normblog

Above

I'll second that - a strongly positive review at Random Jottings of Margaret Forster's novel Over. It's far superior, in my view, to Unless by Carol Shields, though the two books share a common theme. The difference between them? The theme they share is that of loss, though the loss is more permanent in the one case than the other. But Forster succeeds in communicating the actual sense and atmosphere of it, whereas Shields describes a situation that would give rise to something comparable but - for me, at any rate - fails to convey the resulting feelings with any conviction or force.

Action, volition - and catching a ball

When you take a sharp catch - a slip catch at cricket, for example - is it something you really do? The question is Raymond Tallis's. He describes the various components of bringing off a catch successfully:

First of all you had to ensure that your hand and the ball intersected. This required an instantaneous selection of your final position and posture, so that you could set your flying body's trajectory to that position. You would also have to make sure your arm unfolded the right amount, moving, like your body, at the right speed. Mere intersection would not be enough: the posture of the hand has to be predetermined. If the hand is not open wide enough, the ball will never get bedded in: it will bounce off, leaving you with a sore fist. If the hand is open too wide, the ball will slip out, and you will have to bear the dual crosses of a stinging palm and a disconsolate bowler. But this is not all you have to get right. The moment the ball makes contact, the open hand of welcome has to turn into a barricade of digits moving in precise formation to turn the new arrival into a captive. What's more, the handy work of the snatch squad has to be made easier by ensuring that the stiffness or impedance of your arm is precisely gauged. If the impedance is too high, and you present a brick hand, the ball will bounce out before the cage door can close. If the impedance is too low, the ball will brush your hand aside. More precisely, there has to be a continuous alteration of impedance before and after the impact. And there are many other variables that have to be controlled of which you are not even dimly aware.

On this basis, Tallis asks if making a catch - among many other actions - is more a 'happening', a collection of 'mechanisms', than it is a truly voluntary action. Can we really be seen as the authors of actions of which we 'do not intend most of the components'? Tallis's answer to the question appeals to the whole background of intentionality that enables anyone to complete a particular catch successfully: taking up cricket, practising the game, agreeing to participate in this specific match, making the necessary arrangements, turning up on the day. As you can work out for yourself, there's even more. There's the fact that the slip fielder positions himself appropriately, knows just when to be in a state of maximum readiness, has learned how best to minimize distractions to his concentration at that moment. In any case, Tallis invokes this broad context of intentions to affirm that it is the catcher who is indeed the author of the act of catching the ball. The catch isn't just a happening or combination of mechanisms.

The slip fielder carries out a vast number of voluntary actions to enable himself to perform that magnificent catch effortlessly and virtually without volition.

I think one can go further, however. The volition is there not only in the background of intentionality; there's intent even in the tiny instant of time in which the catcher brings off the catch. The way to see this is by thinking about when, prior to completing the catch, he could deliberately decline to do that. And the answer is: at any time. Making a snap decision to fail, he could let the ball brush past or burst through his fingers, let it bounce out of his hand(s), or what have you. If an intention to fail can intervene right up to the very last split second, then the intention not to fail is operative (at least usually) when he succeeds.

Wounded house

Talking of which, here's a case of people either without memory or without shame - a sad episode of vandalism. (Thanks: BT.)

Humanism and immortality

The latest interview of a contemporary philosopher in the series at Philosophy Bites is with Professor Richard Norman, who is talking about humanism. It's 10 minutes of your time well worth taking. I've argued here before that those of us who don't believe in God are not thereby deprived of a basis for morality. It's one of the first issues Richard takes up. Humanism, he says, is the belief in living a good life without religion; and to the question 'What, in the absence of a God, can underpin morality?', he replies that for humanists values are essentially human values. They make sense for us because of the kind of beings we are. He has other compelling things to say: about the 'dark side' of human nature; about humanist rituals to mark the deaths of people we love; about the importance of debating with religious believers in a respectful way.

My one critical reservation about what Richard says in the interview concerns some remarks of his about the sole substitute non-believers have for the prospect of immortality that religious belief holds out. While acknowledging that the finitude of every human life just has to be accepted, he softens the blow, so to say, by arguing that the only immortality we have to look forward to is that of living on in the memories of others, for having lived good lives among other reasons. I don't deny the importance of this: in face of oncoming death, it probably makes a difference to most people to know that they will be remembered - for a time. But that's it, isn't it? For the large majority of human beings, the time will come when they are no longer remembered - as this individual, with these traits, these particularities, these foibles - because those who remember them will also be dead. In truth, for most of us there is no kind of immortality, and humanists cannot really fudge this.

