Innocence and Creation

As I mentioned in my last post, I recently did an essay for my writing class about the proverb "innocence is bliss". It ended up developing into a piece about creativity and creation, and I quite like the conclusion I ended up coming to. Anyway, here it is:

As a college student, it is interesting to stop and observe children every so often. To marvel at their wide-eyed naïveté, their blind optimism. To wonder at their reactions to “Real Life” (being the world as it is perceived by adults):

“Sorry Jimmy, no one has been to the moon in almost forty years. Even becoming an astronaut requires that you pass a grueling physical exam.”

“Well, Sarah, police officers aren’t liked too much, and statistically are more likely to experience severe stress.”

“To be a doctor, Philip, you need to do twelve years of grade school, four of college, and then at least another ten or so of med school. And you have to get excellent grades throughout.”

The ignorant, as they say, are blissful. But at times, I wonder about that bliss.

It’s safe to say that most children in the Western world have played with or seen construction toys such as LEGO bricks. Offered in a huge variety of colors and shapes, LEGOs are the ultimate toy for any child with even a sliver of imagination – that is to say, virtually every child. They provide a means to model a child’s understanding of the world – or to create a new reality altogether. And in constructing a naïve image of the world, children remain oblivious to the harshness of Real Life and are happy. As we grow older, however, we begin to incorporate elements of Real Life into our constructed image of the world. At some point, the constructive fun of LEGOs gives way to destructive fun – instead of creating a reality, we choose instead to trample it, to crush it. The activity of building something only to knock it down suggests something about us as humans: That we are never satisfied with our current reality; that we always yearn for improvement, change. A bit further down the line, LEGOs begin to lose their appeal altogether, as the perceived harshness of the Real World begins to override the naïveté of our previous understanding. For some, though, a certain level of innocence (which I will use somewhat interchangeably with ‘ignorance’) remains. Those are the individuals who continue to enjoy LEGOs past childhood, suggesting that childlike happiness need not be forced out by the realities of the world.

This continued innocence is exemplified by Howard Roark of Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead. Roark, an architect, loves his work with childlike passion, and for it is denounced by the architectural community, which glorifies only that which is approved of by the masses. A child with LEGOs does not build to satisfy others but to create a reality; Roark does not build for society, but for himself, to reshape the world into what it could and should be. His innocence allows him to do that which no one else dares to: He sees the contradictions of imitating the styles of the past, laying down his philosophy in an explosive criticism of the Parthenon: “What can be done with one substance must never be done with another… Nothing can be reasonable or beautiful unless it’s made by one central idea, and the idea sets every detail.”

Interestingly enough, The Fountainhead seems to describe two types of ignorance: the childlike innocence which allows Roark and those like him to truly love their work, and an ignorance which allows Ellsworth Toohey, a socialist and personification of evil, to misguide and control society. Randian philosophy argues that truth and human values are objective, with a heavy emphasis upon individualism. Hence it is a willing and intentional ignorance of objective Truth which allows Toohey to manipulate individuals into abandoning their individuality for the sense of security found in belonging to Society. Rand, then, identifies two types of ignorance leading to two types of bliss: a childlike ignorance of the dirty workings of Real Life, which permits us to truly express ourselves and love our work; and a premeditated ignorance of objective truth and individualism, which leads us to believe, as Toohey argues, that “there is no room for the love of others within the tight, crowded miser’s hole of a private ego.”

Though childish naïveté seemed to be glorified in The Fountainhead, it feels rather idealistic (and problematic) for everyone to retain this innocence. It is therefore necessary to examine ignorance and happiness in a somewhat grittier context – namely, the world of Alan Moore’s Watchmen. Watchmen follows a group of forcibly retired vigilantes in post-Vietnam America, as they attempt to save the world one final time.

Although all of the titular Watchmen have abandoned their innocence in their pursuit of justice, it is in the character of Rorschach that this is best personified. True to the shifting patterns of his mask, Rorschach views the world in terms of extremes: “there is good and there is evil, and evil must be punished.” His modus operandi is correspondingly extreme, with no compunction at seriously injuring or killing anyone who he deems to be evil or stands in his way. Like Roark, Rorschach refuses to compromise his ideals for anything - “Not even in the face of Armageddon.” Rorschach is so convinced of his ideals that he will not compromise them, even if they might lead to the destruction of humanity. And for it - like Roark - he is outcast by society, deemed mentally unstable and paranoid.

It is quite clear that Rorschach has abandoned his ignorance entirely and feels that what he does is the right thing. In this, it is possible that he retains some degree of naïveté: For any vigilante to exist, they must have an idealized vision of what humanity can and should be. Thus the actions of Rorschach and other vigilantes may be viewed as construction: replacement of the flawed reality that they see with the reality that they believe should exist. Just like a child knocking down his LEGO constructions, Rorschach chooses to destroy his imperfect reality and replace it with something better. In doing so, he abandons his bliss: he himself confesses to being depressed and difficult to get along with.

