anthropology

When I was growing up I came to realize I was two things, an introvert, and a pessimist. Neither of these things are culturally valued. Some still believe that introversion and pessimism are inherently wrong and must be remedied. Meanwhile, introverts continued to mind their own business (wishing everyone else would mind theirs) and the pessimists held the opinion that people will never change.

Thankfully, the internet is making it easier for us to fight back.

Over the last few years, it seems people are coming to an understanding about introverts. Introversion is no longer thought (entirely) as a terrible fate. It is a lifestyle. I enjoy my solitude when I want it, and having my friends around when I want it. The primary barrier seems to have been there wasn't a forum in which we could properly explain to these outgoing oddballs that there's nothing wrong with us. Now there are how-to manuals like Caring for your Introvert. The perception the culture has of introverts is changing.

Perhaps then, it is only inevitable that culture will change to accept pessimism. Like introverts, there are plenty of cultural myths about pessimists: They aren't successful, they aren't pleasant, it creates needless worry, and my personal favorite, it isn't "realistic". (Pessimism can be frightfully realistic, just ask any business traveler for their airport horror stories.) Now it seems, we're fighting back again via the Internet.

This morning I came across two short, but fascinating articles on The Myths of Pessimism. Both take on three culturally held myths about the half-empty side of things. Mythbusting Myths on Pessimism #1 seems somewhat less convincing than Mythbusting Myths on Pessimism #2. Mostly this is because part #1 examines larger issues and does not provide evidence to back up it's claim. Part #2 seems much more sensible. Both articles together suggest the same: Pessimism is a lifestyle, not a disease.

I find it wonderful how the internet can become a force for understanding and cultural change. For every group of idiots spouting hate and misunderstanding, there are several more groups that fight back, fostering understanding that would have been difficult in person. Hopefully such trends will continue, that is, if we don't blow ourselves up or poison the atmosphere first.

I read today on a friend's blog that yesterday Paul Tibbets, the pilot of the Enola Gay died. The entry was short and scathing. When I first read it I wondered, Is this really called for?

It catches me the way some documentaries are movies catch me about when they exhibit a particular opinion. Shortly thereafter, I was reading the man's Wikipedia entry. Unsurprisingly, the page was not only flagged for recent changes, but also locked to prevent vandalism. Most of the details about him were expected: There was a terse overview of his early life, and his military career up until and after the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The details read out like the specifications of the Enola Gay itself, the only details posted next to it's fuselage on display at the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center.

Then I began reading about the acts and opinions of Mr. Tibbets expressed in the last 20 years. I will spare you the details, but I did find them most distasteful. I decided to return to the blog entry and read the short list of comments. Much of what was discussed reminded me distinctly of an exercise in hypothetical history a teacher assigned to me in high school.

The question simply was this: "Was it right to drop atomic weapons on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945?" This gave 17 year old me a great deal to think about. Clearly, the sudden incineration of 220,000 civilians sounded more like genocide than an act of war. Then I recalled my study of Japanese culture at the time. At the time, Japanese citizens were being trained to defend their homeland to the end. Instruction of weaponry and hand-to-hand combat was made available. Perhaps it was even required, I have so little research on this issue. When considering all of this, it begs the question, "Just what is the distinction between military and civilian when both are being trained to fight 'the enemy'?"

Interestingly enough, this question is what is currently being played out in American courts. Only this time the definition at hand is "unlawful combatant". We as a species never seem to learn, do we?

Now I'm at the point in this entry where I have to give my summation. How do I think of Mr. Tibbets? Should we fame him or revile him? Some of his statement are reminiscent of the ending of Dr. Strangelove, rather than a complex, contradicted character. Yet, when looking at the situation facing the Allied commanders in 1945 (and coldly ignoring the incineration of 220,000 people), it seems clear the a ground assault would be a disaster. It may have resulted in even more deaths than Little Boy and Fat Man could have wrought. Or would it?

One particular aspect of my personality flabbergasts people when it comes to these arguments: I believe am not required to give an opinion. I am, after all, not Mr. Tibbets, or the pilot of the Bockscar, or even a member of any armed forces. I have not gone about my life to put myself in the situation to make such a choice. I do not believe myself capable of making it, nor would I want to. Some insist I state an opinion, suggesting I put myself in their place. I also find this a rather silted thing to do. Had I been in their place wouldn't I have gone about putting myself in such a position? Rarely are such life-and-death choices handed out to the proverbial woman on the street. I could only decide from my perspective, and as I've already said, I've purposely avoided putting myself in the position to make those choices in the first place. In effect, haven't I already expressed my opinion?

I can be infuriating at times.

Occasionally, I have odd thoughts in the morning while I'm in the shower. I suspect it's because my groggy brain tends to free-associate completely unrelated thoughts.

For whatever reason, I came upon the following question: Assuming the Klingon women mensurate -- Memory Alpha doesn't say -- how does their warrior culture interpret this?

Back in college, I noticed that the cultural anthropologists I read about seemed to make a big deal of one's Monthly. While it is largely a taboo subject in the West outside of women's-only support spaces, this isn't always the case in other cultures. In Japan women are allowed to take days off simply for the fact they are having their period. Some Tribal cultures sequester women into a special hut for the duration of their period.

When I discussed the Klingon women with a friend later this morning, she suggested they may gain a temporary gain in rank.

To which I replied, "We bleed the blood of the slain victims of unborn warriors?"

A bust of a Greek man in bronze. One thing that few people realize is that most of the "Greek" statuary we have is actually roman. The Greeks typically created sculptures using a lost-wax casting technique. The resulting piece was made of bronze. The Romans, being the warriors they are, melted down all that valuable bronze to make weapons. The sculptures were replaced with marble copies of the original bronze figures.

British Museum, London, UK.

A plaster cast of the famous Bust of Nefertiti. The real one is in the Altes Museum in Berlin. Even this replica is strikingly beautiful. Manchester Museum of History, Manchester, UK.

A greek statuette of a woman with child. I found this was interesting because of the lack of proportion in the child. Many artists in antiquity could not or did not represent children acurrately due to the different proportions involved. Instead, children and babies were represented as diminutive adults. Even in the renaissance period representations of this sort can be found.

A beautifully carved sarcophagus cover in basalt. One of my friends wants "a hat like that". British Museum, London, UK.

This chunk of basalt is perhaps one of the most iconic artifacts of ancient history. It's so iconic, that it's become a metaphor for "something that allows to interpret".

The Rosetta Stone has three identical blocks of text in three different languages. From top to bottom, hieroglyphics, demotic (a later Ancient Egyptian script), and finally classical greek. Until it's discovery, we couldn't translate much of egyptian script. The Rosetta Stone allowed us to translate the older scripts by keying off of names. We can read names easily enough in greek, but not in the older scripts. Thankfully, hieroglyphics encircle names in a cartouche. It looks like an oval with a line along the narrow side, perpendicular to the length of the oval. By comparing the names in greek and in the hieroglyphics, translation was possible.

Not surprisingly, this was made during the Ptolemaic Dynasty, a curious period when Ancient Egypt was under the leadership of a greek.

The greek goddess Aphrodite in marble. British Museum, London, UK.

An Egyptian statue of a cat in bronze. British Museum, London, UK.