Reading Journal 2024: The Wild Robot Author: Peter Brown
Every once in a while you come across a book that makes you sad for the fact that you didn’t have a chance to read it much, much earlier in life. Bringing together the sensibilities of E.B. White and Gary Paulson, Brown imagines a story that connects their shared interest in both philosophy and nature with a sci-fi premise- what would happen if we took a robot with the capability of learning through participation in (and in relationship to) its environment, and placed it in the wild? What would it become? How would it adapt? What can it tell us about nature? About humanity?
It reaches much broader yet- what could it tell us about life? Death? Family? Love? Friendship? Our humanity?
What’s really astute and powerful about the way Brown draws this story out in his imagination is that he builds into this a connection to the cycles and developments of the natural world, including its landscape. This is deeply visual prose. As it moves through the seasons, it also moves through the land, as well as the growth and development of the robot in concert with the land and its inhabitants. The robot is observing a world he doesn’t quite fit into and understand, while at the same time she is in some sense part of it and contributing to it. The more the robot grows and adapts and develops, the more it finds itself living in a distinct relationship with this world, subverting and transcending that wildness as it seeks to reconcile a fundamental and functioning conscious awareness with the tensions it finds in the wild. This also leads to questions regarding awareness of it’s own identity as a robot. Who am I if not a wild creature?
As a young child, I think I would have really resonated with this book in the same way I did Paulsens works and E.B. White, both formative voices in my life. Reading it now transported me back to those moments, allowing me to engage impossible questions and dare myself to broaden my imagination in the face of what were probably struggles with existential concern and deeply rooted fears that reached beyond my years as a young child. Even then I was fascinated by the notion that there seemed to be a disconnect between the world I could see and experience and the world I longed for, the one that threw me into crisis and the one I could imagine and hope for. A world of nature and of spirit, however lost I felt inbeteeen these two seemingly irreconcilable forces.
The tag line for the book is, “can a robot survive in the wilderness”. At least part of the books intent is to probe the question to us: can we survive in the wilderness that is our lives, and what might that look like from the perspective of our humanity?
No question too big or too small, no person too big or too small. Set in the right story with the right words and the right characters, such questions and observations will always hold power and relevance to the places and spaces we occupy in the present.
Film Journal 2024: The Present Directed by Christian Ditter
A cute, breezy, honest family film about a group of siblings who try to keep their parents from splitting up with the aid of a family heirloom that can effectively turn back time (a grandfather clock).
There was room here to slow down the pace and narrow in on its central theme, which is the failure of the family to take notice of the distance they have all created with one another in the present. The message still rings clear and true however, with the necessary lessons being something they have to find and work through together.
Nice little indie that can work the young and old of the household.
Film Journal 2024: Daddio Directed by Christy Hall
I’m a big fan of Penn, and I can see his sensibilities all over this simple, single location two person conversational drama. But the one to really point here is Johnson. While Penn is busy doing his thing, she’s in the backseat quietly wrestling away the spotlight, little by little. There is a fun little section where they are kind of sparring back and forth, each attempting to outdo the other by telling the best story. Its here where she ultimately delivers the knock out punch.
It’s a meandering film on the surface, moving through topics as one might through the natural progression of a conversation with a stranger. It begins with shooting the breeze, and then slowly but surely over the course of a cab ride the conversation begins to break down the barriers of unfamiliarity and uncertainty, even symbolically at one moment when Penn’s character leans over and opens the glass barrier dividing front and back.
It’s a film about connection, and how quickly this can build through the simple art of conversation. There is a sense here in which Hall is commenting on conversation as a lost art, poking and prodding uncomfortable and unfiltered topics and language (this gets explicit and traverses subjects such as gender roles and sex) perhaps to see where even we as an audience might break or give. The power of the film though is in how two people across a generation gap are able to find themselves in the middle, ultimately reminding us of why all that uncomfortableness is worth the investment. Even for two people who will likely never cross paths again.
The title of the film might be strange, and truth be told I might have gone with something different. But I think I get it? The term does come up in the film, and in a way ties together the central relarionships that surface. Beyond the art of conversation, the film is exploring how our past connects to our present, binding our choices to things like fear and trauma, successss and joys, and filtering that through things like upbringing, parental, sibling and romantic relationship, and social constructs/constructed expectations. It’s a film about who informs our sense of identity and how this is formed through words of judgment or affirmation, be it verbal or physical. What we lack or what we gain often informs how we are able to respond, especially when life beats us down or tells us we are someone who cannot get back up (or that we must be or do something to be allowed to get back up under the power of another).
