Culture Wars

If it is wrong to use God to justify human conflict, war, discrimination, and other malice, then why is it acceptable to use children to do the same? Is it because children are living entities and are thus seen as more deserving of being the impetus for malice? Surely the effects of conflict on their behalf are more tangible for them than the ones wracked up on God's behalf. That is to say, if we launch our culture wars to save the world for children, is it more justifiable because, unlike God, they exist in the physical world and could thus reap the benefits of a war in the physical world? Does that make sense?

It is reasonable to contend that a war for God's behalf is actually more justifiable than malice carried out for the children's behalf, and it's precisely because children are living entities and God is beyond life. Human shortsightedness allows us to foresee victory when we believe our culture wars are righteous, but what it fails to do is allow us to foresee the inevitable consequences that a culture war brings to the very real and physical entities it was waged to protect. God feels no harm when our holy wars and malice launched in his name inevitably end in human ruin, but children do. Therefore, because the effects of a culture war are more physically present even on those it was waged to protect, the children, it is arguably less justifiable than holy war.

This point though is more about equivocation than pairing one unjustifiable thing against another unjustifiable thing. There can not be an acceptable justification for malice, conflict, war, and discrimination, whether it is carried out for the children, God, or even world peace.

Big Brother

If the twentieth century saw the rise of oppression for the national good, then the twenty-first will no doubt see the reemergence of totalitarianism for the children's good. That is to say, Big Brother used to be interested in regulating and controlling human expression on the pretense of national security, and for a while he was able to sell himself on that, but then the people got wise to it and went so far as to even turn "socialism" into a bad word.

However, Big Brother couldn't be kept down, and with the help of a whole new "social menace of the decade," has found a new avenue to gain back converts. Namely, to protect the children in the 21st century, our human rights to privacy and safeguards from intrusion have to be given up. That is the new deal. That is the new exchange Big Brother's selling us on. Where once, and in many ways still, it was the threat to our country from without intended to scare us into submission, now it is the threat from within, to our children.

I am of course referring to HR 1981, the so-called "Protecting Children From Internet Pornographers Act," which does nothing but make it mandatory for ISPs to do what they already do--collect and retain the personal data and trafficking habits of internet users right down to your name, address, phone numbers, credit card and bank numbers, and all IPs you use. The issue with it is not so much the storage of data, but the fact that storing all your personal information for retrieval by the government at their discretion does nothing to protect children from pornographers--despite the title of the bill it is hiding behind. All it does is makes it easier for the government to spy on the computer use of individuals from a massive database from which they can use for many stated and unstated purposes.

How long will it be tolerated is uncertain, but if the history of all past social menaces is any guide, it will itself eventually be toppled and replaced. Eventually someone will make a menace out of child protectionism itself, and then what will we be left with? A society where protecting children is itself a bad word? This is not so much paranoia as it is hypocrisy that has become legislated because of paranoia. Is it at all possible that for once we could just have balance, or is human nature made too anxious by its children to save itself from destruction?

Stan, on Class Warfare

I didn't create this image, I just gave him a name and a voice.

I felt this was appropriate considering the same US politicians he's talking to are currently playing Russian Roulette with the global economy to advance ideological agendas favored by millionaires to the detriment of everyone else. The stability of the world is "too big to fail." If we don't bail it out, we destine our children to live on a sinking boat. 

So Stan says, bicker later, raise the debt limit now.

A Risky World

Human beings are terrible risk assessors, but parents are the worst at it. Sooner or later if you challenge them on their ability to judge the risks they subject their kids to, you will hear the retort that they are entitled to their instincts, whether correct or incorrect, because evolution created them. They are just carrying out nature's will by expressing righteous indignation against society's usual suspects, and you are in the wrong for even questioning them. Their imperfections are untouchable.

With shrugging shoulders they grudgingly accept the faultiness of their instincts, because every action one can do with a child entails some risk, not just "the usual suspects." Those "usual suspects"--kidnapping for instance--are one in a million occurrences. The silent killers--automobile accidents for instance--happen every day a million times over. Parents who sweat with anxiety over the exceptionally rare ignore the mundane, regardless of the risk. This is not just a parental problem, it's a human problem, and that negligence costs lives. When superstition takes over critical thinking, parental reasoning is no better off than the child's, and both are at its mercy.

For instance, parents have a right to be concerned about their children's access to guns, and whether or not to allow their child entrance to a house where it is known a gun is kept. This is a matter of evolutionary insight. They have a right to be concerned especially if any unsupervised time could result in a bullet wound for their child or someone else's, even despite their best efforts to preach on gun safety. It is a real concern, but to outright bar access to the house for their child on those grounds alone, is more of an expression of anxiety than it is a reasoned approach to a palpable concern.

Assume there's a swimming pool at this aforementioned house. Statistically, the child is many times more likely to drown in that swimming pool than to accidentally shoot himself (988 drownings to 134 firearm fatalities in children between the ages of 1 and 19 in 2010, according to the US CDC). So to bar attendance at the home due to the proximity of a relatively minor risk, at the ignorance of a much more substantial risk, seems foolish, even by these typical "evolutionary/instinct" parental arguments. If one is looking to bar access due to the presence of a risk, it would make more sense to do so because greater risks are involved--the greater the risk, statistically, the more we ought to be concerned. This just goes to show that what gives parents a break in their anxiety has less to do with what is safe, and more to do with what is common--the bottom line being, not every house owns a gun, but swimming pools are everywhere. That which is ubiquitous, gets ignored. That which is rarer, absorbs more attention.

Kids are being barred from walking to school on the fear that they will be kidnapped off the side of the road. It's a rare occurrence that is indeed regrettable, but one wonders if these same districts and parents concern themselves at all with the more present risk of driving a child to school. Once the child enters a moving vehicle, the risk of them becoming injured multiplies significantly (4,044 motor vehicle fatalities in children between the ages of 1 and 9 in 2010, the most prevalent form of unintentional death in children according to the US CDC). Just because the parent or the district is in control of the vehicle and is physically present does not mean risk has been averted. More automobile accidents happen in the 7am rush hour on the way to school than kidnappings. So if we are of the "evolutionary/instinct" parental mindset, that even statistically minute risks should lead to such large-scale sweeping legislation, should we not counter even greater threats (such as children even being allowed to enter vehicles) with even more unbearable legislation?

If not, then we may just have to conclude that every action we take in the world is hazardous, and that we all have lives to live as human beings in a risky world, even kids. If they aren't able to live a respectable life as a human being--a child--then there will be unintended consequences no parent wants. Any parent who prophesies the death of their child every day (who does not have immediate reason to do so) would do well to stop investing in redundant safety mechanisms and instead invest in some therapy to rid them of their anxiety disorder before it does any harm.

The Law is an Ass

The law is an ass because instead of practically applying human conscience, it overrides it. We become disillusioned with our power in society when the laws no longer service reality as we know it, just the prejudices of our great grandfathers. Anything that exists in the law "just because," and not due to any hard fact of nature, particularly when defining status offenses for minors, is typically a service to fantasy over nature.

The law of the king is a decree based upon prejudice. The natural law is one based upon observation. Children grow up in a universe governed by natural laws that drive their development irrespective of jurisdiction, but they are living in an adult society governed by artificial decree and cultural hocus pocus (age-based laws) that limit their expressive potential.

While natural laws by their nature allow children to grow and expand as they mature along the innumerable trajectories that human life finds for itself, the law of the king only confines, restricts, limits, and all but cages them to an artificial magic set of inconsequential circumstances. While natural laws may or may not lead a child to experience the full freedom of their faculties as they develop, the law of the king is unique in that all it does is impose on them for stepping outside its predetermined lines, sometimes harshly.

The law renders minors as brainless objects, differentiated from material possessions only in semantics. For possessions, there are rightful owners. For minors, there are rightful parents or guardians. For possessions, there is conveyance. For minors, there is adoption. For possessions, there is bailment or constructive possession. For minors, there is compulsory schooling and state seizure. For possessions, there is acquired possession without consent. For minors, there is birth.  For possessions, there is a deed or a title. For minors, there is a birth certificate. For possessions, there is a state of being stolen. For minors, there is a state of being kidnapped. For possessions, there is a state of being mislaid or lost. For minors, there is neglect. For possessions, there is a state of being damaged. For minors, there is a state of being abused or mistreated.

There are numerous parallels, but the point is that the law informs itself about what is in a child's best interests based on the same principles one could also ascribe to material possessions. Just like one can ask, "what is in this child's best interests?", one could also ask, "what is in this desk lamp's best interests?" and arrive at the same conclusion for each, differing in semantics only. Fortunately for human dignity, many disagree that children are the same as material possessions. Many would argue that children are actually human beings, with rights of their own-- and that the "m-word" (minor) is make believe.

Justice for Caylee

Way to honor a child's life, with a perpetual shouting match on national television. One wonders if this child hadn't been as cute, as photogenic, whether anyone would have paid her death more than a momentary notice. If she had been instead a ten-year-old black boy on the streets of West Philadelphia having gone missing, no national coverage would have even taken place, never mind a three year headline involving a play-by-play depiction of the trial chased with righteous indignation disguised as commentary. It would have been seen almost as "appropriate" by the very same so-called arbiters of social justice.

No, this is where all their righteous indignation leads, once it is distilled to its main ingredient--if Caylee Anthony wasn't cute, if she wasn't white, if she wasn't three years old--if she wasn't the exploitable tot, the perfect victim that the news media so callously could turn her into, they wouldn't have cared if she got justice or not, and nor would the viewing public. It can be concluded because it happens every day. This story would have ended with the search in the local media, three years ago, and that would have been that, and you know what else? It would have been far more just, and righteous, than the disgusting circus they turned this little girl's death into.

The so-called arbiters of social justice in the media saw this child not as a child, with her own rights and dignity, but as some expensive commodity, a platform from which to pilot their fledgling cults of personality straight into the living rooms of America. The more well-meaning their intentions, the less respect they showed, as Caylee's images were sprayed across the screen when they spoke, as if to repeatedly underscore their moral high ground. In like manner, Caylee's image might be blown up on the screen before cutting to a commercial break, as if to prime the viewing public for that coveted eye time. It was sentimentalism for the sake of gaining eyes, and sensationalism in the service of exploiting them--the propaganda of the consumer culture for the well-intentioned public.

Even overtly, their message was insulting--that child rights only exist to protect these pieces of property from society. Talk of "children's rights" only seems to matter to these people after the kids are injured or killed, and even at that, is only extended to the extent that it renders them lifeless victims which need protection against adult interventions. Such a mindset only serves to perpetuate their lifeless, infantilized victimhood, to stand them out from the crowd and paint a sign on their backs that screams "I am a child, I am a victim! Target me!" whether they have been victimized or not, for which more restrictions are proctored. Victimhood has replaced childhood.

If there ever was going to be justice for Caylee, it ended the moment the story broke on the national scene. From there on, any hope of justice for a little girl was thrown out the window and replaced with endless repetition of the child's inhuman victimhood, or the glorification of her now-sanctified existence--neither of which extreme did a little girl any justice. All it served was to give absolution to adults who would have felt guilty if they didn't join with the cults of personality and the talking heads in singing praise for the existence of this little girl and her tragic end. Adults feel all too guilty for the decadence of their culture, and they find an outlet in the death of children.

A Reckoning

I did not write this, it was something I found many years ago and held onto long after the site containing it passed on. As far as I know, the original author has been lost, but I post it only in good faith. Just absorb it right now. The magisterial world in the eyes of a child is but the minutiae of the adult's daily experience, but there is no reason to deny a child the majesty of the world. Every minute detail of life has to start out as a blinding revelation.

A Reckoning

My name is Jacob. I am the last brother born in my family. I have 3 older brothers, all of which have gone through the reckoning. It is a coming of age tradition that has been in our family for several generations. A test of survival in the 'real world', and it was done at a very early age.

Now it was my turn to carry on the tradition of the Reckoning. I was turning 6 years old today. All of my brothers had turned 6 when that day arrived for each of them. My mother had awakened me early and she fixed me a big breakfast. My father was also downstairs, and upon my arrival, he was sipping on a cup of coffee. For some reason, all my senses were heightened. I could smell the caffeine in my father's cup. I felt the heat from the toaster and I was 10 feet away. The sound of a knife spreading butter on a piece of toast was almost deafening. I could hear my breathing, and my own heart beat.

I sat down at the oaken table and began to eat. Not a word was spoken between the three of us. My mother and father spoke not to each other, but you could see the fear in my mother's eyes. My father was a rock. Unemotional, stone-faced, unflagging.

After breakfast, my mother ushered me up the stairs to my room where I found a brand new suit laid out across my bed. The 2 surviving older brothers, who had gone through this when they were 6 years old had purchased it for me. The reckoning required formality as opposed to normality. As I put on the white shirt and black pants, I started thinking about little things that were said amongst my brothers about the reckoning. Just bits and pieces were picked up from overhearing the conversation, but I was never able to make any real sense of it. The tone was clear, however. It was one of fear and foreboding, and if a conversation ever came up about this tradition, it was never meant for my ears to hear.

Dressed, and down the stairs, my mother and father took me by the hand and led me to our car. I got in the back seat, and father began to drive to the place where IT was. The trip took an agonizing 23 minutes as I saw it on the clock on the dashboard. Each second ticked away to the flash of a colon between the hour and minutes, and I felt each one pass through me. Perhaps counting the last minutes and seconds of my existence on this planet.

The conversation between my mother and father in the car was slow and deliberate. Many words I did not understand, yet the mention of IT was ever present to the point that it made the air thick with dread. Then we arrived at my destiny. My mother and father, again, led me, by the hand through a silver arched entryway into a place I did not recognize. It was dark inside, but soon spots of illumination broke through the blackness. I was too frightened to look around, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see statues of boys dressed in all manner of clothing. I thought that this might have been, in some grotesque way, a remembrance room to those boys who did not survive the Reckoning. Under a single spotlight, directly ahead of me, I saw what my mother had feared and what my father had remembered from his day of reckoning.

It was at least 50 feet high, it's small serrated teeth glistening in the precise light overhead. It's long black arms, stiff and shiny, lay on either side of this unspeakable thing. It was sleeping at the moment, but I knew that this condition would not continue much longer. My mother let go of my hand and stayed behind. A small, oval tear ran down her cheek and she said her silent "goodbye". My father and I continued toward IT. After a few more steps, my father released my other hand and took a couple of steps backward. He looked toward my mother, then looked down over his shoulder at me. His voice was unswerving as he said to me, "Approach it, boy. Hold onto it's arm and stand fast."

It was at that moment that I finally realized my fate. I was to be offered up as a sacrifice to this hideous thing, and if I survived the offering, I will have gone through the Reckoning with honor and dignity. The monster was still in its nocturnal slumber as I silently stepped nearer and nearer. The closer I got, the stronger the fear welled up. It got to the point where I my heart pounded in my chest almost beating to punch free. My breath came in short, heavy heaves as I lifted my hand and touched IT's arm.Then the beast awoke with a tremor and a whine. I clenched its arm even harder as I tried to stand fast as my father had told me. I was slowly being picked up by the thing and lifted into the air. The beginnings of a scream started to form in the pit of my stomach. I had opened my mouth, but even the sound was too terrified to came forth. Higher and higher I was lifted toward an opening near the top. An opening into what, I did not know, perhaps the opening to the end of my short existence. Sweat started sheeting off my forehead stinging my eyes, but I dared not close them for fear of what could happen next. I was breathing so rapidly, that I thought I was going to faint, but I held on with both hands and let out a yell that ripped from my being as a bolt of lightning is ripped from the heavens above. This kept me conscious as I was being pulled up, up, up, into what?!

I glanced over my shoulder and looked down to the ground where my mother and father stood. My mother cried and held out her arms in futile frustration. My father cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled out, "Look ahead, boy. It's almost completed". I broke my gaze with my parents and concentrated on this black opening that lay ahead. I was STILL alive. It was almost over. Suddenly the fear had turned to determination. Determination to last this ordeal. To face the unknown and be able to tell my children about it. In that split second, my mind raced to my future and I vowed I would NEVER put my boys in this situation. EVER. I closed my eyes and wished the ordeal were over and done. This was the moment that I would either survive or the monster would take me quickly. Then, the movement stopped. IT had been silenced for reasons I could not fathom. I had survived the Reckoning. I was alive and my small body was quivering and tingling at the sensation of success. Slowly and carefully, I walked off the escalator.

Tell the Truth

If you are in a line of work that you could not in good conscience explain to a child, to protect their so-called innocence, then there is probably nothing justifiable about what you do for a living. This is to say that if you can't tell a child the truth about what you're doing out of fear that it would poison their perspective, then what business do you have in that line of work? If you have conscience enough to be concerned with the child's moral trajectory, then what is that conscience doing by showing up everyday to perversely violate its own?

If you work to make a check and do not concern yourself with the ramifications of what you are doing, then you ought not to be so concerned about the child finding out about them. You can not serve two masters--one to the projection of moral justification (for the children's sake), and one to soul-depraved ambiguity (for yours). You either do what you do and accept and project it truthfully, even to the young ones, or you are living a lie.