Yet Rorschach raises a question: Is bliss necessarily a good thing? In throwing aside ignorance, Rorschach recognizes the path that he must take to improve his reality, and perhaps derives from this a certain type of happiness. Although those mesmerized by Toohey in Rand’s The Fountainhead find bliss, they find it in a perverted sense of superiority, of intellect, of ‘humanitarianism’. How, then, can we reconcile these conflicting depictions of innocence and bliss?

I briefly considered taking the well-worn road of “happiness is subjective and different for everyone and so we need to respect their choices.” But the truth, I think, is more objective than that. Construction requires innocence. To engage in true creation, you must be ignorant of that which others define as ‘correct’ or ‘beautiful’ or ‘proper’. Creation requires a childlike innocence and willingness to try that which has never been attempted or even conceived of. The approval of others is inconsequential to - and must never be allowed to interfere with - this process, through which one can find true happiness and passion. However, when we find that reality does not live up to our expectations, it becomes necessary to abandon ignorance. Construction must yield to destruction for a time as we tear down the flaws of society and reality, only to replace them with something better.

State of the David Address

I figured it was about time to do an update-post, so here goes.

School's been going quite well. I had my first Calculus 3 midterm last Wednesday, and we got the tests back on Friday. The exam was on functions of several variables, limits & continuity, and vectors. The, uh, class average was around a 60 (My section had the highest average at a 62.something - more on that in a moment, and others were in the 50s [I believe one section got below a 50]). I got a 98. So, ah, yeah. Doin' well. As I mentioned in the parenthesis, my class had the highest average at a 62 point something, which apparently was only because of three people in the class who got above a 90. Two of them (myself being one) got 98s, though I'm unsure of who the other one is.

I went and visited my high school at the end of last week and spent a while talking to my BC Calculus teacher. At one point he jokingly asked if I was happy with the 98 or if I was mad that I missed the two points that I did. My answer kind of summarizes my philosophy on learning and whatnot: I'm pretty much at the point where I don't really care about grades too much. I believe that I learn solely because I'm really interested in the material and really enjoy learning. Grades sort of follow along. Though it's a bit idealistic, I'd argue that this mindset is far superior to the "oh no I need to get a whateverpercent on this exam so I can maintain my whatevergrade so I can get a whateverGPA so I can graduate and go to whateverschool" that I see in a lot of people. If you're learning because you're genuinely interested in the material and want to understand it, you don't have to worry about grades because you'll understand the material. Moreover, I almost enjoy exams, because I view them as a way to learn new ways of applying the material, etc., and enjoy the challenge. So, yeah, that's me on education and learning.

Oh, I've got genetics and chemistry midterms this week, but again I'm not really too concerned, due to previous stuff.

We're currently working on a 'fission essay' in my writing class - essentially we have to use three items picked randomly to prove an also-randomly picked proverb. I'm using LEGOs, Ayn Rand, and Rorschach from Watchmen (Aw yeah, another assignment where I get to use Watchmen!) to prove the proverb "innocence is bliss". I've actually made pretty good headway in linking the three together and have a fairly in-depth and interesting essay in the works. I'll probably put it up once I finish.

In non-school-stuff, we've started learning tonfa in martial arts. I'm quite excited because I've wanted to learn them for a while now - they're reasonably sized and could theoretically be carried around. Potentially useful! We also modified ours a bit - the handles were a bit wobbly, so we put in screws from the bottom of the weapon into the handle so they're sturdy. I also engraved the Batman sign into the tops of the knobs on the handles: BAT-TONFAS. Pictures maybe sometime.

'Til next time!

Who Watches the Watchmen?

So I'm taking a sociology class this semester, and we just had an assignment to explore deviance in a TV show or movie. I chose Watchmen, as it's one of my favorite graphic novels/movies to date. I watched it last night (The extended version is freakin' long - something like 225 minutes), and just finished up the essay. Thought I'd put the essay up here for amusement.

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Despite traditional portrayals of deviance and violence as unacceptable, modern media does much to glorify these behaviors. Often times this deviant behavior is portrayed as being a ‘necessary evil’ to overcome deviance of a greater and more pressing type, as is the case in portrayals of vigilante justice. The 2009 film Watchmen is an excellent example of this, depicting the struggles of a group of vigilante masked heroes who take it upon themselves to accomplish what traditional justice cannot. Despite the fact that the film – and the graphic novel upon which it is based – challenge the traditional view of superhero fantasy with a more cold and nihilistic outlook, it also glorifies the deviant vigilante modus operandi to a certain degree.

Deviance, from a sociological perspective, is defined as any behavior that violates cultural norms and evokes a negative reaction from others, regardless of whether said behavior is illegal or not. As such, there is a considerable amount of variance in the severity of any deviance as seen by society. The deviance portrayed in Watchmen is most often of the illegal variety, encompassing violence and murder, various types of property crime, rape, etc. As such it was often quite easy to determine when an act was deviant and an extremely selective definition of deviance was not necessary.