Not everyone is going to jive with this. It’s an investment and a journey, and the conversation takes a while to unearth what needs to be said, even trudging through uncomfortable silences and words in the process. But I do think it is ultimately doing something pretty special, especially as a debut.
Film Journal 2024: A Quiet Place: Day One Directed by Michael Sarnoski
I have a feeling once the clutter clears from the very real tension that exists between the film I expected this to be and the film it ultimately ends up being, that it will grow even more in my appreciation for it.
The tension surfaces in the simple fact that this prequel veers decisively away from building out the mythology or offering anything new to the larger narrative, and towards crafting its own stand alone narrative. Within this tension are two essential observations. First, the stand alone narrative is really strong taken simply on it’s own terms. Second, by distancing itself from the larger mythology, be it in tone or progression, the whole “no talking” motif, arguably the driving force and defining mark of this franchise, becomes little more than a plot device , and one that is barely even explained or established within the scope of the prequels story.
A caveat to this point would be noting the films intention towards overlaying the motif of sound and noise onto a specific metaphor concerning New York life and culture. It becomes a way of saying something about the busyness of the city, ultimately allowing the specific story of the films main character, Sam, played with a distinct vulnerability by the wonderful Nyong’o, to say something about finding life in the face of death through her relarionship to the noise and sounds of the city (the film does a nice job of trying this to a sensory experience surrounding nostalgia and memory as well).
There is a sense in which I can see a definable three film arc however, in the movement from the family centric focus of the first film to the community and societal centric view of the second. If it seemed natural to move to a global perspective in the third installment, perhaps it would also feel natural to dial things back to a singular person perspective in a prequel.
As I mentioned above, even if it doesn’t function entirely cohesively as a Quiet Place film, the attention Sarnoski gives to character, story and theme nevertheless do the hard work of establishing this as a necessary and worthwhile entry in the franchise as a whole. Its worth pointing out that it’s far more dialed back and patient than some might expect, saturating the dramatic set pieces with quiet reflection and some genuinely beautiful human moments. The action that we do get are really well shot, although I might argue it could have stripped even a little bit more of that out still and been a better and tighter film for it. But that would be a very minor criticism, and I do think some audience members might end up leaning in the opposite direction and find this too sparse and meditative overall. If anything, one of the outcomes of the whole “be quiet” motif taking a back seat to a stand alone story is that the way we experience the film shifts as well. So how you feel about it will probably depend on how much give yourself over to the experience that is there, one that is anchored in a personal journey of real transformation.
I really liked this one on first watch. I think I might like it even more on rewatch. There are many moments that are still sticking with me, and as it stands, it is definitely a welcome return to a familiar world, just from a slightly different perspective.
Reading Journal 2024: Drowning Author: T.J. Newman
I might end up in the minority here, and I would have my suspicions/theories on why, but while this follow up to the blockbuster Falling retains much of what made that book successful- propulsive action, a feverish pace, a strong cross section of characters, genuine tension- I found Drowning to be a slight step down in terms of quality. Still good and absolutely worth the read, but lacking a bit on the thematic front and in the substantive category.
The reason I feel like I might be in the minority here is because not everyone resonated with the cynical tone in Falling, nor its rough around the edges philosophizing, its brute subject matter, and unfiltered nature. Those were the elements however that made that book more than just a blockbuster for me personally. Drowning cleans some of those edges up and is far more straight forward and easy to digest.
To its credit it’s also clearly well researched. It trades some of the internal character dynamics of Falling for lots of technical talk and musings on the science/engineering. We get to hear, and feel, how an aircraft works, what could happen in a real life scenario similar to this one, and some of the obstacles that could arise in the case of a needed rescue under water. If you don’t want the heady stuff of Fallen, and if you enjoy reading such details, chances are you will really appreciate Drowning. It has a nice, clean, sentimental lesson about moving forward in the face of hardship too, although I definitely wish we have gotten more of the characters backstories (it centers on one family).
And just like Falling, trigger warnings if reading about a plane crash causes you anxiety.
Film Journal 2024: Hit Man Directed by Richard Linklater
If we are talking about a simple, easy, entertaining enough comedic blockbuster, Hit Man is perfectly fine. A reasonable way to spend a few hours with a likeable star, a passable script and a mix of eye rolling moments and fun banter.
