Tuesday, January 29, 2008

The Reader

thank (   ) there was a word
in the beginning
a word somebody
some barely de-aped undraped human
scraped onto the moss
                  of a rock
   with a bamboo twig
his name

iamudapd
he called himself

there was no going back then
before you knew it
there were seventeen Gutenberg versions
of Joshua and Revelation

none of them the same

and there was

Black Like Me and Moby Dick and The Status Seekers and Leaves of Grass and Howl and the New York Times and Harry Potter and the Autobiography of Malcolm X

and there was

no going back to bamboo

or Gutenberg or

(    )


Sunday, January 20, 2008

IKIRU

Watching Akira Kurosawa's "Ikiru" after some 20-odd years or more, I took only minutes to fall into the pace and emotion and to recognize what makes a "Kurosawa movie" different from the other classic Asian filmmakers styles.  Kurosawa's films are more muscular and agile than the meditative qualities of Ozu or the lyrical poetry of Mizoguchi or the mystical existentialism of Teshigahara.

What a beautiful movie "Ikiru" is. Because it deals with an old man coming to terms with his last few months to live and trying to find meaning in those dwindling days, I naturally compared it to the current popular cineplex product, "The Bucket List."  I have no ambition for or interest in seeing The Bucket List, but I would venture that nine out of ten people given the choice of what to do on a Friday night would opt for Jack Nicholson's grimace over Takashi Shimura's woeful and beatific countenance.

I enjoyed watching Ikiru by myself.  Sometimes I distrust the notion that movies are meant to be seen with audiences.  Groups of people can sometimes ruin a movie experience.  It is good to discuss films, but that doesn't mean one has to watch them at the same time.  People have different ways of studying a film.  I like to watch movies alone.  Especially when I'm going to sob buckets.

One thing that surprised me was the way the narrative chronology was broken up in the final half of the film, with more jumping back and forth to the past than any episode of Lost.  It also mirrors the contemporary Asian filmmakers use of time-warping, seen in the revitalizing film language in works of Hong Sang-soo or Wong Kar-wei.   The final part of the film also mirrors Citizen Kane in a way, as the meaning of the old man's life is divided and dissected by bureaucrats and officials as they sit and drink at his wake.

Roger Ebert says he watches Ikiru once every few years.  He meant it as his own personal pleasure, but I think it also would stand as good advice. 

Lee reminded me of a screening we attended years ago of the 1971 Kurosawa film, Dodes'ka-den, the little boy walking in circles pretending to be a train.  The film isn't available on DVD, but it is now on my "most wanted" DVDs list.  Dodes'ka-den, Dodes'ka-den...




Thursday, January 17, 2008

Derek Jarman

I ate strawberries and chocolate at the outdoor dining area of the Carlton Hotel in Cannes with Derek Jarman, Jenny Runacre, and Jordan, the punk haired, big boned star of "Jubilee" the year it was released.  They were fascinating.  I think I wrote the story for Creem magazine that year.  The movie "Derek" is opening at Sundance this week.  No one made movies like Jarman, who died with AIDS about ten years later.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Flier for the Yippie 1968 Democratic Convention Festival of Life

Saturday, January 12, 2008

William Kristol

Wednesday, January 09, 2008

Too Many Innocents Abroad

Published: January 9, 2008

Antananarivo, Madagascar

THE Peace Corps recently began a laudable initiative to increase the number of volunteers who are 50 and older. As the Peace Corps' country director in Cameroon from 2002 until last February, I observed how many older volunteers brought something to their service that most young volunteers could not: extensive professional and life experience and the ability to mentor younger volunteers.

However, even if the Peace Corps reaches its goal of having 15 percent of its volunteers over 50, the overwhelming majority will remain recently minted college graduates. And too often these young volunteers lack the maturity and professional experience to be effective development workers in the 21st century.

This wasn't the case in 1961 when the Peace Corps sent its first volunteers overseas. Back then, enthusiastic young Americans offered something that many newly independent nations counted in double and even single digits: college graduates. But today, those same nations have millions of well-educated citizens of their own desperately in need of work. So it's much less clear what inexperienced Americans have to offer.

