countries.
For the record: Canada (the true north strong and free), the U.S., Japan, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Thailand and Cambodia.
Three of them don't count. (Okay, okay -- they count as countries, yes, but they don't count for me. Why? Because I spent only two days in Hong Kong, one night in Malaysia, and
Thailand -- well, Bangkok has a heck of an airport. Got a KFC and everything.
I've spent a total of a month and a half, tops, in the States, and that's including over-the-border runs to Buffalo, New York, and vacations in Myrtle Beach and Orlando.
Japan? For four years the Japanese were my homeboys (and homegirls.)
Kampuchea? Seventeen months, and counting...
And what have I learned?
For me, it comes down to breadth and depth.
A former Canadian co-worker of mine here in Phnom Penh (who used to teach high school math at East York Collegiate in Toronto) has been to a hundred countries. A HUNDRED. That's a lot of stamps in a lot of passports.
I've been to seven.
But I lived in Canada for twenty-three years, and will again. (I'm assuming. Although Ice -
land is looking tempting. And El Salvador, well, it has its moments...)
Japan was my base for four years, and I feel a strong, almost electric pull to it.
And Cambodia is definitely surreal and intricate, but it's raw and real and compelling.
The thing is, I've spent time in these places. I've ate the food. I've listened to the music. I've watched their politicians talk and bargain, slowly realizing that they all the do the same
shuck-and-jive, no matter what the country; it's the beat that changes, is all.
Living in Canada, and Japan, and Cambodia, has given me depth. It hasn't made ME a deep person, no, but it's forced me to dip and then dive into the deep end of life. You have time to breathe and live and grow and think when you live a foreign country.
Passing through a country for a week or a month, you get breadth. You see a lot. You marvel a lot. But I don't think you get the chance to learn a lot. It's the difference between seeing five flashy movies and reading one good book, slowly, in sips, not gulps.
Not that you have to go to a foreign country to get depth. I think you can stay in the town that you grew up in for thirty, forty years, and, if you look around, and observe, and listen, and feel for the pulse and listen for the hum, you will get a depth deeper than you could ever have imagined.
I don't think one way's better than the other, breadth or depth, either-or, Freddy versus Jason, Alien versus Predator. Different strokes for different folks, as I like to say.
The import thing is, no matter where you are, or for how long you are there, to go deeper.
To dive in.
How deep do you think you can go?
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
TURN THE PAGE...
I like books. Love books. LIVE for books.
The test of a reader is: Have you read a book while walking down the street at any point in the last, oh, year.
If the answer is yes, then you're a reader.
I was walking out of the train station near my apartment in Japan, reading the first volume of Robert Caro's great, unending biography of Lyndon Johnson when a crazy Japanese homeless guy whacked me in the stomach with a two-by-four. (Howard Cosell's famous call of the Ali/Frazier fight echoes in my mind: "Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!") I was down for the count in Sagami-Ono, Japan.
I could sit in a room by myself and read and be reasonably happy for the rest of my life.
But is reading enough?
There's the world inside the books, and the world outside of the room where you're reading the books. And, at a certain point, those two worlds have to, should, collide.
You can't get everything from books. You can get a lot -- perspective, compassion, empathy, plain old knowledge -- but as a way of learning about the world, understanding the world, you gotta get out.
You gotta walk around.
You gotta travel, listen, observe.
I was given a book by a friend of the family called LOST JAPAN by Alex Kerr before I went to Japan. It was all about how the Japan of today doesn't compare to the Japan of yesterday, about how the modern Japan is trashing the traditional Japan, about how customs die and are buried on a daily basis, and now nobody in Japan seems to be noticing, let alone caring.
I read half of it. Put it down. I couldn't get it. Couldn't process it. Couldn't imagine it.
Why?
Because it was all about stuff that I had no first-hand contact with. Culture, economy, history and society -- I knew about that stuff in Canada. (Kind of. Well, a little.)
But in the rest of the world? Japan? Didn't affect me. My borders were square, and I was inside them, and I hadn't been out.
Cut to two years later, and I've lived in Japan, and taught the people, and ate the food, and watched the news, and learned the language (a little.)
I tried to read LOST JAPAN again. I found myself nodding. Understanding. Agreeing and disagreeing with his points. The book had a shape and a texture and a relevance that was suddenly, well, relevant to me. Because I'd been in that world for awhile, if not of it.
Books and reality are sometimes two different worlds for me.
The intersection of the two is when life really starts getting interesting. It's when 'life' with a capital 'L' meets and greets the thinking, pondering individual who turns the pages.
The intersection is when the boldness and vividness of life come into full play.
The test of a reader is: Have you read a book while walking down the street at any point in the last, oh, year.
If the answer is yes, then you're a reader.