The problem is, the film clearly wants to be more than this. It wants to be taken seriously as a smart, sexy thriller. On this front it falls drastically short of its mark. Beginning with this central problem- the way the film is designed makes it feel like we are watching Powell play a character who is playing characters. This a problem because for the central conciept to work we need to believe in the character transformation, not in Powells ability to have a distinctive on-screen charm.
Let’s get more specific. Problem number 1. The film uses the dual and opposing personalities of the philosophy teacher with no personality or social cache and the undercover hit man with personality and social cache to establish this tension that sits at the heart of the course the teacher is teaching- is the self simply something we are inevitably handed as a construction made up of all those determining external forces that make us who we are, or is the self something we (an operative will) can effectively change by actively embodying someone different, thus pushing back against those external forces. So here is the problem. The film presents no active process in which we can actually explore this tension. The process is simply set in play within the first 10 minutes of the film and effectively answered before we arrive at the answer (at the end of the film). We are asked to buy in to what effectively becomes two working caricatures, both of which we know are equally false. Not only does it feel like there is zero context for understanding Powell as a schmucky teacher with no personality, there is zero context for how it is he goes from that to an uber cool man of confidence and mystery.
Problem number 2: the entire set up for the film digs itself a hole no amount of colorful philosophizing can dig itself out of. If we are to take this film seriously, the teacher personality is who we don’t want to be, and the alpha male hit man is who we want to be. Why? Because it gets us the ladies and some street cred in our socially bound constructs that we call society. That’s the message we get in the first 20 minutes to half hour, and the rest of the film just dances around this basic fact before realizing it ultimately just needs to concede the point- this is how the world works, and no amount of higher education bent on intellectualising this away can change it (although it pretends to try).
Problem number 3: wheras the central concept is good (using the notion that the “hit man” construct is a made up idea we have come to accept as true because of its cultural presence as a way into the question, why is it that we are drawn to such fantasies), the films decision to use the philosophy class as a way into this question gets undercut the minute the plot turns the concept of the hit man and its undercover personalities into a singular personality. It’s at this point that all of the set up goes out the door, because the bigger questions get subsumed by the singular and superficial nature of the plot. So much so that it’s attempts to try to keep the philosophy in play end up feeling awkward and muddled the more the whole charade, bent on establishing twists and turns, goes on. The ending is meant to be this grand revelation that parallels the characters transformation, but the transformation is a ruse. It’s not real and it doesn’t exist and it’s grounds were never really established in the first place. The biggest casualty of this is then the intellectual, or philopshical argument, that is running underneath. It’s conclusions about the self, meant to liberate us from the shackles of determinism, is also clearly a ruse. It doesn’t exist. No amount of inspirational speeches or heavy romanticizing is able to take the aims of our humanity and turn it into something other than a construct. In fact, the films message only leaves us more enslaved to it. Funnily enough, there is a scene on a park bench where this is basically outlined for us. It’s one where two of the characters are debating the nature of the self. One argues that we are who we are because it is who we were determined to be by all the external forces that shape us, the other argues that research suggests we can become a different self. The question that is posed to this moment is, but what happens to the old self? Or further, which one is then real? And how is this new self not an equal construction determined by external forces. And what drives ones ability to change? Are some of us more able than others, and if so, does that not speak to determinism?
It’d be great if the film had actually embraced these questions. Instead I sweeps it under the rug under the illusion of being smarter than it looks,
Final problem: not only does the film end up towing the line with predictability by leaning into the twists as one of the defining traits of the story, it ends up undercutting all the potential outcomes one can foresee by stopping abruptly mid twist. The ultimate outcome is leaving everything but the ruse without actual resolution. There is no lingering questions, nothing to grapple with, no nuance, nothing but a singular and inevitable conclusion. It simply underscores this as a viewing experience that is about as in and out as they come.
One more added gripe- how do you write a film about a hitman where the hitman literally is talking about the hits and divulging his identity in public for everyone to hear? Lazy writing.
Now let me repeat. There is a world in which these problems aren’t anywhere near as big as they become. That’s a world where this film is satisfied with being a middle of road action-comedy. It’s perfectly fine in this lane. A good enough time but mostly forgettable. The problem is, that is so clearly not what this film aspired to be. Thus it keeps setting itself up for failure as it goes, unable to really commit to what could have made this a great film.
Reading Journal 2024: Storyworthy: Engage, Teach, Persuade, and Change Your Life through the Power of Storytelling Author: Matthew Dicks
Simple, straightforward, immensely applicable and practical. The essential premise basically goes like this- we all have stories to tell, learning how to tell the stories of your life, and learning how to tell them well, is both necessary and important for your engagement of the world and your personal growth/development, and we all have the capacity to be good storytellers no matter who you are.
