Saturday, August 21, 2010
The Worth of a Man Under Empire
In "Mark of the Brotherhood", Crixius (Manu Bennett) learns a harsh lesson of the value of a man under empire.
After he and Spartacus won their historic arena in the arena, Crixius struggles to recover from his wounds. Incapacitated by his injuries, Crixius is unable to compete while Spartacus loses himself in the life of a champion gladiator.
The former champion's full recovery is so uncertain that his Dominus, Quintus Lentulus Batiatus (John Hannah), begins to muse selling him.
This is the worth of people under Empire: they are only worth what they can produce. When they can no longer produce as accustomed, productivity is sought by other means.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Government as Referee
I'm going to comment one last time before I give up my new-found obsession with professional wrestling, lest it become permanent.
In a previous post, I questioned what, if anything, professional wrestling says about human nature. I then compared it to what I think Bum Fights says about human nature.
While the two aren't entirely dissimilar, there's one key difference between them.
At the very least, professional wrestling has a referee.
Sometimes, that referee is less active than at other times. For example, when one considers situations like in the following match -- the King of the Deathmatch final between Cactus Jack and Terry Funk -- sometimes the referee seems to exist only to declare a winner:
In more regular matches, however, the referee is much more active. The referee prevents combatants from doing things such as choking their opponent, or touching the ropes.
What emerges is a remarkable difference in the role of the referee. What better comparison than the role of government?
Depending on whatever country you might choose to examine, the government is active to varying degrees, depending on how active any one country may think it should be.
The difference can be stark. At one extreme, nearly any cut-throat business practice can be tolerated -- from dealing ruthlessly with one's competitors to carelessly polluting the environment in pursuit of a cheap profit. At the other, things are well-regulated by the government, and there is very little leeway for aggressive business practices.
Many conservatives seem to believe -- rather foolishly -- that government's only role is to stand back and let societal competitors destroy one another. This, they believe, is the route to wealth creation, but they neglect to pay attention to the destruction left in its wake.
Bum Fights represents an entirely different extreme. An anarchist alternative in which there is no government -- no referee. One wherein one can do almost anything they wish to anyone, and if you can do it with that person's consent, so much the better.
The minimalist view of government is one wherein might makes right. But in a world where might makes right, human rights have very little value. One's "human rights" are determined only by how strong one is, and how much they can take.
The only way that human rights can be ensured at all is to have rigorous and diligent referees -- this is where the government comes in -- to ensure fairness and justice in dealings.
The alternative is to allow our societies to be transformed into Japanese death matches -- or, worse yet, Bum Fights.
In a previous post, I questioned what, if anything, professional wrestling says about human nature. I then compared it to what I think Bum Fights says about human nature.
While the two aren't entirely dissimilar, there's one key difference between them.
At the very least, professional wrestling has a referee.
Sometimes, that referee is less active than at other times. For example, when one considers situations like in the following match -- the King of the Deathmatch final between Cactus Jack and Terry Funk -- sometimes the referee seems to exist only to declare a winner:
In more regular matches, however, the referee is much more active. The referee prevents combatants from doing things such as choking their opponent, or touching the ropes.
What emerges is a remarkable difference in the role of the referee. What better comparison than the role of government?
Depending on whatever country you might choose to examine, the government is active to varying degrees, depending on how active any one country may think it should be.
The difference can be stark. At one extreme, nearly any cut-throat business practice can be tolerated -- from dealing ruthlessly with one's competitors to carelessly polluting the environment in pursuit of a cheap profit. At the other, things are well-regulated by the government, and there is very little leeway for aggressive business practices.
Many conservatives seem to believe -- rather foolishly -- that government's only role is to stand back and let societal competitors destroy one another. This, they believe, is the route to wealth creation, but they neglect to pay attention to the destruction left in its wake.
Bum Fights represents an entirely different extreme. An anarchist alternative in which there is no government -- no referee. One wherein one can do almost anything they wish to anyone, and if you can do it with that person's consent, so much the better.
The minimalist view of government is one wherein might makes right. But in a world where might makes right, human rights have very little value. One's "human rights" are determined only by how strong one is, and how much they can take.
The only way that human rights can be ensured at all is to have rigorous and diligent referees -- this is where the government comes in -- to ensure fairness and justice in dealings.