The Peace Corps has long shipped out well-meaning young people possessing little more than good intentions and a college diploma. What the agency should begin doing is recruiting only the best of recent graduates — as the top professional schools do — and only those older people whose skills and personal characteristics are a solid fit for the needs of the host country.

The Peace Corps has resisted doing this for fear that it would cause the number of volunteers to plummet. The name of the game has been getting volunteers into the field, qualified or not.

In Cameroon, we had many volunteers sent to serve in the agriculture program whose only experience was puttering around in their mom and dad's backyard during high school. I wrote to our headquarters in Washington to ask if anyone had considered how an American farmer would feel if a fresh-out-of-college Cameroonian with a liberal arts degree who had occasionally visited Grandma's cassava plot were sent to Iowa to consult on pig-raising techniques learned in a three-month crash course. I'm pretty sure the American farmer would see it as a publicity stunt and a bunch of hooey, but I never heard back from headquarters.

For the Peace Corps, the number of volunteers has always trumped the quality of their work, perhaps because the agency fears that an objective assessment of its impact would reveal that while volunteers generate good will for the United States, they do little or nothing to actually aid development in poor countries. The agency has no comprehensive system for self-evaluation, but rather relies heavily on personal anecdote to demonstrate its worth.

Every few years, the agency polls its volunteers, but in my experience it does not systematically ask the people it is supposedly helping what they think the volunteers have achieved. This is a clear indication of how the Peace Corps neglects its customers; as long as the volunteers are enjoying themselves, it doesn't matter whether they improve the quality of life in the host countries. Any well-run organization must know what its customers want and then deliver the goods, but this is something the Peace Corps has never learned.

This lack of organizational introspection allows the agency to continue sending, for example, unqualified volunteers to teach English when nearly every developing country could easily find high-caliber English teachers among its own population. Even after Cameroonian teachers and education officials ranked English instruction as their lowest priority (after help with computer literacy, math and science, for example), headquarters in Washington continued to send trainees with little or no classroom experience to teach English in Cameroonian schools. One volunteer told me that the only possible reason he could think of for having been selected was that he was a native English speaker.

The Peace Corps was born during the glory days of the early Kennedy administration. Since then, its leaders and many of the more than 190,000 volunteers who have served have mythologized the agency into something that can never be questioned or improved. The result is an organization that finds itself less and less able to provide what the people of developing countries need — at a time when the United States has never had a greater need for their good will.

Robert L. Strauss has been a Peace Corps volunteer, recruiter and country director. He now heads a management consulting company.

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

blessed are the poor

January 2, 2008
Op-Ed Contributor

What's Your Consumption Factor?

Los Angeles

TO mathematicians, 32 is an interesting number: it's 2 raised to the fifth power, 2 times 2 times 2 times 2 times 2. To economists, 32 is even more special, because it measures the difference in lifestyles between the first world and the developing world. The average rates at which people consume resources like oil and metals, and produce wastes like plastics and greenhouse gases, are about 32 times higher in North America, Western Europe, Japan and Australia than they are in the developing world. That factor of 32 has big consequences.

To understand them, consider our concern with world population. Today, there are more than 6.5 billion people, and that number may grow to around 9 billion within this half-century. Several decades ago, many people considered rising population to be the main challenge facing humanity. Now we realize that it matters only insofar as people consume and produce.

If most of the world's 6.5 billion people were in cold storage and not metabolizing or consuming, they would create no resource problem. What really matters is total world consumption, the sum of all local consumptions, which is the product of local population times the local per capita consumption rate.

The estimated one billion people who live in developed countries have a relative per capita consumption rate of 32. Most of the world's other 5.5 billion people constitute the developing world, with relative per capita consumption rates below 32, mostly down toward 1.

The population especially of the developing world is growing, and some people remain fixated on this. They note that populations of countries like Kenya are growing rapidly, and they say that's a big problem. Yes, it is a problem for Kenya's more than 30 million people, but it's not a burden on the whole world, because Kenyans consume so little. (Their relative per capita rate is 1.) A real problem for the world is that each of us 300 million Americans consumes as much as 32 Kenyans. With 10 times the population, the United States consumes 320 times more resources than Kenya does.