I was walking out of the train station near my apartment in Japan, reading the first volume of Robert Caro's great, unending biography of Lyndon Johnson when a crazy Japanese homeless guy whacked me in the stomach with a two-by-four. (Howard Cosell's famous call of the Ali/Frazier fight echoes in my mind: "Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!") I was down for the count in Sagami-Ono, Japan.
I could sit in a room by myself and read and be reasonably happy for the rest of my life.
But is reading enough?
There's the world inside the books, and the world outside of the room where you're reading the books. And, at a certain point, those two worlds have to, should, collide.
You can't get everything from books. You can get a lot -- perspective, compassion, empathy, plain old knowledge -- but as a way of learning about the world, understanding the world, you gotta get out.
You gotta walk around.
You gotta travel, listen, observe.
I was given a book by a friend of the family called LOST JAPAN by Alex Kerr before I went to Japan. It was all about how the Japan of today doesn't compare to the Japan of yesterday, about how the modern Japan is trashing the traditional Japan, about how customs die and are buried on a daily basis, and now nobody in Japan seems to be noticing, let alone caring.
I read half of it. Put it down. I couldn't get it. Couldn't process it. Couldn't imagine it.
Why?
Because it was all about stuff that I had no first-hand contact with. Culture, economy, history and society -- I knew about that stuff in Canada. (Kind of. Well, a little.)
But in the rest of the world? Japan? Didn't affect me. My borders were square, and I was inside them, and I hadn't been out.
Cut to two years later, and I've lived in Japan, and taught the people, and ate the food, and watched the news, and learned the language (a little.)
I tried to read LOST JAPAN again. I found myself nodding. Understanding. Agreeing and disagreeing with his points. The book had a shape and a texture and a relevance that was suddenly, well, relevant to me. Because I'd been in that world for awhile, if not of it.
Books and reality are sometimes two different worlds for me.
The intersection of the two is when life really starts getting interesting. It's when 'life' with a capital 'L' meets and greets the thinking, pondering individual who turns the pages.
The intersection is when the boldness and vividness of life come into full play.
YOU SAY MACRO, I SAY MICRO
How do you save Cambodia?
How do you save Sudan?
How do you save Bangladesh?
And what does that mean, anyway -- how do you 'save' a country? Are some countries doomed, simply because of their location and their leaders?
No, according to Jeffrey Sachs, one of the world's foremost macroeconomics gurus who is trying to figure out a way to stop poor countries from being poor.
His answer, as detailed in a New York Times story that ran last weekend, is simple: Money.
Lots and lots of money.
Simple.
Simplistic?
I kinda think so.
Now, I'm no economist. I took no poli-sci, economics, or development classes in university. (You're looking at a guy who dropped out of Grade 11 Accounting after a month, and whose idea of a good history lesson at the time was Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.)
But I'm living in Cambodia, and work for an NGO, so I'll put in my two cents worth.
You can inject all the money you want into these poor, desperate countries in South-east Asia and Africa, and Sachs is probably right -- more money IS what is needed.
The problem, however, is...
1) Where will the money go? Most likely, right into the pockets of the charming, benevolent governments that lead most third-world countries. They don't care about the poor. They care about lining their own pockets with all the goodies that they can.
(Oh, sure, they care, yes, but in the same way that everybody cares about poor people. Nobody likes to see it. Nobody likes to think about it. And it all comes down to the individual and the individual's own life -- if he can improve it, he will. If he can use the money to get him out his own dire circumstances, he will. Why wouldn't he? He's been through hell and back, most likely. He's seen his family starve, die, beg. The biggest governments and wealthiest nations are still just groupings and gloppings of individuals who are looking after their own self-interest first, period. Any good that arises is a trickle-down side effect.)
2) Assuming that the money gets where it's supposed to go, will it be used efficiently? Probably not, because the people in charge of the governments of most of the poor countries in the world don't really know what the hell they're doing. They either siphon the money into their own bank accounts, or, should the money actually be used how it is intended to be, it will probably be used in a wasteful, inefficient manner.
Why? Well, they don't have the skills. They don't have the know-how. They don't have the time or the energy to implement the skills or the know-how, either, because life is short and projects are long and it's difficult to create something out of nothing. Difficult to build castles in the sand. Easier to watch them wash away as you kick back in your villa with a pina colada in one hand and the remote in the other.
This is not to say that there is no hope, because I think there is, but it lies in the next gen -
eration, and the generation after that, and the generation after that. And so international experts -- carrying lots and lots of cash, as Sachs suggests -- have to dig in deep and prepare for the long haul and do the best they can, with what they have, to help train and implement, by hook or by crook, government and community programs that are relatively easy to run. You have to train the young and hope that they can somehow break the endless cycle of dependen-
cy and corruption that so many third-world countries revolve around.
So, I think Sachs is right, to some extent -- it takes cash. But cash alone ain't enough, and I think he approaches everything from a macro-economic perspective.
