Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na, hey-hey-hey, goodbye!

I join Jonathan Chait in mourning the demise of Harold Fold, Jr.'s Senate aspirations in New York. His combination of naked carpetbagging, ductile political ideals and flagrant willingness to shill for corporate interests made him a gold mine of material for political bloggers prominent and otherwise.

Now, one might argue that Ford would have been motivated to vote a pretty reliable party line to prove his New York Democrat bona fides. And this would probably have been true about social issues like marriage equality. (And, speaking on behalf of The Gays, I'd just like to share how very moved we all are about that 180 degree swing on same-sex marriage, Harold. I guess it's a good thing that Bush didn't have much fire in his belly for the Federal Marriage Amendment back when you were supporting it. Ha, ha! Just kidding. Have a cosmopolitan on us.) But given our current financial woes, I can't say I would have been too terribly happy to have a corporate stooge in the Senate when reform is on the line.

So, adieu Mr. Ford. We hardly knew ye. And I think we're all OK with that.

Update: Hold the phone! It appears that what the Lord taketh with one hand, He giveth with the other. Please, please let this story be true. The gold mine may yet appear!

Why I have returned to vegetarianism

When I was a teenager, I was for some years a vegetarian. It was ill thought out - I was always fond of animals (thanking my lucky stars that Charlotte was able to pluck Wilbur from his baconward trajectory). I was also probably was attracted to the lifestyle's aesthetic properties - stricter, more virtuous, less mainstream. I lapsed from vegetarianism for equally specious reasons. My boyfriend at the time, who was an animal activist vegetarian, left me the day before Thanksgiving, and I consoled myself with turkey.

In the meantime, I've become something of a foodie and avid home cook. Mmmmm, meat!

But I have always felt that if I do anything immoral, anything I should be regretting, it is eating animals. I also think if there's any widely held cultural value right now that is ripe for moral re-evaluation, it's eating animals. Recently, I was considering watching Food, Inc. I didn't want to see it because I was worried it would make me feel guilty, and I didn't want to feel guilted out of eating meat. Which, of course, meant that I really need to take a look at what I'm doing.

The cause of animal rights suffers from its adherents. PETA attracts only attention with its antics - not converts. "Meat is Murder!" and "Love animals, don't eat them" are question-begging. It is obvious to me that a duck hunter who kills a few dozen ducks is not the moral equivalent of Timothy McVeigh. People who claim otherwise, who claim that animals are fully persons in the moral sense of the term, fail to convince me or the vast majority of people without some further argument.

The main moral defense of eating non-human animals is that they are not persons since they lack certain crucial cognitive abilities - most notably the ability to respect rights. The main response to this from the animal rights folks is that we don't accord rights on a sliding scale based on how intelligent one is. A whipsmart doctor does not deserve more moral consideration than a somewhat slower, more plainspoken farmer.

And we accord rights to humans with severe cognitive disabilities.

So I thought about all this quite seriously in the days after the birth of newest little guy. For those who are not regular readers of the blog (a group who should live and be well to 120), Edmund (aka the Mound) has Cri du Chat Syndrome, and is likely severely cognitively disabled. It seems perfectly obvious to me that he deserves equal love and attention, if necessarily different treatment, than my typical kid. (As it happens, he is ridiculously easy to love, as he is always either smiling and delighted, apparently made entirely of baby fat and dimples and glee, or sleeping). One might attribute my obligations to the special responsibilities of being a parent. But it also seems to me that he deserves respect from everyone else, too (warning to future parents of kids who tease the Mound - if you do not sufficiently intervene to prevent your child's bullying, I will do something we all will regret). Of course, I can't treat him exactly as I would a typical human. I can't grant him, say, autonomy over medical decisions. But nor can I mistreat him, and I am obligated to maximize his talents and be respectful of him.

Now the fact that we have moral obligations to Edmund does not necessarily mean we have the same obligations as we do to a similarly-abled animal (of course, Edmund has abilities that even the most able ape lacks, and lacks abilities that my cats have -- but you get the point, I hope). Species membership in itself does, as I have suggested, count for something morally.

However, it does not count for everything. I do think it's warranted to treat a fertilized human egg, and a brain-damaged person in a permanent coma somewhat differently than I would a fully able adult (that doesn't mean I may treat them without respect). I also think we would be required to treat, say, a chimp who was able to go through some neuron-growing process and had all the cognitive abilities that a typical human adult has, as a full person in the moral sense. Same with ET. Cognitive abilities in themselves, even without species membership, also seem to count morally.

So. I think neither cognitive abilities nor species membership are necessary for moral consideration, but each is sufficient. Sufficient, that is, for some moral consideration - not for full personhood. I don't know how much cognition warrants moral consideration (so, say, a thermostat doesn't count). It may well be something like the ability to suffer or having interests puts you in the moral consideration camp but is not enough for full personhood.