People in the third world are aware of this difference in per capita consumption, although most of them couldn't specify that it's by a factor of 32. When they believe their chances of catching up to be hopeless, they sometimes get frustrated and angry, and some become terrorists, or tolerate or support terrorists. Since Sept. 11, 2001, it has become clear that the oceans that once protected the United States no longer do so. There will be more terrorist attacks against us and Europe, and perhaps against Japan and Australia, as long as that factorial difference of 32 in consumption rates persists.

People who consume little want to enjoy the high-consumption lifestyle. Governments of developing countries make an increase in living standards a primary goal of national policy. And tens of millions of people in the developing world seek the first-world lifestyle on their own, by emigrating, especially to the United States and Western Europe, Japan and Australia. Each such transfer of a person to a high-consumption country raises world consumption rates, even though most immigrants don't succeed immediately in multiplying their consumption by 32.

Among the developing countries that are seeking to increase per capita consumption rates at home, China stands out. It has the world's fastest growing economy, and there are 1.3 billion Chinese, four times the United States population. The world is already running out of resources, and it will do so even sooner if China achieves American-level consumption rates. Already, China is competing with us for oil and metals on world markets.

Per capita consumption rates in China are still about 11 times below ours, but let's suppose they rise to our level. Let's also make things easy by imagining that nothing else happens to increase world consumption — that is, no other country increases its consumption, all national populations (including China's) remain unchanged and immigration ceases. China's catching up alone would roughly double world consumption rates. Oil consumption would increase by 106 percent, for instance, and world metal consumption by 94 percent.

If India as well as China were to catch up, world consumption rates would triple. If the whole developing world were suddenly to catch up, world rates would increase elevenfold. It would be as if the world population ballooned to 72 billion people (retaining present consumption rates).

Some optimists claim that we could support a world with nine billion people. But I haven't met anyone crazy enough to claim that we could support 72 billion. Yet we often promise developing countries that if they will only adopt good policies — for example, institute honest government and a free-market economy — they, too, will be able to enjoy a first-world lifestyle. This promise is impossible, a cruel hoax: we are having difficulty supporting a first-world lifestyle even now for only one billion people.

We Americans may think of China's growing consumption as a problem. But the Chinese are only reaching for the consumption rate we already have. To tell them not to try would be futile.

The only approach that China and other developing countries will accept is to aim to make consumption rates and living standards more equal around the world. But the world doesn't have enough resources to allow for raising China's consumption rates, let alone those of the rest of the world, to our levels. Does this mean we're headed for disaster?

No, we could have a stable outcome in which all countries converge on consumption rates considerably below the current highest levels. Americans might object: there is no way we would sacrifice our living standards for the benefit of people in the rest of the world. Nevertheless, whether we get there willingly or not, we shall soon have lower consumption rates, because our present rates are unsustainable.

Real sacrifice wouldn't be required, however, because living standards are not tightly coupled to consumption rates. Much American consumption is wasteful and contributes little or nothing to quality of life. For example, per capita oil consumption in Western Europe is about half of ours, yet Western Europe's standard of living is higher by any reasonable criterion, including life expectancy, health, infant mortality, access to medical care, financial security after retirement, vacation time, quality of public schools and support for the arts. Ask yourself whether Americans' wasteful use of gasoline contributes positively to any of those measures.

Other aspects of our consumption are wasteful, too. Most of the world's fisheries are still operated non-sustainably, and many have already collapsed or fallen to low yields — even though we know how to manage them in such a way as to preserve the environment and the fish supply. If we were to operate all fisheries sustainably, we could extract fish from the oceans at maximum historical rates and carry on indefinitely.

The same is true of forests: we already know how to log them sustainably, and if we did so worldwide, we could extract enough timber to meet the world's wood and paper needs. Yet most forests are managed non-sustainably, with decreasing yields.

Just as it is certain that within most of our lifetimes we'll be consuming less than we do now, it is also certain that per capita consumption rates in many developing countries will one day be more nearly equal to ours. These are desirable trends, not horrible prospects. In fact, we already know how to encourage the trends; the main thing lacking has been political will.

Fortunately, in the last year there have been encouraging signs. Australia held a recent election in which a large majority of voters reversed the head-in-the-sand political course their government had followed for a decade; the new government immediately supported the Kyoto Protocol on cutting greenhouse gas emissions.

Also in the last year, concern about climate change has increased greatly in the United States. Even in China, vigorous arguments about environmental policy are taking place, and public protests recently halted construction of a huge chemical plant near the center of Xiamen. Hence I am cautiously optimistic. The world has serious consumption problems, but we can solve them if we choose to do so.

Jared Diamond, a professor of geography at the University of California, Los Angeles, is the author of "Collapse" and "Guns, Germs and Steel."

zeroville

Editor's Cut

Published: December 2, 2007

Ahh, the lure of the madman — the harrowed, sinewy figure with glowing eyes who approaches out of the shadows, burning to communicate his incommunicable truth. Think of Jack Nicholson in "The Shining" with his wild stare and lurking ax: "Heeeeeere's Johnny!" When such a person nears, do you step back? Do you linger, frozen in terror, compelled by his mesmeric gaze? Or do you, like Vikar, the "cinĂ©autistic" protagonist of Steve Erickson's latest novel, "Zeroville," regard him quizzically, without fear, thinking only, "I don't understand comedies"?

ZEROVILLE

By Steve Erickson.

329 pp. Europa Editions. Paper, $14.95.

Erickson, the film critic for Los Angeles magazine, writes surreal, highly visual novels that he splices together as if they were art films. Two of his earlier books, "The Sea Came In at Midnight" and "Our Ecstatic Days," feature the same symbolic heroine, Kristin, a young woman who bears a child named Kierkegaard (Kirk for short) to an "apocalyptologist" in Los Angeles, only to have the child disappear as the city is inundated by magical portents — a lake fills the valley, owls swirl overhead and invisible "melody snakes" infest the skies.

Yes, Erickson likes to mess with his readers' heads. But that's nothing compared with what he's done to the head of Ike Jerome (known as Vikar to his friends because of his divinity-school background and mystic mien), the troubled, visionary hero of the fascinating piece of phantasmagoric Hollywood homage that is "Zeroville." Vikar's shaved head is covered with a tattoo of Montgomery Clift and Elizabeth Taylor, "the two most beautiful people in the history of the movies," their lips nearly touching in a close-up from "A Place in the Sun." Strangers who meet Vikar recoil from the skin cartoon that stains his cranium, but unless you offend the flesh and blood (or celluloid) people Vikar loves, you're safe. In the words of the Clash, one of the punk bands he listens to, "Everybody say, 'He sure look funny.' / Ah but that's Montgomery Clift, honey!"

Terse, fanciful, dreamlike and sometimes nightmarish, this remarkable novel will test you and tease you and leave you desperate to line up at Film Forum (or hunt down Erickson's top 150 on DVD) so you can submit yourself to the celluloid bonds that hold Vikar and his creator such willing captives.

1968


Bob Herbert has an essay today on this being the 40th anniversary of 1968 (http://tinyurl.com/22cexv).  We think things are bad today, and they are, but they weren't so rosy back then, either.  As Herbert notes, MLK and RFK were assassinated.  And then there was the Democratic convention.  Paris.  And I was arrested and tossed into Cook County Jail, too.  Even so, it didn't seem so desperate a time as it now seems to me.

Maybe because there was still innocence and hope then, and revolutionary expectations. There actually was a counterculture. We weren't debating how to afford 42" TVs to keep up with our neighbors. We were thinking of living in self-sustaining communes. The Sound of Music was the most popular musical, compared to today's musical in the movies: the utterly hopeless Sweeney Todd.  The self-immolation of Buddhist priests was horrifying then, while today we have become inured to suicide in the news entirely. 

I suppose I should start writing a piece about being at the Democratic Convention, but I don't think I could recover my sense of enthusiasm.  Maybe I'll just watch Ikiru instead.