The Brain Dump

Here we are once again. Christmas. And even here in China t'is the season. Christina went over to the local hypermarket, Dennis, looking for . . . I can't remember what, but she came back with this week's Pic o' the Week:

“Why must I be surrounded by frickin' idiots?”
- Dr. Evil

I was listening to NPR this morning, their Weekend Edition program, when Scott Simon delivered a commentary on the recent attacks in Mumbai entitled “Evil in Mumbai.” He begins the article by sharing with us his increasing discomfort with the way journalists are searching for the motives of the people behind these attacks. “A word like ‘motive,’” he explains, “seems to imply there was reason or purpose. It suggests that, however profane their actions, the terrorists had the incentive of some goal in mind.” But he’s been a reporter for a long time and he’s come to his own conclusions—that “the perpetrators of such crimes might just be . . . evil” (ellipsis in original).

He goes on to say: “The people killed this week in Mumbai were not collateral damage, which has become an ugly enough term, but the very objects of damage: human beings who became the targets of a murder spree, however terrorists and apologists may ultimately embroider the assault with supposed political significance.”

These people are evil, says Scott Simon, and we should leave it at that.

Hearing a rhetorical argument of this caliber on NPR took me quite by surprise—NPR having, at least in my mind, a reputation for not reducing stories to highly-charged, emotional terms. I was surprised enough, in fact, to blog about it. . . . Because it echoes for me an ever-present danger that we humans face, have faced, will always face in our lives: The ease and comfort of dehumanizing the goals and methods of those who do not share our worldview.

Scott Simon’s commentary reminded me of “god terms” and “devil terms” as coined by Richard M. Weaver in The Ethics of Rhetoric. “God terms,” Weaver explains, “are words particular to a certain age and are vague . . . that seem impenetrable and automatically give a phrase positive meaning. In contrast, ‘devil terms’ are the mirror image” (Weaver 222-23). He gives “progress” and “freedom” as examples of god terms, “Nazi” and “Un-American” as devil terms.

My problem with Mr. Simon’s commentary is not that he labels the Mumbai attacks “evil,” per se, but the rhetorical baggage he topples on top of that—that we shouldn’t bother uncovering the motives behind the killings (if they even exist) and the implication that those who do so are terror “apologists.”

“Terror” and “evil” are two particularly potent devil terms these days—what with a war on the former and the axis of the latter. But what are these nebulous and impenetrable things? The international community is tellingly unable to agree upon a definition of terrorism. Is it an unlawful act of violence? A form of unconventional warfare? Psychological warfare? The use of terror as a means of coercion? An illegitimate form of protest? *shrug* But terrorists are evil—that much we do know!

There is something in Western logic called the law of the excluded middle. It states that any thing must either be or not be. It works wonders in calculus, but, unfortunately, when applied to ethics—and especially politics—it more often than not results in a false dilemma. The thing about god and devil terms is that they come with prepackaged false dilemmas. Either you’re a terrorist or you’re not. Either you’re evil or you’re not. What these propositions don’t realize is that in life no such universals can hold true for any length of time. We are all nothing but excluded middles and contradictions. “I am large, I contain multitudes,” Walt Whitman declared in 1855. We continue to ignore him.

We understand our own culture, our own values and goals, our own methods for attaining them, and as such we understand how intricate and complex our desires can be. Thus, it is rare that we reduce ourselves to simple black and white, god and devil, terms (unless there’s an election). But when we are confronted with a value system dressed in markedly different trappings—ones we do not recognize—we do not bother to dig deeper than those trappings, to try to find the hidden (and so easily excluded) middle ground between us. Obi-Wan Kenobi warned Luke that “many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.” Change that point of view and everything can seem alien, foreign, even evil.

For instance: What are we to make of people who would purposefully target not military installations but the residential districts of a city—not once, but repeatedly over time—in an effort to destroy the will of a people? Do they sound like terrorists?

Am I calling the United States evil? Of course not. I argue instead that “evil” is not something that one is or is not. No, like the role of a terrorist, evil is something that anyone, especially you and me, can adopt—depending on the situation and your point of view.

But why? Why do these people do this? Why cause so much pain? Why sacrifice yourself on the Altar of Terror?

President George W. Bush has equated acts of terrorism to acts of war. I disagree. I believe acts of terrorism are acts of desperation. These are people who see no legitimate avenue to vent their grievances—no peaceful means to resolve their problems. They have been oppressed, they have been marginalized, they have been excluded. And they will not go gentle into that good night. Does that justify their actions? Absolutely not. But understanding what motivates them brings us one step closer to preventing it from happening again.

