The remarkable mathematician Blaise Pascal wrote his Thoughts, as they are called, apparently with the (additional) thought in mind that he would one day publish them in a more refined, finished form. Some believe he intended an apology for Christianity. It is within these Thoughts that his famous, or some would say infamous, "Wager" appears.
If he intended to publish, death intervened; mercifully. I say "mercifully" because if there is one thing that can be said with any certainty, judging from these Thoughts, it is that Pascal held a monumentally dismal view of life. So dismal, in fact, that he describes Montaigne, that sedate, even-tempered gentleman, as "lewd." Perhaps the word in the version I read is a mistranslation; perhaps "lewd" meant something then it doesn't mean now, but one who thinks Montaigne lewd is, it would seem to me, otherworldly in the extreme. Regardless, Pascal's dreary view of life can, I think, explain something about the "Wager."
Perhaps there were moments when Pascal enjoyed being alive. That's difficult to imagine in reading this grim succession of pronouncements, but it's possible. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that what he held in the low esteem so relentlessly expressed in this work was not life but human intelligence, or even knowledge or the pretense of it. We can know nothing for certain, says Pascal, and for him this is the equivalent of saying we can know nothing at all. And indeed, why should we? We are, as he is eager to tell us, insignificant in the universe; he was well aware of this being a mathematician and a physicist. Even at that time it was clear our world is but a small speck.
This plainly was of great concern to him. These dour musings seem to radiate with the conviction that this should not be; to shimmer with the resolve that we cannot allow this to be, or in any case cannot tolerate it being the case. Fortunately for us, God exists, and we are significant to him. We must be significant because God deems us to be, and God must be because we must be significant.
So Pascal is amazed and angered by those who doubt the existence of God. He resents them, in fact. Nobody should doubt the existence of God, according to Pascal, until he has made every effort to believe in him, to not doubt him. Only those who have done this and failed to believe in him should be viewed with anything but contempt. Those failures, it seems, would according to Pascal be worthy of pity if not respect.
The view that we should try as hard as we possibly can to believe before we don't believe is an interesting one. If one has an open mind on the question of God's existence, it would it seems be difficult to do one's utmost to believe in God nonetheless. It's possible that what Pascal is saying is that one should participate diligently in the worship of God, act as if we believed in God and thereby open oneself to God. If after that diligence one doesn't conclude God exists, then at least one made the effort.
Pascal, of course, thinks that if we seek God we'll find him, so it's doubtful he had any expectation that there could be such a thing as an atheist who had tried very hard to find God. It would seem, instead, that he was merely urging those who doubt to be insincere and act as if they did not doubt. They would thereby believe. By acting, sincerely, as if we believe we will come to believe. As an argument, this doesn't appear persuasive, to me at least.
Pascal's difficulty (if I may hazard a guess) appears to arise from the conviction that it is without question that we should believe in God. Atheism is inexcusable as a result, even perverse.
As for the "Wager", a review of it as it appears in this work reveals that it is premised on what seems to me to "stack the deck." Pascal creates a choice which he then maintains is not a choice, as the only choice to make is clear. According to Pascal, there is no question that we must accept that after we die, either we are "annihilated" or not. We are not annihilated if God exists. We must--literally must--choose to think we will be annihilated on death or that God exists, which means we will continue after death. Nobody really wants to choose annihilation, nobody with any sense would do so. So, we naturally choose not to be annihilated, which means we must believe in God.
The Epicurean view that death is nothing and therefore should mean nothing to us is not one Pascal favored. Apparently, he didn't even think it was possible to hold such a view. Nonetheless, it was accepted by Epicureans, and this seems to render dubious Pascal's claim that we must choose God.
Pascal was a man who required certainty, although he was well aware of probabilities. It seems that lacking certainty in life he imposed his own certainties in the form of assumptions which would mandate a certain choice, in the ultimate form of God. How disappointed he must have been with life, and how desperate to contrive a certain afterlife! The "Wager" is no wager, really; there is no chance, no risk, in Pascal's mind, in any case.
