A couple weeks ago I was asked to speak in church. I went through this process of writing out my whole talk, and then at 9 pm Saturday night I decided I wanted to talk about something else. I mentioned this whilst I was speaking and a couple of my friends told me they wanted me to post my un-given talk on my blog. So, here it is, more or less, adapted to secular blog instead of theological oration.
I want to talk to you guys about one of my favorite books. I've written about it before on this blog, in my list of the five books everyone should read, but specifically every girl should read before she turns 20. I'm rather proud of the fact that that is in my list of top 10 most popular posts, btw. Anyway, I'm talking of Little Women. I would like to assume that, as readers of my blog, you have of course, already read Little Women after I recommended it before, or you have already read it on your own because you have superlative taste. But if neither of those things are true, I shall give a brief and incredibly inadequate summary for you. Little Women, published in 1868 by Louisa May Alcott, tells the story of Jo March and her 3 sisters as they transition from young girls to women. Jo, the penultimate child, is the classic tomboy bucking against the restrictions of gentility and societal expectations. Early into the story she befriends Teddy Lawrence, the boy next door, and he is quickly adopted into the family as a brother.
Ah, wee baby Christian Bale...you did a pretty good job I guess
At this point I supposed I should warn of upcoming spoilers, but guys....the book has been out for 150+ years, not to mention made into at least one major film. So I feel like you should probably get over it.
So anyway, Jo and Teddy grow up as best friends, sharing the same sense of humor, the same interests, and enjoying the same activities. And as they get older, Teddy starts trying to lay the ground work to take his relationship with Jo to the next level.
Here's the thing guys. I just finished this book for the first time in many many years, only this time I listened to it as an audiobook. I don't know if it was the woman reading the book or just my frame of mind this particular go through but for the first time I found I kind of had a thing for Teddy. I never appreciated how funny and sassy he is before. But I realized something else, too. I've conducted 20-odd years of thorough study on this via film and TV and I can tell you definitively....Jo and Teddy are legit made for each other. They are the text book definition of chemistry. At least by modern romantic standards. Think about it. Isn't that what ever rom com tells you to look for?
Your perfect match.
I love puns so much
Love, and consequently marriage, is about finding that perfect match. In practical terms that looks like someone who will validate you. It's like "You watch the Great British Baking Show? OMG, I, too, watch the Great British Baking Show!! At last I can stop feeling weird and just watch and love the Great British Baking Show with someone....which is all I really ever wanted."
In contemporary society, where long-term monogamous relationships are approved of at all, they are marketed as the ultimate bff validating relationship. Your spouse is that person who will always be on your side, who likes what you like, and who reassures you of your place in the world because they occupy it with you......But guys. Jo doesn't marry Teddy.
Teddy goes off to college and when he comes home he asks Jo to marry him. He, like me this time through, believes in the idea of a perfect match. But Jo says no. She breaks his heart. She breaks his heart because she understands that there is another way of loving and another way to choose a spouse.
Instead of a perfect match Jo wants a perfect complement.
eheheheheheh
She knows this because it is the marriage she has watched her whole life--that of her parents. Early on Jo's mother talks to her about her hasty temper, explaining that it will cause her so much grief if she doesn't learn to control it. Young Jo bemoans how impossible it is to remember and her mother makes a confession. She, too, struggles to control her temper. But her greatest strength in her efforts is her husband. He knows her struggle and when she needs help he gives her a small sign to remind her of what she wants. .
This was another aspect of the book I'd never really appreciated before. Essentially it was a portrait of a much less common type of relationship, even back then, but it gave a whole different idea of what a marriage could be. One person loving the other enough to patiently help them when it was needed, and the other person loving enough to humble themselves and accept that help. In this sort of marriage the goal is not to comfortably validate you, but gently and lovingly push you towards progression and improvement. In this marriage two people join together to share the work of becoming the best people they can possibly be.
I don't think it is a coincidence that the modern idea of love is the philosophy of matching and validation. It is easier. It asks so much less of us. A complementary relationship takes work. It requires humility and love and dedication. But if you put in that effort you will have a partner who is as invested in helping you attain perfection as they are in achieving it themselves. Can you imagine any greater or more valuable asset in our progression as individuals?
I do not love these actors as these characters, but what can you do?
Jo does eventually find her compliment in a really lovely gentleman named Professor Baehr. He possesses the strengths she lacks and she provides for his deficiencies. They form a partnership that is stronger together than either of them were on their own. And almost it is enough to help me overlook the creepiness of a 40+ year old man courting a 22 year old girl. Almost.
Over the last week I've been rereading the Anne books. Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, and I've just started Anne of the Island. In one of the most popular posts on my blog I list 5 books I believe every girl should read before she is 20 (I neglected to elaborate in that post that I actually think every human should read those books even if they've already passed the age of 20 and/or male). But despite my advice, I realized the other day that I hadn't revisited Anne in years and years.
Returning to Avonlea has been a surprisingly fraught experience. Of course it has been in many ways delightful. Anne is very much a Manic Pixie Dream Girl in the very best sense possible (particularly in that she is also a fully developed character) and stepping into her world is like living the experience of the sad sappy guy in the typical MPDG movie. You see the world anew through Anne's big, beautiful eyes and you remember how lovely it is. You feel optimistic not only about the world, but about your potential within it.
And yet, that very optimism became a bit of a double edged sword for me. This is the first time I have visited Anne, I believe, since before I graduated high school. The last time I read these words I was not yet 20 myself:
[Miss Stacy] said we couldn't be too careful what habits we formed and what ideals we acquired in our teens, because by the time we were twenty our characters would be developed and the foundation laid for our whole future life. And she said if the foundation was shaky we could never build anything really worth while on it.
I'm 28 now, and I confess that, though I hadn't put those words to it, essentially I worry if my foundation is shaky. I struggle a lot these days with a feeling of pragmatic worthlessness. Which is to say, sure I have the intrinsic value that all humans on this earth share, but beyond that my life adds very little to the world. And I mean that very literally. I produce nothing. I give nothing. I accomplish nothing from one day to the next.
Reading this beautiful story about a beautiful girl who walks through the world actively trying to enrich it in every way she can has made me sad. Because at 16 Anne Shirley is more of a woman than I am at nearly twice that age. I grew up reading these books about these great women and I wanted to be one of them too. But I am so far from being an Anne or a Jo or an Elnora. It is difficult for me to believe I'm even on the path to become like them. Honestly I'm not sure I can be, at this point. So while I have loved visiting Anne and Marilla and reacquainting myself with their wholesome, beautiful outlook on life I find myself feeling...hypocritical and disappointed.
One of my coping strategies in life is to remind myself that I have plenty of time left and if I am not perfect today, I still have tomorrow and many days thereafter to work on it. And that is true. But 17 year old Anne is reminding me that time is also precious and once it is past I cannot get it back. And I am regretting that I have spent 28 years accomplishing so little.
Guys, how long has it been since I wrote a movie review? Since The Great Gatsby I think. Wow, that's a long time. Probably because I hardly ever see movies in the theatre anymore. But I did last night. Saw Divergent with my good friend Mike. We were both inspired to see the film after we read this article about the "rape scene" in the film (in the interest of accuracy, it's not exactly a rape scene). Aside from that article and one other, I literally knew nothing about either the books or the movie--nothing about the plot or the themes or the characters.
So I came to the movie as an almost entirely clean slate. And the overall reaction? It was pretty good. But it had a lot more potential than it actually fulfilled.
Quick summary (there be spoilers ahead), for those who want it: Post the traditional "devastating war" society has once again withdrawn behind a great big wall that shields them from the mysterious "other side." To maintain peace after said war society was divided into five "factions" which each are built around a specific characteristic: Amity (they're nice), Abnegation (they're selfless), Erudite (the smarties), Candor (totes honest), and Dauntless (brave). Each faction is in charge of certain aspects of life that suits their strengths. At 16, after taking a test which supposedly tells you in which faction you belong, you then get to decide which you will belong to for the rest of your life notakebacksforever. Enter Beatrice "Triss" Prior, born Abnegation, but super conflicted cause she just doesn't naturally let people take advantage of her. This is reinforced when she takes the test and, instead of neatly fitting into one faction or another, qualifies for three: abnegation, erudite, and dauntless. This is known as being "divergent" and is apparently real bad. At the ceremony she makes the difficult decision to abandon her family and join Dauntless (faction over blood so she's basically leaving them behind forever). Having joined Dauntless she enters into a rigorous training program because the Dauntless are the police force. Smaller and weaker than nearly everyone else, she struggles to keep up during the first, physical phase of testing. But in phase two, focusing on mental training, she suddenly shoots ahead of everyone. It is here her "divergent" qualities emerge as she is able to deal with the mental testing far too easily. But this is also dangerous, because the better she does in the tests the more evident it becomes that she is divergent....and oh my gosh, the bad guys (Erudites...because everyone knows that heroes are strong and villains are smart) are hunting down divergents cause they're dangerous...because reasons. Obligatory Love Interest (hereafter known as Eyebrows and Lips because his real name is equally stupid) teaches her how to beat the tests like a true dauntless, however, and she manages to pass her final test undetected and graduate from initiate to official Dauntless. Just in time for the climactic fulfillment of the evil Erudite plan...which is to drug all the Dauntless into mindless drones who will obey the Erudite's orders to go massacre the Abnegations...because no one can stand those selfless bastards anyway. But handy! When you're divergent you're also magically immune to the drone drug! So Triss and Eyebrows and Lips (who is a sort of...intentionally cultivated divergent? it's not clear) break away, shoot some people, get captured, Eyebrows and Lips is taken away by Darkest Timeline Kate (Winslet), but Triss is saved by Action Hero Ashley (Judd), also known as her mother who turns out was born a dauntless. There's fighting and Triss rescues Eyebrows and Lips and together they save the day and then run away with a few friends outside the wall into exile to await the sequel where they'll, no doubt, lead a rebellion/revolution. (end of spoilers)
Shailene Woodley plays the main character, Beatrice (shortened to Triss early in the film). Ms. Woodley also played Alex King in 2011's The Descendants, which you may know as a movie that I absolutely adore. This was the only other thing I knew about the movie and I'll admit that it was a big draw. She had done an incredibly good job as the struggling but ultimately good daughter in The Descendants and really impressed me. And she did an equally good job in Divergent. Triss could very easily be ruined in the translation to the big screen, becoming one dimensional and irritating--an especially alarming possibility since the entire basis for the character is that she specifically isn't one particular thing but many). But Shailene really managed to create a complex character who is both brave AND self-sacrificing AND intelligent. And even more impressively, she did so in a way that made her believable. This was augmented by giving her believable physical abilities--namely, she, a tiny little girl who has never hit anyone in her life, is pretty consistently owned in every physical fight she gets into. Let's all take a moment to celebrate the non-existence of any "waif-fu" in this movie. By the end she does manage to hold her own for at least a few minutes before being laid waste but that feels more like a realistic development of her abilities due to hard work over time.
Shailene is supported by a nice cast of surrounding characters. Eyebrows and Lips seems a little too beautiful (hence his name here) but puts in a pretty solid performance for a generic character. But my favorites were Triss's friends. They gave great performances and their relationships felt realistic and grounded. I particularly liked Zoe Kravitz (yes, Lenny's daughter) who looks like a cross between her daddy and Kerry Washington. She delivered her "candor" lines believably and she and Triss worked off each other nicely.
And as the original article I linked to discusses, the movie is definitely an impressive effort at bringing a real "strong female character" to the screen. Triss's bodily autonomy is zealously defended. She is independent and able to enforce her own decisions. She manages to be a fighter without being completely cold and emotionless, which seems to be a very common trend in characterizing "strong" women. And while she retains a great deal of selflessness, a solid argument can be made that it is the product of her upbringing rather than her gender. Overall there are some really worthy ideas that they're tucking into the film.
But guys...there's some issues. The premise itself seems pretty deeply flawed to me, and then the specific plot was kind of arbitrary. Apparently the Abnegations run the government because they're selfless, but the Erudites want to seize control because...they want the power I assume? But that's never stated, instead you have Darkest Timeline Kate, apparently the architect of this plan, asserting that she believes in her cause--indeed, she is willing to die for it. But...what is her cause? Because being willing to die for power doesn't quite make sense. So what is she so passionate about? I mean, she says several times that Abnegations are going to destroy the peace...but she never explains how. There's just a whole bunch of sort of implied accusations and nothing concrete. It was frustrating.
Additionally, it was painfully predictable. I don't know how many times I leaned over to Mike and called exactly what was going to happen in the next moment. I am, however, sort of lenient with predictability in films because the opposite problem--twists simply for the sake of twists--is infinitely more grating to me.
I did find the idea interesting. Telling people what they are and then shutting them into societies built around that one trait so that they never try to develop any further aspects of themselves has some really interesting potential. But I'm not sure that they followed through on the full possibilities of it. They touched on it a bit with Eyebrows and Lips when he says that he wants to be more than just one thing. But perhaps that further development will happen in the second story?
I think that in the end my biggest complaint is somewhat more meta than just this one film. It is a complaint about the way YA books are adapted into movies, over and over again. Let's look at some trailers. First, here's the trailer for this movie:
How about The Hunger Games
The Host
Do you notice how all of these kind of feel the same? Let's try one that's a little more fantasy
Those are all pretty recent, let's look at one that is sci fi and based on a pretty classic book
Huh...it somehow still looks...just the same.
Now lets look at a trailer that was just released for one of the greatest YA books ever written, The Giver
.....
....
....
wow. Exactly the same.
Now, if any of you have read The Giver, and I sincerely hope you all have, you know that if ever there was a book that did not fit in the "heroic action adventure" category this is it. The Giver is about reason and emotion and decision making and many fantastic things...but it is definitely not about action. And if anyone had, for some reason, called me up and asked me if I had any ideas about how to make a movie of The Giver I could have given you plenty. Creative and different ideas that would work with or maybe even enhance the natural strengths of the story. I'm not being arrogant here, I'm pretty sure that any fan of the book could do the same if they tried for 10 seconds. But what do we get here? Perhaps the most egregious example of the same movie that they've now been making for years, with an almost insulting effort at ill-deserved legitimacy in the casting of some big names (but really Meryl...it actually hurts me that you're in this). Say what you want about the source material being similar (I won't argue that there's a disturbing lack of innovative creativity in contemporary YA lit), if The Giver is being steamrolled flat into the same exact movie as the rest then it is clear that the source material has only the very most cosmetic influence on the actual move. As my brother said "we based this movie on the title of a popular book."
And that was my biggest complain about Divergent. Instead of trying to make a complex interesting movie that excels in different or unusual ways, they made the only kind of movie they think you can make--pretty people fighting in exciting action scenes. And sure, the book may be a generic entry into the Hunger-Games-inspired dystopian YA genre (I'll let you know once I've finished reading it). But the thing is, and this is the most frustrating part, you can still see the echoes of interesting and unique ideas; however they're like over cooked vegetables...recognizable as something that once had nutritional value, but now just a soggy mess.
But as I said, that is more of a meta criticism leveled at Hollywood in general. If I set aside that overarching annoyance I can say that I liked this movie more than I expected to. I went in fully prepared to enjoy myself MST3K style, but ended up appreciating the movie for its merits rather than its mockable potential. So maybe go see it...but I support you if you decide to wait for it to hit the dollar theatre.
I've been reading The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier. I finished it last night. Robert Cormier is known for writing....questionable books. He wrote I Am The Cheese, a book about a disturbed young man who has a less than firm grasp on reality. He wrote Tenderness, which is about a teen aged psychopath serial killer and rapist and the girl who becomes obsessed with him. Supposedly Cormier says that he wants to write "real people in dramatic situations that will keep people turning pages." That generally translates into books that parents don't really want their children to read. The Chocolate War seems to have a permanent home on the ALA's 100 most banned books list, sitting around #3 for years now.
First of all, a tangent about my opinion on censorship. It's stupid. Always. Ok, maybe not always, but pretty dang nearly. That is to say that I grew up reading things that would probably be considered wildly inappropriate for my age range. A rather tame example--I remember checking out Robin McKinley's The Blue Sword when I was in...4th grade maybe? and the librarian looked at the cover, looked at me in my wee 4th gradedness, and said "are you sure you should be reading this? I think you might be a little too young..." To which I responded "My mom doesn't care what I read, and I promise you this will be fine." Admittedly, had my mom been there she probably would have qualified that statement. I think possibly the reason my mom "didn't care what I read" is because I have always had remarkably good taste in books. But it was the truth. I don't think my mom could have cared less if I was reading an innocuous fantasy book, even if it did have semisortofnotreallyoblique sexual references. And, being in 4th grade, those went right over my head and I didn't realize exactly what was happening in them till I reread the book later in life. And that's the point. If you're old enough to be interested in the story then read the story. If there are "mature" themes then you'll be "mature" enough to understand them so whatever or you won't be and they'll go over your head. And I personally intend to cultivate the sort of relationship with my kids that they know they can ask me about anything if they have questions. Censorship, in my humble opinion, is for cowards who don't want to have to think about hard questions.
What is that honey? You want to know WHY he hates green eggs and ham? Hmm...I'm not sure this book is appropriate for you...
Which is a long way of saying that banning a book like The Chocolate War is stupid. A.) banning something is a good way to make it a heck of a lot more appealing and exciting than it was before and B.) if they want to read it let them read it.
That being said...I absolutely hated this book.
So much.
Plot synopsis: Jerry Renault attends Trinity Catholic School where authority is divided between the teachers, and The Vigils, a secret school gang. The school has a chocolate sale coming up and Brother Leon, the acting headmaster, solicits the help of the Vigils to make sure it goes well. But Jerry refuses to sell, trying to find some way to assert his rejection of the tyrannical mob rule and cruelty he sees in the school. Jerry's refusal sparks a mild rebellion amongst the student body and the chocolate sale is lagging terribly. But when the Vigils do get behind the sale, suddenly it takes off. Whether or not they are legitimate results, every student but Jerry is credited with achieving their sales goals. Jerry becomes the focus of a vicious mental and physical campaign of intimidation. After suffering a group beating, Jerry's frustration and anger come to a boil so that he can be tricked into an unfair public fight with a bully. Jerry ends up getting beaten within an inch of his life. His jaw and ribs are broken and he is unconscious, taken away in an ambulance. Archie, the architect of this all, appears to be on the verge of punishment until Brother Leon shows up and waves it all away with a "boys will be boys" philosophy.
It's all fun and games till someone breaks their jaw and has to get it wired...
And that is the end of the book.
I finished reading this book at 3:30 am this morning and as I closed the back cover I felt an unfamiliar sensation. For the first time in a very long time I felt legitimately angry. I mean, like....anger! Those of you who know me know I don't really get angry. I get frustrated and annoyed and anti social but not really angry. As it turns out, one of the very very few things that make me angry is...can you guess from the title of this post? Books! The last time I was angry like this was after reading the introduction to Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club (I didn't make it past the introduction because it made me so angry). And before that it was on the train from Paris to London as I read Tess of the D'Ubervillesand fought the urge to hurl it across the car and brain some innocent bystander...er...sitter.
I was so angry that I couldn't sleep. I pulled my phone out and typed an angry ranty email to my friend as the only vent I had to my feelings.
Do you remember how a lot of people said they didn't like The Dark Knight because it was just "too dark for me"? My response to that was always the same. The Dark Knight had to be dark a.) because it's in the name and b.) because there must be dark to see the light. The reason I rank that movie as one of the best films of all time (for seriousness, I do) is because it makes the argument that People, as a whole, are good. This is an argument that seems to be out of vogue these days, which makes me sad. Hence I am so in love with The Dark Knight. What? People are good? They won't just...kill everyone else to save themselves? How refreshing!
Contrast that with Cormier's story. At it's most reduced, basic level, Cormier has written the story of how all people are either vicious, remorseless, cruel bullies, or they're cowards who let the bullies have their way.
And that is what makes me angry: the presumption of any man on earth to imply such a degenerate image of mankind. I find that it...offends me to read such a picture of humanity. Don't misunderstand me--I am well aware of the horrifically long history our species has for cruelty. But I am also aware that in every single account of depravity there will be stories of compassion and fellowship. If humans have the ability to appall each other with their cruelty, surely they also have the ability to astound us with their nobility and love?
cliche but applicable...
So who is a man like Cormier....or Palahnuik or Thomas Hardy...to reject that spark of goodness? I understand the urge to write "reality" and there is certainly enough hatred, violence, and cruelty in the world. But I must protest on two counts. The first is that, if you want to write reality, you can't ignore those bright shining lights of goodness no matter how misanthropic a view of humanity you have. And the second is that if you write a story like The Chocolate War or Fight Club and send it out into this dark world and people read it and see nothing but more darkness then what have you done but convince them of the futility of goodness and light?
I guess what made me so angry was the way the book seemed to have given up on goodness. None of the characters felt any remorse for their actions or even appeared to have any awareness that they had behaved incorrectly. I do believe that all people have an inherent goodness in them--we Mormons call it the Inner Light of Christ, but you can call it whatever you want. It boils down to a conscience. The ability to know that good is good and evil is evil (evil, as distinct from "badness" which is open to interpretation). I reject the idea that goodness doesn't exist and that people, if left unchecked, will devolve into depravity. I stand up for goodness.
I should 100% be going to sleep right now, but instead I'm writing this post. Once again I am faced with a topic far too vast to be addressed in a small, insignificant blog, but again I feel impelled to put my thoughts into words for my own sake if for nothing else.
I would not have thought that my young adult fiction class would be the class to provoke most of my "deep thinking" for the semester. "Deep thinking" is the name I gave just this instant to what I consider to be the very best part of my academic career--the thinking I do beyond, above, around, and through my assignments. It's when I take ideas and carry them through and really explore them. Usually it has nothing to do with actual class work or credit. And I repeat, I did not expect my YA fiction class to be the one to spark it.
But I have been lucky. My professor has assigned us, thus far at least, some truly superb books. This week's was Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry. I read it today. I think I read it once before years and years ago, but apparently it was one of a very small list of books that I don't remember very well at all. So today was an essentially fresh and new reading.
Somehow, inhumanity and cruel treatment of others has become a theme in my life the last couple of weeks. Last week I read the Hitler Youth book, about which I posted. Then the Holocaust and WWII seemed to keep coming up in various disparate points in my life. Then there is this book, which fits right in to the theme. And now, after two weeks of stories about people hating, hurting, and dehumanizing other people, I am starting to chafe and feel raw.
The fact is, when I read these stories about Nazis beating and murdering Jews without remorse, or white men slapping and kicking black children who happened to look at them wrong, the fact is that I am flooded with righteous wrath. I want to take the fear those poor people experienced and I want to take it right into the hearts of their tormentors. I want them to know exactly what they put their poor victims through. I want to cause them the same pain they cause to others because I feel like that is the only way they could ever understand what they'd done. And it is the only way to make things right and even and square...
Even as I'm writing this I'm brimming with emotion--utter fury that a human being could treat another in such a way, wringing sympathy for those who suffered such vindictive treatment, and embarrassment that I should presume to pity these people as though I can even begin to comprehend their experiences. I mean, I can read this book, or To Kill A Mockingbird or Hitler's Youth, or any other book, but I can never really fathom what it was like to live in the same world as the actual people. So who am I to be angry on their behalf or sorry for them? Who am I to read their stories and then write a blog post as though I have something important to say?
But I must. Because as I was sitting here on my bed, wondering how things like Slavery and the Holocaust could exist, I suddenly had a bright shining realization that had the gleam of truth about it.
To understand I will take you on somewhat of a tangent. I'm sure you all remember the movie Taken. The Liam Neeson movie that came out a year or two ago that everyone just loved. In it an ex-CIA operative has retired to be closer to his daughter. She goes on a holiday to Europe and is kidnapped by sex-traders. Her father then goes on a bloody rampage through Europe to rescue her, killing brutally, mercilessly, and without the slightest remorse anyone who happens to stand too close to him. Everyone loved this movie because we all loved seeing Liam Neeson circumvent laws that so often seem more a hindrance than a help, and get bloody, efficient results. I walked out of that movie deeply disturbed as I realized that I had just watched literally hundreds of people die and I had relished it. I can't tell you how many people responded "yeah, but they were horrible people! They deserved it!" Be that as it may, I couldn't help but feel that a movie like Taken played to an unhealthy place in human nature which ought not be cultivated.
Because the fact is, the moment you start rationalizing cruelty by any sort of reasoning, you are on the dangerous slope. One of the great tragedies of something like the Holocaust or of Slavery is the scarring left in its wake--the mental and emotional backlash. You take a group of people and categorically demean them to a point where their lives hold no value...what could you possibly expect would happen to those people once they're finally released from your power? The hatred of the Jews for the Nazis or the blacks for the whites is a horrible thing. Their lives and their children's lives for generations are warped and mutated by a hatred that is just as blind as the hatred that they experienced.
What I'm trying to say so unsuccessfully is that these terrible points in history often lead to reciprocation. That righteous anger I feel, that desire to hurt the tormentors as their victims were hurt, those same feelings are felt by others and we try to punish the tyrants somehow. They need to suffer because they made others suffer!
But what does that make us? What does that make the victims? Suddenly the roles are reversed. And just because you were once a victim doesn't mean that you cannot become a bully.
The epiphany that I had as I was sitting here on my bed was this:
If you cannot possibly find any way to value yourself besides setting yourself up over another person by stripping them of their humanity...how low...how little must you value yourself? And how immensely must you loathe yourself?
That was my epiphany. And along with it came the realization why righteous wrath simply will not work. Why you cannot punish away that kind of bad behavior. If you hate yourself that much--that the only thing that can make you feel good is to compare yourself to something you consider less than human--no amount of punishment or pain will fix that. Indeed, it will but add fuel to the fire.
What can fix that? The horribly beautiful or beautifully horrible truth is that love is the only thing that can fix that. Love and forgiveness and acceptance. If you hate me and I hate you back, that does nothing but create an endless cycle of hate. But if you hate me and I love you and forgive you back...even if you hate me till the end of time, by removing my own hatred I have managed to decrease the net hatred in the world even just by a little.
My righteous wrath isn't gone. In fact when I think about forgiving someone in a situation like that a large part of me revolts. Where is the justice in that? How can I possibly suggest that such a thing is even possible? Honestly, it may not be possible for many people. Maybe their suffering passed the point of no return beyond which they cannot come back without some recompense being paid. And maybe that's good. But just try to imaging for a moment a world where everyone loved others--and more importantly, everyone felt well and truly loved. Imagine a world where everyone knew who he or she was, the value they had, and that they were loved by those around them.
Can you imagine a Holocaust in that world? Because I cannot.
Forgiveness and love are the way to that world. Not hatred or vindictive punishment or retribution.
In the memorandum, Himmler also warned the police about young people who ignored German culture and preferred jazz music and swing dance. These resisters were called the Swing Youth, due to their taste in music. According to Himmler, the teenagers said, "Swing Heil," instead of "Heil Hitler." He noted that the boys wore their hair long and the girls wore makeup and painted their fingernails.
Today I read Susan Campbell Bartoletti's Hitler Youth: Growing Up In Hitler's Shadow. It was a fascinating read. I hesitate to try and write a post about it because I don't think I could do justice to the topic without much more time and research, but at the same time I felt an overwhelming wish to voice some of my small thoughts. Frankly, most of my mind is focused on the war more than the actual book. That being said, I must briefly mention that, as a person generally uninterested in non-fiction, I was very impressed. Ms Bartoletti created an incredibly well-crafted book that presented difficult information in a very engaging manner.
Hitler's plan for training the youth of Germany is a fascinating and terrifying thing. As I read this story of indoctrination and peer pressure I just kept looking at the world in which I live. The climate of fear and reactionism that allowed Hitler to successively strip Germans of their freedoms with no opposition (indeed, each new breach of their freedom was often celebrated as a victory) seems so like the one in which we live today. SOPA created an international outcry that roused people from their somnolent apathy and their outrage has, at least for now, been acknowledged. But where was that same outrage when Congress passed the National Defense Authorization Act which, among I don't even know what else, allows the government to detain Americans "suspected of terrorist activity"? This law was signed off by the president this month and is now in effect (insofar as I am aware...). Setting aside the issue of detaining anyone without basic rights because I can only address so much here, the fact is that under a new and frighteningly broad definition of "terrorist activity" our government can now detain us, it's own citizens, indefinitely and without trial. It may seem reactionary and extreme to imply this comparison, but I can't help but worry...is "The War on Terror" a good enough reason for us to sit quietly while our civil liberties, such an enduring hallmark of this nation (even as its reputation has suffered ever more tarnishing from the hands of outsiders and insiders alike), are chipped away one by one?
Ironically, I found a bitter sort of comfort even as I mused on these frightening ideas. Bartoletti begins her book with a quote from Hitler himself
I begin with the young. We older ones are used up...But my magnificent youngsters! Are there finer ones anywhere in the world? Look at all these men and boys! What material! With them I can make a new world.
Hitler understood the importance of the rising generation in the success of his war machine. Bartoletti's book describes the activities the Hitler Jungen (HJ) orchestrated to get all the children involved. She describes hiking and camping and summer camps. She talks about the patriotic propaganda that played to the fervor of young minds. Hitler had an immense gift for speaking, and with his nation's youth he used it to terrible effect. Bartoletti includes several first-hand accounts of boys and girls in their teens who heard him speak. They talk about how inspiring he was and how his words went right to their souls and captured their hearts and minds. My bitter comfort as I read these accounts was a knowledge that the youth of my generation are immune to such insidious tactics. The fact is, mine is a generation defined by apathy.
I cannot be proud of this safeguard. After all, apathy is just as dangerous as misguided fanaticism. It was the apathy of others that allowed families to be dragged from their homes and put into concentration camps. With enough apathy, fear, and carefully placed manipulation bad men can create a world all of their own making. The fact is everyone wants their world to be ok. They don't want there to be problems and trouble and issues. It is frightening to think that something is wrong because that means that it must somehow be fixed. Bartoletti interviewed actual members of the HJ and they talked to her about their inability to face what they had done. So many of them simply could not accept that the man they had believed in with religious fervor was a madman and a murderer--not even when they saw the evidence with their own eyes. People don't want to believe that the world is gone awry and that they have been a part of it, no matter how inadvertently.
But most of all this book overwhelmed me with the horror of violence and war. Hitler took an entire generation and raised them up to be perfect soldiers. Boys and men capable of the most horrifying atrocities towards their fellow men with little or no immediate remorse. As I read Bartoletti's accounts of "mercy killings" and then the Holocaust I kept trying to understand how such programs could exist...and keep existing. It wasn't just the insanity of Hitler; somehow hundreds of other people were pulled into complicity with it. He was just one man. Somehow he took living, feeling human beings and turned them into something less, something that was capable of looking others in the eye and inflicting every imaginable kind of torture on them. How did he do that?
And yet this is not an isolated example. To our shame, the history of human cruelty is as long as the history of human existence. The worst part of this is the fact that it continues to exist today. The fact that after witnessing something so appalling as World War II there still exists places like Guantanamo Bay. That there are still terrorists and extremists and people filled with hate (or even more terrifying--people filled with militant zeal). That people are still capable of taking another human being's life in his or her hands and snuffing it out because someone told them to...or because they told themselves to. How? How are we still doing this to one another?
I wish I had answers to any of these questions or solutions to even just one of these problems. How does one abolish apathy while staving off misguided zealotry? How does one subdue the demon within Man that strips from him his Humanity? How do people conquer their wills and learn to interact with each other civilly and reasonably? I don't know. All I know is that even without solutions we have to keep trying. Bartoletti told the story of various young men and women who rose up in rebellion under Hitler's regime. In every instance they were quickly found and executed, their voices silenced, leaving what appeared to be little or no change in their wake. It was difficult to hear their stories without bitterness as I wondered what it was for. But I had to remind myself that the simple fact that I could read their stories all these years later means that they had some effect. I cannot find the words to explain what their sacrifice means to me, a privileged and ignorant girl some 70 years later. All I can say is that I am so grateful that they made it. And perhaps, with that example to inspire me, if one day I find myself called on to sacrifice something of my own to protest against injustice, hatred, violence, or cruelty I will be able to make the right decision. Even if I don't think it will make a difference.
