[Submitted to CHAFF and published 12th October 09]
Leah was smart, beautiful, hilarious, cheeky, warm, friendly, generous, outgoing, popular and passionate. She was also gay, and very recently she committed suicide. Her community is devastated, we miss her terribly, and we’re struggling to come to grips with what happened, searching for answers to heal our broken hearts and finding few. I suspect it will be a long time before our hearts heal.
Bernie was gentle, witty, considerate, daring, charming, fun-loving and funny. He too was gay, and he killed himself a couple of months ago. His friends are still reeling from the shock, and grieving the loss.
The lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender communities in New Zealand and around the world are disproportionately represented in suicide statistics. We are more than three times as likely to commit suicide as our heterosexual peers. We live in a world with few visible role models, we often grow up always looking over our shoulders to make sure we’re not being noticed, laughed at, jeered at and threatened. We sometimes experience complete rejection from lifelong friends and from our families when we finally try living honestly and openly as ourselves, and in some towns and rural areas we have no one to share our struggles with. And sometimes, we are the victims of horrific violent assaults.
We live in a world that tells us we’re pathetic, sick, unwanted, un-thought-of, unimportant. We hear you, Girl in the Library, when you gossip with your friends and you laugh about some guy you know, calling him a ‘fucking faggot.’ We hear you, Dude on the Bus, when you laugh with your mates, saying that [insert object of humiliation here] is ‘gaay!’ You either think we’re not there, that it doesn’t matter, or worse, that those words really do mean stupid, lame, disgusting, pathetic and worthless. You don’t go around saying ‘that’s just Maori!’ or ‘He’s such a nigger,’ cos you know that hurts people. So why do it to us? Every time you say it you tell yourself, the world around you, and maybe some lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender person who might be sitting right next to you that anyone not heterosexual isn’t worth the same human decency you extend to others.
My 10 yr old cousin Reece is gentle, clever, kind, funny and cheerful, he already knows he’s gay, and his mother tells me he comes home crying from school more often than not.
So stop it. Just fucking stop it, ok?
DR
Showing posts with label New Zealand. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Zealand. Show all posts
Friday, October 16, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Maori Cultural Nationalism
by DannyR
Evan Te Ahu Poata-Smith’s He Pokeke Uenuku i Tu Ai: The evolution of contemporary Maori protest (1996) analyses the Maori cultural renaissance and political movement since the 1970s, highlighting the rise of Maori cultural nationalism and identifying its failures. The following outlines these failures and explores the validity of Poata-Smith’s analysis, concluding that while the focus on Maori identity has indeed brought about positive changes in New Zealand society, it is debatable whether these advances are in fact outweighed by the shortcomings of cultural nationalism.
Maori cultural nationalism has been primarily concerned with enabling Maori studies and language to be taught in schools, and with gaining recognition in public institutions and policies for the existence and concerns of Maori (Poata-Smith, 1996, p.106). Poata-Smith does not deny that the rediscovery and preservation of Maori culture is important, however he is highly critical of the shift within the Maori rights movement since the 1980s toward the emphasis on Maori identity and culture over political demonstration. Chief among Poata-Smith’s criticisms are that the rediscovery of Maori culture has superseded demonstrations for Maori rights and systemic change, that rhetoric around Maori identity obscures the sometimes significant differences in the actual experiences of Maori people, that the movement fails to challenge the capitalist system that creates the inequalities between Maori and Pakeha, and indeed between Maori of different socio-economic classes, and that the increasing autonomy of the Maori movement limits its effectiveness.
Cultural nationalism, Poata-Smith (1996, p.106-107, 113) argues, is a substitute for political activism and actual systemic change; its emphasis on changing individual lifestyles and developing individual Maori identity as the antidote to the ills inflicted by Pakeha society actually leads to people being less political. No Maori movement has been built on a foundation of cultural nationalism, Poata-Smith (1996, pp.113-114) notes, nevertheless the ideas and language of cultural nationalism have been adopted by Maori social movements and have inhibited activism and political involvement.
A second criticism of Maori cultural nationalism is that it treats Maori as a unified, homogenous group; from the poorest to the richest, Maori experience is assumed to be the same (Poata-Smith, 1996, p.112). There is no recognition that middle-class Maori have the same sort of privileges relative to working-class Maori that Pakeha middle-class people have relative to Pakeha working-class people. Cultural nationalism also fails to recognise that Maori are not and have never been one homogenous people; generational, gender and tribal differences have always existed, and these are often in conflict (McLennan et al., 2004, p.204; Melbourne, 1995, pp.155, 158; Poata-Smith, 1996, p.112). This assumption that there is one true Maori identity encourages Maori to fight over what constitutes ‘authentic’ Maori identity, failing to acknowledge that personal identities are embedded in historical contexts, that identities change over time, and that individuals often identify with multiple groups (Poata-Smith, 1996, p.112).
Similarly, cultural nationalists assume that Pakeha are one homogenous group and characterise them as the enemy of Maori, inherently and irredeemably greedy and exploitative, even those who would be allies (Poata-Smith, 1996, p.113). The emphasis on individual identity personalises the conflict, and thus Pakeha people and their presence in Aotearoa become the problem, rather than the capitalist system that perpetrates the inequalities between these groups (Poata-Smith, 1996, pp.111-112).
A further criticism levelled at cultural nationalism is that it has eliminated solidarity between Maori and other oppressed groups, its proponents have advocated the creation and maintenance of an autonomous Maori movement, based on the idea that Pakeha and other non-Maori cannot understand the oppression suffered by Maori people and should therefore be excluded. Poata-Smith (1996, p.107) notes that Donna Awatere and other Maori academics attacked and alienated other Left-wing social movements with accusations that these groups profited by and were in fact predicated on the exploitation of Maori, rather than gunning for the Right and the class system that created the inequalities in the first place. By excluding Pakeha, Poata-Smith (1996, p.114-115) argues, the Maori movement limits itself, depriving itself of Pakehas’ greater access to resources and channels of influence, and swinging from Left to Right policies and ideologies in an absence of any actual power to create change. Maori autonomy allows middle-class interests to hijack the movement and ensure that working-class concerns remain marginal, thus robbing the movement of its power to actually improve the lives of the very people who most need its advocacy (Poata-Smith, 1996, 115).
Poata-Smith (1996, pp.107-109) charges the Maori elite with complicity, in that they consistently fail to challenge the exploitative capitalist economic system that disadvantages Maori. This elite is made up of academics and corporate bosses, wealthy middle-class people employed by the Labour government of the mid-90s to simultaneously push for Maori interests and support the status quo; rewarded with opportunity, prestige and wealth, and thus effectively divorced from the realities of working-class life that the majority of Maori experience (McLennan et al., 2004, pp. 143, 208; Poata-Smith, 1996, pp.109-110). Poata-Smith notes that since the 1980’s the Maori movement has fought for precisely the political changes that benefit these already wealthy, middle-class Maori (Poata-Smith, 1996, p.112).
Poata-Smith’s analysis is correct on a number of points. In his assertion that Maori identity was unheard-of prior to European colonisation he is supported by Durie (1998, pp.53-55) and Sir Tipene O’Reagan (Melbourne, 1995, pp.155, 158), among others. He is also undoubtedly correct in asserting that the rediscovery of Maori heritage is valuable, but that it does not guarantee change in the present and future on its own, and therefore cannot be an end in itself. If action does not follow inspiration, all that will be accomplished is increased anger and resentment over past injustices, which will in turn make Maori people less inclined to engage with the problem in future.
Poata-Smith recognises that this rediscovery of Maori heritage is intended to enable a person to take action, but notes that this action is essentially individual, that is, increased Maori self-identification leads only to changes in one’s own lifestyle. The idea is that if more people are more ‘authentically’ Maori, they will make personal political choices consistent with that identity and in so doing influence the building of a society that is fair to Maori. This approach limits the spread of political discourse through society; individual choices in isolation make little differences in large populations, and clearly attempts at one-on-one persuasion will not be nearly as effective as an organised campaign to reach as many people as possible. Cultural nationalism, with its emphasis on individual identity and choice, fails to address larger, structural inequalities between Maori and Pakeha and ultimately renders Maori protest ineffective (Sissons, 1993).
Poata-Smith is also right to object to cultural nationalists’ insistence on the autonomy of the Maori movement, it is not necessary to experience first-hand the particular form of oppression, discrimination and exploitation faced by a minority to see how unjust it is and work to change it. Clearly there are plenty of Pakeha who sympathise with Maori (Melbourne, 1995, p.16), those that do not may be those who are unfamiliar with the issues facing Maori or those who are engaged in the promulgation of the dominant narrative, that Maori are receiving ‘special treatment,’ that they are lazy and so on; either way the Maori movement has failed to impress upon such people the extent of the difficulties faced by Maori people (Melbourne, 1995, p.160).
Of course there are other possible explanations for Pakeha indifference, certainly many Pakeha also feel disenfranchised and exploited and are perhaps too preoccupied with their own struggles. Spoonley (1995, pp.99, 110) notes that ‘Pakeha’ is itself an ambiguous and contested term and suggests that Pakeha are still in the process of making the awkward transition from seeing themselves as having been colonised and exploited by the British to seeing themselves as the colonisers, and thus they may not yet fully appreciate the Maori perspective.
It follows that Maori must seek alliances with other oppressed and marginalised groups across ethnic divisions, as they have many of the same concerns. Maori, particularly, are often materially disadvantaged and thus lacking in resources to challenge the prevailing system (McLennan et al., 2004, pp.208-209; Poata-Smith, 1996, pp.114-115). It can be argued that circumstances only really improve for minorities when they have allies who are not part of their group, as those ‘alien’ to the wider society need endorsement from others in the mainstream to be accepted. Certainly traditional Maori ways of life are alien to the Pakeha majority, Maori language and cultural expression having been all but banned from schools for the greater part of the twentieth century (McLennan et al., 2004, p.201).
There are points with which we might take issue in Poata-Smith’s analysis, however. A first objection is the unsupported assertion that cultural nationalists see the differences between Maori and Pakeha as biologically based (Poata-Smith, 1996, pp.111-112). He posits that racism is instead a product of capitalism, but does not make these links explicit. McLennan et al. (2004, pp.208-209) suggest that Maori disadvantage is due to New Zealand’s colonial history combined with the capitalist incorporation of Maori into the working-class. European colonisers thus came in, took over, deprived the native peoples and forced them into low-paid labouring jobs, and then interpreted their relative poverty as proof that Maori are racially inferior or just plain lazy.
Poata-Smith also questions the validity of a singular Maori identity, given that there are great disparities between tribes, genders, classes and the like, but others argue that this innovation is not necessarily a bad thing, as a great many Maori now live in cities and see their class as more important to their identity than their tribal affiliation. Some of these people do not have access to the traditional Maori world of marae and iwi, and so cultural nationalism allows them to retain a sense of connection with their ancestry in a way that they feel is relevant (Durie, 1998, pp.57-59). Sissons (1993) notes that Maori identity has such beneficial effects as improved self-esteem on the individual level and more harmonious relations at the group level. Others note that indigenous cultural revivals around the world are important precursors to community construction and mobilization (Najel, 1998, pp.252-253).
Lastly, it should be noted that subsequent to the publication of He Pokeke Uenuku i Tu Ai: The evolution of contemporary Maori protest, New Zealand has undergone significant changes to its political systems, going so far as to institute Maori seats in Parliament. Future research should examine the extent to which these changes exacerbate or compensate for the problems identified by Poata-Smith.
In conclusion, cultural nationalism has contributed in a number of positive ways to New Zealand society, and to Maori in particular, and can be seen as an important element in the movement for Maori equality. It is not, however, without significant problems, most importantly that it dissuades Maori from engaging in political activism, alienates the Maori movement from similar social movements that would otherwise be its allies, fails to recognise the sometimes substantial differences in the interests of those it claims to represent, and ultimately fails to challenge the system that creates the very inequalities in society that it purports to fight.
References
Durie, M. (1998). Mana Tupuna, identity and heritage. Te Mana, Te Kawanatanga: The politics of Maori self-determination. Auckland, New Zealand: Oxford University Press.
McLennan, G. Ryan, A. & Spoonley, P. (2004). Exploring Society: Sociology for New Zealand students, 2nd ed. New Zealand: Pearson Education.
Melbourne, H. (1995). Maori sovereignty: The Maori perspective. New Zealand: Hodder Moa Beckett.
Najel, J. (1998). Constructing ethnicity: Creating and recreating ethnic identity and culture. In M. W. Hughey (ed.) New tribalisms: The resurgence of race and ethnicity (pp.237-272). New York: New York University Press.
Poata-Smith, E. Te Ahu. (1996). He Pokeke Uenuku i Tu Ai: The evolution of contemporary Maori protest. In P. Spoonley, C. Macpherson and D. Pearson (eds.) Nga Patai:Racism and ethnic relations in Aotearoa/New Zealand (pp. 91-115). New Zealand: Dunmore Press.
Sissons, J. (1993). The systemisation of tradition: Maori culture as a strategic resource. Oceania, 64(2), 97-116.
Spoonley, P. (1995). Constructing ourselves: The postcolonial politics of Pakeha. In M. Wilson and A. Yeatman (eds.) Justice and identity: Antipodean practices (pp.96-115). New Zealand: Bridget Williams Books.
Evan Te Ahu Poata-Smith’s He Pokeke Uenuku i Tu Ai: The evolution of contemporary Maori protest (1996) analyses the Maori cultural renaissance and political movement since the 1970s, highlighting the rise of Maori cultural nationalism and identifying its failures. The following outlines these failures and explores the validity of Poata-Smith’s analysis, concluding that while the focus on Maori identity has indeed brought about positive changes in New Zealand society, it is debatable whether these advances are in fact outweighed by the shortcomings of cultural nationalism.
Maori cultural nationalism has been primarily concerned with enabling Maori studies and language to be taught in schools, and with gaining recognition in public institutions and policies for the existence and concerns of Maori (Poata-Smith, 1996, p.106). Poata-Smith does not deny that the rediscovery and preservation of Maori culture is important, however he is highly critical of the shift within the Maori rights movement since the 1980s toward the emphasis on Maori identity and culture over political demonstration. Chief among Poata-Smith’s criticisms are that the rediscovery of Maori culture has superseded demonstrations for Maori rights and systemic change, that rhetoric around Maori identity obscures the sometimes significant differences in the actual experiences of Maori people, that the movement fails to challenge the capitalist system that creates the inequalities between Maori and Pakeha, and indeed between Maori of different socio-economic classes, and that the increasing autonomy of the Maori movement limits its effectiveness.
Cultural nationalism, Poata-Smith (1996, p.106-107, 113) argues, is a substitute for political activism and actual systemic change; its emphasis on changing individual lifestyles and developing individual Maori identity as the antidote to the ills inflicted by Pakeha society actually leads to people being less political. No Maori movement has been built on a foundation of cultural nationalism, Poata-Smith (1996, pp.113-114) notes, nevertheless the ideas and language of cultural nationalism have been adopted by Maori social movements and have inhibited activism and political involvement.
A second criticism of Maori cultural nationalism is that it treats Maori as a unified, homogenous group; from the poorest to the richest, Maori experience is assumed to be the same (Poata-Smith, 1996, p.112). There is no recognition that middle-class Maori have the same sort of privileges relative to working-class Maori that Pakeha middle-class people have relative to Pakeha working-class people. Cultural nationalism also fails to recognise that Maori are not and have never been one homogenous people; generational, gender and tribal differences have always existed, and these are often in conflict (McLennan et al., 2004, p.204; Melbourne, 1995, pp.155, 158; Poata-Smith, 1996, p.112). This assumption that there is one true Maori identity encourages Maori to fight over what constitutes ‘authentic’ Maori identity, failing to acknowledge that personal identities are embedded in historical contexts, that identities change over time, and that individuals often identify with multiple groups (Poata-Smith, 1996, p.112).
Similarly, cultural nationalists assume that Pakeha are one homogenous group and characterise them as the enemy of Maori, inherently and irredeemably greedy and exploitative, even those who would be allies (Poata-Smith, 1996, p.113). The emphasis on individual identity personalises the conflict, and thus Pakeha people and their presence in Aotearoa become the problem, rather than the capitalist system that perpetrates the inequalities between these groups (Poata-Smith, 1996, pp.111-112).
A further criticism levelled at cultural nationalism is that it has eliminated solidarity between Maori and other oppressed groups, its proponents have advocated the creation and maintenance of an autonomous Maori movement, based on the idea that Pakeha and other non-Maori cannot understand the oppression suffered by Maori people and should therefore be excluded. Poata-Smith (1996, p.107) notes that Donna Awatere and other Maori academics attacked and alienated other Left-wing social movements with accusations that these groups profited by and were in fact predicated on the exploitation of Maori, rather than gunning for the Right and the class system that created the inequalities in the first place. By excluding Pakeha, Poata-Smith (1996, p.114-115) argues, the Maori movement limits itself, depriving itself of Pakehas’ greater access to resources and channels of influence, and swinging from Left to Right policies and ideologies in an absence of any actual power to create change. Maori autonomy allows middle-class interests to hijack the movement and ensure that working-class concerns remain marginal, thus robbing the movement of its power to actually improve the lives of the very people who most need its advocacy (Poata-Smith, 1996, 115).
Poata-Smith (1996, pp.107-109) charges the Maori elite with complicity, in that they consistently fail to challenge the exploitative capitalist economic system that disadvantages Maori. This elite is made up of academics and corporate bosses, wealthy middle-class people employed by the Labour government of the mid-90s to simultaneously push for Maori interests and support the status quo; rewarded with opportunity, prestige and wealth, and thus effectively divorced from the realities of working-class life that the majority of Maori experience (McLennan et al., 2004, pp. 143, 208; Poata-Smith, 1996, pp.109-110). Poata-Smith notes that since the 1980’s the Maori movement has fought for precisely the political changes that benefit these already wealthy, middle-class Maori (Poata-Smith, 1996, p.112).
Poata-Smith’s analysis is correct on a number of points. In his assertion that Maori identity was unheard-of prior to European colonisation he is supported by Durie (1998, pp.53-55) and Sir Tipene O’Reagan (Melbourne, 1995, pp.155, 158), among others. He is also undoubtedly correct in asserting that the rediscovery of Maori heritage is valuable, but that it does not guarantee change in the present and future on its own, and therefore cannot be an end in itself. If action does not follow inspiration, all that will be accomplished is increased anger and resentment over past injustices, which will in turn make Maori people less inclined to engage with the problem in future.
Poata-Smith recognises that this rediscovery of Maori heritage is intended to enable a person to take action, but notes that this action is essentially individual, that is, increased Maori self-identification leads only to changes in one’s own lifestyle. The idea is that if more people are more ‘authentically’ Maori, they will make personal political choices consistent with that identity and in so doing influence the building of a society that is fair to Maori. This approach limits the spread of political discourse through society; individual choices in isolation make little differences in large populations, and clearly attempts at one-on-one persuasion will not be nearly as effective as an organised campaign to reach as many people as possible. Cultural nationalism, with its emphasis on individual identity and choice, fails to address larger, structural inequalities between Maori and Pakeha and ultimately renders Maori protest ineffective (Sissons, 1993).
Poata-Smith is also right to object to cultural nationalists’ insistence on the autonomy of the Maori movement, it is not necessary to experience first-hand the particular form of oppression, discrimination and exploitation faced by a minority to see how unjust it is and work to change it. Clearly there are plenty of Pakeha who sympathise with Maori (Melbourne, 1995, p.16), those that do not may be those who are unfamiliar with the issues facing Maori or those who are engaged in the promulgation of the dominant narrative, that Maori are receiving ‘special treatment,’ that they are lazy and so on; either way the Maori movement has failed to impress upon such people the extent of the difficulties faced by Maori people (Melbourne, 1995, p.160).
Of course there are other possible explanations for Pakeha indifference, certainly many Pakeha also feel disenfranchised and exploited and are perhaps too preoccupied with their own struggles. Spoonley (1995, pp.99, 110) notes that ‘Pakeha’ is itself an ambiguous and contested term and suggests that Pakeha are still in the process of making the awkward transition from seeing themselves as having been colonised and exploited by the British to seeing themselves as the colonisers, and thus they may not yet fully appreciate the Maori perspective.
It follows that Maori must seek alliances with other oppressed and marginalised groups across ethnic divisions, as they have many of the same concerns. Maori, particularly, are often materially disadvantaged and thus lacking in resources to challenge the prevailing system (McLennan et al., 2004, pp.208-209; Poata-Smith, 1996, pp.114-115). It can be argued that circumstances only really improve for minorities when they have allies who are not part of their group, as those ‘alien’ to the wider society need endorsement from others in the mainstream to be accepted. Certainly traditional Maori ways of life are alien to the Pakeha majority, Maori language and cultural expression having been all but banned from schools for the greater part of the twentieth century (McLennan et al., 2004, p.201).
There are points with which we might take issue in Poata-Smith’s analysis, however. A first objection is the unsupported assertion that cultural nationalists see the differences between Maori and Pakeha as biologically based (Poata-Smith, 1996, pp.111-112). He posits that racism is instead a product of capitalism, but does not make these links explicit. McLennan et al. (2004, pp.208-209) suggest that Maori disadvantage is due to New Zealand’s colonial history combined with the capitalist incorporation of Maori into the working-class. European colonisers thus came in, took over, deprived the native peoples and forced them into low-paid labouring jobs, and then interpreted their relative poverty as proof that Maori are racially inferior or just plain lazy.
Poata-Smith also questions the validity of a singular Maori identity, given that there are great disparities between tribes, genders, classes and the like, but others argue that this innovation is not necessarily a bad thing, as a great many Maori now live in cities and see their class as more important to their identity than their tribal affiliation. Some of these people do not have access to the traditional Maori world of marae and iwi, and so cultural nationalism allows them to retain a sense of connection with their ancestry in a way that they feel is relevant (Durie, 1998, pp.57-59). Sissons (1993) notes that Maori identity has such beneficial effects as improved self-esteem on the individual level and more harmonious relations at the group level. Others note that indigenous cultural revivals around the world are important precursors to community construction and mobilization (Najel, 1998, pp.252-253).
Lastly, it should be noted that subsequent to the publication of He Pokeke Uenuku i Tu Ai: The evolution of contemporary Maori protest, New Zealand has undergone significant changes to its political systems, going so far as to institute Maori seats in Parliament. Future research should examine the extent to which these changes exacerbate or compensate for the problems identified by Poata-Smith.
In conclusion, cultural nationalism has contributed in a number of positive ways to New Zealand society, and to Maori in particular, and can be seen as an important element in the movement for Maori equality. It is not, however, without significant problems, most importantly that it dissuades Maori from engaging in political activism, alienates the Maori movement from similar social movements that would otherwise be its allies, fails to recognise the sometimes substantial differences in the interests of those it claims to represent, and ultimately fails to challenge the system that creates the very inequalities in society that it purports to fight.
References
Durie, M. (1998). Mana Tupuna, identity and heritage. Te Mana, Te Kawanatanga: The politics of Maori self-determination. Auckland, New Zealand: Oxford University Press.
McLennan, G. Ryan, A. & Spoonley, P. (2004). Exploring Society: Sociology for New Zealand students, 2nd ed. New Zealand: Pearson Education.
Melbourne, H. (1995). Maori sovereignty: The Maori perspective. New Zealand: Hodder Moa Beckett.
Najel, J. (1998). Constructing ethnicity: Creating and recreating ethnic identity and culture. In M. W. Hughey (ed.) New tribalisms: The resurgence of race and ethnicity (pp.237-272). New York: New York University Press.
Poata-Smith, E. Te Ahu. (1996). He Pokeke Uenuku i Tu Ai: The evolution of contemporary Maori protest. In P. Spoonley, C. Macpherson and D. Pearson (eds.) Nga Patai:Racism and ethnic relations in Aotearoa/New Zealand (pp. 91-115). New Zealand: Dunmore Press.
Sissons, J. (1993). The systemisation of tradition: Maori culture as a strategic resource. Oceania, 64(2), 97-116.
Spoonley, P. (1995). Constructing ourselves: The postcolonial politics of Pakeha. In M. Wilson and A. Yeatman (eds.) Justice and identity: Antipodean practices (pp.96-115). New Zealand: Bridget Williams Books.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Nihilism -- CHAFF 2008
I found a quote on the net somewhere that said nihilism is where you go when you can’t find anything to believe in.
According to Wikipedia it’s “the view that the world, and especially human existence, is without meaning, purpose, comprehensible truth, or essential value.” It’s often defined as belief in nothing, but from what I’ve read that’s not entirely true... we should say faith in nothing to be more accurate. Faith is a firm belief in something where there isn’t or can’t be any supporting evidence. Nihilists see faith as dangerous because when we’re relying on faith we aren’t using our faculties of common sense, reason and critical analysis. According to Nietzsche (you know him – the “God is dead” guy – life of the party), faith is simply “not wanting to know.”
Not wanting to know? Crazy, right? Well, yeah. But understandable maybe. Who wants to know anyway?? It’s a big scary world out there, it’s hard to understand sometimes, so of course most of us would rather just accept on faith whatever sounds like a fair explanation. It gets exhausting asking questions all the time and never having any certainty, and realistically, nobody’s going to be able to think through absolutely EVERY issue and read EVERY book. Especially in the modern Western nations. I’m not really surprised that in the most technologically advanced and modernized societies, like the USA, Australia and New Zealand, so many people believe in a cosmic zombie who communicates with them each individually by means of telepathy... our lives are a lot more sped up and full of stress and hassle in comparison to the rest of the world. We just don’t have the time to think things through.
Sometimes I think that if any of us could see how complicated the world really is it would be enough to drive us mad. But what the nihilists are getting at is that though it’s comforting to just think we know the answers without having to ask the questions, we’re fooling ourselves, and making things worse for ourselves and others in doing so. How? Well, let’s just pull a random example out of our collective arse, shall we? AIDS is killing thousands of people every day, and causes immeasurable human suffering, all around the world but especially in poorest nations. People get AIDS by becoming infected with HIV, most often through transmission of sexual fluids, and this can be prevented by using condoms during sex. There’s more to it than that, but that’s good enough for our purposes. We could fix the problem and alleviate a lot of the suffering if people wore the damn condoms, but faith has stuck its beak in and convinced a whole lot of those people that the father of the aforementioned cosmic zombie, who lives up in the sky and watches everything they do (the dirty perve) will throw them in a lake of fire to burn forever if they wear condoms when they fuck. And other well-meaning faithful people, mindful of the imperilled souls of those people in the populations where HIV is rampant, are kindly puncturing the condom packets before the poor sods even get them, just to be sure that no latex stands between souls and salvation. Faith makes us do dumb things, so nihilism begins to look like an attractive alternative. It’s the rejection of any belief that relies on faith, whether religious or secular.
Another defining characteristic of nihilism is the rejection of the idea that things have a final purpose. Nihilists believe everything is random, that there is no preordained final destination or revelation. In other words, you’re not going to heaven. It doesn’t exist and what’s more, it’s pointless to live your life in some sort of preparation for it. So go on, masturbate, get drunk, call your mother a herpes-riddled crack-whore... it doesn’t matter. You won’t get punished for it in the hereafter (though your mum might burn all your stuff and kick you out on the street). In a nutshell, nihilists reject the teleological arguments offered by most religions. Teleology is the idea that the universe functions a bit like a machine according to some sort of god-given plan or design, and it’s not restricted to the world of religion either. A common, almost sacred belief among people in the secular West is that you and your significant other were ‘made for each other,’ or if you haven’t got one at the moment, that she or he is out there somewhere waiting for you, that it’s ‘meant to be.’ Well the nihilists have got news for you... there was nothing inevitable about you finding that one particular person, there was no plan, no destiny, it was all just chance, and you only think it’s something magical and special because it feels nice, but you fail to see that you probably would have felt the same about almost anyone else. They might remind you ever so politely (or more likely, somewhat sharply) that everyone else is feeling something pretty similar for their own special-someone, you’re just too blind to see it, so shut the fuck up. Nihilists also reject Marxism, Buddhism, and any other set of beliefs that rely on teleology. There is no destiny, there can be no progress.
Nihilism is virtually synonymous with scepticism. There are two main branches: social or existential nihilism, and political nihilism. Let’s start with the existential variety. It’s passive, influenced by eastern philosophy and mysticism, and concerns itself primarily with isolation, human suffering and the futility and hopelessness of existence. It’s bloody depressing. Most people, when you mention nihilism, will think this is what you mean. In the face of all the meaninglessness and randomness, the only coping mechanism is detachment – just stop giving a shit. Don’t do anything for anyone, don’t bother with worthy causes, just don’t care, because ultimately it’s a waste of time.
Now, don’t confuse existential nihilism with depression, though that certainly follows on from it a lot of the time. Personally I’m inclined toward depression when I’m feeling worthless. When I ask someone out or let them know I’m interested and they say “Fuck no, I need space, I’m not ready for a relationship just now, you’re sweet and everything, let’s just be friends, STOP STALKING ME!!!”, I usually take it to me mean that I’m not tall enough, attractive enough, smart enough etc, and I inevitably begin saying to myself: “What’s the point in trying anyway, I may as well stay in my room, give up my hopes and get used to being by myself.” But kids, that’s not quite full blown existential nihilism, because I’m not saying that there’s no point in anyone trying to get laid, only that there’s no point in me trying. Important difference. Even at my most whiny and self-loathing, I would still agree that most people can and should try to find happiness in the whole love and romance thingy.
Political nihilism, the other main branch of nihilism, is active, revolutionary and at once destructive and creative. It’s about social structures and authority. Political nihilism states that things are in such a bad state that the only real option left to us is to smash them up, and whether or not we can rebuild we will at least have done some good. Being a political nihilist is about being in the here and now... rejecting all religious and philosophical debate and all the metaphysical circular reasoning that it ultimately leads to. It’s about challenging all the assumptions we base our values on, even equality and justice. There’s no future goal that we’re aiming for, no reformed society that’s more tolerant or diverse or equitable or prosperous, or at least no goal that’s more important than the present. It’s about realising there’s no life but this one, and making the most of it. It’s about taking responsibility..... if there’s no higher power then your success or failure is up to you, and you alone. Another nihilism quote I found sums it up nicely... “Each human life has the potential, but unless one strives to be a god, they are only a worm.” We can do anything... it’s up to us whether we repeat the patterns of our forbears, killing and subjugating each other for material gain and dominance and letting our masters profit at our expense, or whether we control our lives and reap the benefits for ourselves.
It’s true that nihilism, like anarchism, is usually equated with violence and terrorism, and there’s certainly historical justification. Nihilists generally reckon that violence is not inherent in their philosophies, but I’m inclined to think that if nihilism is your philosophy you’re more likely to be aggressive. Nihilists say there is nothing above man, there is no objective moral, ethical reality, but is that really the case? The argument can be made that we carry our moral absolutes with us, encoded into our brains. I think it’s genetic, we’ve survived as a species because we know instinctively how to interact with each other. We’re a social species, we have survived because we can cooperate, and we know, each of us, how to do this, how to avoid conflict. Something in our brains, other than fear of repercussions, tells us a behaviour is wrong. Why else, for instance, would all these religions around the world have come up with such basic moral tenets as don’t kill each other? Don’t torture people for fun?? And remember to put the trash out???
Just because there’s no ultimate point to anything, and even though nothing I actually accomplish is going to last forever, that doesn’t mean there’s no sense in doing it anyway, does it? In fact, doesn’t that make human endeavour a more precious and amazing thing? Think about it, out of all the randomness, out of all the meaninglessness, we are able to create something that has meaning for ourselves and others. That meaning might be quite arbitrary, we each might see the same thing quite differently, but isn’t that kind of beautiful in itself? There might not be any reason, in the big scheme of things, for me to get out there and make a noise about discrimination, pollution or the suffering of others, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it. It will mean something to me, I’ll be taking control, making something out of the nothingness, making the world what I want it to be. And maybe, just maybe, someone else will see the world the way I do.
And that’s meaning enough for me.
Danny Rudd
According to Wikipedia it’s “the view that the world, and especially human existence, is without meaning, purpose, comprehensible truth, or essential value.” It’s often defined as belief in nothing, but from what I’ve read that’s not entirely true... we should say faith in nothing to be more accurate. Faith is a firm belief in something where there isn’t or can’t be any supporting evidence. Nihilists see faith as dangerous because when we’re relying on faith we aren’t using our faculties of common sense, reason and critical analysis. According to Nietzsche (you know him – the “God is dead” guy – life of the party), faith is simply “not wanting to know.”