Monday, February 22, 2016
Monday, February 15, 2016
R.I.P. Antonin Scalia
It's difficult to assess the work of a jurist qua jurist in these raucously political times. Appellate judges are increasingly judged themselves not by the quality of their opinions or devotion to the rule of law, but by the extent to which their decisions are consistent with those called liberal or conservative, Republican or Democrat.
Judges are themselves responsible for the politicalization of their courts when they openly pledge allegiance to particular political or social positions. Justice Scalia, unfortunately, did so repeatedly and loudly off and sometimes on the bench, and as a consequence there is a tendency to focus, on his death, on his status as a conservative in a court increasingly divided in politics as is the nation itself. As our politics are increasingly mean-spirited, contentious and vulgar, so is our assessment of those who make themselves political figures, judges included.
I think Justice Scalia was very much an activist judge. But as a conservative activist judge he wasn't subject to the condemnation of other judges who were activists in liberal causes. Activist judges were once considered to be liberals almost by definition, but that time has passed. It's doubtful there ever has been or ever will be judges uninfluenced by ideology, but jurisprudence suffers when judges become overtly ideological. So, jurisprudence suffers now, as he nomination process consists of the questioning of nominees regarding their ideological positions only.
It may surprise some that Justice Scalia was a very able supporter of the rights of criminal defendants, thought flag-burning protected by the First Amendment, voted against an effort by the State of California to ban certain video games. He could be a witty and formidable champion of civil liberties. He was generally witty and clever, it seems, which can serve to relieve the ponderous nature of the law and legal opinions.
Perhaps his defense of civil liberties will be seen by some as consistent with his conservatism, but what is now and has been for some time described as conservatism in the United States has been less and less concerned with civil liberties, except those which assure the accumulation of property and money and those associated with the exceedingly broad definition of freedom of religion being used to favor certain religions. Nonetheless, his opinions in favor of civil liberties are what I think most important in his legacy. It seems to me that his conservatism became more like the restrictive, exclusive conservatism of American politics towards the end, though, and that is unfortunate.
He will be remembered as a jurist perhaps primarily for his championship of the somewhat bewildering doctrine of originalism. Originalism provides that judges in ruling on constitutional issues must divine the intent of those who prepared and adopted the Constitution. Ascertaining the intent of those 18th century lawyers and gentlemen is no easy task, however, and like scripture their writings may be used to support various positions. Then there is the undeniable fact that things have changed significantly since 1787, and it seems imprudent to assume that the Constitution should be deemed to reflect only the values and thoughts of those particular men of 229 years ago who would be dumbfounded by much of the world we now live in. It would seem to give little credit to the intelligence of those men to maintain that they would feel and think now just as they did then in light of all that has taken place in more than two centuries.
Perhaps he favored what he believed were 18th century values regardless of the fact that they would be those typically held by those then living and those who drafted and adopted the Constitution. That would explain his decisions which were in opposition to civil liberties as I would define them. His defense of laws against sodomy was disturbing, as it was premised on the position that states should be free to determine what is or is not acceptable conduct. More disturbing to me, however, were the decisions in Citizens United and the dreadful Hobby Lobby case. There it seems to me that he abandoned the defense of civil liberties while purporting to protect them. Finding money to be speech in our mendacious system is to assure than the liberties of some few will be preferred to those of others, as is finding that corporations runs by those with certain beliefs will be free to do things other corporations cannot.
Regardless, it can't be denied he was a formidable judge. We may prefer to see other judges on the Supreme Court for various reasons. It was sad that Learned Hand never became one of the Supremes. But we have seen worse on the High Court.
Judges are themselves responsible for the politicalization of their courts when they openly pledge allegiance to particular political or social positions. Justice Scalia, unfortunately, did so repeatedly and loudly off and sometimes on the bench, and as a consequence there is a tendency to focus, on his death, on his status as a conservative in a court increasingly divided in politics as is the nation itself. As our politics are increasingly mean-spirited, contentious and vulgar, so is our assessment of those who make themselves political figures, judges included.