All well and good, for the big issues.
But life is lived on the ground level, on a micro-scale.
Life is lived in inches.
How do you save Sudan?
How do you save Bangladesh?
And what does that mean, anyway -- how do you 'save' a country? Are some countries doomed, simply because of their location and their leaders?
No, according to Jeffrey Sachs, one of the world's foremost macroeconomics gurus who is trying to figure out a way to stop poor countries from being poor.
His answer, as detailed in a New York Times story that ran last weekend, is simple: Money.
Lots and lots of money.
Simple.
Simplistic?
I kinda think so.
Now, I'm no economist. I took no poli-sci, economics, or development classes in university. (You're looking at a guy who dropped out of Grade 11 Accounting after a month, and whose idea of a good history lesson at the time was Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.)
But I'm living in Cambodia, and work for an NGO, so I'll put in my two cents worth.
You can inject all the money you want into these poor, desperate countries in South-east Asia and Africa, and Sachs is probably right -- more money IS what is needed.
The problem, however, is...
1) Where will the money go? Most likely, right into the pockets of the charming, benevolent governments that lead most third-world countries. They don't care about the poor. They care about lining their own pockets with all the goodies that they can.
(Oh, sure, they care, yes, but in the same way that everybody cares about poor people. Nobody likes to see it. Nobody likes to think about it. And it all comes down to the individual and the individual's own life -- if he can improve it, he will. If he can use the money to get him out his own dire circumstances, he will. Why wouldn't he? He's been through hell and back, most likely. He's seen his family starve, die, beg. The biggest governments and wealthiest nations are still just groupings and gloppings of individuals who are looking after their own self-interest first, period. Any good that arises is a trickle-down side effect.)
2) Assuming that the money gets where it's supposed to go, will it be used efficiently? Probably not, because the people in charge of the governments of most of the poor countries in the world don't really know what the hell they're doing. They either siphon the money into their own bank accounts, or, should the money actually be used how it is intended to be, it will probably be used in a wasteful, inefficient manner.
Why? Well, they don't have the skills. They don't have the know-how. They don't have the time or the energy to implement the skills or the know-how, either, because life is short and projects are long and it's difficult to create something out of nothing. Difficult to build castles in the sand. Easier to watch them wash away as you kick back in your villa with a pina colada in one hand and the remote in the other.
This is not to say that there is no hope, because I think there is, but it lies in the next gen -
eration, and the generation after that, and the generation after that. And so international experts -- carrying lots and lots of cash, as Sachs suggests -- have to dig in deep and prepare for the long haul and do the best they can, with what they have, to help train and implement, by hook or by crook, government and community programs that are relatively easy to run. You have to train the young and hope that they can somehow break the endless cycle of dependen-
cy and corruption that so many third-world countries revolve around.
So, I think Sachs is right, to some extent -- it takes cash. But cash alone ain't enough, and I think he approaches everything from a macro-economic perspective.
All well and good, for the big issues.
But life is lived on the ground level, on a micro-scale.
Life is lived in inches.
Monday, November 08, 2004
ACID ATTACKS AND LOGIC BUBBLES
The Phnom Penh Post is a bi-weekly paper that prints somewhat extensive coverage of news stories that are making waves in Cambodia. They have one section in particular that is a must-read, if you are inclined to stories of a slightly morbid nature. It's basically a police blotter, detailing all the nefarious acts of violence that occurred through Cambodia in the previous two weeks.
Aside from the usual tales of robbery and incest, there are -- for a westerner -- crimes that seem uniquely, well, odd. (Not that robbery and incest aren't, you know, odd, but I'm talking about odd odd, uniquely Cambodian odd.)
Cases in point:
1) Acid attacks. If a woman finds out that her husband is cheating on her, it is rather disturb-ingly common for the wife to get a jar of acid, confront the guilty mistress, and douse her from head to toe (or as much flesh as she can possibly reach.) This does a nice job of scarring and disgfiguring the guilty tramp for life.
2) Anything involving an axe. There are gun crimes here, of course, and they usually involve AK-47s. But more common are axes. Oh, and knives. Can't forget about the knives. I think it's easier to shoot someone, personally -- not that I've ever done it, although I wouldn't mind trying. (A joke. A joke.) But an axe. Man. That takes proximity. That takes in-your-faceness. That takes metal striking flash. And blood, as Anthony Perkins moaned in Psycho. Blood...
Not that I'm an expert, but it seems here that crime is often triggered by something petty, and small, and sometimes slightly ridiculous -- like a cow that wanders over into the wrong field, or a pig-castrater being attacked by an unruly mob. (Then again -- is there any other kind of mob but an unruly one? I guess not.) And yes, there are such jobs as pig castrators, and it's not as easy as it looks.