Zizek's special insights 2

Here's something more on Zizek and violence, from a short review of his new book by Jonathan Derbyshire:

[Zizek] draws a distinction between 'subjective violence' (which most of us would just call 'violence') - that is, the violent things done by individuals and entities such as states - and 'systemic' or 'symbolic' violence, which isn't violence at all but injustice of one kind or another. To rail against the former, Zizek says, is to lose sight of the latter.

If Jonathan has him right, then Zizek's claims are vulnerable to the most obvious of objections. (1) A pacifist may rail against violence without in any way losing sight of injustice; she may just think - wrongly in my view - that violence is never justified as a response to injustice. (2) Someone who thinks that violence is sometimes justified (e.g. in self-defence, or to overthrow tyranny, or in the circumstances that define a just war) may still rail against other kinds of (unjustified) violence - torture, murder, terror directed against civilians, genocide - without losing sight of injustice: imprisonment without trial, exploitation, national oppression and so forth. Elementary points, really.

A half century of chess

He beat Bobby Fischer once. True, this was only in a 'blitz' game, but it's still an achievement. In a few days time he becomes the author of the longest-running chess column ever - 'beating George Koltanowski's column in the San Francisco Chronicle, which ran for 51 years nine months and 18 days from 1948 to 2000'. 'He' is Leonard Barden. (You can find links for his column if you scroll down here.)

Purring explained

As a cat-lover, I've always wanted to know the answer to this question. And, let's face it, you've always wanted to know the answer to this question. Why do cats purr? For therapeutic reasons. (Via the Stoa.)

Sixty years of not preventing genocide

My friend Jeff Weintraub draws attention to a piece by Eric Reeves in the Christian Science Monitor. Sixty years after the adoption of the UN Genocide Convention, Reeves argues that it 'has never prevented a single genocide'. In the light of the situation in Darfur he asks if 'the UN Convention has any remaining force or meaning'. Echoing these sentiments, Jeff wonders 'whether we should stop pretending and simply give up on the Genocide Convention... or somehow try to do better'.

I can't imagine how we could conclude in favour of the first of these two options. It is, as Jeff himself observes, a counsel of despair. The only morally viable meanings that can be attached to it are, first, an acceptance of the conclusion I have argued for here before, that the right of humanitarian intervention by states cannot be made conditional on UN authorization though it is preferable if there is such authorization; and, second, that one should not continue to labour under the facile delusion that effective international arrangements for the prevention of genocide are already in place. They aren't. But if this doesn't mean seeking outright alternatives to existing arrangements, it has to mean trying to improve them - looking for ways of strengthening the existing Convention and/or better mechanisms for implementing it. Eric Reeves has a couple of suggestions:

[I]f the primary purpose of the Genocide Convention is prevention, the UN and international community must act before there is juridical or historical certainty. We are obliged to act when there is compelling evidence of large-scale destruction of a "national, ethnical, racial, or religious group, as such."

On this point, see the earlier post of mine here. Reeves writes also:

The debacle of deployment in Darfur argues that the UN Department of Peacekeeping Operations desperately requires a substantial, robust standing force, prepared to deploy urgently to protect civilian populations facing genocide, war crimes, or crimes against humanity. Actual deployment would be at the request of the Secretary-General, and while a two-thirds majority of the Security Council should be formally required, deployment must not be held hostage to the veto of the five permanent members. This requires substantial revision of the UN Charter, but fundamental changes at the UN are widely recognized as critical for the organization to remain relevant in the 21st century.

Whatever one might think of any particular suggestion, trying to do better - somehow - is surely obligatory.

Thoughtless suggestion

The Archbishop of Canterbury wants to see the present blasphemy law replaced by legislation that would prohibit and punish 'thoughtless and, even if unintentionally, cruel styles of speaking and acting'. I can think of an appropriate imprecation here, but I won't write it - in order not to offend anyone's religious sensibilities. But thoughtless and cruel styles of speaking! And this on account of 'what is just and good for individuals and groups in our society who hold religious beliefs'. Never mind the rest of us then.

Not so much out of the frying pan and into the fire as out of the aforesaid utensil into a raging conflagration - of the type, even, dear to certain kinds of wrathful believer.

Steve Earle in Manchester

He was here two nights ago, at the Bridgewater Hall. And since he's one of my favourite songwriters, I went. It was a good evening without being one of the most memorable gigs I've been to. He sang some old favourites - like 'Goodbye' and 'My Old Friend The Blues' - and this newer song, 'City Of Immigrants':

City of black, city of white, city of light, city of innocents
City of sweat, city of tears, city of prayers, city of immigrants

You can listen to it here. That was the top of the evening for me. One or two other things I was less impressed with, but I'll pass over them. Some further Steve Earle tour dates.