I think Justice Scalia was very much an activist judge. But as a conservative activist judge he wasn't subject to the condemnation of other judges who were activists in liberal causes. Activist judges were once considered to be liberals almost by definition, but that time has passed. It's doubtful there ever has been or ever will be judges uninfluenced by ideology, but jurisprudence suffers when judges become overtly ideological. So, jurisprudence suffers now, as he nomination process consists of the questioning of nominees regarding their ideological positions only.
It may surprise some that Justice Scalia was a very able supporter of the rights of criminal defendants, thought flag-burning protected by the First Amendment, voted against an effort by the State of California to ban certain video games. He could be a witty and formidable champion of civil liberties. He was generally witty and clever, it seems, which can serve to relieve the ponderous nature of the law and legal opinions.
Perhaps his defense of civil liberties will be seen by some as consistent with his conservatism, but what is now and has been for some time described as conservatism in the United States has been less and less concerned with civil liberties, except those which assure the accumulation of property and money and those associated with the exceedingly broad definition of freedom of religion being used to favor certain religions. Nonetheless, his opinions in favor of civil liberties are what I think most important in his legacy. It seems to me that his conservatism became more like the restrictive, exclusive conservatism of American politics towards the end, though, and that is unfortunate.
He will be remembered as a jurist perhaps primarily for his championship of the somewhat bewildering doctrine of originalism. Originalism provides that judges in ruling on constitutional issues must divine the intent of those who prepared and adopted the Constitution. Ascertaining the intent of those 18th century lawyers and gentlemen is no easy task, however, and like scripture their writings may be used to support various positions. Then there is the undeniable fact that things have changed significantly since 1787, and it seems imprudent to assume that the Constitution should be deemed to reflect only the values and thoughts of those particular men of 229 years ago who would be dumbfounded by much of the world we now live in. It would seem to give little credit to the intelligence of those men to maintain that they would feel and think now just as they did then in light of all that has taken place in more than two centuries.
Perhaps he favored what he believed were 18th century values regardless of the fact that they would be those typically held by those then living and those who drafted and adopted the Constitution. That would explain his decisions which were in opposition to civil liberties as I would define them. His defense of laws against sodomy was disturbing, as it was premised on the position that states should be free to determine what is or is not acceptable conduct. More disturbing to me, however, were the decisions in Citizens United and the dreadful Hobby Lobby case. There it seems to me that he abandoned the defense of civil liberties while purporting to protect them. Finding money to be speech in our mendacious system is to assure than the liberties of some few will be preferred to those of others, as is finding that corporations runs by those with certain beliefs will be free to do things other corporations cannot.
Regardless, it can't be denied he was a formidable judge. We may prefer to see other judges on the Supreme Court for various reasons. It was sad that Learned Hand never became one of the Supremes. But we have seen worse on the High Court.
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
The Unbearable Triteness of "Being"
One finds the word "ontology" referred to quite frequently. So frequently, in fact, and in such varied and disparate ways, that poor wanderers through the vast halls of intellectual history such as your charming and delightful old Uncle Ciceronianus find it hard to determine just what it is, and indeed whether it is anything at all.
Ontology you must understand is no longer the concern merely of philosophers, which would of course make it of no concern to most. The word, at least, is thrown about in discussions of all kinds, as carelessly as one might throw a Nerf Ball, secure in the knowledge that nothing of significance will result or subject one to blame.
If we gather our strength enough to consult a dictionary, we'll find that "ontology" is said to be a branch of metaphysics concerned with the nature or relations of being, or a theory regarding the nature of being or the kinds of things that have existence. If you're anything like me, this definition raises all kinds of questions, but none which have to do with the apparent subject matter of ontology. Instead, those questions would involve whether anybody actually devotes time to the study of ontology, and if so why they do.
