Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Doom & Gloom
This is why a lot of the people I work with are looking very stressed. And also why I'm going to a union rally tomorrow!
Monday, September 15, 2008
Spring is sprung
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On Saturday, because it was 25 degrees, we remembered that we live a couple of minutes from this lovely bit of view. Fish and chips, in the balmy outdoors, with a friend and a dog, while the sun went down. Bliss!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Lipstick-wearing Pigs
Party politics always confuse and alarm me. I often find myself being outraged at the policies of politicians I quite like - and vice versa - and agreeing with commentators whose general viewpoint I detest. For example, I wouldn't vote for Sarah Palin and the Republicans in a million, billion years - but I find myself agreeing with Christopher Hitchens (Christopher Hitchens!!) that much of the criticism of her from people I am politically in sympathy with is inconsistent and hypocritical.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Saints and Psychos (II)
[In my first post, below, I argued that many modern evaluations of religion impose contemporary categories - such as 'left-wing' and 'right-wing' - upon religious movements in ahistorical and unhelpful ways.]
All this is not to say that there is no place for making moral judgements about the past, or that religion can only be understood by those with a theological education. It is simply to say that analysis of religious cultures and individuals needs to pay attention to religious beliefs and practices, recognising how they have developed over time and how they interact with other social and cultural changes. I’d like to give one example from my own work of the explanatory value of looking closely at the internal logic of a particular religious sub-culture.
My own area of research is early English Methodism, a movement of reform and revival that developed within the Church of England in the eighteenth century. Perhaps the most influential and certainly the most interesting of interpretations of English Methodism was given by the Marxist historian E.P. Thompson in his book The Making of the English Working Class. Thompson painted Methodism as a movement of political and personal repression. Where generations of Methodist historians had portrayed their forbears as saints, in Thompson’s work Methodists are quite definitely psychos. In his interpretation, the emotional upheaval of the Methodist revivals diverted the energies of the English working class away from political activism and towards a rigorous self-discipline that kept them working uncomplainingly in the dark satanic mills of the industrial revolution.
Thompson is particularly damning of the Methodist emphasis on suffering. He argues that in Methodism the Christian symbol of the cross became not just an incentive to personal self-denial, but a model for the whole of life. That is, he argues that for Methodists, the life that pleased God was a life of suffering. This belief made Methodists passive fodder for the factories and workhouses of the industrial cities. Assured that their suffering pleased God, Methodists did not dare to agitate for change.
My study of Methodist culture confirms that, in their hymns at least, Methodists were encouraged to value and welcome suffering as the road to holiness. Quite clearly, such an understanding could lead to the acceptance of injustice. One famous Methodist woman leader wrote of meekly accepting the beatings of her violent husband as the discipline of God for her sins. To this extent, Thompson’s work is, I think, a good model of exploring the way in which a particular doctrinal emphasis, distinctive to Methodism, had broader social and cultural implications.
However, Thompson’s emphasis on the industrial revolution leads him to ignore the full implications of this Methodist belief in the positive value of suffering. This belief could also sustain political and religious activism. A number of early Methodist women defied social convention by becoming preachers. In their letters and journals, they often described the personal cost of this unusual behaviour as a cross they had to bear. They embraced the resulting insult and ostracism as a means by which they could grow in holiness. More broadly, of all religious groups, English Methodists were the most active supporters of the abolition of slavery. Those Methodists who campaigned against slavery often paid a significant price in terms of their health, wealth and social standing. Again, they described this suffering as a cross God had given them to bear, which would eventually lead to a heavenly reward. And it is worth noting that the woman I mentioned above, eventually left her violent husband, believing that God had ordered her to do so.
Recognising the diversity of ways in which early Methodists embraced the ‘cross’ of suffering in this life forces us to go beyond simply characterising them as conservative or progressive, as left or right- wing, as saints or psychos. It may be relevant and indeed I think it is important to make judgements about Methodist complicity in the abuses of English workers during the industrial revolution, and equally to question the value of Methodist activism. But moral judgements of this kind will not help us understand the religious cultures of the past and present and their impact on our world unless we take seriously the systems of religious conviction and practice that informed people’s behaviour at any given historical moment. These are the insights that religious historians can bring to public discussion of religion and its place in our society.