The alternative is to allow our societies to be transformed into Japanese death matches -- or, worse yet, Bum Fights.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Islam is Not the Enemy
As a superhero, there is one thing you must learn quickly in order to survive:
Know who your enemy is.
This can be a difficult lesson to learn. I can't think of how many times an ill-advised hero-on-hero fight has given the bad guys key time and opportunity to advance their plans just a little further. Testosterone, ignorance and suspicion have rarely mixed well.
That's one of the reasons why it alarms me to see people who are otherwise dedicated to fighting the bad guys chase bogeymen in the dark while the bad guys advance their plans.
It's actually a credit to MariaS that she's dedicated herself to fighting Islamic extremism. The fight against Islamic extemists is a fight that the rest of us must all be together in, by one means or another.
And MariaS is chasing bogeymen in the dark.
Channelling Brigitte Gabriell, MariaS seems to think that Hezbollah terrorists taught the Mexican drug cartels how to make the carbomb that recently exploded in Juarez, Mexico.
Juarez borders El Paso, Texas.
The problem for Gabriell's suggestion is that it doesn't make sense. The only proof offered that Hezbollah taught the Mexican cartel how to make that bomb basically unfolds like this: the Mexican cartel used a car bomb, Hezbollah uses car bombs; ergo, Hezbollah taught them how to make the bomb.
The problem is that the far-more likely scenario is that the Mexican cartel learned how to make that bomb from remnants of the Medellin Cartel, for whom car bombs were a frequently-used tactic.
Most famously, on February 16, 1991, the Medelin cartel detonated a 440-pound car bomb outside a bullfighting ring in Medelin. On average, carbombs set off by the Medelin cartel killed approximately 20 people and wounded nearly a hundred -- each time they did so.
The Medelin cartel is believed to have been largely broken up by 1993, when the United States teamed with the Colombian government to eliminate them.
Whenever cartels like the Medellin are dismantled, it's inevitable that some members will escape. So when one weighs the odds of Hezbollah terrorists crossing half the world to each the Mexican cartels how to build these kinds of car bombs, when that kind of expertise is available much closer to home, it simply doesn't make sense.
Some serious, concrete, material evidence is necessary.
This logical error shouldn't surprise anyone coming from MariaS. When it comes to Muslim extremism, she can't tell the difference between moderate Muslims and Muslim extremists. So she evidently assumes that moderate Muslims don't exist.
Her assumption that all Muslims are the enemy leads her to fight even those who would fight alongside her against Islamic extremists.
Which brings one back to the issue of hero-on-hero fights. What is a hero who can't tell the good guys from the bad guys and so spends all their time fighting other heroes?
The answer is that such a hero may as well be a villain. She's doing far more to help than advance their plans than she is doing to stop them.
Know who your enemy is.
This can be a difficult lesson to learn. I can't think of how many times an ill-advised hero-on-hero fight has given the bad guys key time and opportunity to advance their plans just a little further. Testosterone, ignorance and suspicion have rarely mixed well.
That's one of the reasons why it alarms me to see people who are otherwise dedicated to fighting the bad guys chase bogeymen in the dark while the bad guys advance their plans.
It's actually a credit to MariaS that she's dedicated herself to fighting Islamic extremism. The fight against Islamic extemists is a fight that the rest of us must all be together in, by one means or another.
And MariaS is chasing bogeymen in the dark.
Channelling Brigitte Gabriell, MariaS seems to think that Hezbollah terrorists taught the Mexican drug cartels how to make the carbomb that recently exploded in Juarez, Mexico.
Juarez borders El Paso, Texas.
The problem for Gabriell's suggestion is that it doesn't make sense. The only proof offered that Hezbollah taught the Mexican cartel how to make that bomb basically unfolds like this: the Mexican cartel used a car bomb, Hezbollah uses car bombs; ergo, Hezbollah taught them how to make the bomb.
The problem is that the far-more likely scenario is that the Mexican cartel learned how to make that bomb from remnants of the Medellin Cartel, for whom car bombs were a frequently-used tactic.
Most famously, on February 16, 1991, the Medelin cartel detonated a 440-pound car bomb outside a bullfighting ring in Medelin. On average, carbombs set off by the Medelin cartel killed approximately 20 people and wounded nearly a hundred -- each time they did so.