If the nature of being refers to the nature of existence, we all seem to have some idea of the fact that we exist, and may even be said to know we exist. No great effort is involved in arriving at these conclusions. We may indulge in faux doubt as did Descartes, but that is futile and tiresome. We may indulge in the same kind of doubt as to the existence of other people and things if we really want, but nobody does that sort of thing in fact, i.e. we do what we need to do to live and living involves interaction with other things and people; if conduct is any kind of guide to what we in fact think, it's silly to maintain we think they don't exist.
Are there (still) people who seriously wonder whether they exist, or whether other creatures or things exist? Perhaps there are, but if so I question whether there are enough of them to make "ontology" the kind of buzz word it seems to be. Are there people who seriously ponder what it is for them or other creatures or things to exist? It's likely there are more of such folk than there are those who seriously wonder whether they or others exist, but think that if they ponder this "question" in the abstract, without addressing it in a particular context or set of circumstances, their habitat is the university, i.e. the academy.
What it means for us to exist, or for other things to exist, may be something which presents questions which actually require or may result in answers in certain circumstances. We may have reason to describe what is taking place and what we do in interacting with other things and people, which may be said, speaking rather awkwardly and in a contrived fashion, to relate to the nature of our/their existence or being. Even then their being/existence isn't an issue. But to refer to being as an attribute of all things and define just what that attribute is as to all things and in isolation (without addressing a particular situation) clearly isn't something we do or would seem to have reason to do in ordinary circumstances. Nor does it seem there is any reason to inquire what it is for anything to be, though it may be something we do when drunk or high or in a philosophy class.
We say something exists, has being, when it's present in time and space. We consider or recognize the characteristics of what is present in time and space when we interact with it, which we may do for various reasons, or when we encounter it, interact with it. Sometimes we do that for a reason or for a particular purpose, sometimes we don't (we may, for example, bump into something accidently). But existence isn't an issue unless whether something exists is unknown and it's important in some manner to know if it does or does not. Ontology won't answer this question, however. I don't think it's intended to answer it.
We may, if we really want to, engage in the study of what it is for anything to exist, unconnected with any circumstance or context, what "being" is, but in doing so I don't think we can do more than say, e.g., that it must have substance, be part of the universe, not be something which only one person can see, touch, etc.; in other words, we would only come to conclusions which are obvious and trivial, which achieve nothing.
So I think that what is referred to as ontology or ontological so often these days has nothing to do with "being." The existence of something or some person isn't being studied or analyzed, in and of itself. That existence, or being, is taken for granted. What we are doing in fact is ascertaining the characteristics of something we know has being, determining how we should or can interact with it, generally for a particular purpose. Our concerns may be practical, scientific, instrumental, economic, religious or otherwise, but our concern is not being, not our being or that of any other thing or creature. Instead, we accept being and concern ourselves with the consequences of being.
Why we choose to call this ontology, or describe it as the study of being, I can't say. I'm reasonably certain, though, that we gain nothing by doing so, and have concerns that in doing so we merely render obscure matters which may usefully be considered if only we refrain from indulging in what Dewey liked to call "The Philosophical Fallacy"; roughly speaking, the neglect of context.
Ontology you must understand is no longer the concern merely of philosophers, which would of course make it of no concern to most. The word, at least, is thrown about in discussions of all kinds, as carelessly as one might throw a Nerf Ball, secure in the knowledge that nothing of significance will result or subject one to blame.
If we gather our strength enough to consult a dictionary, we'll find that "ontology" is said to be a branch of metaphysics concerned with the nature or relations of being, or a theory regarding the nature of being or the kinds of things that have existence. If you're anything like me, this definition raises all kinds of questions, but none which have to do with the apparent subject matter of ontology. Instead, those questions would involve whether anybody actually devotes time to the study of ontology, and if so why they do.