As previously mentioned, the types of deviance featured in Watchmen varied widely, though most fell under the umbrella of criminal deviance. Easily the most recognizable and prominent type of deviance is violence: in order to combat the rampant crime in New York, the titular Watchmen resort to extralegal vigilantism, whose modus operandi is violence. The most extreme of the Watchmen, Rorschach, clearly subscribes to a radically conservative view of crime: he mocks a psychologist for having “what you call compassion… wanting to protect and understand the guilty, this rotting society, what it calls rehabilitation… nothing short of compromise”. Hence he believes that criminals are inherently evil people and the only way to deal with them is to punish them. This belief is taken to a deviant level by the means through which he punishes crime: In one particular scene he chooses to brutally kill a kidnapper turned murderer, declaring that “Men get arrested. Dogs get put down”. Though the other vigilantes do not express as radical a belief as Rorschach, they all believe to one degree or another that the only appropriate treatment for criminals is punishment. Rorschach’s deviance is further compounded by the fact that, in the film’s alternate United States, masked vigilantes have been declared illegal by the so-called Keene Act. He alone refuses to reveal his identity and retire.

Rape is also portrayed in Watchmen when one member of the Watchmen, the Comedian, attempts to rape another, the Silk Spectre. The Comedian appears to have an extremely nihilistic perspective on life, choosing (as Rorschach puts it) to become “a parody” of what the world truly is. As such, it is perhaps unsurprising that he has no qualms about attempting to rape one of his colleagues or any of the other extreme deviance which he engages in, such as beating civilians to ‘maintain order’ and gunning down a pregnant woman in Vietnam.

Easily the most extreme case of deviance, however, occurs at the film’s climax, when Ozymandias – a previous member of the Watchmen and, arguably, the film’s antagonist – launches attacks on major population centers, under the guise of the godlike Dr. Manhattan. By doing so, he distracts humanity’s attention from warring with itself, making mutual protection against an alien force the priority. Ozymandias takes a radical functionalist approach, stating that he has killed millions “to save billions”. Though his dream of a utopia appears to be realized, the means by which he reaches his ends are indisputably deviant, a severe case of a consensus crime (i.e., directly killing millions of people would be widely recognized as unacceptable).

One of the central tenets of vigilantism is that in order to truly battle evil, it is necessary to do evil – most often in the form of extralegal violence against criminals. As such, the depictions of deviance in Watchmen depend greatly upon who it is that is engaging in the deviant behavior. The Watchmen, unsurprisingly, respond quite negatively – that is to say, violently – to the deviance of their traditional ‘enemies’: criminals, supervillains, etc. Said reaction is also evoked in the audience, with emotional and jarring scenes such as the death of the first and now elderly Nite Owl, beaten to death with a trophy celebrating his work as a superhero. On the other hand, the deviant behavior of the Watchmen is, for the most part, portrayed as heroic and ‘necessary’. Although vigilantism is frowned upon by the fictional American government, it is made easy to sympathize even with Rorschach, who resorts to murder multiple times throughout the course of the film. Other members of the Watchmen seem to celebrate his hard-line approach as well, even being amused at a story where he dropped an otherwise innocent civilian posing as a supervillain in order to get attention (and, possibly, satisfy masochistic desires) down an elevator shaft. The vigilante modus operandi is celebrated as a ‘necessary evil’, and, to a degree, romanticized. To male members of the audience, it is also a chest-pounding celebration of that which is considered masculine: physical strength, justice, extreme rationality, and refusal to back down in the face of adversity.

The line between criminal and vigilante deviance is blurred when the plans of Ozymandias are discovered – although the initial reaction is negative and violent, second thoughts are had when he reveals that the plans worked. With the United States and Soviet Union pledging to work together to move forward, united, the Watchmen realize that in order to preserve the peace, they must remain silent about the true nature of the attacks. The lone exception to this is Rorschach, who declares that he will “never surrender. Not even in the face of Armageddon”. This confusion about the nature and acceptability of the deviance may be due to the changing depiction of Ozymandias: although his actions are unquestionably criminal, the ends to which he aspires are laudable. Hence he is portrayed as an extreme functionalist, willing to sacrifice the lives of millions in order to save the human race as a whole. Although the audience may understand Ozymandias’ plans from a logical perspective, they are still depicted as cold and calculating, and it is difficult to sympathize with his deviance as with the other Watchmen.

This confusion over “killing millions to save billions” serves to challenge the traditional depiction of superheroes and vigilantism. The viewer is initially led to sympathize with and trust the judgment of the Watchmen: although their actions are deviant and, in many cases, illegal, they are portrayed as accomplishing that which traditional justice and norms cannot. This trust is then brought into question when Ozymandias executes his plans. The viewer is left to ponder the unquestioning trust placed in the Watchmen and, ultimately, in almost any authority figure.

Hence the changing depiction of deviance in Watchmen leads viewers to question the norm of placing almost blind trust in authority figures and public heroes. Viewers are led to respect and trust the vigilantes’ role of extralegal justice, but this trust is overturned and replaced with doubt as Ozymandias demonstrates the extreme measures that a trusted individual might take in order to make “progress”. As graffiti throughout the film demands to know, “Who watches the watchmen?”