The thing is, Cambodian society is, for the most part, very relaxed, laid-back, congenial. People have warm smiles and friendly eyes. But there's a lot of anger and frustration being reigned in. A lot is being witheld. And when tensions rise, and the temperature soars, and the stomach is empty -- stuff happens.
People are good, people are kind, and the world really could fit, quite comfortably, into an episode of FULL HOUSE -- I do believe all of that, to a certain extent. The majority of people do not want to strike out and bash someone. The majority of people are not interested in dousing acid in people's faces.
And yet --
Poverty tends to erode the moral values that we grow up with. Relentless, unending poverty does more than erode those values; it can, over time, obliberate them in a single, red-tinged blast. When you have no job and you have nothing to eat and you've never drinken clean water in your life and you have six kids to feed and it looks like the rain won't come for awhile so you can kiss those rice crops good-bye for another few weeks, thank-you very much --
When that's the case, and your angry neighbor comes on over to yell at you about your cow, and that axe is hanging just over there, on the wall, well.
Blood happens, sometimes.
Which doesn't justify it. Which doesn't condone it. But you gotta be able to piece together why bad things happen to good people, as the book says.
************************************************************************************
Speaking of piecing things together, here's one more thought about the reaction to Bush's re -
election, and it has to do with empathy. It has to do with imagination. It has to do with pro -
jection.
The great lateral thinking guru Edward Debono (www.edwdebono.com) talks about universes and logic. More specifically, 'logic bubbles'.
Everybody is in their own little universe. Doesn't matter whether you're black, white, Canadian or Cambodian, you're in your own little world. As Frasier asked Cliff Clavin on Cheers:
"What colour is the sky in your world, Cliff?"
Well, we're all Cliff Clavin's. We all see the sky a little bit differently. And, based on how we were raised, and by who we were raised, we all think and act differently. We all react according to our own logic.
So all those millions of Americans and Canadians and Europeans and Japanese and everyone else in the world who are flabbergasted, absolutely gobsmacked by Bush's reelection, and just can't believe how an idiot like that could be elected again, well, all of those people are approaching the issue in the wrong way, I think.
Meaning, they're judging book according to their logic bubble. According to their logic and the way that they see the world, view the world, understand the world, there's no reasonable manner in which anyone, well, reasonable could possibly vote for Bush. It doesn't add up.
Well, yes, but...
Look.
Look closer.
Step out of your logic bubble. Let it burst -- but just for a moment. You can go back to it. I promise.
Look at it this way.
You are a born-again Christian, as a heck of a lot Americans are. You got two kids. Church on Sunday. A mortgage you'll be paying for a good twenty more years. A nation under attack.
And the man leading your country is also a born-again Christian. He talks in a way that you can understand. He says he's gonna protect your country, and he's done that for the past three years. He believes what you believe. And the French and the Italians may not like it, but, well, heck, you weren't planning on going over there anyways anytime soon. Gotta look after your own soil first, right?
If you try and think about things according to not your own logic bubble, but somebody else's, well, I think it's easy to see how Bush was re-elected. I think it makes sense if you look at it that way.
I'm not saying it's good that Bush won. I'm not saying I would have voted for him. (And I'm Canadian, and I can't vote, but you get the drift.)
I'm saying this lack of understanding reflects a lack of curiosity, and a lack of imagination -- an imagination that requires to step outside of our own beliefs and values and try to under -
stand somebody else's -- not agree with those values, or even respect them -- just understand.
And if I'm a hard-core Christian, what' s the most important thing in my life?
My relationship to God and Christ.
And if there's a leader who shares those identical concerns, and is a tough, plain-speaking son of a gun to boot, well, he's got my vote.
Simple.
Never underestimate the power of religion in American society.
And remember that your logic bubble is extremely, completely irrational to millions of other people.
In Ontario, if a fifteen year old decided to shave his head and don the robes of a Buddhist monk for a few years, he would probably be taken to a counsellor.
In Cambodia, he would gain the respect of his family and the reverance of the whole society.
It's all about perspective.
Last thing: You can't reason somebody out of something that they weren't reasoned into believing.
Are people reasoned into their particular religious beliefs? No. It comes from childhood, or it comes from emotional crises, or it comes via revelation.
You can reason all you want, via facts and figures and news articles, about how much of a twit Bush is.
But if he's a Christian, and I'm a Christian, well, he ain't usin' reason to get my vote.
He's speaking to my beliefs.
And beliefs will trump reason every single time.
You gotta project.
Break out of your logic bubble every now and then.
Consider life from that strange, distinctly other way of life, and you may be surprised what you find.
Aside from the usual tales of robbery and incest, there are -- for a westerner -- crimes that seem uniquely, well, odd. (Not that robbery and incest aren't, you know, odd, but I'm talking about odd odd, uniquely Cambodian odd.)