Not wanting to know? Crazy, right? Well, yeah. But understandable maybe. Who wants to know anyway?? It’s a big scary world out there, it’s hard to understand sometimes, so of course most of us would rather just accept on faith whatever sounds like a fair explanation. It gets exhausting asking questions all the time and never having any certainty, and realistically, nobody’s going to be able to think through absolutely EVERY issue and read EVERY book. Especially in the modern Western nations. I’m not really surprised that in the most technologically advanced and modernized societies, like the USA, Australia and New Zealand, so many people believe in a cosmic zombie who communicates with them each individually by means of telepathy... our lives are a lot more sped up and full of stress and hassle in comparison to the rest of the world. We just don’t have the time to think things through.
Sometimes I think that if any of us could see how complicated the world really is it would be enough to drive us mad. But what the nihilists are getting at is that though it’s comforting to just think we know the answers without having to ask the questions, we’re fooling ourselves, and making things worse for ourselves and others in doing so. How? Well, let’s just pull a random example out of our collective arse, shall we? AIDS is killing thousands of people every day, and causes immeasurable human suffering, all around the world but especially in poorest nations. People get AIDS by becoming infected with HIV, most often through transmission of sexual fluids, and this can be prevented by using condoms during sex. There’s more to it than that, but that’s good enough for our purposes. We could fix the problem and alleviate a lot of the suffering if people wore the damn condoms, but faith has stuck its beak in and convinced a whole lot of those people that the father of the aforementioned cosmic zombie, who lives up in the sky and watches everything they do (the dirty perve) will throw them in a lake of fire to burn forever if they wear condoms when they fuck. And other well-meaning faithful people, mindful of the imperilled souls of those people in the populations where HIV is rampant, are kindly puncturing the condom packets before the poor sods even get them, just to be sure that no latex stands between souls and salvation. Faith makes us do dumb things, so nihilism begins to look like an attractive alternative. It’s the rejection of any belief that relies on faith, whether religious or secular.
Another defining characteristic of nihilism is the rejection of the idea that things have a final purpose. Nihilists believe everything is random, that there is no preordained final destination or revelation. In other words, you’re not going to heaven. It doesn’t exist and what’s more, it’s pointless to live your life in some sort of preparation for it. So go on, masturbate, get drunk, call your mother a herpes-riddled crack-whore... it doesn’t matter. You won’t get punished for it in the hereafter (though your mum might burn all your stuff and kick you out on the street). In a nutshell, nihilists reject the teleological arguments offered by most religions. Teleology is the idea that the universe functions a bit like a machine according to some sort of god-given plan or design, and it’s not restricted to the world of religion either. A common, almost sacred belief among people in the secular West is that you and your significant other were ‘made for each other,’ or if you haven’t got one at the moment, that she or he is out there somewhere waiting for you, that it’s ‘meant to be.’ Well the nihilists have got news for you... there was nothing inevitable about you finding that one particular person, there was no plan, no destiny, it was all just chance, and you only think it’s something magical and special because it feels nice, but you fail to see that you probably would have felt the same about almost anyone else. They might remind you ever so politely (or more likely, somewhat sharply) that everyone else is feeling something pretty similar for their own special-someone, you’re just too blind to see it, so shut the fuck up. Nihilists also reject Marxism, Buddhism, and any other set of beliefs that rely on teleology. There is no destiny, there can be no progress.
Nihilism is virtually synonymous with scepticism. There are two main branches: social or existential nihilism, and political nihilism. Let’s start with the existential variety. It’s passive, influenced by eastern philosophy and mysticism, and concerns itself primarily with isolation, human suffering and the futility and hopelessness of existence. It’s bloody depressing. Most people, when you mention nihilism, will think this is what you mean. In the face of all the meaninglessness and randomness, the only coping mechanism is detachment – just stop giving a shit. Don’t do anything for anyone, don’t bother with worthy causes, just don’t care, because ultimately it’s a waste of time.
Now, don’t confuse existential nihilism with depression, though that certainly follows on from it a lot of the time. Personally I’m inclined toward depression when I’m feeling worthless. When I ask someone out or let them know I’m interested and they say “Fuck no, I need space, I’m not ready for a relationship just now, you’re sweet and everything, let’s just be friends, STOP STALKING ME!!!”, I usually take it to me mean that I’m not tall enough, attractive enough, smart enough etc, and I inevitably begin saying to myself: “What’s the point in trying anyway, I may as well stay in my room, give up my hopes and get used to being by myself.” But kids, that’s not quite full blown existential nihilism, because I’m not saying that there’s no point in anyone trying to get laid, only that there’s no point in me trying. Important difference. Even at my most whiny and self-loathing, I would still agree that most people can and should try to find happiness in the whole love and romance thingy.
Political nihilism, the other main branch of nihilism, is active, revolutionary and at once destructive and creative. It’s about social structures and authority. Political nihilism states that things are in such a bad state that the only real option left to us is to smash them up, and whether or not we can rebuild we will at least have done some good. Being a political nihilist is about being in the here and now... rejecting all religious and philosophical debate and all the metaphysical circular reasoning that it ultimately leads to. It’s about challenging all the assumptions we base our values on, even equality and justice. There’s no future goal that we’re aiming for, no reformed society that’s more tolerant or diverse or equitable or prosperous, or at least no goal that’s more important than the present. It’s about realising there’s no life but this one, and making the most of it. It’s about taking responsibility..... if there’s no higher power then your success or failure is up to you, and you alone. Another nihilism quote I found sums it up nicely... “Each human life has the potential, but unless one strives to be a god, they are only a worm.” We can do anything... it’s up to us whether we repeat the patterns of our forbears, killing and subjugating each other for material gain and dominance and letting our masters profit at our expense, or whether we control our lives and reap the benefits for ourselves.