Every person in this world exists within a set of economic, cultural, racial, etc. systems. These systems shape our ideologies and our actions. When we perceive a system that is overly oppressive, that does not allow us a means of self-expression and social justice, one course of action open to us is to change the system. Terrorists are an extreme example of this—though we must remember that no two terrorist groups fight for exactly the same thing. And we are not wholly innocent, because these are global systems that we assent to.

Perhaps this is a strange post to follow one entitled "Schadenfreude," but . . . I've already invoked Walt Whitman once! Need I do so again?

The people behind the attacks on Mumbai were human, and as such they had motives and the incentive of some goal to push them to their act of heinous violence. I don’t care, one way or the other, if they were evil or not. I only care about taking steps to ensure that no reporter—not Scott Simon or anyone else—will ever have to cover another killing like this again.

I severely underestimated how much joy I would feel while failing many of my students. I thought maybe I would feel a little remorse, maybe a little guilty . . . nope. None o' that. In fact, I feel a little giddy. Mwa ha ha . . .

It's not that I want them to fail. It's more that . . . well . . . these students have been such little shits all semester that it just warms my heart to know (because it's up to me) that (at least in my class) these students will get the grade they most richly earned.

I mean, seriously: Daydreaming, sleeping during class, texting, (<---and these are the options I hope to see in class! because usually there's more) talking in class, having little doodle conversations (the bastards) while I'm trying to lecture or while their classmates are trying to improve their oral English, playing music on their damn phones, talking on their damn phones--I actually had students make calls right in the middle of class!--blank stares when I ask them to stop, when I ask their opinion, when I ask them if they have any idea what we are talking about in class.

I have yelled, I have asked, I have pleading that they pay attention, act respectfully, shut the fuck up, and everything I say gets ignored. I tried to get them not to come to class, so that they can't be disruptive. That, of course, is disregarded. Ooooooh, but now it's my turn. Now the teacher gets his say.

I took attendance in all my classes last week. It was the first time the whole semester I did so and it wasn't because I cared who showed up. Oh no. It was so that I could mark by each name their participation grade. I have one class (admittedly my worst) of fifty-two students . . . twenty-two are receiving zeros for participation. This minor victory is couched a little because of the terrible way we have to proportion our grades. Participation and such (all the actual work they do during the semester) is only 20% of the final grade, the final oral exam being the remaining 80%.

Oh but my day will come. Because I can guarantee you right now that the students who didn't participate in my class are the students who will not do well on the final exam.

It's these little things that keep my world turning 'round. . . .

Monday

谢 - xie4 (thanks)
橘 - ju2 (tangerine)
结 - jie2 (to tie together; knot), jie1 (to bear fruit)
熹 - xi3 (to enjoy, to give enjoyment to); This one actually doesn't use the four dots on the bottom, but I couldn't find that version of the character
欢 - huan1 (be pleased)
足 - zu2 (foot; be sufficient)
跟 - gen1 (heel; to follow, to go with; with)

Tuesday

青 - qing1 (be green or blue)
请 - qing3 (to invite; please . . .); Yes, that's how it is in the book, ellipsis and all
情 - qing2 (emotion; circumstances)
清 - qing1 (be clear; to clear)
晴 - qing2 (clear sky)
睛 - jing1 (the pupil of the eye)
问 - wen4 (to ask for information)

Wednesday

闻 - wen2 (to hear)
间 - jian4 (space; be separated from; to separate, "drive a wedge between," sow discord, Yoko Ono), jian1 (between; a measure-word for rooms); I may have embellished this one. . . .
别 - bie2 (to separate, to part; Don't . . . !)
朋 - peng2 (friend)
友 - you3 (friend)
父 - fu4 (father)
毋 - wu2 (don't!)

Thursday

见 - jian4 (to see, to perceive)
亲 - qin1 (relatives; to hold dear; in person), qing4 (relatives by a marriage)
母 - mu3 (mother)
哥 - ge1 (elder brother)
吊 - diao4 (to pity)
弟 - di4 (younger brother; family name)
姐 - jie3 (older sister)

Friday

妹 - mei4 (younger sister)
纸 - zhi3 (paper)
长 - chcang2 (be long), zhang3 (to grow; be senior)
张 - zhang1 (to open out, to open up; a measure for objects coming in sheets; a family name)
画 - hua4 (to paint, a painting)
臼 - jiu4 (mortar)
白 - bai2 (be white; a family name)

This delicious Pic o' the Week stars Christina, once again. Our tutor, Cathrine, and her friend, Lucy, came over to our place on Sunday and made dumplings and whole bunch of other food for us. Here is Christina, offering a helping hand. I would have taken a picture of Cathrine and Lucy . . . except my camera ran out of battery. Anywho:

I ate . . . something in the area of fifty thousand of these dumplings. This was mid-afternoon. I did not eat again until the next day. Mmmmm . . . dumplings . . .

The heavens part and drums roll like thunder . . .

Animals bow and the baboon steps forward . . .

Behold . . .

Here stands before you a man . . . who would read doodles.

And I did! It was at a supermarket that opened up today(!), which meant that every doodle in the province wanted to stop by and check out the low low prices. Christina's and my tutor, Cathrine, and her ever-present friend, Lucy, gave us a call to tell us the good news (that the supermarket was opening), and Christina and I decided to see what all the hub-bub was about, seeing as we our out of rice.

The place was mobbed. The only thing missing was the rage virus. But. But! That isn't what's important. None of this, in fact, is important. What's important is that this guy [*twiddles thumbs at self*], this guy is the guy who finally read a sign in doodles. The sign--that magical, literacy unlocking sign--read this:

小心有电

Ha HA! I know, I know--not exactly Earth-shattering. But I'll take it!

For those who are doodle-impaired, allow me to explain what this wonderous sign is saying. The characters read as thus: xiao3xin1 you3 dian4. 小, you may recall (if you've been keeping up with your doodles), means "small," and 心 means "heart." However, when they are crammed together, they form a compound doodle that means "Caution." Don't ask why. The next one, 有, is the verb "to have," but it can also mean "There is" or "There are." I learned this doodle this week, I believe. The last one, 电, means "electricity." I shouldn't know that one but I do because I kept seeing it around and finally asked one of my students what it was on one random occasion.

So.

Following from the doodles, I correctly read the sign as saying: "Caution, Electricity"

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

So what I'm really trying to say is:

1) I saw the sign.
2) It did, indeed, open up my eyes.

And now it's like a whole new world has opened up before me. A whole new world! Hit it, Nick!

My New Zealand friend, Robert, told me something interesting on my birthday a couple weeks ago. He said that I'm a year older here in China than I am in the United States--twenty-seven, instead of twenty-six. This is because the Chinese say you are already a year old on the day you are born. In the ol' US of A, you have to live that year before it counts. The Chinese go ahead and give it to you on credit. Or, as Robert put it, "There optimists in that regard." So go fig. I'm a year older (wiser?) just by being here.

I share this along with something else. I recently learned how to say "hair" (tou2fa1, 头发), and, already knowing the word for red, felt confident telling my students (chest puffed out with pride), "我的头发是红色的!" (My hair is red!). But when I did, their spoony little faces did not fill with joy as I had assumed they would, but puzzlement. "红色的?" they said. "不是红色的!" And now we're all confused.

"What color do you think my hair is?" I ask them.

"Yellow!" yell a chorus of giggly doodles.

"Yellow?! You think I'm blond?"

"Yes!" yell some. "黄色的!" yell others. "Yellow!"

Thinking this class silly, I asked my next. The same response. I asked more people and they all said the same thing, culminating with a short but fun discussion of American and Chinese concepts of beauty between myself, Christina, our Mandarin tutor, Cathrine, and her friend, Lucy. The Chinese have spoken: Chris Walsh is blond.

These thoughts have been tickling my brain the past day or so. I share my body with a blond twenty-seven-year-old. I wonder how else this Chinese Chris differs from his American counterpart. I guess I'll have to wait and see.

Here they are, as promised. The doodles I am studying for this week (I'm pretty stoked as some of these (like the numbers) seem actually pertinent to my life):

Monday

都 - yi4 (city); Just the right side of this guy, looks like an ear . . . has nothing to do with an ear
都 - dou1 (all), du1 (metropolis, capital)
廾 - gong3 (clasped hands)
廿 - nian4 (twenty); Picture of two tens stuck together . . . though most just say "er4shi2" . . . which means twenty
或 - huo4 (perhaps; or)
匚 - fang1 (basket)
四 - si4 (four)

Tuesday

五 - wu3 (five)
六 - liu4 (six)
七 - qi1 (seven)
九 - jiu3 (nine)
什 - shen2 (the first syllable of shen2me, or "what?")
么 - me (the second syllable of shen2me, or "what?")
桌 - zhuo1 (table)

Wednesday

椅 - yi3 (chair)
东 - dong1 (east)
戋 - jian1 (to be thin)
钱 - qian2 (money; a family name)
浅 - qian3 (be shallow, superficial; be mild)
个 - ge4 (a "measure" used to enumerate nouns in the construction "number + ge4 + noun;" be individual)
文 - wen2 (pattern; language, literature, culture; civil (opposed to military); a family name)

Thursday

这 - zhei4, zhe4 (this)
那 - na4, nei4, ne4 (that [opposite of "this"])
合 - he2 (to join, to bring together)
给 - gei3 (to give; to allow; for [someone] . . .), ji1 (to supply)
有 - [no pronunciation] ("Top of 左"); Just the upper and left parts here--not the rectangular part
有 - you3 (to have; there is; there are)
干 - gan1 (shield; have to do with; be dry, be dried; be empty; emptily, futilely), gan4 (trunk, main part; to do)

Friday

走 - zou3 (to walk)
厂 - chang3 (factory)
刊 - dao1 (knife [side-knife radical]); Just the right side here
殳 - shu1 (club, to club)
没 - mo4 (inundate), mei2 (negates you3 and other verbs)
身 - shen1 (torso)
寸 - cun4 (thumb; inch)

Everybody still with me? So we can now count to ten, which means we can string 'em together and count to a hundred (Woo!). Actually, with this batch, I'm getting a little more optimistic on the whole "reading a single sign" front. More next week.