Cases in point:
1) Acid attacks. If a woman finds out that her husband is cheating on her, it is rather disturb-ingly common for the wife to get a jar of acid, confront the guilty mistress, and douse her from head to toe (or as much flesh as she can possibly reach.) This does a nice job of scarring and disgfiguring the guilty tramp for life.
2) Anything involving an axe. There are gun crimes here, of course, and they usually involve AK-47s. But more common are axes. Oh, and knives. Can't forget about the knives. I think it's easier to shoot someone, personally -- not that I've ever done it, although I wouldn't mind trying. (A joke. A joke.) But an axe. Man. That takes proximity. That takes in-your-faceness. That takes metal striking flash. And blood, as Anthony Perkins moaned in Psycho. Blood...
Not that I'm an expert, but it seems here that crime is often triggered by something petty, and small, and sometimes slightly ridiculous -- like a cow that wanders over into the wrong field, or a pig-castrater being attacked by an unruly mob. (Then again -- is there any other kind of mob but an unruly one? I guess not.) And yes, there are such jobs as pig castrators, and it's not as easy as it looks.
The thing is, Cambodian society is, for the most part, very relaxed, laid-back, congenial. People have warm smiles and friendly eyes. But there's a lot of anger and frustration being reigned in. A lot is being witheld. And when tensions rise, and the temperature soars, and the stomach is empty -- stuff happens.
People are good, people are kind, and the world really could fit, quite comfortably, into an episode of FULL HOUSE -- I do believe all of that, to a certain extent. The majority of people do not want to strike out and bash someone. The majority of people are not interested in dousing acid in people's faces.
And yet --
Poverty tends to erode the moral values that we grow up with. Relentless, unending poverty does more than erode those values; it can, over time, obliberate them in a single, red-tinged blast. When you have no job and you have nothing to eat and you've never drinken clean water in your life and you have six kids to feed and it looks like the rain won't come for awhile so you can kiss those rice crops good-bye for another few weeks, thank-you very much --
When that's the case, and your angry neighbor comes on over to yell at you about your cow, and that axe is hanging just over there, on the wall, well.
Blood happens, sometimes.
Which doesn't justify it. Which doesn't condone it. But you gotta be able to piece together why bad things happen to good people, as the book says.
************************************************************************************
Speaking of piecing things together, here's one more thought about the reaction to Bush's re -
election, and it has to do with empathy. It has to do with imagination. It has to do with pro -
jection.
The great lateral thinking guru Edward Debono (www.edwdebono.com) talks about universes and logic. More specifically, 'logic bubbles'.
Everybody is in their own little universe. Doesn't matter whether you're black, white, Canadian or Cambodian, you're in your own little world. As Frasier asked Cliff Clavin on Cheers:
"What colour is the sky in your world, Cliff?"
Well, we're all Cliff Clavin's. We all see the sky a little bit differently. And, based on how we were raised, and by who we were raised, we all think and act differently. We all react according to our own logic.
So all those millions of Americans and Canadians and Europeans and Japanese and everyone else in the world who are flabbergasted, absolutely gobsmacked by Bush's reelection, and just can't believe how an idiot like that could be elected again, well, all of those people are approaching the issue in the wrong way, I think.
Meaning, they're judging book according to their logic bubble. According to their logic and the way that they see the world, view the world, understand the world, there's no reasonable manner in which anyone, well, reasonable could possibly vote for Bush. It doesn't add up.
Well, yes, but...
Look.
Look closer.
Step out of your logic bubble. Let it burst -- but just for a moment. You can go back to it. I promise.
Look at it this way.
You are a born-again Christian, as a heck of a lot Americans are. You got two kids. Church on Sunday. A mortgage you'll be paying for a good twenty more years. A nation under attack.
And the man leading your country is also a born-again Christian. He talks in a way that you can understand. He says he's gonna protect your country, and he's done that for the past three years. He believes what you believe. And the French and the Italians may not like it, but, well, heck, you weren't planning on going over there anyways anytime soon. Gotta look after your own soil first, right?
If you try and think about things according to not your own logic bubble, but somebody else's, well, I think it's easy to see how Bush was re-elected. I think it makes sense if you look at it that way.
I'm not saying it's good that Bush won. I'm not saying I would have voted for him. (And I'm Canadian, and I can't vote, but you get the drift.)
I'm saying this lack of understanding reflects a lack of curiosity, and a lack of imagination -- an imagination that requires to step outside of our own beliefs and values and try to under -
stand somebody else's -- not agree with those values, or even respect them -- just understand.
And if I'm a hard-core Christian, what' s the most important thing in my life?
My relationship to God and Christ.
And if there's a leader who shares those identical concerns, and is a tough, plain-speaking son of a gun to boot, well, he's got my vote.