If the nature of being refers to the nature of existence, we all seem to have some idea of the fact that we exist, and may even be said to know we exist. No great effort is involved in arriving at these conclusions. We may indulge in faux doubt as did Descartes, but that is futile and tiresome. We may indulge in the same kind of doubt as to the existence of other people and things if we really want, but nobody does that sort of thing in fact, i.e. we do what we need to do to live and living involves interaction with other things and people; if conduct is any kind of guide to what we in fact think, it's silly to maintain we think they don't exist.
Are there (still) people who seriously wonder whether they exist, or whether other creatures or things exist? Perhaps there are, but if so I question whether there are enough of them to make "ontology" the kind of buzz word it seems to be. Are there people who seriously ponder what it is for them or other creatures or things to exist? It's likely there are more of such folk than there are those who seriously wonder whether they or others exist, but think that if they ponder this "question" in the abstract, without addressing it in a particular context or set of circumstances, their habitat is the university, i.e. the academy.
What it means for us to exist, or for other things to exist, may be something which presents questions which actually require or may result in answers in certain circumstances. We may have reason to describe what is taking place and what we do in interacting with other things and people, which may be said, speaking rather awkwardly and in a contrived fashion, to relate to the nature of our/their existence or being. Even then their being/existence isn't an issue. But to refer to being as an attribute of all things and define just what that attribute is as to all things and in isolation (without addressing a particular situation) clearly isn't something we do or would seem to have reason to do in ordinary circumstances. Nor does it seem there is any reason to inquire what it is for anything to be, though it may be something we do when drunk or high or in a philosophy class.
We say something exists, has being, when it's present in time and space. We consider or recognize the characteristics of what is present in time and space when we interact with it, which we may do for various reasons, or when we encounter it, interact with it. Sometimes we do that for a reason or for a particular purpose, sometimes we don't (we may, for example, bump into something accidently). But existence isn't an issue unless whether something exists is unknown and it's important in some manner to know if it does or does not. Ontology won't answer this question, however. I don't think it's intended to answer it.
We may, if we really want to, engage in the study of what it is for anything to exist, unconnected with any circumstance or context, what "being" is, but in doing so I don't think we can do more than say, e.g., that it must have substance, be part of the universe, not be something which only one person can see, touch, etc.; in other words, we would only come to conclusions which are obvious and trivial, which achieve nothing.
So I think that what is referred to as ontology or ontological so often these days has nothing to do with "being." The existence of something or some person isn't being studied or analyzed, in and of itself. That existence, or being, is taken for granted. What we are doing in fact is ascertaining the characteristics of something we know has being, determining how we should or can interact with it, generally for a particular purpose. Our concerns may be practical, scientific, instrumental, economic, religious or otherwise, but our concern is not being, not our being or that of any other thing or creature. Instead, we accept being and concern ourselves with the consequences of being.
Why we choose to call this ontology, or describe it as the study of being, I can't say. I'm reasonably certain, though, that we gain nothing by doing so, and have concerns that in doing so we merely render obscure matters which may usefully be considered if only we refrain from indulging in what Dewey liked to call "The Philosophical Fallacy"; roughly speaking, the neglect of context.
Friday, January 29, 2016
Gravitas non Grata
Gravitas, which has been translated variously as dignity, seriousness, weightiness in one's bearing and conduct, was a trait much admired by the Romans, especially in their leaders. Like pietas (faithfulness, dutifulness) it was considered a distinctly Roman virtue, a characteristic of Romans since ancient times, a part of the mos maiorum, the ways and customs of their sometimes legendary forbears.
It's a familiar enough Latin word, though likely not as familiar as the phrase persona non grata (plural, personae non gratae), meaning an unwelcome person. And so the title of this post, intended to convey that the virtue of gravitas is unwelcome here in our Great Republic, particularly in our leaders and those who wish to be our leaders.
This is apparent in the tiresome gaggle seeking to preside over these United States, honking platitudes and boasts, fear-mongering, pandering and posturing continually throughout the seemingly endless horror show of the presidential campaign. But it's apparent even more so among us citizens, because we permit them to do so and even, God help us, encourage them to do so. Worse yet, we eventually vote for one or the other of them.