All this is not to say that there is no place for making moral judgements about the past, or that religion can only be understood by those with a theological education. It is simply to say that analysis of religious cultures and individuals needs to pay attention to religious beliefs and practices, recognising how they have developed over time and how they interact with other social and cultural changes. I’d like to give one example from my own work of the explanatory value of looking closely at the internal logic of a particular religious sub-culture.
My own area of research is early English Methodism, a movement of reform and revival that developed within the Church of England in the eighteenth century. Perhaps the most influential and certainly the most interesting of interpretations of English Methodism was given by the Marxist historian E.P. Thompson in his book The Making of the English Working Class. Thompson painted Methodism as a movement of political and personal repression. Where generations of Methodist historians had portrayed their forbears as saints, in Thompson’s work Methodists are quite definitely psychos. In his interpretation, the emotional upheaval of the Methodist revivals diverted the energies of the English working class away from political activism and towards a rigorous self-discipline that kept them working uncomplainingly in the dark satanic mills of the industrial revolution.
Thompson is particularly damning of the Methodist emphasis on suffering. He argues that in Methodism the Christian symbol of the cross became not just an incentive to personal self-denial, but a model for the whole of life. That is, he argues that for Methodists, the life that pleased God was a life of suffering. This belief made Methodists passive fodder for the factories and workhouses of the industrial cities. Assured that their suffering pleased God, Methodists did not dare to agitate for change.
My study of Methodist culture confirms that, in their hymns at least, Methodists were encouraged to value and welcome suffering as the road to holiness. Quite clearly, such an understanding could lead to the acceptance of injustice. One famous Methodist woman leader wrote of meekly accepting the beatings of her violent husband as the discipline of God for her sins. To this extent, Thompson’s work is, I think, a good model of exploring the way in which a particular doctrinal emphasis, distinctive to Methodism, had broader social and cultural implications.
However, Thompson’s emphasis on the industrial revolution leads him to ignore the full implications of this Methodist belief in the positive value of suffering. This belief could also sustain political and religious activism. A number of early Methodist women defied social convention by becoming preachers. In their letters and journals, they often described the personal cost of this unusual behaviour as a cross they had to bear. They embraced the resulting insult and ostracism as a means by which they could grow in holiness. More broadly, of all religious groups, English Methodists were the most active supporters of the abolition of slavery. Those Methodists who campaigned against slavery often paid a significant price in terms of their health, wealth and social standing. Again, they described this suffering as a cross God had given them to bear, which would eventually lead to a heavenly reward. And it is worth noting that the woman I mentioned above, eventually left her violent husband, believing that God had ordered her to do so.
Recognising the diversity of ways in which early Methodists embraced the ‘cross’ of suffering in this life forces us to go beyond simply characterising them as conservative or progressive, as left or right- wing, as saints or psychos. It may be relevant and indeed I think it is important to make judgements about Methodist complicity in the abuses of English workers during the industrial revolution, and equally to question the value of Methodist activism. But moral judgements of this kind will not help us understand the religious cultures of the past and present and their impact on our world unless we take seriously the systems of religious conviction and practice that informed people’s behaviour at any given historical moment. These are the insights that religious historians can bring to public discussion of religion and its place in our society.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
On the Psalms
Well, after posting the first section of my paper on religious history, I succumbed to one serious virus and have hardly been out of bed since. The rest of the paper is on my computer at work, so I will have to wait till I get back there to post the next installment. In the meantime, I am re-reading one of my favorite books of theology (admittedly, I don't read much theology!), Walter Brueggemann's The Message of the Psalms. These are his wise words on the psalms of lament:
'I think that serious religious use of the lament psalms has been minimal because we have believed that faith does not mean to acknowledge and embrace negativity. We have thought that acknowledgment of negativity was somehow an act of unfaith, as though the very speech about it conceded too much about God's "loss of control".
