Castaway and Discarded

I saw the movie “Castaway” for the second time a few weeks back. Repeated viewings of movies are usually interesting and allow a more analytical experience. Castaway was no exception.

Overall, I liked it; it’s a good flick with a captivating plot, and Tom Hanks does a great job. The two things that stuck out as needing improvement, however, were the weakly portrayed romance (they expect you to take it for granted), and the way they mirrored the character’s coping on the island with the development of mankind. (Essential to the movie, but it comes off as being scripted. Okay, I suppose it was scripted.) Both of these faults were probably due to lack of time; you can only make a movie so long.

Whether I liked the movie or not is inconsequential to this posting though. What is of importance is the question that’s been nagging me ever since seeing the film the first time. (Well, besides that. We all know the box with the butterfly symbol contained a satellite telephone.) The question is whether or not a person becomes a better person from an ordeal such as the one in the movie.

In the film, Tom Hank’s character obviously loses a lot. His fiancée, five years of his life, and basically everything that he had previously defined himself by are now gone. The movie also hints at the psychological problems one could have integrating back to society; showing him rejecting the soft hotel bed in favor of the floor and flicking the light switch on and off as he did back in the cave. This list of things he lost out on could go on and on

What I’m wondering, though, is if there is any sort of a silver lining to it all? Did the experience that didn’t kill him, in fact make him stronger? Throughout the five years he learned lots of independence, and useful survival skills. He also freed himself from a life that was portrayed as being tied to a clock. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m in no way suggesting he’s better off than if he hadn’t been stranded. What I’m asking you to do is to compare him to the person he was before the accident.

Which one has a more realistic view of life? It easy to assume the castaway character would definitely appreciate the subtleties of life a little more than he did before hand. Would he want to go back to the job he had previously though? He didn’t in the movie. (And if the movie showed it, it must be true!) Would he even be capable of taking his old job back? Maybe he wouldn’t be able to perform his previous job simply because he’d find it all mundane compared to the grand scheme of it all?

If this is the case, then not only did he lose all he had, but he also lost what he was. Talking about adding insult to injury.

Tech-knowledge-ee

A week or so back a topic came up regarding the pros and cons of technology. Being the perpetual cynic, I had insinuated that technology might be taking a hold of civilization with negative consequences. It was noted that people of today have it better than any other time in history due to technology, and that any negative side effects are simply brought upon the users themselves. My initial counter reply didn’t post because my internet connection timed out, which is a good thing, because the more I thought about it, the more complex and revealing this issue became.

My first point in my original counter reply was that many users of technology bring negative consequences to the people around them, not just themselves. An example would be people talking on cell phones in inappropriate public places. It’s convenient for them, but also obnoxious to everyone around them. (This just happens to be a subject I’m particularly passionate about.) A better example would probably be weapons used to injure innocent people. This is the ultimate situation of someone using technology in a way that has direct bad effects on others. I have a gun, you don’t. You’re dead, I’m alive.

These examples suggest not only a duality of technology’s effects, being that they can simultaneously be both negative and positive, but they also hint at the relativity of the assignment of such effects. Since the user of the technology (person with a gun) would consider its use a positive thing while the victim (person with hole in chest) would most likely consider it a negative thing, it apparently depends on who you talk to when determining the inherent badness of a technological tool. It follows that if the determining factor is the person, not the technology, then the “badness” must be in the person, not in the technology. (There is a large hole in the way I laid out this argument, but it’s easily patched. I just didn’t bother writing it out.)

This leads to the common conclusion that technology is just a tool. All tools are made up of benign, inanimate objects assembled into clever uses of the six simple machines and often taking advantage of some sort of a power source to further the usefulness. (When talking about the simple machines, I consider the screw to just be a special application of the inclined plane, and instead replace it with the semiconductor doped depletion area to round out the six). Even something as horrendous as a nuclear weapon is just a mix of relatively harmless pieces assembled by man, and is only as bad as the person behind the button. (Oh my god, he just reference WMDs. Quick everyone run around panicking and start invading foreign countries!!) Saying that a weapon is evil is just the same as saying that a garden hoe is evil. Hell, why don’t we just say that the fulcrum, chemistry, and metallurgy are bad. Throw in the theory of gravity, relativity and Maxwell’s equations while we’re at it, and we can have an old fashion Amish square dance.

Or so the theory goes. Something still didn’t quite sit right with me. Does being a tool imply that no assignment of good or evil can be applied to an object? Here’s a simple thought experiment I used to test this theory we’ve come up with.
Imagine a man who wants his wife dead, but doesn’t want to be implicated in a murder. Instead, he tricks another man into killing her by telling him what ever lies necessary. Basically, he uses the second man as a tool in his plan. There is no doubt that the husband is guilty of debauchery in this case, but what of the second man? He wouldn’t have been involved had it not been for the husband, yet he chose to go along with it, and most any court of law in this country would hold him accountable. Hence, the tool is accountable for the action.