Look what we have done to ourselves. We tolerate circumstances where the highest office in the land is pursued by a rogue's gallery including a snake oil salesman; a blustering, boorish brat; a secretive, artificial person who seems venal and narcissistic; a well-meaning but clueless old man; a right wing demagogue and holy roller. These are only the more popular of the candidates.
Perhaps I exaggerate. But I think it accurate to say that not one of them possesses the characteristic of gravitas. One in particular is even juvenile in demeanor, and this apparently delights his supporters. It's impossible to think of him as having dignity, or being dignified. He doesn't seem to aspire to dignity in any case.
To be fair, there are few presidents or candidates in recent years who had gravitas. Certainly our first president did; it seems to have been his primary characteristic. This was appropriate given the Founders' evocation of Rome in our institutions and laws. The fond recollection of the real or not so real Rome of the Republic can be seen in The Federalist Papers, and fondness for it and its traditions was prevalent during the Enlightenment.
Among more recent presidents, one may have to go back to Eisenhower. He had of course accumulated considerable regard and respect from being Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces in Europe during WWII, and this certainly accorded him great weight as a public figure. Nixon seems to have struggled to obtain gravitas, but his own personal flaws and the slings and arrows of those he angered kept him from it. Reagan, I think it's fair to say, appeared to have gravitas on occasion. But he was an actor (Gore Vidal liked to call him "The Acting President"), and whether he had gravitas or merely was able to act as if he had it on solemn occasions isn't clear.
Sadly, "gravitas" isn't a word that comes to mind with respect to any of the our candidates, or anyone in national office for that matter. They are all small, petty, venal and nasty climbers and necessarily for sale in our money-driven political system.
This lessens our standing in the world. Our leaders' lack of dignity results in our country's lack of respect. This lack of respect baffles some of us, and it seems those baffled think we must be obnoxious in order to regain respect (I suspect that too many of us associate obnoxious conduct with being powerful and respected). But those people or countries who lack dignity, seriousness, and weight in bearing and conduct are not respected, though they may be hated.
It's a familiar enough Latin word, though likely not as familiar as the phrase persona non grata (plural, personae non gratae), meaning an unwelcome person. And so the title of this post, intended to convey that the virtue of gravitas is unwelcome here in our Great Republic, particularly in our leaders and those who wish to be our leaders.
This is apparent in the tiresome gaggle seeking to preside over these United States, honking platitudes and boasts, fear-mongering, pandering and posturing continually throughout the seemingly endless horror show of the presidential campaign. But it's apparent even more so among us citizens, because we permit them to do so and even, God help us, encourage them to do so. Worse yet, we eventually vote for one or the other of them.
Look what we have done to ourselves. We tolerate circumstances where the highest office in the land is pursued by a rogue's gallery including a snake oil salesman; a blustering, boorish brat; a secretive, artificial person who seems venal and narcissistic; a well-meaning but clueless old man; a right wing demagogue and holy roller. These are only the more popular of the candidates.
Perhaps I exaggerate. But I think it accurate to say that not one of them possesses the characteristic of gravitas. One in particular is even juvenile in demeanor, and this apparently delights his supporters. It's impossible to think of him as having dignity, or being dignified. He doesn't seem to aspire to dignity in any case.
To be fair, there are few presidents or candidates in recent years who had gravitas. Certainly our first president did; it seems to have been his primary characteristic. This was appropriate given the Founders' evocation of Rome in our institutions and laws. The fond recollection of the real or not so real Rome of the Republic can be seen in The Federalist Papers, and fondness for it and its traditions was prevalent during the Enlightenment.