The Medelin cartel is believed to have been largely broken up by 1993, when the United States teamed with the Colombian government to eliminate them.
Whenever cartels like the Medellin are dismantled, it's inevitable that some members will escape. So when one weighs the odds of Hezbollah terrorists crossing half the world to each the Mexican cartels how to build these kinds of car bombs, when that kind of expertise is available much closer to home, it simply doesn't make sense.
Some serious, concrete, material evidence is necessary.
This logical error shouldn't surprise anyone coming from MariaS. When it comes to Muslim extremism, she can't tell the difference between moderate Muslims and Muslim extremists. So she evidently assumes that moderate Muslims don't exist.
Her assumption that all Muslims are the enemy leads her to fight even those who would fight alongside her against Islamic extremists.
Which brings one back to the issue of hero-on-hero fights. What is a hero who can't tell the good guys from the bad guys and so spends all their time fighting other heroes?
The answer is that such a hero may as well be a villain. She's doing far more to help than advance their plans than she is doing to stop them.
Friday, July 30, 2010
What Does Pro Wrestling Say About Human Nature, Really?
What does professional wrestling say about human nature?
It's an oft-asked question -- explored by sociologists, social activists and (on rare occasion) in the media -- but rarely explored with any great depth.
Perhaps for good reason. After all, professional wrestling is not only ridiculous, but unabashedly ridiculous. It seems to thrive on its own ridiculousness.
As a superhero, I've often encountered the dark side of humanity, and the dark side of human nature. And it may be fair to say that the enjoyment of something like this clearly falls on the dark side of human nature:
This is a match from a "King of the Deathmatch" tournament held in Japan numerous years ago. One of the wrestlers in this match is actually quite famous. Cactus Jack, real name Mick Foley, wrestled for the WWF at one point in his career. The other performer, Wing Kanemura, is far less famous. He's likely rarely been heard of in North America, but may be rather famous in Japan -- who knows?
At certain levels, it may be tempting to impart a certain amount of nobility in the struggle being waged between these two men. Both want to be known as the toughest, most resilient, and most vicious deathmatch wrestlers in the world. One of them -- Cactus Jack -- even went on to win that particular honour.
What is on display here, to the naked eye, is simply a competition between two incredibly determined individuals.
These two men, however, are competing in front of a sold-out audience in what appears to be a large outdoor stadium. In other words, someone is making a lot of money off of this event.
Someone is making a lot of money off the suffering willingly accepted by these two individuals for what, at the end of the day, will likely be a very small pay-out.
As the eventual winner of the tournament, Cactus Jack was treated to nothing more than a can of soda as a "bonus", and a "King of the Deathmatch" trophy he wasn't allowed to keep.
Some people may think that because pro wrestling is fake that such things could never happen in real life.
Sadly, they'd be wrong. If they doubt it, they need look no further than Bum Fights.
Produced by the contemptible Ty Beeson, Bum Fights profits off homeless people by degrading them for very meagre pay-outs. Homeless men mutilate themselves for a sandwich, humiliate themselves for a handful of quarters, or fight each other over a bottle of liquor.
Kicking Beeson off his show is perhaps the one thing that Dr Phil has ever done right:
In the end, human rights are only as valuable as individuals themselves treat them. Someone willing to participate in enterprises such as Bum Fights -- and perhaps even professional wrestling -- clearly do not honour their own human dignity, or their own human rights.
Certainly, some professional wrestlers do become very wealthy through wrestling. Cactus Jack himself is one of them. Wing Kanemura, it seems, is likely far less fortunate.
What professional wrestling says about the people who watch it may be more pertinent than what it says about the wrestlers themselves. Few wrestling fans could pretend to be ignorant of how many of their favourite performers end up: broken down, injured, and dead at very young ages.
Yet they continue to watch unabated by the unfolding tragedy. I'm not sure if I accept the argument that wrestling fans are simply the enablers for attention-seeking musclemen, but that argument clearly exists.
(Then again, what is a superhero -- like myself -- than an attention-seeking muscleman with an overriding sense of self-righteousness? And have you seen the outfits we wear? Seriously. Perhaps it takes one to know one.)
The audience cannot be expulpated of responsibility for the sad outcomes these men eventually suffer -- just as anyone who has ever purchased a Bum Fights DVD is responsible for that particular travesty.
At least professional wrestlers don't accept explicit demeanment in the course of their careers. Unless a wrestler is no good at all, they tend to enjoy at least some moment of glory along the way.
Perhaps that makes a difference.
It's an oft-asked question -- explored by sociologists, social activists and (on rare occasion) in the media -- but rarely explored with any great depth.
Perhaps for good reason. After all, professional wrestling is not only ridiculous, but unabashedly ridiculous. It seems to thrive on its own ridiculousness.
As a superhero, I've often encountered the dark side of humanity, and the dark side of human nature. And it may be fair to say that the enjoyment of something like this clearly falls on the dark side of human nature:
This is a match from a "King of the Deathmatch" tournament held in Japan numerous years ago. One of the wrestlers in this match is actually quite famous. Cactus Jack, real name Mick Foley, wrestled for the WWF at one point in his career. The other performer, Wing Kanemura, is far less famous. He's likely rarely been heard of in North America, but may be rather famous in Japan -- who knows?
At certain levels, it may be tempting to impart a certain amount of nobility in the struggle being waged between these two men. Both want to be known as the toughest, most resilient, and most vicious deathmatch wrestlers in the world. One of them -- Cactus Jack -- even went on to win that particular honour.
What is on display here, to the naked eye, is simply a competition between two incredibly determined individuals.
These two men, however, are competing in front of a sold-out audience in what appears to be a large outdoor stadium. In other words, someone is making a lot of money off of this event.
Someone is making a lot of money off the suffering willingly accepted by these two individuals for what, at the end of the day, will likely be a very small pay-out.
As the eventual winner of the tournament, Cactus Jack was treated to nothing more than a can of soda as a "bonus", and a "King of the Deathmatch" trophy he wasn't allowed to keep.
Some people may think that because pro wrestling is fake that such things could never happen in real life.
Sadly, they'd be wrong. If they doubt it, they need look no further than Bum Fights.
Produced by the contemptible Ty Beeson, Bum Fights profits off homeless people by degrading them for very meagre pay-outs. Homeless men mutilate themselves for a sandwich, humiliate themselves for a handful of quarters, or fight each other over a bottle of liquor.
Kicking Beeson off his show is perhaps the one thing that Dr Phil has ever done right:
In the end, human rights are only as valuable as individuals themselves treat them. Someone willing to participate in enterprises such as Bum Fights -- and perhaps even professional wrestling -- clearly do not honour their own human dignity, or their own human rights.
Certainly, some professional wrestlers do become very wealthy through wrestling. Cactus Jack himself is one of them. Wing Kanemura, it seems, is likely far less fortunate.
What professional wrestling says about the people who watch it may be more pertinent than what it says about the wrestlers themselves. Few wrestling fans could pretend to be ignorant of how many of their favourite performers end up: broken down, injured, and dead at very young ages.
Yet they continue to watch unabated by the unfolding tragedy. I'm not sure if I accept the argument that wrestling fans are simply the enablers for attention-seeking musclemen, but that argument clearly exists.
(Then again, what is a superhero -- like myself -- than an attention-seeking muscleman with an overriding sense of self-righteousness? And have you seen the outfits we wear? Seriously. Perhaps it takes one to know one.)
The audience cannot be expulpated of responsibility for the sad outcomes these men eventually suffer -- just as anyone who has ever purchased a Bum Fights DVD is responsible for that particular travesty.
At least professional wrestlers don't accept explicit demeanment in the course of their careers. Unless a wrestler is no good at all, they tend to enjoy at least some moment of glory along the way.
Perhaps that makes a difference.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
The Value of the Thing in the Pit
In "The Thing in the Pit", Spartacus contends with one of the dark underbellies produced by societies in which human life possesses no inherent value. The only running value on life shakes out to be something like this:
The lives of the people killed by other denizens of the pit are worth the least. Those who are capable of and willing to kill are moderately more valuable. The lives of those who can afford to pay gladiators to kill on their bhealf hold the most value -- but only so far as their coin extends.
The proliferation of such places is a side-effect of a politics that forgets the true value of citizenry. The true value of citizenry is not the value of the money they possess, or the value of their obedience to the state.