In this sense this is both an argument for the power of story and the necessity of storytelling as an art that connects us to humanity throughout history and to one another. He states upfront that there is no single, schooled theory or exact science in play here when it comes to storytelling, rather he simply wants to argue that the principles of the craft that he learned, even unexpectedly, can have tried and true practical impact on becoming better storytellers. And most of this book sticks with the practical, although the philosophy, or the why of why this matters, does sneak in through the process.
He defines story as personal narratives that are telling our stories from our point of view, which is the only point of view we really have. This is true even when we are telling stories about other people- we are still the one seeing and telling this story from our point of view as part of our story. This becomes a crucial point of observation when it comes to being good storytellers. Telling stories about others that pretend they are stories that are not from our perspective equals bad storytelling.
Even in this set up we get a why observation- “we tell stories to express our hardest, best, most authentic truths.” And as such, your stories must reflect change, as the reason we express such thoughts is because something unsettled us in some area in some way. For our stories to be true they must begin with one version of yourself and end up with another, even if this is simply capturing something of how we observe the world or others or ourselves. To do otherwise us to be reduced to an “anecdote.”
The first piece of practical advice- indulge the dinner test. Is the story you are sharing something you would tell off the cuff at a dinner table with friends or family? If not it is likely not a good story and/or constructed so as to lose its power. Many of the tools the author is going to employ will be about freeing yourself to be intentional about the story you are telling while retaining that sense of being off the cuff. This is as important for you as the storyteller as it is for the ones hearing the story. What you are building is the art of everyday conversation, and learning how to be aware of that gap between teller and hearer (and why that gap exists, remains, or is bridged through the art of storytelling good and bad). In other words, it is about the natural presence and practice of relationship through conversation.
One pushback he notes is that the reason people don’t engage the art of storytelling (or good storytelling) is because they don’t believe they have stories to tell, or worthwhile ones. This would be false. We all experience story worthy moments all the time and every day. We just don’t pay attention to those moments, and thus they tend to pass us by, often overshadowed by our addiction to what we percieve as the big moments that are worth sharing. We look at someone who has experienced these big moments and think they have good stories, and that leads us not to tell ours as they pale in comparison. The author does good work breaking down this fallacy, showing how those supposed big stories worth telling aren’t actually good stories unless they are about the small, important things, and showing how any small moment can be turned into a significant and important story.
This leads to what might be the most important practice in the book- learning how to journal your everyday life. A small amount of time spent each day jotting down moments, memories, observations, can change how you see your life, and how you tell the story of your life. It can help you see where you are in the world and why it matters. But here is the catch: this is not just a temporary homework assignment, it is about establishing a way of life. It is a lifelong commitment. It requires a posture of allowing life to upend you when you become aware of such moments, of learning not to judge your life using external measures, and of forging the process as a discipline.
As the author states, stories, as you find them, will fill in the mental maps of your life and show you how big that map is. And above all, it requires you not to feel awkward or ashamed or dumb about telling “your story”. Everyone does, whether they realize it or not. This is not an appeal to the ego, rather it is about learning how to engage perspective. And we naturally desire others to tell their stories precisely because this is how we get to know a person. The fact that we tell our stories often gets conflated with examples we all know but might not be able to articulate of bad storytelling. Bad storytelling hinges on this- telling our stories in ways that keep others out of our story and unable to relate/understand/experience. It is a communicative issue, not an issue of “talking about ourselves.” Talking about ourselves, and listening to others talk about themselves, should be about bridging relational gaps, not creating them or perpetuating them.
In the midst of this the author seeks to help us make sense of what good storytelling is by outlining a singular overarching and governing truth- all great stories tell of a five second moment in a person’s life. This is true regardless of length and depth. Why? Because this is where the change is rooted, and that change is usually rooted in a point of awareness. And with this as our “bedrock”, we can then move to the second basic truth- start with the ending. Why? Because your beginning will always be the opposite of the ending. Using these three basic points can help you turn any five second moment into a story. Once we know the ending, which should be the most obvious element of that five second moment, all else is in service to this. And in truth, the rest of the book is basically about the art of “keeping” people in your story by making certain things automatic to how you talk and share (avoid “ands” and lean into “buts” for example, or avoid rhetorical statements and questions and props and hand gestures as your goal is to keep the listener in their imagination not in yours).
