Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Been a While
Okay okay. Its been a long time since I last updated. This post is gonna be packed.
I've been on Holit for over two months now. Its pretty nutty.
Let me go over what we've been up to these past 5 weeks. Sundays- Hebrew class is alright. We started learning through songs. One Sunday we went to an Idan Reichel concert in Jerusalem, free for all people on year programs in Israel with MASA, the organization I'm with. My cousin Joe was also there, and it was really awesome getting to see him and show him my friends for a minute. The music of the concert was pretty good, I got to enjoy myself, but the whole experience was really bizarre. It was the first time since I've been here that I really felt faced with the world I'm accustomed to at home. There were a lot of Americans there and a lot of entertainment and presentations besides the concert. It all had this air of extreme superficiality that I really had a hard time handling. I didn't like being advertised to by the speeches and presentations, and seeing all these rich American Jews, blindly Zionist and blatantly materialist, I really had a hard time stomaching the idea of returning home after 9 months in a semi-utopia and being faced with all the sick qualities of the society I come from. Man, it was weird.
We've also started a kvutza process for those of us who will move on from Holit to our communa in Naharia in less than a month. Right now we're with a group of South Americans who are finishing their year in Israel. The whole time on Holit we've been having classes split into English and Spanish speaking, but two people, a girl from Mexico and a boy from Venezuela, are on our shnat program, so this was the first time we really had discussions with them. We started looking for a name to call ourselves, which is really a process that highlights certain aspects of us working together. It's tedious, since we all want a name that everyone likes, we think about what we want to represent ourselves as, or what we hope to be in this name we give ourselves. We realized that our language barriers really need to be taken much more seriously in to consideration, and that that means our fast-paced, back and forth, talking over each other really, really can't happen.
Our class on Judaism has had some really great discussions come out of it. We're learning a lot from Maimonedes, our teacher is a big fan, and there are some really interesting concepts we're dealing with. The class is small so we have some pretty good discussions, everyone there is pretty commited to coming, which is better on everyone's end than having people there who don't want to be there because they don't like the school setting or don't want to learn about Judaism or whatever their reasons are. We read from Maimonedes commentary on the Garden of Eden, which brought up an interesting contrast between the intellectual and the corporeal, as different types of knowledge brought about by the Tree of Knowledge and punishment of eating from it. We also had a really interesting discussion about reletivism versus absolutism, and I really hope to talk about it many more times. Throughout life. But also now. I have a hard time with the idea that anyone can know something that they think better than another person can think, and that they know what is right FOR the other person, but at the same time, I know I believe in certain things being right or wrong for all people. I think I definitely tend to lean on the hand of relativism more often, which makes it harder for me to communicate my opinions at times, but its hard to know what is better or what kind of a balance to create. I really want to get more in to it with people. Tell me all of your thoughts.
We've been to a lot of cool places on our trip days. One day was cancelled because plans fell through and we worked on the kibbutz instead. I was olive picking. It was very ironic, smacking olive trees with big sticks so the olives fall out. Just how it's done. There was miscommunication and laziness that lead to me spending the afternoon that day watching Rent with three Spanish speakers. It was great.
