left wing (Page 2)

Bloody rare. I like my meat. I’m an omnivore, not a vegetarian. Once my first daughter was old enough to start asking questions, I began more seriously investigating my own relationship with my carnivorous tendencies. I taught her that this was “cow meat,” and this was “pig meat,” instead of hamburger or bacon, for example. Around that time I read Barbara Kingsolver’s fantastic book, “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.” Mindfulness, or intentionality in my food choices became important to me.

Fast forward a few years and where my food comes from is still important to me. As much as I love eating meat, I don’t love pretending that’s not what I’m doing. I like the idea of knowing the animal, for example, before eating it. Or, if that’s not an option, knowing the farmer and trusting they provided the animal with a good life.

I got the idea last summer that I’d like to harvest my own meat. Our landlords won’t let us have chickens, so that’s out. I would like to explore the relationship between taking an animal’s life so I can eat its flesh and my own thoughts and ideas about mortality, what it means to be human, all those big ideas. I’m toying with the idea of going hunting. Deer hunting, I guess, is what has crossed my mind.

In On Killing (an incredible book—if you’re a peace-loving liberal like me—as it instilled in me more respect than I thought possible for our military) he talks about how death is taboo. How as in Victorian times sexuality was hidden and therefore became the Holy Grail. Everything was about not dealing with sexuality and sexuality was perverted from those days. These days most of us aren’t familiar with death. In past times death was a part of life. Killing chickens or other animals for meat was no big deal. If someone in your family died, you dressed the body for the funeral. It was close and real and undeniable.

I would like my meat’s former life to be undeniable to me. Not every moment, but I’d like to face it head on.

In the quest to face the truth of meat, I signed up for a firearms training course sponsored by the North Berwick Rod & Gun Club and the NRA, Women on Target. The experience was spectacular. Most startling to me was what it felt like to be on foreign territory. It was clear that no one, even those people who seemed to think they understood where I was coming from, had any idea. Every single person there had experience with guns in some form or another. I once touched a rifle that a boyfriend had for when he and his father would go duck hunting in the boundary waters of Minnesota, but that was about three minutes of contact with a firearm. That was it. Everyone else was used to them. They had them in their homes. They talked about using them “to protect themselves.”

Of course, with the horrible shooting of Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, a lot of people are talking about “gun control.” There were a couple times in my workshop where I decided to go ahead and bring up some of the issues I knew would be controversial. I surprised myself with how much I held my tongue, honestly. I wanted the guys to like me. But I also didn’t pretend to be who I wasn’t. It was just difficult to sit back and hear them talking about how “this light’s gonna shine on an intruder and scare him away before I even take a shot” as if the terror of a home invasion wouldn’t render them immobile (maybe it wouldn’t but there was something so television/movie about the way they described protecting themselves).

One of the greatest things I learned in this experience is what an intellectual or even spiritual experience it is to work with guns. There are so many different levels of appreciation or talent. My addict’s personality was definitely into it. I wanted to shoot more. Keep shooting until I mastered it. I immediately had a favorite gun (if I were a real fan of the things I’m sure I’d call them firearms, as that’s what the guys of the club did) because of how it felt. I was totally drawn into the experience of learning how to hold them, how to not anticipate the shot, how to aim correctly with a variety of different weapons, etc.

What I’m saying is those of us on the outside of gun culture don’t understand, or, I didn’t, that it’s a complex experience. It’s not necessarily just a bunch of yahoos who want to go explode some shit with bullets. There is mastery of a skill. There’s a major psychological component to the experience. Even writing about it I’m reminded how I wanted to arrange some practice time again.

It’s my position that outside of a military or police context, only cowards use fully automatic weapons. This is a statement I think that should become the norm in our society. It’s something I think even the most radical right wing fanatics would agree about. I’m not discussing issues of legality or control here. I’m talking about our moral compass as a culture.

If we all agree that fully automatic weapons = cowardice, we can begin to find common ground. Stepping outside the “control or no control” argument seems key.

It’s also my belief, and the workshop confirmed this for me, that we must require significant levels of training and testing before anyone is allowed to own or operate firearms of any kind. It’s not like riding a bike. Even riding a bike takes practice. We ought to, as a society, put firearms in the same category as automobiles. Our government (we, the people) is responsible for our protection. Part of that protection ought to be the requirement that gun owners train, practice, obtain licenses after testing, and get re-tested every year or so (to be determined). We ought to be free to own and operate any kind of weapon we see fit. But those weapons also ought to be available to us only after we show we have the skills required to use them. It’s just common sense.

At some point I’d like to detail the entire experience of the workshop. For now, here are some highlights.