The practicalities get more specific from here. Understanding how to use humor, learning how not to be afraid of leaving out unnecessary details or conflating different events into a singular one or condensing time lines. This is how all memories work after all. Doing such things does not change the facts or truths of a story, they simply make it communicable and understandable based on how our brains work.
There is a whole lot that I took away from this book. In truth, I have always been compelled by the idea of telling our stories and there is lots here that cuts through some of the fears and hesitancies (and fallacies) that I have often wrestled with. One of the biggest ones is the simple observation that everyone is ultimately talking about themselves, and we want each other to do this. We require it. Poor communication is the obstacle, not seeing the world from our our perspective or sharing that perspective. Talking about our selves, or our stories, is what we all need to be doing more of.
If I had one small critique it is that the author does tend to hide some important and relevant and defining assumptions on his way to trying to speak objectively about the functional aspects of storytelling. One of the biggest things that can derail people is feeling like their story is false or untrue or not believed. What makes matters worse is having this feeling translate to an awareness of a fact about the nature of who we are (or the self), about the untrustworthiness of memory, or the nature of illusions versus truth. Think about it this way: when we exist in a relationship with someone we experience it as a feeling of love. When love gets broken down and revealed as a material process involving biochemistry and mechanisms that can be reduced and manipulated, love loses its power in conjunction with this awareness. Same with the self or the will. Storytelling requires us to invest in these things as true and meaningful, to trust that they exist as transcendent qualities, and thus we must be able to move from the functional back to that transcendent quality for it to be meaningful. We have to forget about the functional. Certainly the author wants us to know and feel and experience this even as he is breaking down the functional aspects. If it doesn’t feel or sound authentic after all then it won’t feel what we call human, however undefinable that notion is.
Along the way he sneaks in some untold assumptions though regarding his worldview that seem to sit counter to the things he is arguing for regarding meaning and life and personhood. I’m less bothered by the worldview as I am by the fact that it seemed to be snuck in through the backdoor, even made to appear as something different than he actually believes. In this context that has a way of making the many stories he tells in this book as practical examples feel false and manipulative by nature of them hiding inportant convictions that might change my conception of what he is saying or arguing for. This is me though. Being able to see and hold on to and accept the why is important to me. Indeed, it is crucial to my ability to live. And when I get this invested in a book and a concept and a revelation (which I was) it can have a particular impact when i end up feeling like the underlying assumptions mislead what I was hearing and feeling and experiencing. Especially when I know if life is a game intended to be manipulated on a functional level that it leads me to many other points of contention and crisis and conclusions.
With that aside though, and being able to compartmentalize that appropriately in hindsight, there is much here that I would call potentially life changing in practice and even in theory.
Reading Journal 2024: Hearing the Message of Ecclesiastes: Questioning Faith in a Baffling World Author: Christopher J.H. Wright
I would recommend this to anyone interested in studying the book of Ecclesiastes (this is broad theological reflection mixed with a verse by verse exegetical approach) from a distinctly Christian perspective. Christopher Wright is known for his embrace of necessary tensions when it comes to matters of faith, and this small Old Testament book feels ready made for his sensibilities as the essential thesis is built around a seemingly irreconcilable tension (life is meaningless/life is meaningful).
I’m not entirely sure what his theological/denominational background is, but he tends to feel like that familiar evangelical voice who has spent some time challenging some of the norms, especially when it comes to versions of christianity that are afraid to ask some of the bigger questions. He does so while staying firmly rooted in his orthodoxy and confessions though, for what that is worth to different readers. From time to time he assumes certain theological positions, which is always a point where disagreements can emerge (I had a few), but for the most part he is simply dealing with the text head on and showing how he arrives at his interpretive choices from a Christian perspective (which he defines and describes as the fuller story to which Ecclesiastes is longing for and belongs).
On a simple scholarly level there are a lot of I don’t knows accompanying any legitimate analysis of the text- who wrote it, why and when they wrote it, whether it fits into the wisdom Tradition, what is the wisdom Tradition, how much was edited (by whom and when and why) and what is the original form. Wright doesn’t get bogged down in all of this, but he does do a nice job of explaining what these unknowns are in really simple terms, picking a viable lane, and encouraging us to be willing to evoke our imaginations even as we erect some visible and practical boundaries (can we imagine solomon behind the words of the text while knowing it most likely is not him, for example. This becomes a way hearing the words applied to a story that we know with a little more certainty, a story of a people that very well could have been reading the text. And there are plenty of examples of stories later in the scriptures where we know they would have been reading it in their own context).