Among more recent presidents, one may have to go back to Eisenhower. He had of course accumulated considerable regard and respect from being Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces in Europe during WWII, and this certainly accorded him great weight as a public figure. Nixon seems to have struggled to obtain gravitas, but his own personal flaws and the slings and arrows of those he angered kept him from it. Reagan, I think it's fair to say, appeared to have gravitas on occasion. But he was an actor (Gore Vidal liked to call him "The Acting President"), and whether he had gravitas or merely was able to act as if he had it on solemn occasions isn't clear.
Sadly, "gravitas" isn't a word that comes to mind with respect to any of the our candidates, or anyone in national office for that matter. They are all small, petty, venal and nasty climbers and necessarily for sale in our money-driven political system.
This lessens our standing in the world. Our leaders' lack of dignity results in our country's lack of respect. This lack of respect baffles some of us, and it seems those baffled think we must be obnoxious in order to regain respect (I suspect that too many of us associate obnoxious conduct with being powerful and respected). But those people or countries who lack dignity, seriousness, and weight in bearing and conduct are not respected, though they may be hated.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
The Social Media is More than the Message
I'm having trouble understanding the interest and outrage generated by The Making of a Murderer, which is apparently something which may be called a "docudrama," and the sympathy it has evoked for its unlikely "hero" if we may use the word, Steven Avery.
I suppose it's necessary to consider at the outset whether it is in fact a docudrama or a documentary. A docudrama, it seems fair to say given the inclusion of "drama" in the word itself, though it relates nonfiction does so as part of a drama. Merriam-Webster Online refers to a "docudrama" as something "dealing freely" with events, particularly those of a recent and controversial nature. If "dealing freely" includes disregarding, and failing to mention, facts which could render a person less sympathetic, and a contention less convincing, then it would seem based on information which has been provided since the Netflix series has come out, absent from the series itself, that we are addressing a docudrama.
The failure of the makers of the docudrama to include such information in their series renders their assertions that they had no axe to grind, and didn't seek to convince anyone one way or another regarding whether justice was served, rather dubious, to say the least. Their protestations that they left out certain evidence because they felt it was unimportant indicates that they made their own assessment of what was and was not pertinent to the determination of guilt or innocence, and sought to represent to their viewers that the evidence they included was all that was important and anything suggesting otherwise was not. As has been noted elsewhere, this is simple manipulation of an audience. But I don't intend to address the accuracy of the series or the motives of its makers.
What makes this bit of proselytizing remarkable is not the content of the series, but the manner in which it has been communicated, reacted to and remarked upon. Its creators plainly desired to convince its viewers that an innocent man was framed in a most unsubtle manner and evidently have done that with considerable skill and success, despite the fact that the protagonist in this case is a not a particularly sympathetic or attractive figure.
He was unjustly convicted and incarcerated, at least for the first offence for which he was charged, that's clear. But the same can be said, sadly, for many others. He isn't a physically attractive or articulate person. He isn't a member of a victimized minority, or punished because of his political or social views. He wasn't a popular figure or a (very) public figure. Nonetheless, he's now such a figure and, very suddenly, there are many people who not only believe him to be a victim of a corrupt system but are saying so frequently and loudly, all over the Internet. Very oddly, it seems his attorneys at the time of his trial have become celebrities and, even more oddly, the romantic interests of some.
In the past, figures already popular or representative of certain victimized groups may have been the subject of adulation, and even treated as heroes, when unjustly accused or convicted and those who prosecuted them as villains. In this case, however, the reaction is apparently due solely to the airing of the series itself, and the instantly expressed reaction of those who view it in media instantly and widely available to others, who then instantly express their reactions in the same media.
The reactions as expressed spread with great speed around the world and are remarked upon, but not necessarily in a thoughtful manner. The media provides a forum for comment and response, but there need be no delay in commenting or responding nor does it appear there is any inclination to delay. Something appears on a computer screen or smart phone or tablet and having been prompted we respond as soon as possible. The media incite responses that are not thought out but instead reactive, motivated more by feeling than by thought, to claims which are accepted as true without qualification. Thought takes time; we can feel, though, at the drop of a hat and feeling strongly react quickly. What we express in the media is there forever, regardless of the quality of our expression.