My first shot:

The Henry. My favorite. It was smooth and steady. I felt it was my favorite before I saw how I did firing it, but I did alright with it and that made me like it more.

When they took us out at the end to shoot… I forget what they called them, the things that get shot up into the air, several things were interesting. First, there was almost no guidance about how to do this. I liked that, though, because I like doing things to learn them rather than being told how. It was less satisfying, though, than shooting the (very close) targets because it was hit-or-miss. With the targets there was the satisfaction of knowing how close I was getting. Still, it was a fun way to end the morning.

Keeping ourselves safe shouldn’t be about getting guns into everyone’s hands. It should be about making sure that everyone who has guns is trained in their use. And, of course, criminals will always have weapons. That’s not the point for me, here. Guns are scary, powerful things. Holding a loaded gun in my hands was freaky and strange and exhilarating. It was a meditative experience that brought up many philosophical issues that I’d like to explore further. I will explore them further, in fact. I am glad to understand that it’s not just idiots who like guns. That’s pretty much how I felt, though I knew intellectually that wasn’t the case. It was my sense that only idiots would like guns, what was the point in them anyway, right?
Well, if this social anarchist peace loving empathetic and caring liberal can learn the gun culture isn’t about assholes and power (only) I think maybe some of those guys from that side might learn that those of us who believe regulating firearms aren’t against them entirely. It seems there are opportunities to learn from each other, find common ground, and still hold true to our own values.

We progressive populists are a bunch of wimps. We recognize fear-based ignorance in our fellow Americans as their Islamophobia* rages and all reason and sense fly out the window. Instead of noting their foolishness and getting back to the real issues, we are sucked in. We are reactionaries. So afraid we might be like them we err on the side of milquetoast.
In Destiny Disrupted, Tamim Ansary does an extraordinary job of telling the history of humanity from an Islamic perspective. One of the many elements I found compelling was how clearly he demonstrated the history of the world I knew—and it’s safe to say most Americans were taught a similar history as the one I learned—essentially ignores or omits the existence of what Ansary calls “the middle world.**” It’s a fascinating exercise. Informative, too. As the reader is brought into the earliest days of Islam, we see how the people living there thought of themselves as “the world,” just as European/Westerners did.
What brought me to this book was bits of a public affairs speaker I heard on the radio a month or so ago. I wish I was able to track down the actual speech. It’s possible it was Ayaan Hirsi Ali, though I’m not sure. The speaker’s point was similar to that made by Hirsi Ali, though. Well-meaning progressives are so uncomfortable with what might sound ignorant, racist, or simply hateful, we end up watering down the truth. I began searching for a way to learn what Islam is really about, not what the extremes claim it is about. In Destiny Disrupted I happily found a source of the entire history of Islam written in a near story form. A good read that really brought me into the frame or perspective of Muslims. It did, however, make clear to me that we progressives are chickening out of the real discussion. We’re afraid to say a bad word about Islam in ways we aren’t afraid to criticize almost any other institution.
For example, how many people have a hard time criticizing the Catholic Church for how it managed child sexual abuse? Not many people beyond some conflicted Catholics, I imagine. The situation was horrifying and wrong. We all spoke freely about how the system needed to change, yes?
Well, I’m not prepared to be or planning on being very critical of Islam. And I can guarantee you I will never make blanket statements about “all Muslims.” In fact, Ansary’s book does a beautiful job showing how Islam evolved from the 7th century along many different lines. “Rivers,” he refers to the most common perspectives. It blossomed and bloomed and devolved and starved and expanded. In fact, the Muslim world was much more advanced than its Western counterparts until the Reformation/Industrialization/Nationalism days.
One example of a misguided attempt at defeating ignorance is well described in Ansary’s conclusion. He talks about how American Muslims will say that jihad means the internal struggle to remain true to Allah, that Islam is a religion of peace. This doesn’t respect the reality of the rich history of Islam, however. It is true that some interpretations of the meaning of jihad focus on the internal struggle. However, throughout history, there was a recurring pattern of near-constant warfare on the edges of the Muslim world. This served many purposes (economic, civil, religious) and Ansary explains in the book how it was when this constant fighting at the edges of the community began to fade that the entire larger community (Ummah) started to crumble. For any of us to claim that war, fighting, militancy isn’t a tremendous part of Islam, we’d be just as ignorant as the idiots who think that’s all it is. In fact, for most of the life of Islam it was the victories in warfare that were used as evidence Allah was with them.
In later posts I will address the issue of the role of women in Islam and I’ll likely have a lot more to say. Most important for me to share now is that just as the FOX News loving brain-washed racists who think all Muslims are backwards and evil are wrong, we progressive populists (or liberals or whatever you call yourself if you are someone striving to avoid fear-based hatred and ignorance) shouldn’t be blind to the actual problems that exist in Islam. What we should do, and what I’ve started doing, is learn what it is actually all about. What is the reality. It’s not that all Muslims hate Americans and want to kill us. It’s also not that Islam is a religion of peace and love for all, either. Some Muslims want it to be, but that would require revolutionary change. In any case, we ought to inform ourselves beyond what the mainstream media pass along in their little Western-centric dribbles.
For me, being a populist progressive means believing in freedom and justice for all. It also means not blazing through in opposition to those we know are usually wrong (the radical right, the conservatives) in knee-jerk reactions. We are better than that. In fact, I suggest we all start with that simple interview with Hirsi Ali posted on Salon. She does a fine job noting some of the issues of Islam that deserve strong criticism.