Ok, I’ll admit, that might be a little weak. I left out one very important aspect. Choice. The man in the previous thought experiment, regardless if he was being duped or not, still made a choice to participate. He could have opted out, even if it would have had dire consequences on himself. A garden hoe, on the other hand, has no say in what it’s used for. The tool is an object, and the entire concept of morality, good or bad, requires a decision making process to be discerned. That kind of goes back the entire Adam/Eve/Apple fairy tail, where we’re told that morality did not exist until people had the power of choice.

Well, we do have the power of choice, and morality does exist. The question I now ask is where does it exist? Can morality only exist in people, or can it be possessed by objects also? I started this essay talking about the negative effects of technology, with the intent of exploring the issues of how people choose to use it. So far, I’ve only been talking about whether isn’t possible for a piece of technology to be inherently bad. When the topic of “choice” is brought up, it seems ridiculous to try to say that an object can possess a quality involving morals.

That’s not too far of a stretch though. In addition to saying that a person is bad, we also say that that the action performed by that person is also bad. A murderer is a bad person. The act of murdering is also bad. We make this claim based on the results of the action. The person is considered bad because of their decision making, the action is considered bad because of the result. This type morality judgment, to decide how good something is based on the outcome (or intent of outcome), is a common practice in ethics and was laid out by John Stuart Mill, in his writings of Utilitarianism. A little introspection shows that this is often the same process by which we’ve actually been using to determine the morality of a person. We judge them by their actions, which are judged upon the results. A balancing of the good vs. bad outcomes must be performed as well. (This is where all sorts of snags come up in Utilitarianism.) My claim (finally) is that we can also place a judgment on the tools used. If the results are bad, then the tool is bad.

For many, this claim doesn’t really make a lot of sense. They still only see morality as some thing that should be applied to creatures with free will, and see it as pointless to try to apply it anything else. There is, however, a justifiable reason as to why one would wish to apply a judgment towards an object. If an object can be deemed bad, then we can make a decision regarding how to use such an object. If the object always results in bad results, we could say that it is a bad object, and should not be used. (Hey look ma, I just justified book burning. Ok , maybe not.) The opponent can still argue we’ve simply shifted the moral value of the act onto the object rather the person using the object.

Here’s one more example to illustrate my point. The common cold virus. Its not alive, it’s not moral, and it has no use, other than to make people miserable. No one made it, and no one chose to get or give it. There are no positive effects of it. It is useless, and I therefore label it a bad object. Any takers on this one??

Ok, now for a quick recap. I tried to demonstrate why I think it’s possible to consider an object as morally bad. Even if that object is just used as a tool, I mentioned that the consequences of its use can determine its judgment. I also stated that these results are often mixed, some being good for some people, and some being bad for others. The purpose of all this was to introduce the idea that an object can posses inherently bad properties.

This now brings me to the point I wanted to make two pages ago, but first needed to take a quick short cut through Canada to see all the scenery. My point is that I believe technology has inherently bad aspects to it. When it was stated that “Technology has no negative effects.” It didn’t sit right with me. I’m not a technology abolitionist by any means; I own a car, a cell phone, and with the amount of time I spend with my laptop, I could potentially be considered married to it in some cultures. Everywhere I look, I see misuses of technology. Yes, it is the peoples’ choice, but it seems that the more technology out there, the more bad decisions are made. Instead of using it to allow themselves to do more, they do the same amount, but just become lazier.

With that, I finally realized what it is about technology that irks me. It makes things easier. Every piece of technology or tool ever envisioned was made for the exact purpose of decreasing the work for man. What a beautiful thing. What a curse. That’s why I was having such a hard time identifying the inherent problem with technology, because the problem is also its glory. Any time things are made easier, it means you do less work. If you do less work, you can live a better life, but you also become weaker. If you are weaker, then you have lost something compared to what you were before. Regardless of what you have all gained, which is possibly magnitudes more significant than what you have lost, you have lost something none the less.

This is why every generation will always look at the following generation with a bit of contempt, and a bit of jealousy. The younger generation will always seem to have it easier, and never seem to understand what they have. The older generation will always look back at their own youth, and remember their trials and tribulations, but also remember what they gained by those experiences. I imagine that somewhere in the past there was at least one prehistoric man who looked on his younger companions with disdain as they used their fancy metal tools, when bone had always worked fine for him.

Perhaps Stan Lee said it best, “With great power, comes great responsibility.”
Yeah, that is the second time I’ve used that quote on this blog. I’ve just always thought it was cool.

Stone Aged

McLent

Well, it’s Wednesday again. This isn’t just any Wednesday though, it’s a special Wednesday. This is the Wednesday when I actually post on essay on time, with good grammar, proper spelling, and maybe even a dash of wit.

Ok, that’s not actually why I meant it’s special. I was referring to the fact that it’s Ash Wednesday. This day marks that special that time of year when good Catholics try to live a purer life closer to god, while remembering the temptation Jesus suffered at the hands of Lucifer while fasting in the desert. Starting today, they’ll give up their vices for forty days; hopefully maintaining this fast through the eve of Easter, after which they can participate in Pagan fertility rituals involving eggs, bunnies, and feasting, and forget about Jesus until Christmas rolls around they get presents.