In light of the fact that I don't know how much cognition is required for moral consideration, and animals have quite a bit of cognition, I think I ought not to eat animals. (I don't promise I will never slip up and eat a bite or two of prosciutto at my in-laws' Christmas antipasto.) At the very least, it is absolutely clear to me that factory farming is an absolute moral outrage, one I want no part of perpetuating. And I made the leap in honor of Edmund, who, once upon a time, would have been thought unworthy of any moral consideration. I do not believe he is the moral equivalent of a non-human animal. But he has taught me to value more fully everything that a being can be without intellectual abilities. He has taught me that my love and treatment of him does not depend on what he can do. And he makes me want to treat all those who can feel and suffer, but can't do algebra, better.

With Orwell behind me, anything is possible!

A few others have noted Newt Gingrich's adoption of George Orwell as ideological precursor, and pioneering opponent of socialism, as well, strained.

But what I think is odd is that he felt the need to distort Orwell at all. Did Orwell lend heft to his argument? Is his word especially persuasive to the throngs at CPAC?

Evidence for a new Poland

I don't want to misstate something which is largely unspoken. So, fellow Jews, correct me if I'm wrong. But I think it is a widely held belief among Jews that Poles are especially virulently anti-Semitic, second only to Germany.

This article claims that Poland's anti-Semitism is on the wane. Which would be quite interesting if true. But the only support cited in defense of this claim are: a rabbi's assessment that things are changing, a Polish TV star who "came out" as a Jew after achieving fame and claims he now has more fans, and Pawel, the main focus of the story, a former neo-Nazi who discovered he had two Jewish grandparents, and is now a convert to Hasidic Judaism.

While Pawel's story is really interesting, I don't see how it's meant to tell us anything about the changing state of Poland. He seems to have evolved not because his country evolved, but because he made a personal discovery and because he seems the type to embrace an extreme sort of lifestyle. Indeed, he mentions that he is regularly harangued in the street by anti-Semites. He's a worthy subject of an article alone, without serving as support for a strained and speculative point.

But it was all worth reading for this sentence Pawel utters: "Oy vey, I hate to admit it, but we would beat up local Jewish and Arab kids and homeless people."

Oh mercy, stop the pain!!

Ugh. First Sarah Palin, and now Tony Perkins. This is going to hurt.

I would like to start out by stating categorically that I utterly despise Tony Perkins of the Family Research Council. I think he is an utterly poisonous individual, and his desire to inject his particular, narrow brand of Christian fundamentalism is anathema to me. That he is a despicable opponent to equality for gays, lesbians and their families (or, in other words, me, the Better Half and the Critter) cranks up the gas on my contempt, but I find his entire worldview pretty much the exact opposite of everything I admire and support in American politics.

I do not like the man.

But this (via the Dish) is wrong:

Questions surround what appears to be the censoring of a Christian leader by the U.S. military.

Nearly four months ago, Family Research Council President Tony Perkins received an invitation to speak at a national prayer luncheon held, Thursday, at Andrews Air Force Base.

It was not an unusual request. Perkins is an ordained minister and veteran of the Marine Corps.

But he's also a vocal opponent of rolling back the military's "Don't ask, Don't tell" policy that prohibits gays from serving openly in the military.

[snip]

Two days after President Obama's State of the Union speech, in which he announced plans to repeal "Don't ask, Don't tell," Perkin's received a letter from the chaplain's office at Andrews rescinding the invitation.

The letter cited Family Research Council statements calling them "incompatible in our role as military members who serve our elected officials and our commander in chief."

Oh, this makes me feel oily and gross. I think the Administration was wrong to rescind this invitation.

In case you're new to this blog (and welcome, if somehow you just found us), being a Gay Homosexual myself, I am thoroughly in favor of the repeal of DADT, as well as just about every other piece of discriminatory nonsense that helps to keep me a second-class citizen. But I also expect Our Side (on which I include the POTUS) to be better than Their Side.

One of the trillions of things I hated about the Bush administration was its stifling of dissent. You weren't allowed to ask questions, speak your mind, or even show up at their events unless you had signed with the blood of your firstborn that you supported them on every single agenda item. It was an anti-democratic, narrow-minded and frankly dangerous way of running the country, and one I opposed vociferously.

I didn't like it then. I don't like it now.

I can understand why the Administration rescinded the invitation. Hell, let's be honest, I would probably have been pretty damn annoyed if I had learned about the invitation after Perkins had spoken. But I can't support having a dissenting voice cast out after an invitation has been sent because the opinion expressed is unpopular, even if it's one I would personally like to throttle with my bare hands.

Now I need to go shower.

Kant: get it right

I've noticed around the non-philosophical blogosphere that Kant's name seems to come up more than you would think. (I mean, he comes up in the philosophical blogosphere, but you sort of expect that.) I'm not sure why...maybe people feel he lends intellectual heft?