We visited a youth village, where the students live and work on a moshav and help in the larger community in various social works. The people we met worked with disabled children. It was interesting and nice that these people looked for a more positive way to live their lives and take action to help communities. When we came back to Holit that night, we had a peula where we talked first about what aspects, such as education, political action and communal lifestyles, are necessary for revolution, and how important each aspect is, then we read one of my favorite texts, Zion and the Youth, from Martin Buber. I've never gone over that text in a group of people from different countries, and it was a really intense conversation. The text talks about how it is the role of youth to change society and bring about necessary change, despite and because of the fact that the adult world is repressive towards the spirit of youth. We talked about how revolution isn't historically something done by teenagers, but by older members of society, and we went on to talk about how we can change things, what we can actually do. It was an incredibly motivating yet weakening conversation, because I want to change things and not live an isolated lifestyle that makes me happy but disregards the tragedy in the world around me, but at the same time there is nothing I can do. At this point I was right in the middle of reading a sociology book of my brother's I found at home a couple years ago and hadn't looked at until now, titled Why There is No Socialism in the United States, by Werner Sombart. Before this peula I had been reading the section about the American political system, and how the political machine and party system really amount to no voice from the people, as votes are drowned out in the masses, politicians have to corrupt themselves to succeed, and the parties have little real difference in platform. I've since finished the book, and it has some pretty interesting points, but it doesn't really apply specifically to the United States, or make a lot of sense in modern times, as it was written in 1906. I'll stay side tracked for a minute. He made valuable points about capitalist societies in general, like about large democratic states and their invalidation of the individual voice, the capitalist incentives, such as stock options, and an increased standard of living that sufficiently subdues the class conciousness of workers and gives them an affinity for the system, for example, and he had an interesting conclusion that the Homestead Act and constant availability of freedom from the urban capitalist world allowed for such capitalism as in the US to thrive. Anyways, the things I was thinking about from the book really tied in with the peula, and I became so frustrated with politics and industry and not knowing what I can ever do to have any actual impact on anything. If you have that revolution recipe, lemme get a look.
We also went to Sederot and saw an urban kibbutz there. It was insane to see the life people have, many in a chronic state of trauma, and see that what they live has so much in common with those in Gaza, that both live in this awful situation they find themselves in because of their governments, they deal with such similar problems, and yet all the product of that is more hate between them because all they are able to see is the other causing these problems for them. The urban kibbutz was interesting, our lecture was after a long day, but between observing a woman cooking dinner in the background and this rediculous guy who looked like some small city riff-raff, huge grin on his face, arguing with our lecturer, hugging and pounding everyone from the kibbutz as they came in, i was entertained sufficiently to keep focus. The people there I guess live an alternative way of life that works for them, they maintain a community based on the people, have part that is communal and part that pays privately, have various jobs and a system that works for them, but the urban kibbutz is still an idea I don't know yet what I think about. In a society that isn't agriculturally based, or agriculturally profitable, I don't know how relevant a rural kibbutz really can be, but at the same time, when we're talking about alternative communities, I don't know if they really can be all that relevant. It takes enough effort just to live in a sane way in our world. Smaller communities, a break down in voice between the individual and the masses makes sense if our world can change, but none of these changes are ever being made in a scale that can have an impact.
Another trip we took was to a Bedoin city called Rahat, where our permanent bus driver lives, and had a driving tour, as well as some free time and a very generous, relaxing visit at our bus drivers pseudo-tent. Since they're in the city, they have tent-esque buildings adjacent to the house to welcome guests in. The situation of the city was very unfortunate, no money to continue construction projects or pick up the garbage and provide the public works its people need. It felt so strange to drive through in our tour bus and see kids and pedestrians gaping up at it. We did some gardening/cleaning outside a school for disabled children in the city, which was really great. I picked up garbage, of which there was lots, and of varieties I would hope never to see in a school's grounds, and swept. We could tell nothing of this sort had been done in years at this school, and it was good work, so I very much enjoyed.
I've been on Holit for over two months now. Its pretty nutty.
Let me go over what we've been up to these past 5 weeks. Sundays- Hebrew class is alright. We started learning through songs. One Sunday we went to an Idan Reichel concert in Jerusalem, free for all people on year programs in Israel with MASA, the organization I'm with. My cousin Joe was also there, and it was really awesome getting to see him and show him my friends for a minute. The music of the concert was pretty good, I got to enjoy myself, but the whole experience was really bizarre. It was the first time since I've been here that I really felt faced with the world I'm accustomed to at home. There were a lot of Americans there and a lot of entertainment and presentations besides the concert. It all had this air of extreme superficiality that I really had a hard time handling. I didn't like being advertised to by the speeches and presentations, and seeing all these rich American Jews, blindly Zionist and blatantly materialist, I really had a hard time stomaching the idea of returning home after 9 months in a semi-utopia and being faced with all the sick qualities of the society I come from. Man, it was weird.