There are lots of practical applications provided as part of an invitation to use the book to foster study by yourself or with a group. So it is definitely designed to simplify the complexities without losing its integrity as a scholarly source.
Film Journal 2024: Horizon: An American Saga – Chapter 1 Directed by Kevin Costner
Horizon is essentially taking an episodic format and giving it a cinematic mold to play within. Whatever one ultimately thinks of this grand experiment I think you have to admit the risk is bold, intriguing and, in my opinion, ultimately worth seeing how it plays out.
Here is what is most interesting to me: I am personally not the biggest fan of episodic series/television. For me, series/television is driven by storytelling while cinema is driven by theme and form by their natures, and I resonate far more with the latter than I do with the former. More to this point, the audience I saw it with were clearly there on the basis of their investment in Yellowstone. What they were finding on screen was resonances that played off of this sense of familiarity, and from what I could gauge it was working for them. It is edited like a series, it is basically 3 hours of set up to what will ultimately be the equivalent of a 9 episode saga, and it has the tone and feel of the series, albeit on a bigger scale, at least based on the little I know of it.
Me? I was there because I was excited for a return to a seemingly long dead genre- the old fashioned western steeped in practical set pieces, grand mythologies, vistas, and period recreations. So how did it work for me on this front? A bit of a mixed bag, but overall I enjoyed it. It features a dynamic score, a few thrilling and prolonged action sequences, and lots of interpersonal drama. When I say lots, there are a LOT of characters here representing different factions that all gradually converge as the story moves forward.
It’s tough to make a true analysis of part 1 since it is all set up with little to nothing in the way of conclusion. But what we do get was enough to leave me hopeful that the cinematic vision will bear out something thematically when all three films are released. The film ends on what is basically a prolonged trailer for the next films. And it looks exciting. Certainly enough to hook me into coming back for more.
For those who think this should have just released as a series, I’ll offer this. I do think all the people who dug Yellowstone, which is quite a few, would have really dug this as a series. Going the route of three films helps reach people like me. And I have to imagine this thing will eventually find fresh legs on streaming down the road. Going this route not only allows it a chance to earn some money, it gives it that extended lifespan later on with the streaming money. I think the inevitable headlines that will come out calling it a box office failure are going to fail to take all this into consideration. It might still be a risk, but I think it has some decent theorizing and potential behind it. And more importantly it’s a decent first installment to see in theaters.
Reading Journal 2024: Animal Rights: Current Debates and New Directions Cass R. Sunstein (editor), Martha C. Nussbaum (Editor)
There are a handful of topics, ones that represent particular convictions, leanings, or preferences in my own life and understanding (relating of course to the desire for knowledge and truth) that have consistently left me isolated in conversation with others. This is mostly because they are topics that, in my experience, tend to evoke genuine anger and ire in social contexts. Some of these topics are ones that I still speak to, others I rarely to never do. The subject of animal rights/welfare, especially where it pertains to Christian theology, is in the rare to never camp. Too many bad experiences and too many obstacles when it comes to being deemed everything from a heretic in christian circles to a liberal nut and quack in non-religious, secular circles.
This is a rare occasion, given that I do tend to review everything I read. Thus my thoughts on Cass Sunsteins (editor) book Animal Rights: Current Debates and New Directions. Its an older book, written in 2004, but I also think much of the philsophical, systemic and social challenges being addressed are still just as relevant today.
Loved how it is structured. Early on the authors talk about how the only adequate way to approach what is a highly controversial and sensationalized issue is to begin at the beginning and move forward one step and one issue at a time. Jumping into the middle, or worse the conclusion, will just ensure that what you want to say won’t be heard. And that is exactly how this book is structured, following the logical unfolding of the natural argument and moving step by step, beginning with the obstacles that any discussion of animal rights must overcome, and ending with a call to redefine and move towards a true global justice.