Alas, he often gets cited by people who have no idea what they are talking about. Two cases in point. Patrick Appel, writing on Andrew Sullivan's blog, points to some guy named Ben Canoscha, who says:

In Kant's Categorical Imperative he includes this moral maxim of universality: "Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law without contradiction." In other words, if your action were to be the action everyone was taking, would you still do it? The implications of Kant to non-voters would be, "If everyone chose not to vote, the democracy wouldn't function. So vote!"

That seems like a fine aspirational ethic -- a principled stance applied to things like democracy and drug buying -- but the more realistic approach would to weigh the probability of universal adoption of the action. If it's insanely low -- like in the case of non-voting or drug-buying -- then ignore it. If, on the other hand, there were only five total drug buyers in the world, and if you stopped buying drugs that would drastically shrink demand and perhaps result in less drug violence, you would be right to incorporate societal implications more seriously in your decision as they much greater.

Bottom Line: In the case of buying drugs, since the personal impact (positive and negative) so vastly outweighs the societal impact, I believe solely a personal consideration of costs and benefits is an ethical way to think about it. But ethics is simply a basis for making individual decisions, and to each his own. (Italics mine)

Really? To each his own? So it's like totally okay for me to molest a child? And an SS officer is just as good a person as Gandhi? Because, you know, to each his own. But I digress. Anyhow, Appel replies:

No one would argue that this pedophile should "weigh the probability of universal adoption" before making the decision not use child pornography. Kant's maxim only works well when debating the direct effects of an action.

To both bloggers: Kant's ethical theory is most definitely not about weighing the consequences (or effects) of an action. So, contra Canoscha, Kant's ethical view cannot be summed up as: "If your action were to be the action everyone was taking, would you still do it?" Applying Kant's theory depending on the consequences of an action is not using his theory at all. To Kant, acts are right or wrong in their nature, not because of the consequences of the acts. Mr. Canoscha is obviously a consequentialist (although, oddly and perhaps inconsistently, also a subjective relativist). That has its own problems, but if you believe that what matters morally are the consequences, why even bring up Kant at all?

Also, please note that Kant's not saying that any action one performs should be good to go for a universal law. I can permissibly go to the gym at 3:30 today, even if it doesn't make sense that everyone go to the gym. What Kant says is: "Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law without contradiction." (Italics mine). What matters is the maxim by which one acts.

Acting by the Categorical Imperative is not supposed to be a matter of weighing two possible worlds, and picking the better one. Again, it's not about consequences for Kant. It's a matter of logic - if the maxim even makes sense as a universal maxim. For example: lying. Let's say I lie under the maxim that I must say whatever it takes to get me out of a rough situation. But if everyone could act on that maxim, then promises would mean absolutely nothing - and lying would not even be a rational act to to perform. So promises would not exist, and a maxim saying you could break a promise could not exist. Therefore, it's irrational.

There are five formulations of Kant's Categorical Imperative. Most philosophers do not think this (that is, the universal law formulation) is the best one. Might I suggest the humanity formulation?

PS. For the record, I think it obvious that using child pornography (or perhaps any pornography) is treating someone as a mere means. It is arguable whether Kant would think drug use is treating oneself as a mere means.

2666 : pages 291-349

"No on pays attention to these killings, but the secret of the world is hidden
in them"

And there it is, on page 348. As close to an unambiguously clear statement of 2666's thesis as we're likely to get. The Part About the Crimes stretches before us like a gaping maw, and here we sit on the cusp.

My opinion of the other parts has seemed to crystallize as the horror in Santa Teresa loomed larger and larger. The Critics seem a million miles a way, which for all intents and purposes they are. Their attention never turns to the stark reality that surrounds them on their fool's errand to Mexico. One buries his nose in his reading, one dallies with a local woman (and, perhaps to his credit, does seem to have some sense of the peril she faces, though not enough), and one flees to the arms that remain in Europe.

Amalfitano seems even more ineffectual when he learn more about Rosa. Perhaps I missed it when I read his Part, but I had no sense of how beautiful she apparently is. It seems he is so lost, so disoriented that he barely even sees his own daughter. That geometry text on the clothesline, a life of the mind battered by the elements, is such an apt metaphor for him. At the end, unable to protect his daughter (or even to be able to speak with the people who surround her like a normal human being), at least he gets her out of Santa Teresa. For this we may be grateful.

I'm interested in what my fellow readers make of Oscar Fate and his trip. He seems to be drifting through a surreal and menacing tableau, but he alone actually chooses to see where he is. And he alone acts to free a potential victim from the danger she's in.

If the geometry book is a metaphor for Amalfitano, the ghastly pornographic video Fate watches at the end of this Part seems to sum up the condition of the women in Santa Teresa -- sexually violated then reduced to skeletal remains. A horrifying image to warn us of what we're about to dive into.

With that, I'm going to close on a dangerously corny note. At the risk of seeming maudlin or ridiculous (this is, after all, just a book we're reading, not any real danger we're facing), I'm glad to be reading this as part of a collective, in "real time." There's some comfort in knowing that we're all about to read this next Part together, and for those of us who haven't read it before we'll be able to commiserate in a week.

And with that... onward.