We've also started a kvutza process for those of us who will move on from Holit to our communa in Naharia in less than a month. Right now we're with a group of South Americans who are finishing their year in Israel. The whole time on Holit we've been having classes split into English and Spanish speaking, but two people, a girl from Mexico and a boy from Venezuela, are on our shnat program, so this was the first time we really had discussions with them. We started looking for a name to call ourselves, which is really a process that highlights certain aspects of us working together. It's tedious, since we all want a name that everyone likes, we think about what we want to represent ourselves as, or what we hope to be in this name we give ourselves. We realized that our language barriers really need to be taken much more seriously in to consideration, and that that means our fast-paced, back and forth, talking over each other really, really can't happen.
Our class on Judaism has had some really great discussions come out of it. We're learning a lot from Maimonedes, our teacher is a big fan, and there are some really interesting concepts we're dealing with. The class is small so we have some pretty good discussions, everyone there is pretty commited to coming, which is better on everyone's end than having people there who don't want to be there because they don't like the school setting or don't want to learn about Judaism or whatever their reasons are. We read from Maimonedes commentary on the Garden of Eden, which brought up an interesting contrast between the intellectual and the corporeal, as different types of knowledge brought about by the Tree of Knowledge and punishment of eating from it. We also had a really interesting discussion about reletivism versus absolutism, and I really hope to talk about it many more times. Throughout life. But also now. I have a hard time with the idea that anyone can know something that they think better than another person can think, and that they know what is right FOR the other person, but at the same time, I know I believe in certain things being right or wrong for all people. I think I definitely tend to lean on the hand of relativism more often, which makes it harder for me to communicate my opinions at times, but its hard to know what is better or what kind of a balance to create. I really want to get more in to it with people. Tell me all of your thoughts.
We've been to a lot of cool places on our trip days. One day was cancelled because plans fell through and we worked on the kibbutz instead. I was olive picking. It was very ironic, smacking olive trees with big sticks so the olives fall out. Just how it's done. There was miscommunication and laziness that lead to me spending the afternoon that day watching Rent with three Spanish speakers. It was great.
We visited a youth village, where the students live and work on a moshav and help in the larger community in various social works. The people we met worked with disabled children. It was interesting and nice that these people looked for a more positive way to live their lives and take action to help communities. When we came back to Holit that night, we had a peula where we talked first about what aspects, such as education, political action and communal lifestyles, are necessary for revolution, and how important each aspect is, then we read one of my favorite texts, Zion and the Youth, from Martin Buber. I've never gone over that text in a group of people from different countries, and it was a really intense conversation. The text talks about how it is the role of youth to change society and bring about necessary change, despite and because of the fact that the adult world is repressive towards the spirit of youth. We talked about how revolution isn't historically something done by teenagers, but by older members of society, and we went on to talk about how we can change things, what we can actually do. It was an incredibly motivating yet weakening conversation, because I want to change things and not live an isolated lifestyle that makes me happy but disregards the tragedy in the world around me, but at the same time there is nothing I can do. At this point I was right in the middle of reading a sociology book of my brother's I found at home a couple years ago and hadn't looked at until now, titled Why There is No Socialism in the United States, by Werner Sombart. Before this peula I had been reading the section about the American political system, and how the political machine and party system really amount to no voice from the people, as votes are drowned out in the masses, politicians have to corrupt themselves to succeed, and the parties have little real difference in platform. I've since finished the book, and it has some pretty interesting points, but it doesn't really apply specifically to the United States, or make a lot of sense in modern times, as it was written in 1906. I'll stay side tracked for a minute. He made valuable points about capitalist societies in general, like about large democratic states and their invalidation of the individual voice, the capitalist incentives, such as stock options, and an increased standard of living that sufficiently subdues the class conciousness of workers and gives them an affinity for the system, for example, and he had an interesting conclusion that the Homestead Act and constant availability of freedom from the urban capitalist world allowed for such capitalism as in the US to thrive. Anyways, the things I was thinking about from the book really tied in with the peula, and I became so frustrated with politics and industry and not knowing what I can ever do to have any actual impact on anything. If you have that revolution recipe, lemme get a look.
We also went to Sederot and saw an urban kibbutz there. It was insane to see the life people have, many in a chronic state of trauma, and see that what they live has so much in common with those in Gaza, that both live in this awful situation they find themselves in because of their governments, they deal with such similar problems, and yet all the product of that is more hate between them because all they are able to see is the other causing these problems for them. The urban kibbutz was interesting, our lecture was after a long day, but between observing a woman cooking dinner in the background and this rediculous guy who looked like some small city riff-raff, huge grin on his face, arguing with our lecturer, hugging and pounding everyone from the kibbutz as they came in, i was entertained sufficiently to keep focus. The people there I guess live an alternative way of life that works for them, they maintain a community based on the people, have part that is communal and part that pays privately, have various jobs and a system that works for them, but the urban kibbutz is still an idea I don't know yet what I think about. In a society that isn't agriculturally based, or agriculturally profitable, I don't know how relevant a rural kibbutz really can be, but at the same time, when we're talking about alternative communities, I don't know if they really can be all that relevant. It takes enough effort just to live in a sane way in our world. Smaller communities, a break down in voice between the individual and the masses makes sense if our world can change, but none of these changes are ever being made in a scale that can have an impact.
Another trip we took was to a Bedoin city called Rahat, where our permanent bus driver lives, and had a driving tour, as well as some free time and a very generous, relaxing visit at our bus drivers pseudo-tent. Since they're in the city, they have tent-esque buildings adjacent to the house to welcome guests in. The situation of the city was very unfortunate, no money to continue construction projects or pick up the garbage and provide the public works its people need. It felt so strange to drive through in our tour bus and see kids and pedestrians gaping up at it. We did some gardening/cleaning outside a school for disabled children in the city, which was really great. I picked up garbage, of which there was lots, and of varieties I would hope never to see in a school's grounds, and swept. We could tell nothing of this sort had been done in years at this school, and it was good work, so I very much enjoyed.
We had a trip to Tel Aviv to see the economic gap. Israel and the US, we were told, go back and forth between having the largest economic gaps in the world between rich and poor. This tour was very similar to a tour the North Americans had had two years ago when we were in Israel for the summer, but this time we were a lot more focused and understood a lot more what we were seeing. We went to the central bus station, a building with 7 floors, where 5 are used and 1 is shut down. The two unused floors are space for the crumbs of society, the "unseen people", who live, sell drugs and prostitute there. One of those floors was shut down because it was too dangerous. As you go up the floors, you start to see more and more people, fewer foreigners, more brand name items, and higher prices. We also learned about foreign workers in Israel, the difficulties they have with citizenship, rights, wages and living conditions. Hearing about how children of foreign workers, whose parents need cheap supervision during the day, are often left in rooms full of small square play pen after small square play pen, all day long, without the space to play with other children, and where the only time they get attention is when its time to change diapers or feed, and the way this life affects their early childhood development upset me so much. We learned about Israeli sex trade and they way women are smuggled in to the country, not knowing that the job they're coming for isn't what they think it is, not being able to communicate, and then facing the horrors of the sex trade... It was a lot to think about. I know these things happen worldwide, I know they are facts of our world, I know that doesn't make them okay, and I know I have no idea how to change this reality, but it was a good, however difficult, experience to really look at all these things right in front of me as they are. We had discussions that day about charity and justice, how justice essentially means equality and charity does good things while maintaining that inequality. I have a lot against charity, in that it makes injustice more and more tolerable, and that it often necessitates coming out of an attitude rich in the notion that the giver is better, stronger, more, than the receiver. At the same time, justice is not a means, and there is no solidly just way to help a person without changing the entire system that put them in need of help. I think charity can run on a scale from less just to more just, and helping is ultimately better than not because I don't know what else there is to do, but charity will always involve one person being better than another and it will always make injustice easier to let stand.
Thats all for now. I have lots and lots and lots more, to be added shortly, I hope.
# posted by Anna Schuman @ 12:19 PM 
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So I just read this one and I'm working my way backwards through the posts I missed.
I've thought a bit about charity. There's a famous quote by a contemporary philosopher Slavoj Zizek: "Charity is violence."
I used to agree with that but now I think it's bullshit. I think that so much of the world depends on the wealth of a few that you shouldn't knock charity. I think that charity is an informal, unregulated, sketchy version of socialism but it's the best that we have in most of the world. I feel like the best system we can come up with is one that encourages people to make money and then taxes them. I'd like to think that humanity can do better, but I'd have to see it to believe it.
When I read these messages I'm impressed by how much you actually commit to what you believe. I think you'll probably come close to giving it up at some point in your life but you shouldn't.
It's good to have strong opinions but also to allow them to change. I've always learned more when I had strong opinions than when I had a more relativistic attitude. Example: I used to say, "Yeah, the situation in Israel is complicated, it's hard to say who's right or wrong," and so on. Then, one day, I thought, "I want to believe that Israel is right most of the time and that all those anti-Zionist claims are bullshit." So I did research to support that claim. And, in doing that research to try to support my opinion, I learned more than I ever did before. A relativist attitude discourages me from learning, because if I already believe that it's all relative, new information doesn't mean as much.
Basically, I think that a lot of us hold ourselves back with relativistic beliefs and that, despite our best intentions, we end up using relativism as a defense against being wrong.
I think that the best way to hold opinions is the old-fashioned scientific method: you come up with an opinion, and then test it. If it doesn't hold up against reality, then you adapt.
The other objection I have to relativism is that in a world that's run by absolutist leaders, relativism becomes a safety net for smart people who might otherwise develop the will to actually confront the system. If you never believe that you're right and someone else is wrong, you probably won't make a dent on the system.
I've thought a bit about charity. There's a famous quote by a contemporary philosopher Slavoj Zizek: "Charity is violence."
I used to agree with that but now I think it's bullshit. I think that so much of the world depends on the wealth of a few that you shouldn't knock charity. I think that charity is an informal, unregulated, sketchy version of socialism but it's the best that we have in most of the world. I feel like the best system we can come up with is one that encourages people to make money and then taxes them. I'd like to think that humanity can do better, but I'd have to see it to believe it.
When I read these messages I'm impressed by how much you actually commit to what you believe. I think you'll probably come close to giving it up at some point in your life but you shouldn't.
It's good to have strong opinions but also to allow them to change. I've always learned more when I had strong opinions than when I had a more relativistic attitude. Example: I used to say, "Yeah, the situation in Israel is complicated, it's hard to say who's right or wrong," and so on. Then, one day, I thought, "I want to believe that Israel is right most of the time and that all those anti-Zionist claims are bullshit." So I did research to support that claim. And, in doing that research to try to support my opinion, I learned more than I ever did before. A relativist attitude discourages me from learning, because if I already believe that it's all relative, new information doesn't mean as much.
Basically, I think that a lot of us hold ourselves back with relativistic beliefs and that, despite our best intentions, we end up using relativism as a defense against being wrong.
I think that the best way to hold opinions is the old-fashioned scientific method: you come up with an opinion, and then test it. If it doesn't hold up against reality, then you adapt.
The other objection I have to relativism is that in a world that's run by absolutist leaders, relativism becomes a safety net for smart people who might otherwise develop the will to actually confront the system. If you never believe that you're right and someone else is wrong, you probably won't make a dent on the system.
It cut off my comment at that. I said a bunch more... Basically, it made me sad to see how far Israel has come from being a socialist-leaning state built on Jewish labor, because there is no respect for labor anymore. An Israeli dude actually said to me, "See, our Arabs are like your black people. They do the black jobs." I was couchsurfing at his house so I didn't bother calling him out, but I kind of wanted to go on a semi-patriotic rant about how Israel sucks so much that it makes America look good. Of course I didn't, though. And Israel will always have these two things going for it that America doesn't have: 1) It's small, which makes it easier to change and 2) It has a greater foundation of socialism and humanism to draw on.
I also want to recommend that you read The Accidental Empire by Gershom Gorenberg. It's a book about the settlement movement and the mentality that led to it and it's written by an Orthodox Jew. He has a website, too. It's called South Jerusalem. I recommend it. If you have time to read, that is...
I also want to recommend that you read The Accidental Empire by Gershom Gorenberg. It's a book about the settlement movement and the mentality that led to it and it's written by an Orthodox Jew. He has a website, too. It's called South Jerusalem. I recommend it. If you have time to read, that is...