Simple.
Never underestimate the power of religion in American society.
And remember that your logic bubble is extremely, completely irrational to millions of other people.
In Ontario, if a fifteen year old decided to shave his head and don the robes of a Buddhist monk for a few years, he would probably be taken to a counsellor.
In Cambodia, he would gain the respect of his family and the reverance of the whole society.
It's all about perspective.
Last thing: You can't reason somebody out of something that they weren't reasoned into believing.
Are people reasoned into their particular religious beliefs? No. It comes from childhood, or it comes from emotional crises, or it comes via revelation.
You can reason all you want, via facts and figures and news articles, about how much of a twit Bush is.
But if he's a Christian, and I'm a Christian, well, he ain't usin' reason to get my vote.
He's speaking to my beliefs.
And beliefs will trump reason every single time.
You gotta project.
Break out of your logic bubble every now and then.
Consider life from that strange, distinctly other way of life, and you may be surprised what you find.
Saturday, November 06, 2004
FOREIGN AND TRUE
A few weeks ago I was on the back of a moto coming back from work, and I noticed a young tourist bopping around with the typical tourist attire -- white t-shirt, black shades, copy of LONELY PLANET CAMBODIA gripped tightly in his fist, walking in that slow, slightly hesitant gait that all travellers from time immemorial have somehow patented and passed on.
The only difference?
The dude had only one arm.
A few minutes later I saw a Cambodian walking across the street, and he only had one arm, but it took me a few seconds for that to register.
The thing is, in Cambodia, there's a lot of amputees -- I mean, a lot. Arms, legs, hands, feet -- you name it, a lot of them, tragically, are missing it, due to the millions of unexploded mines left by the Khmer Rouge, not to mention unexploded bombs that Nixon and Kissinger dropped oh so many moons ago. (Thanks, guys.)
So why didn't I notice the Cambodian guy? Because I'm used to it. Because I see it everyday. Because the more you see something, the more it becomes routine, every-day, unextraordin-
ary. A white guy walking around missing his right arm? I don't see that every day. It's novel. It's patently unique.
Living abroad forces you to notice. At home, where you're from, you're lulled into a safe slumber of innocence. This is the way the world works, and this is the way that traffic lights work, and this the way that they count their change for you at the convenience store when you buy your six pack of MOUNTAIN DEW. It's all so routine that you don't even realize it's routine. You're in a bubble, a universe of your own, without even knowing it.
And then I went to Japan, and my universe exploded, and I realized that no, no, things are done differently here. You can spend years examining, exploring and trying to figure out those differences. (I know. I did.)
The thing is, after a few years in a foreign land, the very things that first freaked you out or amazed you or simply caused you to shake your head in stupefied bewilderment gradually become as ordinary as the linoleum on the kitchen floor in the house that you grew up in. (Do you remember what that looked like? Maybe. But you may have to think about it for a second or two. It being so ordinary and all...)
Even Cambodia -- fascinating, godforsaken country that it is -- can become routine.
The trick is, you have to look for the things that will transport you out of yourself and into that wonderful state of being which is so transcendent but so elusive, too, that realm known simply and irrevocably as: curiosity. Curiosity as a state of mind. Curiosity as a philosophy. Curiosity as a means of satisfying some unknown intrigue inside of you that is desperate to find out more, more, more about the people and places around you. Too many people are only curious about what is next on t.v. tonight. The limit of their curiosity is the edge of the remote control.
So, my unasked for advice: Be curious. Look around. Look twice at things you look once at every day. Examine them closer. See what makes them tick. Take nothing for granted.
You may find something you didn't expect. You may be elevated out of the routine and end up someplace foreign and true.
The only difference?
The dude had only one arm.
A few minutes later I saw a Cambodian walking across the street, and he only had one arm, but it took me a few seconds for that to register.
The thing is, in Cambodia, there's a lot of amputees -- I mean, a lot. Arms, legs, hands, feet -- you name it, a lot of them, tragically, are missing it, due to the millions of unexploded mines left by the Khmer Rouge, not to mention unexploded bombs that Nixon and Kissinger dropped oh so many moons ago. (Thanks, guys.)
So why didn't I notice the Cambodian guy? Because I'm used to it. Because I see it everyday. Because the more you see something, the more it becomes routine, every-day, unextraordin-
ary. A white guy walking around missing his right arm? I don't see that every day. It's novel. It's patently unique.
Living abroad forces you to notice. At home, where you're from, you're lulled into a safe slumber of innocence. This is the way the world works, and this is the way that traffic lights work, and this the way that they count their change for you at the convenience store when you buy your six pack of MOUNTAIN DEW. It's all so routine that you don't even realize it's routine. You're in a bubble, a universe of your own, without even knowing it.