Rather, the true value of the citizen is what they can contribute to the community, given the opportunity, and the value of their life. This notion is deeply engrained within the codes of rights that are a feature of the most advanced of modern societies.
In Ancient Rome, no modern notion of citizenship truly existed. The notion of citizenship that existed in Ancient Rome was both antiquated and tyrannical.
There are places in modern society where such notions prevail today. Wherever a dog fight is staged, wherever a young woman is enslaved for the purposes of prostitution, wherever a sleazebag pays two homeless people to fight for their entertainment, we see the moral hazard of a monetized notion of the worth of life creep into the modern psyche.
It's something that all people must work together to prevent, or the dark pits that populate modern society could become all the more brazen.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Back From San Diego
I'd like to apologize to anyone who may be reading this for my absence over the last few days. It wasn't planned. But when Walter asked me -- at the last minute, that impulsive bastard -- to come to San Diego to take in the Comic-Con there, I simply had to go.
Peace and justice and all that.
After battling Omega Flight, sometimes it's nice to be reminded that some of the world's real-life villains are much more mundane.
Take, for example, these truly evil people:
I was more than a little shocked to encounter this brand of scum and villainy. It very nearly ruined my vacation.
Fortunately, I can say that fellow attendees of the Comic-Con knew precisely how to handle it:
The comforting thing about villainy is that, while it can be even more dangerous in its mundane forms, mundane villainy doesn't need superpowers -- or even electro-magnetic battlesuits -- to fight it.
When I suited up to battle Wendigo, I always approached it from a "don't try this at home" mentality. But when it comes to standing up to lunatics like the Westboro Baptist Church, I highly recommend trying it at home -- or anywhere they may happen to be.
Peace and justice and all that.
After battling Omega Flight, sometimes it's nice to be reminded that some of the world's real-life villains are much more mundane.
Take, for example, these truly evil people:
I was more than a little shocked to encounter this brand of scum and villainy. It very nearly ruined my vacation.
Fortunately, I can say that fellow attendees of the Comic-Con knew precisely how to handle it:
The comforting thing about villainy is that, while it can be even more dangerous in its mundane forms, mundane villainy doesn't need superpowers -- or even electro-magnetic battlesuits -- to fight it.
When I suited up to battle Wendigo, I always approached it from a "don't try this at home" mentality. But when it comes to standing up to lunatics like the Westboro Baptist Church, I highly recommend trying it at home -- or anywhere they may happen to be.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
The Ends and Means of Imperialism
One of the most pervasive evils of imperialism is that it treats people not as ends, but as means.
Immanuel Kant lectured that it is wrong to treat people as a means to an end, rather than as an end to themselves. This is referred to as Kant's categorical imperative, and it's treated as one of the greatest criticisms of utilitarianism.
In Ancient Rome gladiators were teated not as an ends in themselves -- not as fully-fledged autonomous human beings -- but rather as means. Spartacus "Legends", the characters of Lucretia (Lucy Lawless) and Ilithyia (Viva Bianca) demonstrate just such a disregard for the value of the Gladiators.
They treat Crixius (Manu Bennett) and Varro (Jai Courteny) as sex slaves. Crixius is exploited for Lucretia's pleasure. Varro is forced to copulate with a slave girl for the entertainment of a gathered crowd. Moreover, Lucretia commands Varro to couple with the woman again in order to tantalize Ilithyia.
Ilithyia and Lucretia live stridently decadent and opulent lives. They believe that they are entitled to this luxury -- so much so that Lucretia is willing to debauch Ilithyia so she and her husband may gain advantage over Gais Claudius Glaber, which will in turn aid them in maintaining their own threatened lifestyle.
Under modern consumerism, one finds a similar sense of entitlement in the exploitation of labour in the developing world.
Few consumers could honestly claim to be ignorant of the "high cost of low prices" paid by both the employees of a local Wal Mart, and by those who produce the products sold in these massive box stores.
Consumers shopping at these stores must simply feel entitled to the luxury of being able to purchase a package of tube socks for a mere $10, while the workers who would otherwise produce such products closer to home often go unemployed or underemployed.
Such consumers treat the producers of these products as a means to maintaining their own lifestyles rather than as ends to themselves. Otherwise, the thought of spending a few dollars more on their tube socks wouldn't be so unthinkable.
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