Wow! Having never formally studied absolutism and relativism I feel I am out of my league. Nonetheless I wonder how absolutism compares to closed-mindedness (or certainty) and relativism to open-mindedness (or uncertainty). Is it possible to be absolute about something and still be open-minded? Can you be "absolute" about some things and "relative" about others? Are absolutism and relativism better thought of as a continuum along a dimension rather than as a dichotomy? And if they anchor the extremes of a dimension of thinking, is there another dimension?
And how does "tolerance for ambiguity" fit into all this? In my experience, some people "need" to know with certainty. They become anxious when there are missing pieces, when things don't fit together neatly, when their questions are not answered. Other people are more at ease in such situations and can "wait and see" without becoming disturbed by the lack of information or delay in convergence on a conclusion.
I think one of the biggest problems of our species rests on this issue. We humans want to have things make sense. In a very fundamental way, we are sense makers, to the extent that, when things don't make sense, we invent explanations for them. Explanations that make sense are satisfying and reduce anxiety. Even if they are founded are questionable assumptions, once those assumptions are accepted, a whole system of belief can be built upon them. And the fact that the system of belief is satisfying (that is, it makes sense out of a many otherwise puzzling things), gives reason to accept those underlying assumptions.
This is one of the great paradoxes of the human mind. Our quest for "making sense" of the world around us is what has given rise to knowledge, understanding, science, and technology -- great things -- and yet it is that same quest that requires us to make assumptions on which to build that sense.
And sometimes, an assumption turns out to be false or incomplete. But because it holds up a whole system of belief, we are reluctant to throw it out, because in so doing we would have to throw out the whole system. And we love the system of belief because it answers our questions, helps us figure out what to do, an reduces our anxieties, and yes, we need something that will reduce our anxieties.
The narcotic effect of internally reinforced, entrenched and unchangeable belief systems was captured by Karl Marx in his often quoted, "Religion is the opiate of the people." But Marx didn't have it quite right. It is not religion at fault, but the unquestioning reliance on a particular version of reality or brand of truth. Rather we should say, "Systems of assumptions and knowledge unquestioningly believed to be true are the opiate of the people," but for the sake of brevity we might say, "Answers are the opiate of the people."
I try to keep an open mind, and even reach conclusions tentatively. But this is one thing I am willing to say unequivocally. I'm almost sure of it.
And how does "tolerance for ambiguity" fit into all this? In my experience, some people "need" to know with certainty. They become anxious when there are missing pieces, when things don't fit together neatly, when their questions are not answered. Other people are more at ease in such situations and can "wait and see" without becoming disturbed by the lack of information or delay in convergence on a conclusion.
I think one of the biggest problems of our species rests on this issue. We humans want to have things make sense. In a very fundamental way, we are sense makers, to the extent that, when things don't make sense, we invent explanations for them. Explanations that make sense are satisfying and reduce anxiety. Even if they are founded are questionable assumptions, once those assumptions are accepted, a whole system of belief can be built upon them. And the fact that the system of belief is satisfying (that is, it makes sense out of a many otherwise puzzling things), gives reason to accept those underlying assumptions.
This is one of the great paradoxes of the human mind. Our quest for "making sense" of the world around us is what has given rise to knowledge, understanding, science, and technology -- great things -- and yet it is that same quest that requires us to make assumptions on which to build that sense.
And sometimes, an assumption turns out to be false or incomplete. But because it holds up a whole system of belief, we are reluctant to throw it out, because in so doing we would have to throw out the whole system. And we love the system of belief because it answers our questions, helps us figure out what to do, an reduces our anxieties, and yes, we need something that will reduce our anxieties.
The narcotic effect of internally reinforced, entrenched and unchangeable belief systems was captured by Karl Marx in his often quoted, "Religion is the opiate of the people." But Marx didn't have it quite right. It is not religion at fault, but the unquestioning reliance on a particular version of reality or brand of truth. Rather we should say, "Systems of assumptions and knowledge unquestioningly believed to be true are the opiate of the people," but for the sake of brevity we might say, "Answers are the opiate of the people."
I try to keep an open mind, and even reach conclusions tentatively. But this is one thing I am willing to say unequivocally. I'm almost sure of it.
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