And then I went to Japan, and my universe exploded, and I realized that no, no, things are done differently here. You can spend years examining, exploring and trying to figure out those differences. (I know. I did.)
The thing is, after a few years in a foreign land, the very things that first freaked you out or amazed you or simply caused you to shake your head in stupefied bewilderment gradually become as ordinary as the linoleum on the kitchen floor in the house that you grew up in. (Do you remember what that looked like? Maybe. But you may have to think about it for a second or two. It being so ordinary and all...)
Even Cambodia -- fascinating, godforsaken country that it is -- can become routine.
The trick is, you have to look for the things that will transport you out of yourself and into that wonderful state of being which is so transcendent but so elusive, too, that realm known simply and irrevocably as: curiosity. Curiosity as a state of mind. Curiosity as a philosophy. Curiosity as a means of satisfying some unknown intrigue inside of you that is desperate to find out more, more, more about the people and places around you. Too many people are only curious about what is next on t.v. tonight. The limit of their curiosity is the edge of the remote control.
So, my unasked for advice: Be curious. Look around. Look twice at things you look once at every day. Examine them closer. See what makes them tick. Take nothing for granted.
You may find something you didn't expect. You may be elevated out of the routine and end up someplace foreign and true.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Dubya
A couple of uninformed Canadian thoughts (via Cambodia) on Bush's re-election:
1) The fact that Bush received millions of more votes than Kerry, and that everyone in the media was really, really surprised by this, proves that the media is a lot more liberal than I realized. For the past year there's been so much hatred spewn out at Bush on the news and on the Net that you could get the impression that Bush was clearly unloved in his own land, at the bottom of the list ahead of Jeffrey Dahmner and just below Ben Affleck.
Uh-uh. Not the case.
The media doesn't focus on the millions and millions of evangelical Christians in the U.S., especially the ones who didn't vote.
Bush's campaign team did. And has been doing so for the last four years.
Praise Jesus. 'Cause they sure as heck are. And maybe they're onto something...
2) Someone made a good point: Clinton and Carter were two liberals who grew up in the conservative south. They spent their lives learning how to talk about their own political views (which were those of the minority in Arkansas and Georgia) in a way that was clear, friendly, respectful and persuasive. Kerry grew up in the north, surrounded by the wealthy liberal elite, and so he never had the opportunity, or needed the opportunity, to hone and refine the sweet-talkin' sensibility needed to woo somebody of a different political persuasion over to your side.
When necessary, Clinton and Carter can both sound like two country-bumpkins. A lot of words come to mind when talking about Kerry -- but 'bumpkin' ain't one of them.
3) Another good point someone much smarter than me made a few years back: How different is your life when a new leader takes office? I'm not talking about the changes in foreign policy, of domestic issues, or the economy -- I'm talkin' about your daily, everyday, go-to-work-and-come-on-home life. How different is it? Granted, some people are affected by presidential or prime ministerial switcheroos -- especially those in the military. But for most people, well, their lives stay pretty much the same. They go to work, and their taxes may increase a little bit, and they may get irritated or angry over the direction of the overall country -- but is their family much different? Is their social life or working life radically altered?
I dunno.
4) Another point somebody much smarter than me made: Bush is probably the best politician of the last forty years. Not the smartest leader. Not the most competent, or even likeable, head of state. But the best politican. Even better than Clinton. Why? Well, everyone agrees that Bush ain't too swift, is alienating the world, and has had everything given to him on a silver platter.
But he's been elected president.
Twice.
With more of the popular vote than anyone in twenty years, I think.
A young government official once asked former Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chretien what the definition of a good politician is:
"The guy who wins," Chretien said.
1) The fact that Bush received millions of more votes than Kerry, and that everyone in the media was really, really surprised by this, proves that the media is a lot more liberal than I realized. For the past year there's been so much hatred spewn out at Bush on the news and on the Net that you could get the impression that Bush was clearly unloved in his own land, at the bottom of the list ahead of Jeffrey Dahmner and just below Ben Affleck.
Uh-uh. Not the case.
The media doesn't focus on the millions and millions of evangelical Christians in the U.S., especially the ones who didn't vote.
Bush's campaign team did. And has been doing so for the last four years.
Praise Jesus. 'Cause they sure as heck are. And maybe they're onto something...
2) Someone made a good point: Clinton and Carter were two liberals who grew up in the conservative south. They spent their lives learning how to talk about their own political views (which were those of the minority in Arkansas and Georgia) in a way that was clear, friendly, respectful and persuasive. Kerry grew up in the north, surrounded by the wealthy liberal elite, and so he never had the opportunity, or needed the opportunity, to hone and refine the sweet-talkin' sensibility needed to woo somebody of a different political persuasion over to your side.
When necessary, Clinton and Carter can both sound like two country-bumpkins. A lot of words come to mind when talking about Kerry -- but 'bumpkin' ain't one of them.