*According to the all-knowing Wikipedia, “in 1997, the British Runnymede Trust defined Islamophobia as the ‘dread or hatred of Islam and therefore, to the fear and dislike of all Muslims.'”
**Rather than using “the Middle East” which places “the West” at the center of the world, Ansary refers to the geographic placement of the Muslim world. Right there, in the middle.

The original title of this post was a call for responses from my Anarchist readers (see questions below).
Only a few weeks ago I thought Libertarian’s were full of crap. I only knew of “Libertarians” as essentially pro-choice Republicans. Since then I’ve had some interesting conversations on Facebook, and I’ve done some reading. A solid handful of Facebook friends have given their perspectives, informing my new ideas. Reading the anarchism sites (see links below), I keep thinking I’m very close to being an Anarchist, or, a Libertarian Socialist.
Big problem, though. I can’t entirely support one of the basic premises of anarchism: eschewing or even flat out rejecting all hierarchy. This is the foundation as I understand it. I find this not only impractical, but can’t wrap my brain around any community that doesn’t have some sort of administrative body to, yes, administer as necessary. And, within administration, there (it seems to me) must be leadership.
In my experience, groups of people typically have only a very small minority of members/participants who understand what kind of administrative tasks are required to make even the most egalitarian system successful. From what I’ve read so far, anarchism doesn’t address the realities of running any kind of organization (large or small) but simply says, “we won’t know until it’s happening.” Quoting Howard Zinn, “You cannot have self-sufficient little collectives, because these collectives have different resources available to them. This is something anarchist theory has not worked out and maybe cannot possibly work out in advance, because it would have to work itself out in practice.”
I’m also lately considering and reconsidering what has been a passion of mine for several years now. This passion is one that leads me towards considering anarchism. Since I read Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, especially and before that when we joined our CSA in 2003: Eat local, buy local, etc. It has all made sense to me where it matters most, in my heart. Logic played a part, too. Local businesses flourish, the environment takes less of a beating, food is fresher and healthier (and tastier), big box beast companies have less success destroying small farms/small companies, etc. After hearing from the author of this article, though, I’ve been rethinking how I feel about the localvore movement. It totally shook me. I’m in the high 80s or more percentage-wise that I’m going to stay committed to the movement. But, honestly, it freaked me out when I realized how much in common I had with some of the most bizarrely, freakishly isolationist sorts I’ve ever encountered. (See question #3 which touches on similar concerns.) So, on to my questions. I am hopeful some of you may give me some thoughtful answers — even if you just give me some decent links. Thanks in advance!
How would you, an Anarchist, answer the following questions?
1) What constitutes “small” in “small collectives?” At what point do these small collectives become too large and need to be broken apart, or… what happens when they grow?
2) How would resources be shared among the collectives?
3) How is anarchism not isolationist, selfish, and self-serving?
One of the conflicts I’m having with the theory is that, yes, I agree hierarchy often leads to oppression. But, if we have no hierarchy (no government leadership) doesn’t that lead to a “to each their own” mentality? How does the attitude of service find its way into the community if there is no statement of commonly agreed upon values (i.e. the Constitution)? It seems to easy for anarchism to equal = do what feels right for your community however you define it which could very, very easily lead to “and screw the rest of you.”
4) In my view: Fighting for justice requires organization. Organization requires leadership. How does anarchism agree or disagree with these statements?
Thanks, again, for any info you share. I most definitely thought “anarchism = chaos” and never pursued the theory beyond that mistaken association. Of course, I’ll do my own further reading. But I thought perhaps it might be interesting for you to consider answers to these questions. In particular, #3 — if I had put them in order of importance to me, what seems most pressing, most incongruent with what I perceive as the otherwise social-justice oriented socio-political theory. And, once more, thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts.