Government Shutdown Hypocrisy

Firstly, I have to say that I don't understand all the particulars of the Minnesota budget debate. Frankly, I also don't care. Maybe that makes me an irresponsible constituent, but whatever... All I care is that the government comes to some sort of agreement today. I don't care who "wins" or "loses." This makes me a minority; everybody seems to want to be right. Everybody also wants to give the impression that they are being reasonable and the other side isn't.

Honestly, I don't know who is being reasonable (probably few if anybody). I scanned a few articles today, and--surprise, surprise--the ones with a liberal bent are complaining that the Republican-controlled legislature isn't budging, while the ones with a conservative bent are complaining that Governor Dayton (a Democrat) isn't budging.

What is clear is that if nothing is solved soon the state government will be shutdown--save a few essential services. Some of this makes sense: clearly certain things can't be run without a budget. But other things are more than a little perplexing. I mean... who knows what is an essential service and what isn't? For those who are losing their jobs for indeterminate amount of time that would seem quite essential. Some of them, as far as I can tell, are going to be eligible for unemployment, but I can't tell if anybody is going to be working to process the unemployment benefits. This is, in short, a mess.

But the final hypocrisy is the matter of Canterbury race track and card club in Shakopee. Honestly, this might be the least important service that we would lose, though the jobs and entertainment are important--I understand. Personally, I've never been to Canterbury, so I have no immediate ties. However, I find the idea that a state government shutdown would close Canterbury to be somewhere between ridiculous and criminal.

The reason is simple: Canterbury is not subsidized by the state one penny. Zero. Its license is renewed through July (as I understand it). Simply, it is a pure money-generator for the state. But come tonight it could be shutdown.

The reason is simple: the state wants us to miss it. Maximum pain for maximum effect. This way if you aren't losing your insurance (which many Minnesotans will be), or if you aren't affected by license closures (which many Minnesotans are), then perhaps you will be affected by the loss of your personal entertainment. Meanwhile, legislators and the governor will be complaining about a lack of funds. Well, I know where you can start: stop making a point and trying to be right; start actually representing your peoples' interests.

HP moment #6: I must not tell lies

The following is #6 in a series of blog posts counting down my ten favorite Harry Potter moments leading up to the release of Deathly Hallows, pt. 2. Look for a post every couple of days as we near mid-July.

Delores Umbridge is--hem hem--a piece of work. While the HP universe has its share of classic megalomaniac characters Umbridge may take the cake for the most hated. I think it's at least in part because those of us from the upper Midwest see the absurd passive-aggressive complex she has. All of us know people like that: ones who smile and nod then secretly check a mental box to go behind your back and do exactly what they said they wouldn't, or people who say "interesting" or "I see" a lot.

 

Umbridge is that and more. She is the perfect face for the Ministry of Magic, as they seek to discredit and eventually remove Dumbledore from Hogwarts. Her pink cardigan, fake laugh, and snobbish attitude are downright infuriating. I'm getting upset right now just thinking about it. When Fred and George leave Hogwarts in a cascade of fireworks and magical mischief it was a moment worth celebrating. Somebody stuck it to her.

Then it got even better.

Order of the Phoenix features a moody Harry Potter facing off against a disbelieving student body, the lie-spouting Daily Prophet, and that thing in the pink up above. Umbridge goes as far as forcing Harry to carve "I must not tell lies" into the back of his hand--the scar a constant reminder of the torture she put him through.

So, when Harry and Hermione take Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest and she encounters the centaurs what can we do but cheer? In the movie, she begs Harry to tell the centaurs she means them no harm. "Sorry," said Harry, "I must not tell lies, remember?" It doesn't occur in the books, but which of us didn't want it to?

Rarely in the books do we celebrate a character's troubles--even in the case of Snape, Malfoy, or even Voldemort (remember, Harry gives him the chance to show remorse!). Yet, when it comes to Umbridge I am unapologetic. She deserves it. Perhaps it's just my opportunity to exorcise my passive-aggression, but I don't care.

Myth busted?

For many years now I've loved watching the show, Mythbusters, on the Discovery Channel. In short, it's brilliant science experiments, explosions, and answers to all sorts of questions that many of us have wondered. In recent years, the show has sometimes become a little too Hollywood for my taste, testing "movie myths" and offering more explosions with less substance, but I abstain. That isn't my real concern. The show works. It's great, but I have to say... the name is a bit misleading.

 

Let me explain. As with many glamorized, media-driven spectacles, Mythbusters isn't exactly as billed. The problem is that the Busters need to set up a controlled scientific experiment in order for the results to be conclusive; that is the premise. A standard way in which they test myths is to start small scale, prove the concept, move to standard scale and find a repeated result, then if the myth is busted at a standard scale they move on to a large-scale, "above and beyond" situation to test the circumstances under which the myth could indeed be true.

The problem is that this approach only truly "busts" some myths. If the myth is phrased "every time A and B happen, C is the result" then the Busters are golden, because they can test repeated results. No problem. If it happens over and over again, well, as Grant so often says, that's science! But if the myth is phrased "when and A and B happen, C happened once" then we have a bit of a snafu. Mythbusters is predicated on repetition of events. They attempt to find the circumstances under which repeated results can be achieved. If A and B always equal C, perfect. If they did once and never again, then... well, Mythbusters are without the scientific method. It is what Christians might call a miracle. The scientific method has no tools for miracles because it is predicated on the idea that miracles don't happen. This could be true. Or it could be false. Regardless, the method has no tools to suggest one way or another; in short, it cannot "prove" itself.

I am reminded of the episode when Tory attempts to intimidate a plant by thinking evil thoughts about it while Kari has it hooked up to a machine (I believe it was a polygraph) to detect any change in the plants "emotional" state. Surprisingly, when Tory was in the same room as the plant--and thinking about burning it to the ground--there was movement on the needle. The Mythbusters were stunned. They went on to test with Tory outside the room and no similar result was achieved. Flash to Grant telling us that since it wasn't repeatable it wasn't scientific. True... but does that mean it's impossible?

I am a type-7 personality, so I am constantly intrigued by possibilities and I try not to discount anything until it seems to me so unlikely or purposeless that it is not worth pursuing. Mythbusters piques my interest, but they are encumbered by the uniformity of the scientific method. Everything is packaged. It makes for a great show, a formulaic show, and by the standards they have set for themselves it is a nearly perfectly executed show. But only some myths work.

I love the show and realistically there is no way to do it better, but the implications lie just beyond the work. Adam Savage recently talked about doing an episode to debunk creationism. I have no doubt that if he did so, the Mythbusters would have no problem busting the myth. I, too, have serious doubts  with creationism (truth be told), but my point isn't in the result but the methodology. Worse still, we end up at a point where faith and science are pitted against each other, as if one needs to assert its dominance over the other. I'm hopeful that these kinds of questions can open dialogue rather than close it. I believe the Spirit is moving us to discover more about who we are and where we stand every day of our lives. Shows like these break through the monotony of awful messages pumped into our lives, so I want to celebrate Mythbusters while I suggest that there is something profound just beyond the horizon.

In the meantime I intend to wonder: Does that begonia know my feelings?

HP moment #7: Christmas Dinner with Trelawney

The following is #7 in a series of blog posts counting down my ten favorite Harry Potter moments leading up to the release of Deathly Hallows, pt. 2. Look for a post every couple of days as we near mid-July.  

 I believe very strongly that Harry Potter has depth that is elusive in most stories these days. It has characters that are more than ghosts meant to prove a point; it has plot twists not solely for the sake of making us admire the author's wit but to add further uncertainty to our preconceptions of the characters and their actions. Characters have real emotions; they have life-like feelings--legitimate worries. Finally, Rowling isn't above giving us a much needed laugh every once in a while.

One such of those moments happened in Prisoner of Azkaban when Professor Trelawney joins the students and staff for Christmas dinner. Trelawney is a feature in POA largely because of her repeated claims foreboding Harry's death. She is comic relief and insight into the wizarding view of prophecy and divination generally, but this moment is certainly her most hilarious.

We pick up the action as Harry and Ron get up from the table...

"My dears! [exclaimed Trelawney] Which of you left his seat first? Which?"

"Dunno," said Ron, looking uneasily at Harry.

"I doubt it will make much difference," said Professor McGonagall coldly, "unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall."

And that, my friends, is Professor Trelawney.

HP moment #8: "I'm with you."

The following is #9 in a series of blog posts counting down my ten favorite Harry Potter moments leading up to the release of Deathly Hallows, pt. 2. Look for a post every couple of days as we near mid-July.  

When Dumbledore takes Harry from the Dursley house at the beginning of Half-Blood Prince he makes a detour to recruit the old Potions master, Horace Slughorn. This unexpected stop opens the sixth book by introducing a nearly 16-year-old Harry who has yet to come into his own. The evidence of this Rowling gives in a subtle line that I missed upon my first read. It happens as Dumbledore reassures Harry that it is unlikely he will be attacked this night.

"Why not, sir?" [Harry responds]

"You are with me," said Dumbledore simply.

 Fast-forward to the climactic end of Half-Blood Prince and Rowling's subtle clues begin to unravel. Harry is about to leave with Dumbledore in search of the Horcrux: a search that takes him to the cave while his friends battle Draco and Co. back at Hogwarts. Before he leaves, he hands Hermione his Felix Felicis, saying "I'll be fine, I'll be with Dumbledore." He echoes the same assurance Dumbledore gave him.

It is a mark of Harry's character that he is able to trust so deeply after losing the greatest protectors in his life: his parents and Sirius. But this one great figure remains: Dumbledore. As long as Dumbledore remains in Harry's life you get the sense that he will never realize what he is capable of becoming. The person who seems to understand this best is Dumbledore himself, who has been grooming Harry throughout the first six years at Hogwarts for a time when he'll no longer be there.

I didn't realize Dumbledore was going to die early on in the book. I didn't even realize when they were heading off to the cave or when he was surrounded by Inferi. But I had to put the book down when I came across an exchange that foreshadowed a blow that would turn the series upside down heading into the final book. The passage went like this:

"It's going to be all right, sir," Harry said over and over again, more worried by Dumbledore's silence than he had been by his weakened voice. "We're nearly there....I can Apparate us both back....Don't worry...."

"I am not worried, Harry," said Dumbledore, his voice a little stronger despite the freezing water. "I am with you."

Great writers know how to make a sea change so subtle that you might miss it if you aren't reading closely, and this is one of those moments. It's a new Harry, borne out of the loss of his last great father-figure. It's a Harry ready to make that final walk in Deathly Hallows.

HP moment #9: "Of House Elves... he understands nothing."

The following is #9 in a series of blog posts counting down my ten favorite Harry Potter moments leading up to the release of Deathly Hallows, pt. 2. Look for a post every couple of days as we near mid-July. 

Dobby was a trouble-maker from the start. He caused Harry all manner of problems when he first came on to the scene in Chamber of Secrets. At that point we knew nothing of house-elves--of their enslavement to (often cruel) masters or the pleasure they take in their bondage. House-elves as a whole present interesting concerns for us regarding human rights, but they are clearly more than that: they are creatures with a purpose.

As Dobby changed from petty annoyance to Hermione's lone SPEW success story, he started to become a character both loveable and pivotal in the fight against Voldemort. Heading into Deathly Hallows I had one question bugging me that I was genuinely concerned Rowling would not address, and that was how Dobby could apparate inside Hogwarts. I hoped she would answer it; instead, it became critical to the plotline.

It turns out, like most wizards, nobody much cared about the question of house-elf magic until it became necessary to understand how Kreacher returned from the cave, Horcrux in hand. Then, for the first time, Harry realizes the kind of power that creatures like Kreacher and Dobby had. They are bound to different kinds of magic than wizards. That, more than anything else, is what makes them powerful. Theirs is a servant magic; one that eschews selfish power for selfless obedience.

In the end, Dobby gives himself to save his friends. It is exactly the kind of thing we can expect from a house-elf. Unyielding servitude. This is that which Voldemort did not understand, as Dumbledore said,

That which Voldemort does not value, he takes no trouble to comprehend. Of house-elves and children’s tales, of love, loyalty and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing. Nothing. That they all have a power beyond his own, a power beyond the reach of any magic, is a truth he has never grasped.” (DH, ch. 35).

For all these reasons, Dobby's death is moment #9.

Top Harry Potter moments -- #10: Enter Luna

The first of a series of blog posts counting down my ten favorite Harry Potter moments leading up to the release of Deathly Hallows, pt. 2. Look for a post every couple of days as we near mid-July.


Order of the Phoenix marks a turn toward the macabre in the Harry Potter series, as Harry becomes an angry, frustrated teenager, and the reality of Lord Voldemort's return brings ever-darkening storm clouds to the narrative. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Delores Umbridge, is the most infuriating, conniving, downright awful character yet introduced. And the Ministry of Magic is showing itself to be more and more corruptible, as Cornelius Fudge grips power tighter and tighter. In short, all seems to be heading down a long dark path. But something strange happens when a bizarre young girl pops into the story.

Enter Luna.

One of Rowling's gifts is to give us just enough to never be overwhelmed when the mood of her main characters turns dour, and let's face it Harry is a mess through much of the fifth book. Ron is not much better, and Hermione takes a backseat in the midst of their adolescent bickering. But precisely here we are given the unexpected gift of a character whose quirks have everybody asking, "Is she for real?"

Luna is no mere feminine recasting of Neville Longbottom, though they may both be outsiders of a similar ilk. Luna is a misfit with radical ideas, fascinated by possibilities, and that is precisely what Order of the Phoenix needed. Whenever she appears the mood lightens, and yet she is capable of understanding life with such depth that she is the one who helps Harry work through death and loss.

She is the perfect ally, a strangely wonderful conversation partner, and in the final three books she proves herself to be courageous, good-hearted and overwhelmingly fun for us to enjoy. Rowling's cast of characters is incredibly diverse, but she never creates a character more fascinating than Luna. That is why her entry onto the HP scene comes in at number ten on my favorite HP moments.

Another look at reason

A couple of months ago I posted on the topic of reason, specifically pertaining to faith in God. At the time I claimed that the question of God's existence cannot be addressed by use of reason, though reason can address perhaps every question that stems from that point. I may or may not still agree with that; read: I'm currently unsure if I'm asking the right question. Meanwhile, I have gotten some really great food for thought on the matter from a new book by Matthew Dickerson, entitled The Mind and the Machine: What it means to be human and why it matters.

One of the main issues Dickerson addresses is reason, specifically how we can talk about reason in light of naturalism, materialism, physicalism and determinism. That's a lot of -isms, but it comes down to a simple idea: if we live in a causally closed universe (a universe in which there is no God) then what we consider to be reason is only programmed response. There can be no creativity without a creator--no ability to be rational without something more than a brain; creativity requires a mind. At this juncture, Dickerson draws upon a dualist understanding of human beings as both physical and spiritual.

There is something profound in this approach not least because we live as if our choices matter, as if our creativity is something good and beautiful. It is far more intuitive to say that our creativity is real than to claim that it is the result of a complex computational algorithm that governs all of creation. Reason affirms this creativity. Dickerson claims that faith comes through reason precisely because reason is evidence of a creator-God. Faith comes through the awareness of being more than computational beings; it comes in the understanding of a spiritual nature at work within us. We might say that faith is evidence of things unseen (Hebrews 11:1)--if by "things" we mean our ability to understand what it evident in the first place.

So, for a bit of not-so-light but profoundly interesting summer reason I would strongly recommend The Mind and the Machine by Matthew Dickerson. Let me know your thoughts!