Despite my jest, I actually always liked lent. Unlike many of the Catholic sacraments which don’t have a lot of practical use, the lentin fast contains a sense of purpose. It reinforces the ideas of self discipline and will power, which make you a better person. I try to practice these on a regular basis and encourage others to do so as well.

Lent also makes sense from a historical standpoint. Back in the glory days of the middle ages when nonsensical concepts like separation of church and state were unheard of, the churches had the mandate and power to forcibly control and mold the populace. Dictating the practice of will power would have been one way to turn parishioners into better citizens. It also fits neatly into their greater plan of imposing guilt and self loathing as a method of creating a perceived need of salvation, which the church was more than happy to supply, well, as long as you paid your dues. Overall, it was a good plan.

Unfortunately, in today’s world, the practice of lent has really lost its meaning. Although people will abstain from certain things for the season, many don’t actually make any sacrifices. They’ll simply trade one vice for another one that is just as easily accessible. They might give up coffee, only to drink more soda instead. Maybe they’ll stop eating chocolate, but then increase their intake of other candy. Granted, I’m not saying that all lentin promises are rubbish; in fact I’ve known many people who really take it serious, and rather impress me. There is one main practice mandated by the catholic church, however, that has always annoyed me, and that’s the meat rule.

For those of you not inculcated with the ways of the meat rule, let me quickly indulge you. The catholic church mandates that good parishioners abstain from eating meat on the first day of lent, Ash Wednesday, and every following Friday until Easter. That’s a total of seven days. (They don't count Sundays towards the forty days, so there's an extra week) One exception, however, is fish, which is not considered a meat for the purpose of the rule, and is thus allowed to be consumed on the forbidden days. I think this has something to do with the fact that people in the biblical era ate fish as a staple, and it follows that eating more fish could potentially allow one to relate more to the people back then. That’s just my theory. It could be that fish was harder to come by years ago or maybe harder to prepare and make taste good, which could at least conceivably make it a sacrifice to eat it. (At least maybe for the person who did the cooking.)

Regardless of the origin of the rule, I don’t think it applies today. You can go into any restaurant or grocery store and find a plethora of sales and specials on seafood during lent. Perch, cod, salmon, chump, shrimp and lobster; it all counts, and most of it tastes quite good. Even McDonalds will offer deals on its fish fillet sandwich over the five weeks. Additionally, you can find many fish fry specials on Friday nights where the entire family can go out and gorge themselves on endless plates of greasy fried perch and french fries. Although these options technically follow the rules, they seam to completely go against the entire point of having the rules in the first place. It’s like the church allowed a giant loophole as to not actually inconvenience its parishioners.

With all this in mind, I’ve decided to participate in the lentin tradition of sacrifice this year even though I have little affiliation with the Catholic church these days, or Christianity in general (Although I do agree with most of the stuff Jesus said; he was on to something). I’m going to give up not eating at McDonalds. Wait, huh? Yeah, NOT eating at McDonalds. Just stay with me a moment; it’ll make sense. Trust me.

I used to eat at McDonalds a lot, especially my first year in grad school when it was the closest and cheapest food available in a timely manner. Eventually though, I started to taste my food and eat healthier in general. It really has little appeal to me now. It depresses me to think what I’m actually putting in my body when I eat there, compared to when I cook for myself, and I not only know, but can pronounce every word of the ingredients. Plus there’s the whole practices of the meat industry, which I won’t bother going into here, but I find rather revolting. These days, I maybe eat at McDonalds once every six months, until today that is.

Hence, to start off lent today, I went to lunch at McDonalds. This is actually a sacrifice for me though. For starters, I wasn’t able to eat the nice healthy lunch of fruit and sandwiches I’ve accustomed too. Second, the closest McDonalds is a mile and a half away. Since I don’t drive my car to work, the only options are either biking or running down the hill and back. Today I chose to run. Although that did allow me to get a short run in, it didn’t allow me nearly as long as I would have liked, which leads to my third point, I don’t have as much time over lunch to exercise. All the sacrifices I make to try to be a good catholic. Plus, do you have any idea how hard it is to run up a mile and half hill with a stomach full of Big Mac and fries? Its six hours later, and my stomach still hurts. (I did consider driving to work, which would also be a sacrifice since I couldn’t get any writing done on the train, it would cost more, and I’d have to sacrifice some ideals, but I just don’t have strong enough faith for that. Baby steps I guess)

The idea for this plan came to me last year when I found myself sitting in airport hungry on the Friday before Easter. The only place without a huge wait for food was McDonalds. As I was eating my greasy burger, it occurred to me that it was lent. I’ll admit that this at first filled with a bit of guilty pleasure, breaking rules that I didn’t agree with. As I thought about it more though, I began to realize how stupid the meat rule really was. I had actually completely forgotten about lent up until that point, and now that I remembered it, I was somewhat disappointed that I didn’t have more Fridays left to eat fast food. I decided that the following year, I would make a point to eat a Big Mac on every Friday of lent. I like the irony, and now, after almost a year of waiting, the time has come. You can call it an exercise in irony if you like, but I just like to refer to it as McLent.