The authors are clearly writing from the perspective of a strict materialist. This has both positive and negative affects when it comes to detailing the strength of the argument. On one hand, the author is able to demonstrate the limits, restraints and demands of a faithful argument from materialism. This includes calling out the many irrational components of popular level and emotionally charged responses to the issue. The argument being made here sees good reasons to move towards a greater view of global rights, and the way this is argued for is probably one of the books greatest strengths, but it does so within the parameters of what it sees to be a reasonable assessment of logic and reality. It is well argued and well reasoned… to a point. A negative component for me would be the sweeping caricature the authors afford religion and religious history. Religion is described as one of the obstacles up front, and it is established that this book is arguing for animal rights from a non-relgious perspective. But the obstacle that is described doesn’t actually reflect the reality of religious development, and certainly not the Christian Tradition that tends to be its primary target. If anything, what is being tackled on this front is a westernized version of Christian theology. I’m all for healthy critique of Augustine, whom makes an appearance here, but if that’s your whole understanding of Christian history then whatever thoughts you might have on its role in animal rights should be taken lightly. More so, I think what becomes more glaring later on is an inate inability to allow the parameters of the argument to be its own critique of the limitations of a materialist approach to the subject. Indeed, I would press back hard on the assessment that religious thought and practice opposes animal rights. I find quite the opposite to be true, especially when we understand it’s development in its own world rather than imposing our own back on to it. I personally actually found a purely materialist argument to be the biggest hindrance for me in terms of upholding a view that all life matters equally, which would be my personal conviction.
So what is the basic progression of thought here? The authors begin with the basic assertion that the interdependence of society on nonhuman animals makes it impossible to live outside of that (p20). Perhaps the biggest example of this would be that we owe our present lifespans and quality of life and commitment to progress to a certain hierarchal view of the world in relationship to humanity. And even broaching this basic fact means confronting the many obstacles to mutual discussion, with perhaps the biggest wall being how to apply it universally. Any viewpoint that tries to build an argument for equality around the exclusion of certain species is going to run into a dead end.
It then jumps straight to a point that will become an operative factor of the argument as it progresses- why do we respond to abolition and not the fundamental reality of animal suffering, which is far bigger in scope? There will be multiple points that will come into play here – Because definitions of suffering is designed in a way to compartmentalize the suffering of non-human creatures. – Because we have been made aware of the suffering that abolition addresses – Because we have been raised in a society with a particular worldview – our economy, livelihoods, and some would argue life depends on turning a blind eye or convincing ourselves of a different reality
And yet the simple facts are this: all life is capable of suffering, and the exact same reasons people used to uphold slavery is used to justify the present state of animal rights (which is completely dysfunctional at best) as a matter of capacity and potential.
Legally persons count, things don’t. And at the moment there is only two categories- the wild, and property/ownership. And the wild is subservient to particular human needs and prosperity. Which all leads to the problem of speciesism, because in reality even humans can be deemed property in this way.
Here the authors make another hard statement: to avoid the problems of speciesism we must come up with a singular definition that can define all persons as human and distinguishes it from all others. And yet, as they say, none exists (p27). This is of course from a materialist perspective, and also a point where they will see religion as an obstacle that says there is such a defintion and applies it in particular ways that are damaging. But that is hugely reductive. The point here, more so, is to suggest that in material terms there are a variety of humans that have the functional capacities of animals that have no rights. This poses a gross inconsistency and logical fallacy when it comes to upholding speciesism as grounds for exclusion.
The writers do suggest a common definition of practical autonomy, which can apply to all species that have it. If non human and human examples don’t have the ability to liberty, claim, or power, they can be the recipients of immunity that comes from practical autonomy. The way they work towards this is by challenging some of the typical ways we argue for exclusion, such as distinguishing between volition (self determination) and instinct, or self conscious and consciousness. Consciousness (differentiated from self conscious) and sentience are assumed in a theory of practical autonomy.
One of the biggest obstacles here is a mix of function, culture and philosophy. In truth, all manners of assumptions are made regarding matters of consciousness and volition when we don’t really know. But the end result is that functional rights (and lack of them) still exist even with that absence of true knowledge. And they become normalized, and they become fact, and they often control life and death.
Things then become more complex. What about responsibility? We have certain responsibilities but are not responsible for the welfare of all. This becomes a natural stepping point into speciesism, because if we function this way with fellow persons, then all the more so with animals. To a certain degree animals can be deemed to be responsible for their own welfare, but we deem this as instinctual P312). A part of nature. But how do we account for the slaughter of other creatures while deeming humanity different? Again, here we tend to lean on the difference between instinct and volition. For example, if a dog bites, the law is designed according to affording it no basic right to life (the number of dogs killed in this light is inumerable). An at risk child is taken into the care of the system for such similar harms due to there being a mandated right to life. It becomes morally right to kill a dog and morally wrong to kill a child. That’s for domesticated ownership. When it comes to livestock for example, or wild animals, the key questions revolve around what it does to humans economically as well.
