Confessions

Police Brutality at the Sydney GLBT Mardi Gras - Dum dum-dum dum-dumb.

When an officer of the law slams a handcuffed teenager’s head into the ground from standing position, I think that anyway you ham it up, you have to admit that such an instance is what we’d want to call ‘excessive force’. I know, I’m talking about something that was plastered all over the news already, most of us have forgotten about it now. Mass media coverage tends to do that to me too. Just bear with me. Assistant Commisioner Mark ‘spectacles’ Murdoch says that we shouldn’t take the instance out of context, after all the kid threatened to kick someone in the shins. Then he kicked the police in the shins or at least tried to, according to early reports. Good lord. AC Murdoch does have a point though, to some extent - it is worth knowing why the officer involved saw it fit to use excessive force. Perhaps he felt that this lone teenager was going to turn the post Sydney gay and lesbian Mardi Gras crowd into a hate riot, and what better way to stop such a thing happening than to slam a kid’s head into the ground so hard that it leaves a puddle of blood. This isn’t a gay thing. Even if it was (ie the officer involved was ‘culturally insensitive’ in regards to the sentiments of such an event) it can’t be now. To say that it’s about being homosexual precludes the possibility of such an occurrence happening to someone who is not homosexual. Police brutality, as we know, is not that way inclined in terms of its discriminations (these days). It’s not just a police thing either - there was no doubt a huge police presence at the event and I’m sure that the majority handled themselves in a professional, sensitive, and dare I say even enthusiastic manner (although let’s not forget that this was not the only incident of police brutality reported on the evening in question). This is about officer 266 and Jamie Jackson, a skinny drunk teenager who may or may not have been acting like a dick.

Let’s take the sympathetic route. At best, the officer who did the deed lost his head in the heat of the moment and made a mistake (very inconveniently videotaped by a good samaritan who continues to do so even after being repeatedly told to stop filming … just because). While this is deeply disappointing, we might say fair enough, after all everyone makes mistakes. Mistakes are forgivable when acknowledged by the responsible parties involved and formal apologies/restitutions are made. We would hope for communication between aggravated parties and ultimately the chance for some kind of reconciliation. Instead it seems we’ll get numerous investigations undertaken both within the police force as well as from independent parties (police have called for investigation from the NSW ombudsman, although the Greens and Sydney City council have called for further investigations to be made). While investigations should indeed be made, one gets that frustrated nihilistic feeling in the gut - and we watch on as the official parties cover their arses. In terms of the media coverage the event received, the police are forced to deny culpability. This is an election year, which isn’t to say that it will definitely be covered up, only that the pressures on government bodies are convoluted to a greater degree than your average year. Now that the kid is charged with assault and resisting arrest, one wonders if anyone will step forward to corroborate the initial charges of ‘shin-kicking’. Somehow I bet no one saw it. If I’m wrong then the kid should be charged for his misdemeanours - he’s old enough to know better too. Either way it doesn’t change the fact that the officer who slammed his head into the ground has also transgressed the law. As it is this man’s job to uphold the law, it seems imperative that he be charged appropriately for such a raw transgression. Let’s hold AC Murdoch to his word to take this matter seriously, and hope there can be some sense made of this extremely stupid incident.

Skin-Deep Analysis: Rotting Flesh - Inane Lust

Shambling in the darkness, you move slowly, stumbling upon rough and strange terrain, towards something that you want, something you desire, that you crave above all else. You’re not sure what it is anymore, in fact, you’re not sure of much of anything these days.

Let us entertain the idea that within every story there lies an element of something ‘real’. Not necessarily a ‘deeper truth’ or anything of that haughty nature, but at least some element that pertains to the lives lived collectively in a society consisting of authors and audiences, we conscious beings, we purveyors of stories. It is in this light that I am drawn to observe certain aspects of stories about the living dead, given their recent explosion in pop-culture, in books, comics and in video games, and also notably in television and film. What makes a zombie story appealing? What are the fears and fantasies that accompany such stories and what sparks the continuing interest of audiences? How can we fit these stories and the attention they receive, into an already strange and complicated reality?

Let us start by thinking about some aspects seemingly common to all narratives containing zombies (although I should admit that my knowledge of zombie stories is far from absolute, and as such I welcome contrary evidence and discussion) – firstly (and most obviously), the presence of zombies! That’s right - figures who are bereft of life and who are controlled (or at least animated) by something which lies outside of ordinary human biological impetus, or human agency (inferring the absence of all related forms of free will and so on). Secondly, a violent struggle between these non-organisms and the rest of a society that fears not only the zombies, but also the prospect of themselves joining the ranks of the walking deceased. Thirdly, the implications of a breakdown of social life and civilisation, the chaos that comes from a world without law or common value. I aim here to look briefly at how these factors might sit in terms of an analysis, the aspects of fantasy and fear that permeate through these fictions.

Given that it seems the more straightforward of the three, let’s look firstly to the violence and struggle. I find that zombies make a particularly interesting element in terms of a story. Why? They’re completely unambiguous, they just want to eat your brains! An audience really has no need to feel squeamish about much beloved characters bashing their heads in, or setting fire to their rotting dead skin. Zombies provide a means for violent expression without moral or ethical overtones such as you might encounter in the midst of a war story or a police/detective drama. Zombies just do what they do and people either stop the tide of destruction or themselves fall victim to a death without rest. It’s a matter of self defence, of survival. It’s hard to envision any other creatures in human form that might possibly attain this level of disambiguity. In the case of aliens or demons, for instance, both types of creatures are seemingly capable of self-consciousness and personality. Animals are something else entirely, something seemingly incapable of the kinds of actions/decisions that ‘persons’ are (contrary arguments notwithstanding). Zombies seem then, to be the ultimate non-humans in human form.

What goes into the figure of the zombie itself? In terms of a monstrous force in fiction, a zombie seems relatively unintimidating when considered on its singular lonesome. Zombies are generally depicted in the form of a horde which then increases its ranks with each kill it lands. The zombie often (though not always, as in the case of ‘I am Legend’ for instance) seems incapable of advanced thought, or self-consciousness, being driven only by the need to expand its ranks. This picture of undeath is almost evolutionary in its construction: a new form of survival based on incorporation and assimilation whereby all of life is converted into this new way of being, often depicted in the form of a virus sweeping the living populations of earth, transforming them into carriers for such host parasites that would seek to spread via blood or bite or touch (à la ‘Dawn of the Dead’ or ‘The Walking Dead’). In other renditions – perhaps augmented by stories of Jamaican bokor doctors poisoning the bodies of victims and controlling them through some form of sleep paralysis – the zombie horde is animated by a necromancer who practices dark magic which forces the body into an active submission towards an outside element post-termination. Either way the zombie force correlates in some ways to the human condition – the aspects of humanity which are mindless and operate beneath the point of our awareness of ourselves. Is this walking death a dark mirror?

What do we face upon the premise of a failing society in the wake of a violent wave of inhuman death and destruction? What is the point past the fantasy that we as an audience are forced to consider in the midst of such tales, even if only at the very edges of our subconscious minds? Of all the contingencies of a zombie story, the worst possible (as far as I can see) is that we ourselves experience the transition from our living self into this violent force of destruction, or that those closest to us are turned in this way, our lovers, our family, our friends. What do we do when we find ourselves alone amidst a sea of walking corpses? What do we do when we have become one ourselves? I think the important point impressed here is that this state is such that we are violently opposed to it, and the zombie tale forces us to face the possibility that we may possess qualities similar to that of such creatures – creatures with insane lusts with no idea as to the source of their desire, with no way of knowing what it is that animates them, and lacking the means to change this state that they’re in. When we see humans turning upon one another in such films, such as in ‘28 days later’ we’re forced to acknowledge what is zombie-like about human cohabitation of the world. What of greed and lust for power, and what of a human culture that goes on despite its apparent blindness in regards to its impact on the earth?

To complement these fear aspects, zombie stories are generally augmented by a strong sense of greater community spirit which, in the end, manages to unite the free (and living) peoples in a rallying stand against that which would threaten and destroy us all, whether from living or undead sources. What, might we say, shall become of the reality we inhabit, and the zombie-like aspects of our day-to-day lives? Shall we seek to rally that which is most dynamic and human about us in an affront against all that is wearing and dulling to the human spirit? Or do we give in and forget who we were, who we are, what we might want, and who we want to become? We’ve a fine line to walk, fellow organisms let’s all try to get there together.

My word or yours? What does it mean to be ‘Religious’?

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Is being religious simply a case of saying the words ‘I am religious’ (and perhaps holding a certain sort of belief that such words are true)? If I believe myself to hold beliefs, does that make them true for me? Does it even mean that I really believe them? - or am I just following some kind of cognitive impetus to render a (particularly chaotic) world/reality understandable? If this is the case, then I also ask, is it so inadmissible that some people might find themselves drawn to this habit, whether consciously or otherwise? But how can you go around believing something that you don’t know to be true without any evidence? I hear you screaming, if only faintly.

It seems important to me that the individual human being (and by extension our collectivity) is able to address the limits of our knowledge. This is not to say that we shouldn’t continue in our quest to know the world more accurately, or that we should abandon our search for truth, but rather to accept (at the very least) that at present we do not know everything, and further that there is a fairly good possibility that at no point in our history will we be able to know everything. I don’t hold this to be a particularly contentious prospect, although the odd hard-boiled materialist may take issue with this assumption.

If you could imagine becoming a kind of ‘materialist super-agency’ for a second and scan the brains of every person who says the words (while also believing them to be true) ‘I am religious’, do you think that there would be something notably different about those brain states in comparison with those outside of this field? I don’t really think so, in fact I think that there is probably more similarity between the brain states of the Pope and Richard Dawkins than many of us would care to admit (although being no great fan of either, I suppose this possibility doesn’t bother me greatly). Studies show that those who belong to religious communities report greater levels of happiness, but numerous correlatives distort the conclusiveness of any straightforward causal relationship between the two (try Mike Rudin’s The Science of Happiness for a good starting point). It seems that there’s something here though, and if you’ll allow me to speculate for a second, I would posit that perhaps religious association is one way (and probably, being the oldest in tradition, one of the surest ways) for an individual to feel part of a community; to be faced with and connected to something greater in scope than the individual.

To be religious, from my perspective, one need only to contemplate (even if only on occasion) that which is beyond knowledge; the nature of reality, the origins of being, the relationship of mind and body, object and subject, energy and matter – questions which, by their very nature, do not afford answers without redefining the questions themselves.

I for one, hold that the universe is infinite. This is one of my beliefs. This is a belief to which no amount of scientific or other enquiry about the world is able to change (discounting some kind of brainwashing technique that I’m unaware of). I suppose I might say that it is a ‘religious’ belief, according to the demarcations thus (admittedly loosely) outlined. This is a belief grounded on intuition, one which is deeply connected to my methods of knowing the world, and one which, for me, is decidedly un-falsifiable. I don’t know it to be the truth, and yet I believe it to be. Is this not just some form of intense self-delusion? I suppose you could see it in that way, and yet it does not seem to me to change the way I live my life to the extent that it is relevant whether or not I hold that the universe is infinite or otherwise.

Now, say someone believes in God in a similar sense to my belief that the universe is infinite. In and of itself, I don’t think that anybody could say that there is a problem with holding this belief. The problem comes when that person wants to start treating others differently depending on whether they hold the same belief as themselves. But in its essence, it does not seem that this bigoted sense is a necessary factor of being religious, it just so happens to be the mode by which many deluded individuals express their beliefs.

Being religious is not based on a belief that your ideas are superior to another’s. Being religious in its essence, is a state of contemplation to that which you can not possibly know. Be wary of allowing religious institutions to control our relationship to myth. And call it what you will: philosophical curiosity, spirituality, a love of insanity - do not be afraid to explore the illusions which you have put in place to make your world palpable, but at the same time remember that these are views which you have created, which you have the power to change if and when the time comes that such must be done.

The Atheist Position, and What it can Offer Simply put, the atheist position is a disavowal of the necessary belief in the existence of God(s) without adequate proof of such existence. Whether or not you believe in divine or metaphysical beings, it can be beneficial to consider the implications set forth by the idea that we organisms are alone in the universe, if for no other reason than to understand how a theistic position differs from its antithesis and to consciously render the nuances of such choices of belief. As an ideological stance the atheist position, while dismissive of an inclination towards faith in any kind of transcendental ultimate source, can offer a grounding sense of wonder in regards to the mystery and perplexity of the material world and we its inhabitants. Contrary to the opinion of some theists, atheism is not simply a negation of ethical values, but is rather an assertion towards empirical evidence and logical discourse. There are many forms of ethical discourse which do not rely on reference to an Ultimate Source. A number of humanistic and ecological systems of ethics spring to mind.1 There are charities which do not enter into theistic/atheistic discourse and altogether circumvent the issue. Others state their position as being distinctly atheist.2 It is perhaps useful to look at some simple differences and think about how these play out between systems of belief/investigation. Religious method, for the most part, is based around ritual and shared custom. Most dominant forms of world religion are riddled with weekly masses, daily prayer sessions, holiday rituals and so on. While not discounting the value of ritual completely (after all, everyone follows ritual to a certain extent) the atheist position challenges us to question the value and relevancy of the rituals in which we partake, and to try to understand how we came into their practice, how the rituals relate to and affect other groups who do not share our beliefs, and what we hope to achieve through their continuation. Believer or not, it can be useful to consider the vast complexity of this world without recourse to a supernatural being (or beings) that might exist outside of our possible sensory faculties. A brief look into the natural world and all of the animal species, their psychology, their development, their similarities and differences from humanity can provide a lifetime of mystery. A look at the development of the human species, their history, the evolution of their ideas and philosophy is more than enough to fill anyone with wonder – a wonder that is mutually available to all without regard to belief. Again, a look into the physical world, its genesis and the forces that create change and stability, the ways that the elements of our world interact can be conducive to a further sense of astonishment – there are literally worlds of information in front of our eyes. The atheist position allows a vantage point from which to admire the aspects of our world that are directly available to our senses. Whether you find a need to make room for faith in your life or not, the advantages of such a position should be fairly apparent. 1For a good example: Bill Devall, George Sessions, Deep Ecology: Living as if Nature Mattered (Salt Lake City: Gibbs M. Smith, Peregrine Smith Books, 1995) 2Find out about some of those here: http://www.squidoo.com/Atheist-Charities

The Atheist Position, and What it can Offer

Simply put, the atheist position is a disavowal of the necessary belief in the existence of God(s) without adequate proof of such existence. Whether or not you believe in divine or metaphysical beings, it can be beneficial to consider the implications set forth by the idea that we organisms are alone in the universe, if for no other reason than to understand how a theistic position differs from its antithesis and to consciously render the nuances of such choices of belief.

As an ideological stance the atheist position, while dismissive of an inclination towards faith in any kind of transcendental ultimate source, can offer a grounding sense of wonder in regards to the mystery and perplexity of the material world and we its inhabitants. Contrary to the opinion of some theists, atheism is not simply a negation of ethical values, but is rather an assertion towards empirical evidence and logical discourse. There are many forms of ethical discourse which do not rely on reference to an Ultimate Source. A number of humanistic and ecological systems of ethics spring to mind.1 There are charities which do not enter into theistic/atheistic discourse and altogether circumvent the issue. Others state their position as being distinctly atheist.2

It is perhaps useful to look at some simple differences and think about how these play out between systems of belief/investigation. Religious method, for the most part, is based around ritual and shared custom. Most dominant forms of world religion are riddled with weekly masses, daily prayer sessions, holiday rituals and so on. While not discounting the value of ritual completely (after all, everyone follows ritual to a certain extent) the atheist position challenges us to question the value and relevancy of the rituals in which we partake, and to try to understand how we came into their practice, how the rituals relate to and affect other groups who do not share our beliefs, and what we hope to achieve through their continuation.

Believer or not, it can be useful to consider the vast complexity of this world without recourse to a supernatural being (or beings) that might exist outside of our possible sensory faculties. A brief look into the natural world and all of the animal species, their psychology, their development, their similarities and differences from humanity can provide a lifetime of mystery. A look at the development of the human species, their history, the evolution of their ideas and philosophy is more than enough to fill anyone with wonder – a wonder that is mutually available to all without regard to belief. Again, a look into the physical world, its genesis and the forces that create change and stability, the ways that the elements of our world interact can be conducive to a further sense of astonishment – there are literally worlds of information in front of our eyes. The atheist position allows a vantage point from which to admire the aspects of our world that are directly available to our senses. Whether you find a need to make room for faith in your life or not, the advantages of such a position should be fairly apparent.

1For a good example: Bill Devall, George Sessions, Deep Ecology: Living as if Nature Mattered (Salt Lake City: Gibbs M. Smith, Peregrine Smith Books, 1995)

2Find out about some of those here: http://www.squidoo.com/Atheist-Charities

Hatred and Destruction It would seem that there are a few key differences that separate the human species from non-human animals. Advanced self-consciousness (the mediation of our instincts) is arguably the prime of these differences.1 Along with this remarkable capacity emerges the development of complex emotional states, one of the most interesting yet worrying of which, hatred, is among those emotional states which make little sense when viewed from outside of the context of human relations. The idea of a lion or an orangutan ‘hating’ another of their own or different species seems absurd, if only because we can see how little a non-human animal has to gain from cultivating these feelings towards other individual animals. What then does the human animal have to gain from this unhealthy disposition towards the other? When viewed objectively, it seems, much like other species, humans have very little to gain from this strange emotion. Hatred seems to go hand in hand with destruction on both the social and personal scale. Today I think we might agree that hatred is an outmoded form of social energy. Throughout various stages of history some of the worst and most inhumane aspects of our civilisation have come to fruition via means of the rotting impact of mass hatred – from the Christian inquisitions, to Nazi death camps, hatred is a force which is both pervasive and exponential in terms of the hysterical effects it can cause. Hatred seems to be a fixation of sorts towards something which an agency sees as being detrimental to itself and its operation. We might almost say that hatred is a misunderstanding between the ego (or self-identification) of an individual and an outside element with which it is forced to relate. We must distinguish here the difference between a dislike and a hatred towards something. Having a dislike for various aspects of existence seems inevitable, after all even a Zen Master has preferences. All organisms dislike going without food or being denied the chance to mate for instance, and yet it seems inadequate to say that the wolf hates the idea of starvation. Hatred seems something intrinsically different from a mere dislike in that it requires a continued state of attention towards some outside element of an agent’s reality. Such intense aversion requires a recognition of a fixed element – the being who hates believes that they know the object of their hatred, and in this respect are not open to the potential fallibility of their own relativistic position in relation to an objective reality. The victim of hatred suffers a repetition of emotional reactions to an assumed situation (thing, place, behaviour, object, person) – dialectically past and present – that has become, for the most part, unconscious, and which in turn changes the way the hate-ridden individual relates to the world. In a sense, the object of hatred is often more related to the individual who hates than their outside reality. People who hate, we might say, hate themselves as much as anything else. It’s not hard to see how this bears relation to destruction. A healthy individual is one who is able to pool their resources into living a life which is open to complex situations and problems as they arise. This becomes much harder for the individual who is committed – whether consciously or otherwise – towards the destruction or dissolution of something outside of themselves. A man who hates women, for instance, will undoubtedly have trouble relating to the rest of a society in which gender differences are approached through mediation and self-restriction. Such a man will struggle with his own ideas relating to women and to society in general, and will likely suffer from an emerging sense of dissonance; an alienation from those surrounding him. Rather than being open to learning new ways to deal with unique problems, such a man is fixed in regard to some prior assumption which has been left unresolved and often ignored. Whether such fixation leads to a conscious outlash or a life lived in quiet confusion and suspicion, it is clear to see that hatred does nothing for our social situation besides disrupting and distorting the underlying sense of connection that life forms need in order to continue living together in harmony. 1To read more on this argument see The Missing Link in Cognition, Origins of Self-Reflective Consciousness, ed. H. S. Terrace, J. Metcalfe, Oxford University Press, 2005.

Hatred and Destruction

It would seem that there are a few key differences that separate the human species from non-human animals. Advanced self-consciousness (the mediation of our instincts) is arguably the prime of these differences.1 Along with this remarkable capacity emerges the development of complex emotional states, one of the most interesting yet worrying of which, hatred, is among those emotional states which make little sense when viewed from outside of the context of human relations. The idea of a lion or an orangutan ‘hating’ another of their own or different species seems absurd, if only because we can see how little a non-human animal has to gain from cultivating these feelings towards other individual animals. What then does the human animal have to gain from this unhealthy disposition towards the other? When viewed objectively, it seems, much like other species, humans have very little to gain from this strange emotion.


Hatred seems to go hand in hand with destruction on both the social and personal scale. Today I think we might agree that hatred is an outmoded form of social energy. Throughout various stages of history some of the worst and most inhumane aspects of our civilisation have come to fruition via means of the rotting impact of mass hatred – from the Christian inquisitions, to Nazi death camps, hatred is a force which is both pervasive and exponential in terms of the hysterical effects it can cause. Hatred seems to be a fixation of sorts towards something which an agency sees as being detrimental to itself and its operation. We might almost say that hatred is a misunderstanding between the ego (or self-identification) of an individual and an outside element with which it is forced to relate.


We must distinguish here the difference between a dislike and a hatred towards something. Having a dislike for various aspects of existence seems inevitable, after all even a Zen Master has preferences. All organisms dislike going without food or being denied the chance to mate for instance, and yet it seems inadequate to say that the wolf hates the idea of starvation. Hatred seems something intrinsically different from a mere dislike in that it requires a continued state of attention towards some outside element of an agent’s reality. Such intense aversion requires a recognition of a fixed element – the being who hates believes that they know the object of their hatred, and in this respect are not open to the potential fallibility of their own relativistic position in relation to an objective reality. The victim of hatred suffers a repetition of emotional reactions to an assumed situation (thing, place, behaviour, object, person) – dialectically past and present – that has become, for the most part, unconscious, and which in turn changes the way the hate-ridden individual relates to the world. In a sense, the object of hatred is often more related to the individual who hates than their outside reality. People who hate, we might say, hate themselves as much as anything else.


It’s not hard to see how this bears relation to destruction. A healthy individual is one who is able to pool their resources into living a life which is open to complex situations and problems as they arise. This becomes much harder for the individual who is committed – whether consciously or otherwise – towards the destruction or dissolution of something outside of themselves. A man who hates women, for instance, will undoubtedly have trouble relating to the rest of a society in which gender differences are approached through mediation and self-restriction. Such a man will struggle with his own ideas relating to women and to society in general, and will likely suffer from an emerging sense of dissonance; an alienation from those surrounding him. Rather than being open to learning new ways to deal with unique problems, such a man is fixed in regard to some prior assumption which has been left unresolved and often ignored. Whether such fixation leads to a conscious outlash or a life lived in quiet confusion and suspicion, it is clear to see that hatred does nothing for our social situation besides disrupting and distorting the underlying sense of connection that life forms need in order to continue living together in harmony.

1To read more on this argument see The Missing Link in Cognition, Origins of Self-Reflective Consciousness, ed. H. S. Terrace, J. Metcalfe, Oxford University Press, 2005.

Suspicion in a World of Refuge

What lies at the crux of the refugee dilemma that makes the issue so volatile in the eyes of western populations and politicians alike? Australian politics has been floundered with problems regarding the treatment of asylum seekers from war-torn countries and unstable nation-states whose boats have saturated our shores these past years. Confusion over foreign populations seemingly gives rise to attitudes of paranoia regarding safety risks involved with accepting those who are forced to flee their homes into the country for legal processing and reinstatement into civil society.

According to stipulations set out in the 1951 convention of the United Nations relating to the Status of Refugees, any person who finds themselves outside of their homeland, removed due to social or political discrimination, must be granted safe refuge within the country to which they arrive - upon due process. Someone who has not yet been processed, and is seeking refugee status, is termed an ‘asylum seeker’. It should be noted that neither refugees nor asylum seekers are ‘illegal’, as their decision to migrate is determined by factors outside of their control – they did not choose to leave their homes, but were forced.1

People don’t seem to have much of a problem with genuine asylum seekers (at least publicly), and yet the problem stems from the ambiguity surrounding circumstances with which asylum seekers can be deemed genuine and therefore processed as refugees. How are authorities supposed to determine – without doubt – that an asylum seeker is not someone who chose to ‘jump the queue’ of migration? Isn’t it conceivable that someone of ill intent could fake their way in? While this is an issue, the processing of asylum seekers is not undertaken lightly by the systems in place, and these systems are such that they aim to leave very little margin for error.

In a country like Australia, the severity with which the issue is treated seems at odds with our easy going, peaceful ideology, not to mention our general low population count and big open spaces. Problems arise due to large amounts of asylum seekers arriving at once or at around the same time straining resources available for processing and creating overpopulation in processing centres. The legality of those operating the boats is also an issue of great contention. While it is important that we continue to be diligent in our procedures for dealing with new asylum seekers, it is equally important to recognise that moving the problem offshore may be little more than a case of placing the problem out of sight of the general population, and therefore out of mind of the politicians.

In a world where wars and the corruption of governments are considered ‘business as usual’, it is not surprising that increased amounts of people find themselves forced from their homelands with no option for stability or safety on this planet without appealing to the refugee convention of the United Nations. In such a world we will continue to face the problem posed by asylum seekers and refugees, and far better, for the populations of the world and for ourselves, to find and create ways to enact this integration with foreign populations genuinely, and with a sense of empathy – after all, we are all human beings and we all share a right to live on this world in peace, as equals. This can not be done in a society which is fuelled by stories and assumptions of suspicion and hatred.

1http://www.unhcr.org/pages/49da0e466.html

Real Humans; Lundström, Harmell & Akin 

Äkta människor or Real Humans is a series set in an alternative present where the introduction of humanoid robots ‘Hubots’ has changed the face of social living. The general premise: what happens when robot workers are introduced into modern life? Every facet of society – industrial work, household duties, family bearing, even sex – is transformed into a process in which human relationships are redefined (rather lucidly) by their own creations. The show finds its teeth via the sub-plot of a group of rogue Hubots whose brains have been hacked to mimic human beings, allowing them to learn, to love and to think for themselves. As their development and deviation from the norm continues, these self-aware androids struggle with a world that neither understands nor accepts them.

The series by Lars Lundström (Creator) and Harald Hamrell and Levan Akin (Directors) draws on many time-honoured concepts such as what it means to be a person – to have rights, to have autonomy; how we define agency; and how humanity is mirrored and ultimately defined by the technology it creates. The show draws some pretty clear influences from various modern science-fiction narratives – from Asimov’s laws of Robotics, to Cylons with souls – the sci-fi savvy viewer will probably be familiar with many of the ideas present. This particular format, however, draws on its own intrigues and pitfalls through its depiction of suburban life and the alienation of individuals as they grapple with new technologies and the subsequent transformations that these incur, and likewise in regards to the emerging agency of the Hubots themselves as they are forced to reinstate their place in the human world.

The show is aesthetically sleek, reminiscent of recent TV series such as Heroes, Dollhouse, or The Walking Dead - largely white-washed, almost in resemblance to an advertisement for Apple products, or an Ikea catalogue. The design of the Hubots is quite intentionally creepy, most noticably in scenes such as the showroom where different models are displayed to potential customers in a commercialised kind of ‘android-car-yard’, or at points where they are depicted in their packaging, lifeless and devoid of function. This awkward visual element is mirrored in the story as we are subjected to various intimate relationships developing between the human characters and their machines: a grandfather attempting to subvert his nurse (a Mrs. Doubtfire-bot) to repair friendship with his old broken model, to a prepubescent teen who struggles with his sexual attraction to the new family house model (more like a Lucy Liu-bot).

While not highly original in terms of concept, odd in pace, and perhaps slow at times, Real Humans manages to explore ideas of personhood and technology in a way that keeps the viewer intrigued and personally invested in the characters and settings. For a first season of a series, it does a fair job of keeping a viewer entertained, amused, and slightly creeped out. The show is aired in Australia on Sunday nights, 9:30pm on SBS.

Religious Riots in Sydney

1. Us vs. Them

First off, it’s fair to say that I’m no big fan of religious institution.

With that said, I find myself cringing in response to many people’s comments and professed opinions regarding the Muslim riots that occurred recently in Australia and other places around the globe, riots over a YouTube film which seems to have been created specifically to incite tension and anger. The media coverage of these riots last Saturday seem to be handled with as much finesse as a clown hurling a molotov cocktail into a board meeting for Big Oil.

So a group of idiots lashed out in violence. I certainly wouldn’t wish to be affiliated with the violent protesters of the Cronulla riots. What makes this situation so different?

These simplicities aside, the issue is alight with grey areas and social contentions. Complex situations are not resolved by simple emotional responses.

The mediated position of compromise (but is it really?) seems to be ‘(Muslims) give up your beliefs or go home’, and it’s messages like these, recycled over social media and passed around the water cooler during recent episodes of ACA which have left me a little agape.

In a sense the situation seems analogous to scenes of adolescent school-yard bullying. Poke that one kid with a stick for long enough and eventually he’ll explode. Then we can all have fun watching the chaos, shake our heads, waggle our fingers, and finally plan for modes of counter-attack.

Yet even this analogy misses the mark in that it assumes that the whole of the Muslim population in Australia is represented by the group that lost control in Sydney last week, and attributing to it a unified mode of belief and action. The group of violent protesters seemingly made this error in assuming that the ideology of the common non-Muslim is represented by the person who made the video in question (which in itself is another point of great alarm - but more on this later).

My main fear is that in clinging to these easy avenues of viewing the situation, what emerges is a scene in which the follower of Islam who is NOT engaged in violent reactionary anger is isolated to the point where s/he feels the need to choose one side or the other of a growing point of social dissonance. The worst thing we can do is to generalize the situation to the point where we feel comfortable attributing a negative value to any particular set of beliefs or actions based on the behaviours of a cross-section of those that believe/act in this way. When we chant ‘give up your beliefs or go home’ try to remember that to a certain degree, we are setting up a false dilemma in regards to our own sets of beliefs and actions. The implicit, underlying message seems to be that ‘we should give up on any belief which might upset us’, or to put it another way, ‘we do not have the right to be upset’. We do have the right to protest. That is a fundamental underlying constituent of the (albeit perhaps waning) democratic system to which we attribute our way of life.

I urge anyone who reads headlines such as ‘A group of Sydney’s Muslim leaders have condemned … violent protesters who do not represent the community’, not to see them merely as political stance to save face, but rather as the reactions of a reasonable body of people who are committed to the ongoing harmony of our people.

2. Reactions of violence and anger.

Free speech is a tricky little bastard. Can we say that the person who made the video has done the wrong thing? Not legally, but he does sound like a bit of a dick, and I would be fine in saying that his film is immoral. And while I don’t think anyone intelligent would (or should) riot over the actions of someone being a dick, I suspect that this video is only a very small part (a final reactionary element to spark the fire) of a much more complicated situation.

Muslims should know better - yes, although again, most did. Those who protested in violence may have made an error of judgement. Some of them may just be dicks themselves. What’s clear is that systems of violence and alienation only cause more of the same, and do nothing to alleviate an already volatile situation.

Try to curb your anger. Don’t feel guilty and afraid that you’re opposed to this kind of situation emotionally, but try to intersperse your affect with thoughts about how to communicate with the elements of any group who share the common aim of trying to live in harmony in the social setting. If I have faith in anything, it’s that there is more of us out there than we often think.

Do not take the path of the violent protesters around the globe, lashing out at a general population, nor the path of the idiot who posted this video to spark anger. Do not misplace your anger, and add to an already growing amount of fuel for the fire. Instead, aim for communication and shared thought with people who seem (on the face of it) distinctly different from ourselves.

To seek truth, I have already established a relationship with a face which can guarantee itself, whose epiphany itself is somehow a word of honor. Every language as an exchange of verbal signs refers already to this primordial word of honor. /…/ deceit and veracity already presuppose the absolute authenticity of the face.

—Levinas, Emmanuel, Totality and Infinity, The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1979.

God is a life, not merely a being. But all life has a fate and is subject to suffering and becoming … Without the concept of a humanly suffering God … all of history remains incomprehensible.

—F. W. J. Schelling, “Philosophical Investigations into the Essence of Human Freedom”, in Ernst Behler, ed., Philosophy of German Idealism (New York: Continuum, 1987).