It’s true that nihilism, like anarchism, is usually equated with violence and terrorism, and there’s certainly historical justification. Nihilists generally reckon that violence is not inherent in their philosophies, but I’m inclined to think that if nihilism is your philosophy you’re more likely to be aggressive. Nihilists say there is nothing above man, there is no objective moral, ethical reality, but is that really the case? The argument can be made that we carry our moral absolutes with us, encoded into our brains. I think it’s genetic, we’ve survived as a species because we know instinctively how to interact with each other. We’re a social species, we have survived because we can cooperate, and we know, each of us, how to do this, how to avoid conflict. Something in our brains, other than fear of repercussions, tells us a behaviour is wrong. Why else, for instance, would all these religions around the world have come up with such basic moral tenets as don’t kill each other? Don’t torture people for fun?? And remember to put the trash out???
Just because there’s no ultimate point to anything, and even though nothing I actually accomplish is going to last forever, that doesn’t mean there’s no sense in doing it anyway, does it? In fact, doesn’t that make human endeavour a more precious and amazing thing? Think about it, out of all the randomness, out of all the meaninglessness, we are able to create something that has meaning for ourselves and others. That meaning might be quite arbitrary, we each might see the same thing quite differently, but isn’t that kind of beautiful in itself? There might not be any reason, in the big scheme of things, for me to get out there and make a noise about discrimination, pollution or the suffering of others, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it. It will mean something to me, I’ll be taking control, making something out of the nothingness, making the world what I want it to be. And maybe, just maybe, someone else will see the world the way I do.
And that’s meaning enough for me.
Danny Rudd
Monday, January 21, 2002
Horny Holiday
On Wednesday the 16th of January, me and Bryce packed up and drove to Queenstown, he'd scored accommodation in the A Line Hotel through his work. It was beautiful and sunny on the way down and we listened to cds the whole way. We checked into the hotel and Bryce was embarrassed that we were sharing a double bed - he thought it might get back to his work.
In Queenstown, we played cards a lot, ate way too much McDonalds, went on a lot of walks around the town and the surrounding countryside, went to see The Lord of the Rings at the movies again (I'd already seen it with my mum), and tried fucking. Neither of us was really able to bottom, though, so we gave up and and kept to the usual routine.
The day after we arrived, we went for a walk around the Botanic Gardens on the peninsula at night, as we sat on a park bench talking, holding hands, we were surprised and a bit alarmed to see a guy standing under the bushes, watching us and masturbating. We ran away and sat under a streetlight back in town, and laughed when the same guy walked past ten minutes later.
On the Saturday we visited Glenorchy, and went for a long walk around the lagoon. This was followed by a long drive out into the countryside along a gravel road, looking for a place called, ironically enough, 'Paradise.' We didn't find it.
Later that afternoon we played minigolf, and Bryce beat the pants off me. Then we went up the Gondola and went on the Luge, which is bloody scary.
On Sunday 20th, we left the hotel at 10am and drove to Milford Sound and Te Anau. The scenery was amazing, but the trip was long and boring. We didn't go on a ferry ride or anything, it was too expensive. Then it was a long drive back towards Christchurch, stopping overnight at Twizel in a horrible little budget backpackers.
The next morning we continued home, heading up inland to Mount Cook. Thank god I didn't get a job at The Hermitage Hotel there, it's so boring, despite the spectacular views.
Driving on, we stopped at Tekapo for lunch, visited the Church of the Good Shepherd and the famous statue of the dog, and then we began the final leg of the journey. We got back into Christchurch at 3:30pm and I went back to Ben and Becky's to do laundry.
I spent the evening at Tall Steve and Short Leon's house, reading their books about gay culture and listening to Steve prattle on.
"Why is it called Tourist Season if you can't shoot them?"
"Is a castrated pig disgruntled?"
"Whose cruel idea was it for the word 'lisp' to have an 's' in it?"
"Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?"
In Queenstown, we played cards a lot, ate way too much McDonalds, went on a lot of walks around the town and the surrounding countryside, went to see The Lord of the Rings at the movies again (I'd already seen it with my mum), and tried fucking. Neither of us was really able to bottom, though, so we gave up and and kept to the usual routine.
The day after we arrived, we went for a walk around the Botanic Gardens on the peninsula at night, as we sat on a park bench talking, holding hands, we were surprised and a bit alarmed to see a guy standing under the bushes, watching us and masturbating. We ran away and sat under a streetlight back in town, and laughed when the same guy walked past ten minutes later.
On the Saturday we visited Glenorchy, and went for a long walk around the lagoon. This was followed by a long drive out into the countryside along a gravel road, looking for a place called, ironically enough, 'Paradise.' We didn't find it.
Later that afternoon we played minigolf, and Bryce beat the pants off me. Then we went up the Gondola and went on the Luge, which is bloody scary.
On Sunday 20th, we left the hotel at 10am and drove to Milford Sound and Te Anau. The scenery was amazing, but the trip was long and boring. We didn't go on a ferry ride or anything, it was too expensive. Then it was a long drive back towards Christchurch, stopping overnight at Twizel in a horrible little budget backpackers.
The next morning we continued home, heading up inland to Mount Cook. Thank god I didn't get a job at The Hermitage Hotel there, it's so boring, despite the spectacular views.
Driving on, we stopped at Tekapo for lunch, visited the Church of the Good Shepherd and the famous statue of the dog, and then we began the final leg of the journey. We got back into Christchurch at 3:30pm and I went back to Ben and Becky's to do laundry.
I spent the evening at Tall Steve and Short Leon's house, reading their books about gay culture and listening to Steve prattle on.
"Why is it called Tourist Season if you can't shoot them?"
"Is a castrated pig disgruntled?"
"Whose cruel idea was it for the word 'lisp' to have an 's' in it?"
"Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?"
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