What we're observing tells us that the media has a tremendous and largely uncontrolled power to influence and manipulate. Because it has that power it's dangerous. In the past there have been orators who were able to incite listeners to the point where they became mobs. Since all us have access to the media the potential mob is now enormous, and its capacity for good or ill is without practical limit. Since the media encourages thoughtless responses and reactions as it induces speedy expression its capacity for wrecking havoc is probably greater than its capacity to create any benefit. The mob is potentially present and at the disposal of any person with access to the Internet and the various forms of social media.
I suppose it's necessary to consider at the outset whether it is in fact a docudrama or a documentary. A docudrama, it seems fair to say given the inclusion of "drama" in the word itself, though it relates nonfiction does so as part of a drama. Merriam-Webster Online refers to a "docudrama" as something "dealing freely" with events, particularly those of a recent and controversial nature. If "dealing freely" includes disregarding, and failing to mention, facts which could render a person less sympathetic, and a contention less convincing, then it would seem based on information which has been provided since the Netflix series has come out, absent from the series itself, that we are addressing a docudrama.
The failure of the makers of the docudrama to include such information in their series renders their assertions that they had no axe to grind, and didn't seek to convince anyone one way or another regarding whether justice was served, rather dubious, to say the least. Their protestations that they left out certain evidence because they felt it was unimportant indicates that they made their own assessment of what was and was not pertinent to the determination of guilt or innocence, and sought to represent to their viewers that the evidence they included was all that was important and anything suggesting otherwise was not. As has been noted elsewhere, this is simple manipulation of an audience. But I don't intend to address the accuracy of the series or the motives of its makers.
What makes this bit of proselytizing remarkable is not the content of the series, but the manner in which it has been communicated, reacted to and remarked upon. Its creators plainly desired to convince its viewers that an innocent man was framed in a most unsubtle manner and evidently have done that with considerable skill and success, despite the fact that the protagonist in this case is a not a particularly sympathetic or attractive figure.
He was unjustly convicted and incarcerated, at least for the first offence for which he was charged, that's clear. But the same can be said, sadly, for many others. He isn't a physically attractive or articulate person. He isn't a member of a victimized minority, or punished because of his political or social views. He wasn't a popular figure or a (very) public figure. Nonetheless, he's now such a figure and, very suddenly, there are many people who not only believe him to be a victim of a corrupt system but are saying so frequently and loudly, all over the Internet. Very oddly, it seems his attorneys at the time of his trial have become celebrities and, even more oddly, the romantic interests of some.
In the past, figures already popular or representative of certain victimized groups may have been the subject of adulation, and even treated as heroes, when unjustly accused or convicted and those who prosecuted them as villains. In this case, however, the reaction is apparently due solely to the airing of the series itself, and the instantly expressed reaction of those who view it in media instantly and widely available to others, who then instantly express their reactions in the same media.
The reactions as expressed spread with great speed around the world and are remarked upon, but not necessarily in a thoughtful manner. The media provides a forum for comment and response, but there need be no delay in commenting or responding nor does it appear there is any inclination to delay. Something appears on a computer screen or smart phone or tablet and having been prompted we respond as soon as possible. The media incite responses that are not thought out but instead reactive, motivated more by feeling than by thought, to claims which are accepted as true without qualification. Thought takes time; we can feel, though, at the drop of a hat and feeling strongly react quickly. What we express in the media is there forever, regardless of the quality of our expression.
What we're observing tells us that the media has a tremendous and largely uncontrolled power to influence and manipulate. Because it has that power it's dangerous. In the past there have been orators who were able to incite listeners to the point where they became mobs. Since all us have access to the media the potential mob is now enormous, and its capacity for good or ill is without practical limit. Since the media encourages thoughtless responses and reactions as it induces speedy expression its capacity for wrecking havoc is probably greater than its capacity to create any benefit. The mob is potentially present and at the disposal of any person with access to the Internet and the various forms of social media.
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