The authors take the approach here of arguing for a capabilities approach (a lion who needs to kill to satisfy a predatory need can be considered flourishing, while killing can also be deemed wrong- positive-negative distinction). But the problem here emerges when you start to allow for humans to be categorized as animals. What about self defense? Survival? Where and how do we justify moves to supersede our predatory natures? Our tribal natures? Matters of the ecosystem fall into the same category, or whether we can argue for or against extinction of any kind on a logical level. But we apply such things very inconsistently.
Here it starts to get into the nitty gritty: – Moral responsibility is tied to contractualism… further, what is deemed acceptable is tied to being informed, but we are also battling something more fundamental- beliefs that interpret this information. – Darwinism as a functional conundrum: if we are all animals, does this mean we are equally worth less or equally worth the same, and how do we arrive at the notion of worth apart from speciesism. – Sentimentalism can cloud the facts, even as it drives concern. And that emerges from proximity. But how do we move from sentimentslism to grapple with what is true without losing sight of arguments for animal rights or moral responsibly even to all persons.
Here in lies the problem. Morality emerges from association (which is why we don’t eat our pets). But can it reach beyond that? We appeal irrationally to differences to justify actions. There is a difference between the farmer who shoots his own pigs that have been raised well and the mass system of a supermarket. And certainly the farmer isn’t committing a moral wrong if it is purely connected to awareness or agreement. And yet fundamentally this still represents a problem.
Most of us would agree that we shouldn’t treat animals as things, but we live and function in a world where this is precisely what the law does and enables. Extending rights to an animal makes them moral persons by definition, not synonymous with human. And society at large sees this a dangerous and illogical move that sits contrary to who we are as animals with specific rights. We are simply animals with certain capacities, but the current state of animal rights refuses to acknowledge whether this means superiority or responsibility or otherwise. Even the authors acknowledge that they must appeal to some level of human preferentially and excptionalism for their appeal to a definable global right to work at all. And the way for that global right to work is to operate on the same grounds as laws have for dealing with humans with lesser capacities. It doesn’t base its rights on capacity, it bases it on necessary immunity while applying a fluid and necessary moral underpinning which can allow humans to navigate ambiguities and functional complexities.
Here is my personal pushback. The authors do a great job of walking through the different components of the issue and the argument. But there is one wall they can’t overcome- death. The question that is begged is, does suffering only apply to the living, or does it also apply to death. And if we say only to the living, then we are dealing with degrees. Less suffering is better than more becomes the operating principle. And yet it is an operative principle that not only operates without a grounding, it can’t actually be a moral ought. It will always be purely functional, and in a materialist point of perspective completely contextaulized. Unless we can say suffering is bad, therefore death is bad, and have this be our operative principle, arguing for the right to life for all living things becomes impossible.
Not all animals are equal Not all humans are equal. And yet, we appeal to equality as fundamental to life, which is why capacity isn’t a way to argue. This is good.
But the authors imagination for what this might and can bring about is severely limited and handcuffed. At best it can appeal to proximity. I might have stepped on multiple bugs unknowingly by simply going for a walk. But then I come across a baby bird that has fallen out of its nest. My responsibility for the bird comes from seeing and experiencing and knowing it’s suffering. We can’t be responsible for all life. That’s impossible. But where our awareness grows in proximity to suffering we can become more responsible. But here is the thing. The thing that fuels this must be a conviction that suffering and death are wrong. Are evil. Are opposed to life. This is the only way to locate equality of value. It allows me to say that wherever i find this in any capacity, it is a mark of what is wrong and what our responses should imagine being made right. The authors can’t do this. And for me, they are then forced to make leaps in their reasoning that I think undercuts their argument, or they are forced to make exceptions, which also undercuts their argument.
Some might say I’m placing too big a burden on reason. But by reason alone, if I took this materialist point of perspective I would arrive at a different place. That’s why it matters to me, beyond being convinced of a different starting point and foundation. Fundamentally for me that missing component is theological. I can say all life has equal value because I believe it is a theological truth. And I can say that suffering and death is Evil because I believe it is a theological truth. All the functional elements of the argument fit into this foundational point of view. I am motivated towards animal rights because I believe it is our responsibility as people with this knowledge and awareness, knowledge that exists as truth external to our capacities in a complicated and messy world operating according to laws that do not reflect the life giving character of the Divine name I call God. I think the notion that all life has the same breathe is what gives humanity hope that all life can be liberated from the power of Sin (suffering) and Death. We do not find judgement of creation according to the lie, but the Truth, and we respond accordingly within our capacities.
That’s me. I do however still appreciate this book and what it brings to the table immensely, even if I think it doesn’t go far enough.
The Stories of my Life 