The point to be urged here is this: The use of these "psalms of darkness" may be judged by the world to be acts of unfaith and failure, but for the trusting community, their use is an act of bold faith, albeit a transformed faith. It is an act of bold faith on the one hand, because it insists that the world must be experienced as it really is and not in some pretended way. On the other hand, it is bold because it insists that all such experiences of disorder are a proper subject for discourse with God. There is nothing out of bounds, nothing precluded or inappropriate. Everything properly belongs to this conversation of the heart.'
Friday, August 29, 2008
Saints and Psychos
A while ago I gave a paper on the value of religious history, called 'Saints and Psychos: What's the Point of Religous History?' I only had 10 minutes to speak, so it is a rather hurried effort - but I thought I'd post it in installments over the next few days.
What value does religious history have for a secular society? I want to reflect on that question briefly, first by talking generally about the value of religious history in Australia and then by giving one example from my own research. I should say that while I am discussing religious history generally, most of my illustrations come from the history of Christianity, as that is the tradition with which I’m most familiar.
The census statistics suggest that, in spite of recent anxieties over the growing power of religion in Australia, most Australians are personally indifferent to institutional religion. While 80% of Australians identify as having a religious affiliation, just over 60% believe in God (other than occasionally!) and only 25% attend a religious service monthly or more often. If most Australians are not particularly excited about religion, however, this is not representative of much of the rest of the world. In the 60s, Western scholars were busy predicting that secularisation and decolonisation would mean the end of religion, but fifty years on the number of people being born into religious traditions and joining them is booming. Whether one looks at Al Qaeda or the American Christian Right, the political significance of religion in the twenty-first century is obvious.
Concern over these developments has not, however, produced much thoughtful public discussion of religious history. Rather, most public discussion about religion in Australia seems to centre on debates about ‘true’ religion. For example, is ‘true’ Islam expressed in the actions of Palestinian suicide bombers? Is ‘true’ Christianity expressed in the voting patterns of self-identified ‘born again’ Republicans who support George W.? I think here of a recent opinion piece in The Age, which set itself up as an analysis of American churches, but was in fact a lengthy lament over the failure of American Christians to pay attention to the Sermon on the Mount. I don’t want to discount the concerns reflected in such debates. They reflect pressing concerns for a multicultural society trying to live in harmony and wondering whether this is possible if religion inevitably produces violence and intolerance. They reflect the frustrations of those who think that religion is the poison of the masses and want to highlight its dangers. They reflect the concerns of religious communities distressed at being associated with values or actions they detest. But this focus on ‘true’ religion does, I think, distract from important questions about how contemporary manifestations of religious belief and practice have developed historically.
In arguments about ‘true’ religion, history is usually appealed to in the form of examples that act as prooftexts for a particular line of argument. For example, a debate over whether Christianity inevitably produces the kind of aggressive nationalism demonstrated in the US at present. The person arguing that Christianity encourages state violence mentions the Crusades, the German churches during the Third Reich and the Spanish Inquisition. The person arguing that these are not examples of true Christianity points to Francis of Assisi, the anti-slavery reformers and the Catholic church in Chile, resisting Pinochet. And so on, and so on. If you read the letters page of the Age, you will be familiar with this pattern of argument.
This is a limited approach to studying religion, not only because it ignores the historical context of particular expressions of religious conviction, but also because it tends to analyse these developments in terms of categories that have particular modern significance. Categories such as left-wing and right-wing, moderate and fundamentalist or even progressive and conservative. These categories often cut across and distort the internal dynamics of particular religious cultures. If you interpret religion simply in terms of current conceptions of ‘left’ and ‘right-wing’, for example, you may struggle to explain why a Roman Catholic liberation theologian, who supports socialist economic policies, also opposes contraception and abortion. If you interpret religion simply in terms of ‘conservative’ and ‘progressive’, you may struggle to explain why evangelical leaders helped spearhead the campaign to decriminalise homosexuality in New Zealand. And while it would be difficult to describe Christians who practice the pacifist and doctrinally loose Quaker tradition as ‘fundamentalist’, when they follow their convictions, as some do, to the point that they are crushed under the wheels of an Israeli tank while defending Palestinian homes, it seems equally inappropriate to describe them as ‘moderate’.
The census statistics suggest that, in spite of recent anxieties over the growing power of religion in Australia, most Australians are personally indifferent to institutional religion. While 80% of Australians identify as having a religious affiliation, just over 60% believe in God (other than occasionally!) and only 25% attend a religious service monthly or more often. If most Australians are not particularly excited about religion, however, this is not representative of much of the rest of the world. In the 60s, Western scholars were busy predicting that secularisation and decolonisation would mean the end of religion, but fifty years on the number of people being born into religious traditions and joining them is booming. Whether one looks at Al Qaeda or the American Christian Right, the political significance of religion in the twenty-first century is obvious.
Concern over these developments has not, however, produced much thoughtful public discussion of religious history. Rather, most public discussion about religion in Australia seems to centre on debates about ‘true’ religion. For example, is ‘true’ Islam expressed in the actions of Palestinian suicide bombers? Is ‘true’ Christianity expressed in the voting patterns of self-identified ‘born again’ Republicans who support George W.? I think here of a recent opinion piece in The Age, which set itself up as an analysis of American churches, but was in fact a lengthy lament over the failure of American Christians to pay attention to the Sermon on the Mount. I don’t want to discount the concerns reflected in such debates. They reflect pressing concerns for a multicultural society trying to live in harmony and wondering whether this is possible if religion inevitably produces violence and intolerance. They reflect the frustrations of those who think that religion is the poison of the masses and want to highlight its dangers. They reflect the concerns of religious communities distressed at being associated with values or actions they detest. But this focus on ‘true’ religion does, I think, distract from important questions about how contemporary manifestations of religious belief and practice have developed historically.
In arguments about ‘true’ religion, history is usually appealed to in the form of examples that act as prooftexts for a particular line of argument. For example, a debate over whether Christianity inevitably produces the kind of aggressive nationalism demonstrated in the US at present. The person arguing that Christianity encourages state violence mentions the Crusades, the German churches during the Third Reich and the Spanish Inquisition. The person arguing that these are not examples of true Christianity points to Francis of Assisi, the anti-slavery reformers and the Catholic church in Chile, resisting Pinochet. And so on, and so on. If you read the letters page of the Age, you will be familiar with this pattern of argument.
This is a limited approach to studying religion, not only because it ignores the historical context of particular expressions of religious conviction, but also because it tends to analyse these developments in terms of categories that have particular modern significance. Categories such as left-wing and right-wing, moderate and fundamentalist or even progressive and conservative. These categories often cut across and distort the internal dynamics of particular religious cultures. If you interpret religion simply in terms of current conceptions of ‘left’ and ‘right-wing’, for example, you may struggle to explain why a Roman Catholic liberation theologian, who supports socialist economic policies, also opposes contraception and abortion. If you interpret religion simply in terms of ‘conservative’ and ‘progressive’, you may struggle to explain why evangelical leaders helped spearhead the campaign to decriminalise homosexuality in New Zealand. And while it would be difficult to describe Christians who practice the pacifist and doctrinally loose Quaker tradition as ‘fundamentalist’, when they follow their convictions, as some do, to the point that they are crushed under the wheels of an Israeli tank while defending Palestinian homes, it seems equally inappropriate to describe them as ‘moderate’.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Books Books Books
I am very, very excited that Neal Stephenson's new novel, Anathem, is about to be published. For smart, sheer fun, you can't beat his books.* Not sure when it will be available in Australia, but Andrew and I may need to take a weekend off to read it. We read his mammoth Baroque Trilogy out loud - the perfect books for an historian and a scientist to share! [NB. Don't start with the Baroque Trilogy if you are new to Stephenson - a couple of hundred pages in and you are deep in Puritan angst and debates on the nature of matter, with thousands of pages to go. I suggest Cryptonomicon for starters!]
On the professional front, I am waiting for a parcel of tasty new books from OUP. I had the opportunity (long story) to choose a bunch of books off their list - I have stocked up on various new titles and classics dealing with the history of missions/gender/evangelicalism. Timely additions to my library, as I am gearing up write a funding application for a major project on the transmission of religious beliefs to the colonies... through evangelical women. My own book manuscript is due in about two weeks, after which I expect to have the time and mental energy to get started on this new project.
*You may want to note that, as Ian pointed out in the comments, Stephenson does tend to put a lot of sex in his books.
On the professional front, I am waiting for a parcel of tasty new books from OUP. I had the opportunity (long story) to choose a bunch of books off their list - I have stocked up on various new titles and classics dealing with the history of missions/gender/evangelicalism. Timely additions to my library, as I am gearing up write a funding application for a major project on the transmission of religious beliefs to the colonies... through evangelical women. My own book manuscript is due in about two weeks, after which I expect to have the time and mental energy to get started on this new project.
*You may want to note that, as Ian pointed out in the comments, Stephenson does tend to put a lot of sex in his books.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
War Myths
Australians only have a very limited range of images within which to imagine the ANZAC experience, as is demonstrated by this staggering introductory paragraph to an article about an unknown soldier in today's Age:
'EVEN though it was just a skeleton, there was still something that said Australian larrikin about the soldier's remains that lay as he fell on a shell-blasted Belgian battlefield 91 years ago.'
I'm not sure how a skeleton suggests that deeply Australian quality, larrikinism - and neither is the writer, who is of course completely unable to substantiate this claim in the following paragraphs.
'EVEN though it was just a skeleton, there was still something that said Australian larrikin about the soldier's remains that lay as he fell on a shell-blasted Belgian battlefield 91 years ago.'
I'm not sure how a skeleton suggests that deeply Australian quality, larrikinism - and neither is the writer, who is of course completely unable to substantiate this claim in the following paragraphs.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Aboriginal writing
A deluge of unexpected jobs last week got in the way of my plans to write about The Macquarie PEN Anthology of Aboriginal Literature. Happily, though, there's a thoughtful review of the Anthology - particularly the first section, which contains the writing of historical figures such as Bennelong and William Barak - in this week's Eureka Street. Check it out!
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Another Book
At the risk of boring those of you who've already heard about it - this edited collection is one of the things I've been working on for the last six months. It came out of a really stimulating conference that a colleague and I organised last year, at which historians from quite different backgrounds - some postcolonialists, some religious historians - came together to try and talk about the relationship between missionaries and colonialism. Often missions history is done either from a confessional or religious perspective or within a hardcore postcolonial framework. Both of these have their dangers and we wanted to try to get people from these groups to talk to each other and learn from each other. The conference was fantastic - we felt as though it gave evidence of a real change for the better in the way missions history was being written - and we decided we should try to publish some of the papers. If you are near the University of Melbourne on Tuesday 8 July, you can come along and see the result being launched! Or, if you are really keen, pre-order one here for the special price of $35!
(Btw, for those of you who read Faith and Place, Meredith has contributed a wonderful chapter about Richard Johnson - the chaplain of the first fleet, whose picture graces our cover.)
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Essential Reading
I am currently working my way through the wonderful Macquarie PEN Anthology of Aboriginal Literature. I can't recommend it highly enough: it should be essential reading for all Australians, particularly Christians. The title is a bit misleading in its use of the word 'literature' - it is in fact a selection of Aboriginal writing. The first section includes letters, petitions and articles written by Aboriginal people from the beginning of white settlement. So it's as much a historical anthology as a literary one.
I haven't had much time for blogging lately, but over the next few weeks I plan to post my thoughts on the works in the Anthology. Let me encourage you to go out and buy a copy - it is a very slim and readable volume, and the selections are mainly short pieces - perfect for reading on the train, while waiting to see the doctor, in ad breaks. And it will change the way you see this country.
* The photo is a detail from the 'missionary window' at St John's Anglican Church, Toorak. The window depicts men of different ethnic groups coming to Jesus. Interestingly, only the Aboriginal and African man are kneeling.
I haven't had much time for blogging lately, but over the next few weeks I plan to post my thoughts on the works in the Anthology. Let me encourage you to go out and buy a copy - it is a very slim and readable volume, and the selections are mainly short pieces - perfect for reading on the train, while waiting to see the doctor, in ad breaks. And it will change the way you see this country.
* The photo is a detail from the 'missionary window' at St John's Anglican Church, Toorak. The window depicts men of different ethnic groups coming to Jesus. Interestingly, only the Aboriginal and African man are kneeling.
Monday, June 09, 2008
No, no, no, no, no
There has been much tut-tutting, apoplexy and inter-state phone calling among the Cruickshank clan after the disappointment that was last night's showing of Persuasion on the ABC. If you haven't seen it, imagine what Reader's Digest would do with the story. I can understand the need to cut down the dialogue and plot for reasons of time, but removing almost all of the extended dialogue and replacing it with pointless and unlikely 'action' scenes.... no, no! All those wonderful, character-revealing conversations gone! As a consequence, we lose most of the satisfying subtlety of Austen's characters - from Anne Elliot herself to a minor but fascinating character like Lady Russell or Captain Benwick.
And replacing all this dialogue with action is equally unhelpful. The whole strength of Austen's world is the depiction of characters - particularly women - within incredibly frustrating limitations. Anne Elliot is meant to be profoundly constrained - by her society, by her family, by her personality. She is not meant to be sobbing hysterically all the time and running around Bath. She does not pash her husband in public.
I fear this bodes ill for the rest of the movies in the ABC Austen series. And I was really looking forward to Northanger Abbey!
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Insane Holy
Andrew and I have been reflecting (again!) on jobs, careers, security and similar, in the light of Deuteronomy 8: 3 ('Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.') So this was both timely and amusing.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Meme
My sister-in-law has tagged me on this movie meme that Ben started, so I am thinking hard...
1. One movie that made you laugh
Zoolander.
2. One movie that made you cry
I cry in almost anything. But particularly Wit. Andrew and I both cried just hearing the story of it. Then we cried when we watched it. Then we cried telling someone else about it.
3. One movie you loved when you were a child
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
4. One movie you’ve seen more than once
Galaxy Quest
5. One movie you loved, but were embarrassed to admit it
The Bodyguard
6. One movie you hated
True Lies. Don't get me started.
7. One movie that scared you
No Country for Old Men.
8. One movie that bored you
Idiocracy
9. One movie that made you happy
Babette's Feast
10. One movie that made you miserable
Nobody Knows. Which is a really, really sad Japanese film.
11. One movie you weren’t brave enough to see
I constantly chicken out of movies. Pan's Labyrinth is a recent example.
12. One movie character you’ve fallen in love with
Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell in Top Gun. (Hey! I was 13!)
13. The last movie you saw
Iron Man (see previous post)
14. The next movie you hope to see
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day or The Painted Veil - on Thursday!
15. Now tag five people: I tag Stephen and Meredith - and anyone else who would like to participate!
1. One movie that made you laugh
Zoolander.
2. One movie that made you cry
I cry in almost anything. But particularly Wit. Andrew and I both cried just hearing the story of it. Then we cried when we watched it. Then we cried telling someone else about it.
3. One movie you loved when you were a child
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
4. One movie you’ve seen more than once
Galaxy Quest
5. One movie you loved, but were embarrassed to admit it
The Bodyguard
6. One movie you hated
True Lies. Don't get me started.
7. One movie that scared you
No Country for Old Men.
8. One movie that bored you
Idiocracy
9. One movie that made you happy
Babette's Feast
10. One movie that made you miserable
Nobody Knows. Which is a really, really sad Japanese film.
11. One movie you weren’t brave enough to see
I constantly chicken out of movies. Pan's Labyrinth is a recent example.
12. One movie character you’ve fallen in love with
Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell in Top Gun. (Hey! I was 13!)
13. The last movie you saw
Iron Man (see previous post)
14. The next movie you hope to see
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day or The Painted Veil - on Thursday!
15. Now tag five people: I tag Stephen and Meredith - and anyone else who would like to participate!
Monday, May 12, 2008
Iron Man
I'm a sucker for super-hero stories, so last night we went along and watched the latest Marvel Comics adaptation, Iron Man. For a light-weight movie, it had a certain style - Robert Downey Jr is a talented fellow, and more power to him for coming back from addiction.
Ultimately, though, the movie left a rather nasty taste in my mouth. Much of the action is set in Afghanistan, and you get a very small glimpse of how brutal and terrifying that conflict has become. While there is a certain subversive undercurrent to the storyline, the suggestion that what is really needed to sort things out is more violence (provided by more effective technology) rings sickeningly hollow.
It made me think again of an idea I've had for a TV series starring a (fictional) crack team of pacifists. Yes, pacificists! Each week they would be confronted with a challenging new conflict situation, to which they have to find a non-violent solution. What I love about this idea is that I think it would showcase the creativity of non-violence. If you rule out the possibility of violence, you have to really use your brain.
Some might consider this show unrealistic - but surely no less realistic than the fantastical fictions with which we are regularly presented, in which shooting people solves problems. Oh yeah, that's how things work in the real world.
Ultimately, though, the movie left a rather nasty taste in my mouth. Much of the action is set in Afghanistan, and you get a very small glimpse of how brutal and terrifying that conflict has become. While there is a certain subversive undercurrent to the storyline, the suggestion that what is really needed to sort things out is more violence (provided by more effective technology) rings sickeningly hollow.
It made me think again of an idea I've had for a TV series starring a (fictional) crack team of pacifists. Yes, pacificists! Each week they would be confronted with a challenging new conflict situation, to which they have to find a non-violent solution. What I love about this idea is that I think it would showcase the creativity of non-violence. If you rule out the possibility of violence, you have to really use your brain.
Some might consider this show unrealistic - but surely no less realistic than the fantastical fictions with which we are regularly presented, in which shooting people solves problems. Oh yeah, that's how things work in the real world.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Out of Ideas
At the moment I am juggling more ideas/projects than seems sensible. My paid work (basically full-time) is an Australian history project, which currently involves co-writing a book chapter, editing a conference series and working on a conference paper - each involving different sources, periods and topics. In my own research area of British history, I am trying to work on a book manuscript (due in June!! due in June!!) based on my thesis WHILE writing articles and conference papers based on the quite different project I began researching earlier this year in the UK. I also have quite a few other things going on outside work. So, as the boy in the Far Side cartoon said, my brain is full!
I am sorry to find that, as a result, I am all out of new ideas. I need a really good idea, on which to base a major research proposal, for a three-year post-doc. It has to be a Goldilocks kind of idea - not too big, not too small, sexy enough to catch the eye of the proposal-drunk readers, but not too sexy (in case I get pilloried in the columns of The Australian for wasting the taxpayer's money), relevant to my existing track record but not simply repeating my previous work. Faced with this daunting criteria, asking myself 'What would I really like to work on for three years?', my brain draws a blank. I just have no idea!
I am sorry to find that, as a result, I am all out of new ideas. I need a really good idea, on which to base a major research proposal, for a three-year post-doc. It has to be a Goldilocks kind of idea - not too big, not too small, sexy enough to catch the eye of the proposal-drunk readers, but not too sexy (in case I get pilloried in the columns of The Australian for wasting the taxpayer's money), relevant to my existing track record but not simply repeating my previous work. Faced with this daunting criteria, asking myself 'What would I really like to work on for three years?', my brain draws a blank. I just have no idea!
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Hazardous Reading
I may have blogged about this before, but I will say it again: reading should not be attempted while walking. I have a very bad habit of combining the two activities, which on various occasions has resulted in:
- crying in the middle of the footpath because I had just read a particularly moving poem;
- walking straight past a large sign into a patch of very wet cement (the workmen standing next to the sign just looked at me incredulously as I lifted my head from the page)
- standing on an escalator for five minutes or so without noticing that the escalator was not moving. People were pushing past me to get up the escalator for the entire time. It was only when one of them laughed out loud that I noticed I was stationary.
It still hasn't entirely cured me. I just find the written word so deeply alluring, I find it very difficult to hold an unread book or a newspaper or even a bill in my hand, and not start perusing it - even if I'm running for the train. I would like to think that is evidence of some profundity on my part, but the sad reality is it doesn't have to be quality literature - when I walked into the cement I was reading the phone bill.
- crying in the middle of the footpath because I had just read a particularly moving poem;
- walking straight past a large sign into a patch of very wet cement (the workmen standing next to the sign just looked at me incredulously as I lifted my head from the page)
- standing on an escalator for five minutes or so without noticing that the escalator was not moving. People were pushing past me to get up the escalator for the entire time. It was only when one of them laughed out loud that I noticed I was stationary.
It still hasn't entirely cured me. I just find the written word so deeply alluring, I find it very difficult to hold an unread book or a newspaper or even a bill in my hand, and not start perusing it - even if I'm running for the train. I would like to think that is evidence of some profundity on my part, but the sad reality is it doesn't have to be quality literature - when I walked into the cement I was reading the phone bill.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Getting Together
On Tuesday night, a friend and I went along to a Reconciliation Get-Together organised by GetUp. Fifteen people - most of us strangers to each other - got together in a local cafe to talk about what reconciliation between indigenous and non-indigenous Australians might look like in our nation and in our local community - and how we could be part of that. It was a diverse group with lots of different backgrounds and experiences but a common passion for justice and reconciliation. I was honoured to hear peoples' stories and be part of the conversation. Across the country around 350 other groups were doing the same thing. You can read about Byron's experience here.
On 26th May GetUp is encouraging people to meet again to continue the conversation and to mark Reconciliation Week. If you are in Australia, I'd urge you to get along to a get-together - or even host one!
On 26th May GetUp is encouraging people to meet again to continue the conversation and to mark Reconciliation Week. If you are in Australia, I'd urge you to get along to a get-together - or even host one!
Thursday, April 24, 2008
delightful distractions
It goes without saying that I do not need any more distractions on the web. Nonetheless, in the last couple of months I have become quite taken with a couple of webcomics. In particular, I enjoy a week-daily fix of Scarygoround While I was in the States briefly earlier this year, I had terrible jet-lag and ended up spending rather a lot of early morning hours reading chapters of this light-heartedly spooky and beautifully-drawn comic courtesy of the hotel's wireless internet. 'Whimsy' is the middle name of its creator, John Allison.
I also love Kate Beaton's work - particularly her historical series. Sadly, she posts a lot less often! Not that I can talk...
I also love Kate Beaton's work - particularly her historical series. Sadly, she posts a lot less often! Not that I can talk...
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Slashie
I met someone this weekend who introduced themselves (with good reason!) as a 'writer'. It got me thinking about what it is that I actually do in my working life. I usually say I'm a historian, because I spend most of my days reading, researching, talking and writing history. And I work more than I get paid, so it's more than just employment. (I still find it amazing that I get paid at all to read and write - luxury!)
But recently I have been consciously trying to expand my writing horizons - writing some reviews of popular fiction, resurrecting an old fiction project of my own - and it has struck me that I would probably write better if I understood this as an important part of my historical craft. I could describe myself in 'slashie' terms as a writer/historian! Switching my focus to the writing itself - not just the reading, thinking, researching that precedes it - would probably encourage me to write more imaginatively, creatively, clearly. Something that is perhaps not valued or modelled enough in much historical writing!
But recently I have been consciously trying to expand my writing horizons - writing some reviews of popular fiction, resurrecting an old fiction project of my own - and it has struck me that I would probably write better if I understood this as an important part of my historical craft. I could describe myself in 'slashie' terms as a writer/historian! Switching my focus to the writing itself - not just the reading, thinking, researching that precedes it - would probably encourage me to write more imaginatively, creatively, clearly. Something that is perhaps not valued or modelled enough in much historical writing!
Monday, April 14, 2008
Excuses, excuses...
The thing about not blogging is that it becomes addictive... the longer you don't blog, the more embarrassing and ridiculous it seems to actually post something. However, of all the excuses I could make for why I haven't blogged for months, one no longer applies. See that little yella fella in the front of the photo? Mobile broadband, baby.
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