3) Another good point someone much smarter than me made a few years back: How different is your life when a new leader takes office? I'm not talking about the changes in foreign policy, of domestic issues, or the economy -- I'm talkin' about your daily, everyday, go-to-work-and-come-on-home life. How different is it? Granted, some people are affected by presidential or prime ministerial switcheroos -- especially those in the military. But for most people, well, their lives stay pretty much the same. They go to work, and their taxes may increase a little bit, and they may get irritated or angry over the direction of the overall country -- but is their family much different? Is their social life or working life radically altered?
I dunno.
4) Another point somebody much smarter than me made: Bush is probably the best politician of the last forty years. Not the smartest leader. Not the most competent, or even likeable, head of state. But the best politican. Even better than Clinton. Why? Well, everyone agrees that Bush ain't too swift, is alienating the world, and has had everything given to him on a silver platter.
But he's been elected president.
Twice.
With more of the popular vote than anyone in twenty years, I think.
A young government official once asked former Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chretien what the definition of a good politician is:
"The guy who wins," Chretien said.
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Malcolm X, Scott Baio, Yao Ming...
My old dormitory friend, a bright young Albertan I'll call "Jacoba" (because that's, um, her name) who is currently articling her brains out in a law firm somewhere, made an interesting point to me in an e-mail. She's smart, this kid is (or she was when I knew her, way back when, before the crack and the speed finally took hold -- which is a joke, Klinger, a joke), and she said that she thinks that we are witnessing the end of the American empire, with the dawn of a new one yet to be determined.
Seems a strange thing to say, what with the Yanks kicking major Rambo butt around the world, but perhaps the Americans have reached as far as they can go. When you reach the top, the pinnacle, there's nowhere else to go but down, right?
And so the next great empire is...
If you ever read The Autobiography of Malcolm X, you'll notice that at the end of the book, (which was the end of his life, too) Malcolm talked about how he wished he had time learn Chinese and Arabic, because those were the two major languages that would come into play in the coming years.
Can you say "right on the money?"
It certainly seems like China is poisted, in the next thirty years, to change the global course of the economy, and the military, and possibly even every major sports, except for hockey. (Yao Ming, anyone?)
And there's no question that the Arab world will be at the heart of international relations for the next generation or two.
But wait...
Maybe we're all too dualistic in nature. Maybe we've bred by the Cold War to think of everything in terms of dualities -- of good and evil, left and right, the West and the East, Joanie versus Chachi.
Maybe, instead, there will be the U.S. in this corner. And over there, wearing the red trunks with yellow stars, weighing in at a whopping one billion people, there will be China. And somewhere in the middle, and off to the side, and look, over in that corner there, will be a series of multiple contenders for the belt. Smaller states, lessened in military and economic power, yes, but potent in geography and geo-social-political-bubblicious strategic position.
Maybe, instead, we will stop thinking of the world in clean-cut, divisible entities. There is a merging and a blending going on -- of people, ideologies, political philosophies.
Everyone's got a place at the table now.
And whether "Jacoba's" right, and this really is the end of the American empire, well, who knows? It will be a hell of a show to watch, I know that much.
Get me ringside seats to that one.
Seems a strange thing to say, what with the Yanks kicking major Rambo butt around the world, but perhaps the Americans have reached as far as they can go. When you reach the top, the pinnacle, there's nowhere else to go but down, right?
And so the next great empire is...
If you ever read The Autobiography of Malcolm X, you'll notice that at the end of the book, (which was the end of his life, too) Malcolm talked about how he wished he had time learn Chinese and Arabic, because those were the two major languages that would come into play in the coming years.
Can you say "right on the money?"
It certainly seems like China is poisted, in the next thirty years, to change the global course of the economy, and the military, and possibly even every major sports, except for hockey. (Yao Ming, anyone?)
And there's no question that the Arab world will be at the heart of international relations for the next generation or two.
But wait...
Maybe we're all too dualistic in nature. Maybe we've bred by the Cold War to think of everything in terms of dualities -- of good and evil, left and right, the West and the East, Joanie versus Chachi.
Maybe, instead, there will be the U.S. in this corner. And over there, wearing the red trunks with yellow stars, weighing in at a whopping one billion people, there will be China. And somewhere in the middle, and off to the side, and look, over in that corner there, will be a series of multiple contenders for the belt. Smaller states, lessened in military and economic power, yes, but potent in geography and geo-social-political-bubblicious strategic position.
Maybe, instead, we will stop thinking of the world in clean-cut, divisible entities. There is a merging and a blending going on -- of people, ideologies, political philosophies.
Everyone's got a place at the table now.
And whether "Jacoba's" right, and this really is the end of the American empire, well, who knows? It will be a hell of a show to watch, I know that much.
Get me ringside seats to that one.
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