Alright, alriiiiiight. So I fell down on the job again with my Pic o' the Week. Well, here it is. Only a day late (a buck short . . . I'm wri-ting--focus Walsh!).

This week's pic is of my valiant steed, who I have been riding more around Anyang. Here she is, Princess Charm:

That's right! She's a girl's bike. And I ask you this: Is a man less of a men who rides a mare? I submit that he is not. Charm treats me well. And I do the same for her. Though I have to put the "princess" part on the proverbial down-low [shouts from Christina in the other room: "I'm the only princess!"].



Just for funsies, here's a picture of Christina with her bike, Chou Chou:



I'm sifting through the 100+ photos Christina and I took of Kaifeng that I said I would upload . . . last Tuesday (double-liar-face!). I promise to upload those soon. I must redeem my liar-face!

Alright, alright. I promised to post the other set of characters that I'm running through on Friday of last week and I didn't. So I'm a big, fat liar-face. Not that I imagine any of you are exactly vibrating with joy to see me list another thirty-five doodles. Well, whether you like it or not, today is Doodle Day, and to make up for my liar-face-ness, you'll get the rest tomorrow.

Here we go:

Monday

刀 - dao1 (knife); I'm told it looks like a knife . . . maybe if you're Chinese
分 - fen1 (to divide; a fraction; a very small part), fen4 (a component; a share, one's lot); This one's a picture of the knife cutting something in half
皿 - min3 (dish); I try to think of a dish drying rack . . . you find what works for you
立 - li4 (to stand; to cause to stand, to set up; to be standing; be upright, vertical; to exist, to live; immediate [right away, instant]); Yeah, I still have trouble with this one . . . I try to work the vertical thing . . . this doodle sucks
里 - li3 (village; lining; inside, in), li (1/3 an English mile)
理 - li3 (grain [e.g., of wood]; principle; reason, logic, truth; [by metonymy] natural science; to set in order; to speak to; to pay attention to); Mmmm . . . good luck with this one, too
中 - zhong1 (middle; Chinese), zhong4 (hit the middle, fit perfectly; be hit or affected by); This one's easy enough, and, since it means "China" when combined with 国, it's friggin' everywhere

Tuesday

钟 - zhong1 (clock; family name); A metal zhong . . .
表 - [no pronunciation], this one's actually just the top part, and is called "top of 青"--I like a language that's practical
表 - biao3 (to show; be on the surface, be external; list, form; meter, gauge; watch [timepiece])
国 - guo2 (nation)
羊 - yang2 (sheep, goat; a family name); Supposed to be a picture . . . whatever
外 - wai4 (outside; relatives of one's mother, sisters, or daughters); Still wrapping my head around this one
看 - kan4 (to look at), kan1 (to look after, take care of); This is the character for hand on top of the character for eye . . . that equals "to look at" for the doodles

Wednesday

西 - xi1 (west)
贵 - gui4 (expensive); *shrug*
更 - geng4 (still more), geng1 (to change; a "watch" [two hour period of the night])
便 - bian4 (be convenient), pian2 (first syllable of pian2yi [be expensive])
祖 - [no pronunciation] (side-hand radical); This one is actually just the left half of that doodle
且 - qie3 (further); just memorize it
祖 - zu3 (grandfather; ancestor; a family name); See above

Thursday

租 - zu1 (rent, to rent; hire, lease)
组 - zu3 (to organize; a unit of organization, such as a section or department)
宜 - yi2 (be appropriate)
要 - yao4 (to want, to ask for; be "wanted," be important, essential)
署 - wang3 (net); Actually just the top part, kinda looks like a net . . .
头 - tou2 (head; a suffix used to form nouns and noun-phrases; a bulb [of garlic]; a measure word for certain animals)
买 - mai3 (to buy)

Friday

卖 - mai4 (to sell)
日 - ri4 (sun); like the moon with less strokes . . .
老 - [no pronunciation], actually just the top part, some radical or another . . .
老 - lao3 (old)
者 - zhe3 (a sufix for verbs [verb + 者 = "a person who . . .", compare with English suffix -er])
猪 - quan3 (dog); Actually just the left side (side-dog)
猪 - zhu1 (pig)