Author: J. Thorp

Pre-Election Rant-A-Day 3: The Wrong Kind of Better

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Blogger’s Note: I’ve had a terribly long and curmudgeonly blog post brewing in my head for months, and no time to write it. So I’ve settled on the “Rant-A-Day” format. The first Pre-Election Rant-A-Day is here. Number two is here. To recap: “It’s All Good” (aka “Go Along to Get Along”) kills democracy, and you can’t legislate happiness. Okay. Where are we today?

“[It’s] The Economy, Stupid.”
— James Carville

These rants began to take shape in my head a few months ago or so, after I posted a status to my Facebook page that got people talking. From August 11 at 8:31 a.m.: Jim Thorp wonders: If parents today feel as though, for the first time, their children may not have a better life than they had — maybe we’ve been seeking the wrong sort of “better” all along?”

What is this better we’ve been after? In my day-job, I write a great deal about economic growth and quality of life and human capital, and to a point, I believe we need to turn the economy around, lift folks out of poverty, and generally make life better for everyone. I mean, it sounds good. It makes sense. So why does my heart rebel?

Maybe it’s because, deep down, I agree with this guy (any excuse to use this clip; I picked this version on this site because the site was obscenity-free). In case you choose not to watch a very funny video clip (or in case they pull it at some point), permit me to quote: “When I read things like, ‘The foundations of capitalism are shattering,’ I’m like, maybe we need that, maybe we need some time where we’re walking around with a donkey with clanging on the sides…because everything is amazing right now, and nobody’s happy.”

We could use some perspective. We could count a blessing or two, and be content.

I’ve talked with my parents about their childhoods, and I know I am a generation removed from poverty. I’ve talked with friends who can’t find work — I know that edge is closer than we think. I also know my solidly middle-class five-figure salary puts me in the top quarter of earners in the U.S., and way ahead of most of the rest of the world. I know people making 10 times what I make, raising half as many kids, who look at me and shake their heads: poor stiff. I also know how comfortable our existence is. We’ve got too many bills, but we’re paying them. I’m in debt to my ears, for a modest house, yes, that has lost much of its value — but also for a million little things I used to think we needed so my kids could have a so-called better life. I know that if my family finances collapse because of reckless spending, it’s my own fault, and I know with each minivan load of stuff that goes to the church garage sale, or friends with new babies, or Goodwill, our lives improve, if for no other reason than we’re letting go. Even the kids are happier. They don’t miss it.

I remember when I got accepted to Yale — what a burden it was at first, to think that thousands of other students were trying to get in, and I applied almost on a dare, and got in. I didn’t even know if I wanted to go — I’d never thought seriously about it — and now I had the golden ticket. Leave Remus, Michigan, for a school of presidents.

I was scared.

I remember my dad pulling me aside after a day or so, and saying, “I just want you to know, you don’t have to go to Yale if you don’t want to. You don’t have to go to college at all. If you decide you want to stay here and work in the shop, that’s fine with me. Whatever you do, I just want you to be happy.”

Sure he wanted a better life for me, but that wasn’t measured in dollars or degrees. He had already given me a better life by being home for dinner, pulling me out of school to take me hunting and fishing, insisting that I work hard and well and contribute to the family, not drinking or smoking, and teaching me to say I love you (and even to cry like a man, on occasion). He sacrificed for his family. He gave me more than he got as a kid, but it wasn’t more stuff. It was more of himself.

My fellow freshmen at Yale thought I was nuts when I said I wanted to be a high-school biology teacher. They rolled their eyes when I shrugged and said I came East for an education, not a job. (Hear that? That’s the sound of a squeaking halo.) They were incredulous when I came back from Wall Drug engaged.

We used to want these things: to serve others, to better ourselves, to love and be loved. Financial independence used to mean “owe nothing to any man,” as St. Paul said his letter to the Romans; now it means a strong credit score and purchasing power.

On the radio yesterday, a prospective voter wondered aloud why his legislative candidates were obsessing over which president, Bush or Obama, was to blame for the economy, while Americans are dying in two wars. Where in this economic engine (and myriad other car analogies) do we, as people, live and move and have our being?

It’s not the economy. It never was. The economic collapse is a symptom of a world so suffering-averse that it would rather sell out its children than sacrifice its lifestyle.

We vote our pocketbooks and consume ourselves.

Pre-Election Rant-A-Day 2: The Pursuit of Happiness

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Blogger’s Note: I’ve been absent a long time, partly because I’ve been crazy busy this fall, and partly because I’ve had a terribly long and curmudgeonly blog post brewing in my head for months, and no time to write it. So I’ve settled on the “Rant-A-Day” format. My intention is to post a portion of the aforementioned terribly long and curmudgeonly blog post, in rant form, each day until the election, at which point (hopefully) they amount to something. The first Pre-Election Rant-A-Day is here.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

— The Declaration of Independence

Notice that the Founding Fathers didn’t simply say happiness, but the pursuit of happiness. Happiness is not a right. Happiness is not something the government can secure and guarantee for its citizens, because A) many of us have vastly different and very personal definitions of the word, and B) true happiness requires hard internal work.

No, we are not guaranteed happiness, only the pursuit of it — the opportunity to run it down, grasp it with both hands, and hold on to it if we can. Opportunity makes sense as an inalienable right — in fact, you might consider those first two inalienable rights as the necessary components for the third:

Life + Liberty = Opportunity

In other words (broadly speaking), if you are alive and free to act according to your own inclinations, you have opportunity — including the opportunity to define happiness for yourself and pursue it. Whether or not you actually achieve happiness depends primarily on your definition of happiness and the effort you put into it.

Of course, it’s not quite that simple. “Life,” for example, might be taken from you altogether, or complicated by physical, mental, or emotional circumstances that limit the opportunities available to you. And personal liberty must necessarily be limited at the point that it begins to infringe on the liberty of others. As a result, the opportunities available to pursue happiness may differ from person to person. In some cases, this will appear not to be fair.

“It’s not fair.” Three MORE insidious words that could be our downfall.

Harkening back to yesterday’s rant: if I can’t take credit for the blessings I was given as a boy (a cohesive family, a rural middle-class upbringing, and a solid education) because these things came about more or less independently of me &#151 or if the criminal in jail cannot be held responsible for his broken home, bad neighborhood, etc. &#151 then both he and I are left with our choices. How did we play the hand we were dealt?

Maybe life isn’t fair, insofar as we can’t all be right, all win the race, all have exactly the same opportunities and likelihood of success. But we are all free to make the best of what we’re given. What else is there? None of us knows what tomorrow holds. How can we ensure happiness for all &#151 or make anyone happy &#151 other than giving people a chance to stand on their own two feet? To fall and fall and rise again?

The pursuit is ours &#151 the race is ours to run &#151 which is why, when French students shut down a city to protest changes to an entitlement they haven’t earned, I thank God I live here and not there…until I hear the chants outside: We demand more jobs for more people with better pay and higher benefits, but don’t raise revenue and don’t cut costs or services. More accountability. Less administration. No one should struggle. No one should prosper.

Bulldoze the mountains to fill the valleys. How’s the view now?

Life, liberty, and opportunity. This is our inheritance. We should settle for nothing less, but we are entitled to nothing more, unless we earn it. Booker T. Washington once said, “Few things help an individual more than to place responsibility upon him and to let him know that you trust him.” Did you catch that? Responsibility is a self-affirming, confidence-boosting gift. It’s the optimistic expectation that you’ll take what you’ve been given and make something of it. It’s forward-looking, hopeful &#151 and in a free society, fair.

Blogger’s Post-Script: This is not to say that we should not lift up those around us who need a hand &#151 but that is another rant entirely.

Pre-Election Rant-A-Day 1: Of Course I’m Right! Aren’t You?

/ J. Thorp / 7 Comments

Blogger’s Note: I’ve been absent a long time, partly because I’ve been crazy busy this fall, and partly because I’ve had a terribly long and curmudgeonly blog post brewing in my head for months, and no time to write it. So I’ve settled on the “Rant-A-Day” format. My intention is to post a portion of the aforementioned terribly long and curmudgeonly blog post, in rant form, each day until the election, at which point (hopefully) they amount to something.

At Mass on Sunday, Deacon Steele shared the observation that, while saints in heaven are wonderful, saints here on earth can be tough to stomach. You know the type: always polishing their halos and making a point to love the smiles right off their neighbors’ faces.

To a certain extent, in college that was me. Not growing up in the Church, I didn’t consider myself a saint, per se — but my upbringing was quite different from that of most of my college friends and, I thought, clearly superior. Some of this was defensive: I was surrounded by very different expectations and standards of behavior than I was used to, and I watched the beliefs of like-minded classmates crumble around them at the hands of the better-informed and the sharper-tongued. So I bolstered my arguments to support my beliefs — and in the process, polished my halo.

I remember the moment a close friend finally called me on it. We were talking about the death penalty and prison and to what extent a convicted criminal’s environment and upbringing should be taken into account when sentencing. Apparently, I was arguing not very dang much because my friend said, “You think you’re better than them, don’t you?”

I paused for a moment, taken aback by the question (because, let’s be honest, when you hear that question, you’re almost programmed to respond with an indignant, “NO!”). Then I said, “Yeah. Yes, I guess I do. Don’t you?”

“No,” he said. “I think we’re the same. I got lucky to be born into the family I did, and to go to the school I did, and to come here, or I might be in the same situation as they are.”

I didn’t back down at the time, but he gave me food for thought. How much pride could I take in my parents, whom I did not choose, and the solid home and upbringing they provided? How much of me was me, and how much them? I began to listen to myself speak, and I could hear the squeak of the rag on the halo. And I didn’t like it.

Shortly thereafter, I embraced agnosticism — and not just religiously. I started to build a world view on the notion that there was very little we could know for sure about anything, and it’s best to just get along.

Thank God I met Jodi.

See, self-righteousness is ugly. Smugly counting your blessings and crediting yourself for them all won’t win you friends or favor, and clinging blindly to beliefs that keep you safe and comfortable won’t get you to Heaven (or even across the street).

But pretending that nothing is certain — or that you don’t believe in anything for sure — so as not to offend or be caught in error, is as cowardly as it is false. And yet recently — within my 35 years, it seems to me — it has become arrogant to express confidence in or adherence to your personal convictions in public, unless your underlying worldview is neutral. This approach can be summarized by three insidious words: It’s All Good.

“It’s all good.” This is how we summarize freedom and love of neighbor. It’s how we avoid conflict; how we justify ourselves and avoid condemning others; how we let everyone know we’re on their side without taking sides. It is without meaning — and when we live accordingly, so are we.

We cannot and do not live our lives in unbelief. We might keep our beliefs secret, and even act in opposition to them on occasion — but we all have convictions, and we should have the courage of them. We should act, speak, and vote accordingly. We should absolutely vote for like-minded candidates who support our way of life and our values and morals. That’s the only way in which “government of the people, by the people, for the people” can function. If we do anything less — if we decide by our actions, our words, or our ballots that any one candidate, position, or decision is as good as another — we cede our authority to the government, and all priorities and decisions become the state’s.

In this week prior to the elections, the first thing I want to say — the thing I want to shout from the rooftops, really — is this: It is NOT all good. Decidedly not. For God’s sake, and our own, believe in something and make a stand. If it’s all good, as they say, why get out of bed a week from Tuesday? How will you choose, anyway?

It’s all good will be are downfall.

We should come to the polls believing that we’re right — each and every one of us — and if we don’t believe we’re right, we should spend a little time contemplating a new direction before November 2nd. I have a set of beliefs, some of which stem from my upbringing, some of which stem from my experience, and many of which stem from my faith. Not only is it decidedly not arrogant to bring these (faith included, even in America) with me the ballot box, but it is required in order to have a functioning democracy. Our ideas and our ideals must do battle.

So next week, I will vote and do my level best to impose my own belief system on our local, state, and national governments. Why? Because I believe I’m right. Of course I believe I’m right. Don’t you?

Book Break: Walking on Water

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Just finished reading Madeleine L’Engle’s book Walking on Water, on being a Christian and an artist. (She doesn’t talk so much about “Christian artists,” because the phrase suggests something about both the art and the artist that may not be true; some overtly Christian works are poor art, and some great “Christian” works have been produced by nominal Christians or non-Christians.)

This book was recommended by a former colleague and friend of mine, Cerdo — he of Squad 19 and Harley-Davidson fame, and true to his word, it’s solid. L’Engle’s not afraid to believe and proclaim the hard parts of more “orthodox” or traditional Christianity — the Annunciation, the Incarnation, Transfiguration, Resurrection … sin and the devil … angels and redemption. She sees the artists role (whether writer, composer, sculptor, painter, or actor) as “incarnational” — much like Mary. Whatever the medium, we are called to be co-creators with God; the artist who is true to his or her vocation says yes to work — the gift — God has given to make Him present in the world. Sometimes the work is hard, and it’s easy to be led astray; to choose not to serve, and use the gift to destructive ends. (The book is 30 years old now, but she speaks frequently and well about the problem of pornography, as though she saw this online epidemic coming.)

L’Engle’s use of the “title story,” of Peter stepping off the boat to walk toward Christ on top of the waves, beautifully to illustrate how a deep and almost childlike faith lies at the root of creative work, of following inspiration where it leads. She describes Peter’s (and our) situation more like we’ve forgotten how. It’s not that Peter was doing the impossible and sank when he lost faith, but instead, that he was doing what we are all meant (and able) to do — walking with God — and sank when he “remembered” that he didn’t know how to walk with God.

Deep down, we all know. I’m realizing that these cement shoes are my own handiwork.

Movies That Bug Me: Avatar

/ J. Thorp / 3 Comments

Blogger’s Note: This may become an infrequent recurring topic, like Book Breaks. Please note that this post is not about a bad movie, per se. Some bad movies I like, and I’m far more likely to be annoyed by a decent movie that should’ve been great. And passable but over-hyped/over-praised movies. Grrr.

Blogger’s Addendum: P.S. There might be spoilers.

After reading Starship Troopers and blogging about Heinlein’s great, grown-up sci-fi, I finally decided to get this off my chest.

Awhile back, well after all the hype died down, we borrowed and watched Avatar. I was underwhelmed. Here is a movie that could have been tremendous. It was called as much by so many gushing fans and critics that perhaps I expected too much.

No, come to think of it, I didn’t.

See, I read a lot of Roger Ebert. He and I don’t see eye-to-eye much of the time, but I can usually tell from what he says whether I’ll like a movie or not. Here’s his take on Avatar:

Watching “Avatar,” I felt sort of the same as when I saw “Star Wars” in 1977. That was another movie I walked into with uncertain expectations. …”Avatar” is not simply a sensational entertainment, although it is that. It’s a technical breakthrough. It has a flat-out Green and anti-war message. It is predestined to launch a cult. It contains such visual detailing that it would reward repeating viewings. It invents a new language, Na’vi, as “Lord of the Rings” did, although mercifully I doubt this one can be spoken by humans, even teenage humans. It creates new movie stars. It is an Event, one of those films you feel you must see to keep up with the conversation.

High praise. I could tell from the outset I wasn’t going to like it as much as he did. I watched it start-to-finish, and was struck by many things…but must of all, by its unrealized potential. Here’s what bugs me…

The Plot. I had hope I could come up with an original witticism to summarize how many times we’ve heard this story. “Dances With Smurfs” and “Dances With Blue Man Group” were taken. But the point is, we’ve seen this, in Dances with Wolves and The Last Samurai, and to a different/lesser extent, Kingdom of Heaven and Pathfinder (another movie that bugs me). This just in: Hardened warrior has more in common with his enemy, undergoes spiritual conversion. Don’t get me wrong; I liked those movies. But it’s just one of many things about this movie that have been done before, like…

The Love Story. Holy Pocahontas! (Or maybe Aladdin?) This one’s right from the Disney Channel: a disandvantaged but tough outsider falls for a fiesty princess, who likes him despite their very different backgrounds. The captain of the football team (er, the tribe’s best warrior) is jealous…can their romance survive the tragic misunderstanding that costs her family everything? Can he win the respect of his rival and the hand of the girl he loves?

The Sci-Fi Hook. Sure, our hero’s a paraplegic Marine, which provides a different emotional twist, but while the idea of lying dormant while piloting another more capable body through a threatening world is super-cool, it’s not new by any means…enter The Matrix, among other films.

The Noble Savage. When George Lucas started cranking out the Star Wars prequels, people criticized him for using racial stereotypes to distinguish the looks and patterns of speech of various non-human aliens (go ahead; google it). Avatar does the same thing, with its bow- and spear-wielding, scantily clad, earth-loving, whooping and kaiyai-ing warriors. You can google this, too, and find criticism. A whole other planet so unlike our own, and this is the best we can do? Evil cavalry versus noble natives? Speaking of which…

The Evil Cavalry. Ebert said the movie is anti-war. At first, I didn’t see it so much anti-war as anti-corporate, for one, because the blue-skinned aliens are warriors to the core. But then I watched as the movie’s Marines increasingly devolved into greedy thugs and meathead killers, until finally only two soldiers were left with white hats. In which case, why not make them mercenaries instead of Marines? Why does the U.S. military have to be evil? (And yes, this bugged me about both “Dances With Samurai” movies, too.) Maybe not anti-war, but clearly anti-military…Starship Troopers (the book) was like a breath of fresh air.

The Special Effects. Wow, did people gush about the visuals! I will admit, the floating islands and waterfalls and such were cool. The aliens’ home city, however, was reminscent of Lothlorien in the Lord of the Rings movies. (Come to think of it, the Na’vi weren’t altogether dissimilar from the wood-elves in the old animated version of The Hobbit…except they drank less.) And those strange forest illuminations reminded me of glow sticks and those funky fiber-optic Christmas trees, set in Mario Cart’s Mushroom Gorge. The little floating fairy seed things? Sorry, they made me think of this clip from Finding Nemo. From the hype, I expected better. They could’ve been better, just like…

The Fauna. Avatar is a pro-science movie. So why, on a planet in which evolution has yielded multiple species with the strange ability to “jack” their neural network (or some such thing) into other creatures to form some sort of communication link or tail-to-tail bond, a planet with anti-gravity islands and air unbreathable to humans, why on Pandora does everything look like a big, blue version of something from Earth? Take the princess: easily the most attractive blue monkey woman I’ve ever seen, and though the Na’vi are less sexually dimorphic than humans, still you can tell she’s a she; the curves are in the right places, more or less. (A side note: I keep wanting to call the Na’vi “the Skinnies” after an alien race in Starship Troopers: “humanoid, eight or nine feet tall, much skinnier than we are and with a higher body temperature; they don’t wear any clothes…”) Similarly, the prehistoric rhino creatures, the hairless blue dogs, the Pandoran antelope…they look like critters here, which is good for our hero, because when he’s attacked, he knows what to do: avoid the teeth and claws; snap the neck, cut the throat, or shoot/spear behind the front shoulder, and they die. Ebert will occasionally make fun of the outlandishness of creatures in movies. (See paragraphs six and seven of this review for example; go on, read them, they’re great!) But why must extraterrestrials function the way creatures do on Earth? Shouldn’t they be different? And wasn’t that what was terrifying about The Blob? How do you stop ravenous, living ketchup? Even the dragons on Pandora look familiar (and somewhat less menacing than in Harry Potter).

And finally:

The Network. At the end of the flick, here’s where it fell flattest for me: the whole John Muir everything-is-connected idea that they began to discuss as though it were scientific turned into spiritual gobbledy-gook. Think about what they could’ve done with the idea that the strange tail/neural-organ-thing can be used to connect with or communicate with or subdue other living creatures (as our hero learns to do with the dragon). Oh man! The bad guys should’ve tried to use those connections to manipulate the Na’vi or other creatures to their own ends. The Na’vi totally should have jacked into the forest and the spirits of those who had gone before and caused a massive forest uprising to send the mercenaries packing! The whole connectivity thing should have been the movie! That was something I’d never seen before!

Instead we wind up with that weird waving-dance-seance thing, which looked like a religious ritual of some sort, except that…were they praying? To a god(dess)? To their ancestors or Mother Pandora? Why? Only the human hero seems to think he can actually make difference, through action and maybe through prayer…but even he is told their diety won’t listen. If their diety doesn’t take sides, why pray? If their diety only works to keep the balance, why fight? How can they be so connected and so clueless?

Ebert is right about one thing, however. I’m sure Avatar is predestined to spawn a cult.