In the Aeroplane Over the [Great Lakes], pt. 2

So, my first plane trip in over a decade was, all things considered, a resounding success.  I guess I feel the need to discuss this issue more because at it's heart, I'm truly amazed by the act of human flight.  I mean, there we were, all couple-hundred of us strangers, just hanging there by the relatively basic of physical principles, gliding along towards our respective destinations. 

There's this lack of aesthetic that exists on commercial airliners.  The seats don't align across rows evenly.  The windows don't line up with the rows of seats evenly.  The elbow rests hurt more than help.  Air travel can be an unforgiving beast, but it's a miracle that we gladly suffer.

There was this juxtaposition that I endured, at whatever level of willingness, presented through my misaligned windows; the engine dangling precariously from the wing, set against the backdrop of the night lights below.  A mild turbulence throughout the latter 2/3rds of the flight would bounce the plane, but the engine wouldn't bounce the same.  It reacted either a few moments before or a few moments after, depending on how I chose to understand it. I found this slightly unnerving, but also a useful life metaphor.  To me, it was the incongruity of observation and existence, the notion that we can observe and make sense of a lot in the world, but often our observed reality may contradict with the natural reality's supremacy.  Here I felt unnerved by the shaking of the plane, but in fact, I was probably more safe than I had been in many moments in my life where I felt much, much safer.

What is it about plane travel that causes us to reflect?  I bear a profound fondness for The Kinks - Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, and on that album there is a song titled This Time Tomorrow.  On it, Ray Davies reflects upon the perspective of being so many thousands of feet above the ground, and the lack of connection one can feel due to the perceived physical distance.  I guess the distance has a profoundly different effect upon me, as I am often craning to view the ground below me and to make sense of the patterns of pavement, roofs, lights, and moving objects.  This activity is especially enjoyable at night; a reason I was thankful our flight was delayed the way it was.  I saw Cleveland, and though I didn't see my family, I felt touched. 

There they were, doing what they do, safe and sound.  And I was on my way. 

Interminably Busy in the Complaint Dept.

Just arrived at Logan to head back home from Boston, and our flight is delayed due to weather or something like that. Well, the Southwest terminal is next to the Boston Beer Works and it just so happens that my fellow Chicagoans are imbibing their delay away. We received word that the delay was to be about an hour or so, but when we asked the fellow at the gate, he said only about 15 minutes right now. To that, a lady began remarking outloud to anyone who would listen that "it was an hour 15 minutes ago, then ten minutes ago it was 20 minutes, now it's fifteen minutes!"

How quickly we find the breath to complain about the slightest change in expectations, regardless of the direction of that change.

In the Aeroplane Over the [Great Lakes]

My first commercial air flight in over ten years is boarding, what a mix of nervousness and excitement. Boston, here I come.

EDIT: Just landed. It was a fun, short flight. The landing was great considering there's pretty thick fog here right now. I got through about half of Maus I. Now we're on our way to drop our luggage off at the B&B.

Dust to Dust

The conversation about the impact and implications of Osama bin Laden's death have brought to relief, for me, a larger philosophical question: Is murder the appropriate response to murder?

"Appropriate" seems Victorian-sounding. What I mean to say is, what value does murdering a killer have? Can vengeance and justice coexist?

No.

First, it's important to distinguish between the two. Justice is the act of righting a wrong. Vengeance is the act of retaliating against a wrong.

Second, it's just as important to establish a clear principle in regards to the crime of murder as viewed by the legal system: there is no such thing as a "just" response to the taking of a human life. It is a wrong that can never be righted. Therefore, no matter what is done in response by the artifices erected by societies, the loss will remain, forever unfulfilled.

In many cases, this isn't even a question of muddy philosophical distinctions or of whether a brutal, insane murderer should be allowed to live, let alone sheltered, protected, and fed by those who he would rather destroy. An unknown number of innocent men and women have been murdered by death penalty due to our short-sighted and neolithic thirst for violent reprisal. They are innocent people killed by the blood lust of a race of beings still primitive enough to mistake selfishness for righteousness.

And we would let it happen everyday if possible. As long as we continue down this path, we will never see justice. This is because murder by retaliation, whether in the form of individual action or state-sponsored death penalties, does not discourage or disincentivize murder; it legitimizes it. It creates an obvious and glaring exception to a rule that most if not all human societies enforce, that the taking of a life of a fellow human being is an unforgivable and intolerable act. When we justify one act of murder on the basis of emotional fulfillment, we give license to the inevitable infallibility of our fellow beings to imposition this exception to their own desire to create emotional fulfillment.

That's not to say by eliminating the death penalty, murder will end. That's to say a society cannot even think about significantly tackling the issue of murder until it recognizes the incompatibility of vengeance and justice.

If a society wants justice, it seeks to reduce vengeance, not engage in it.

Ashes to Ashes

Two days ago, word came that Osama bin Laden had been killed at the hands of U.S. forces. Many details have come to light, some true, many probably not. I haven't been sure how to express my personal feelings on the matter, but when finally pressed, I decided to take a stand.

Shrug.

I'm certainly not jubilant; I cannot cheer the death of another human being, no matter how vile. I don't feel sorrow; the sum of our human existence is more positive now that the cowardly orchestrator of countless deaths has been snuffed out.

But, I do feel... sad. From my perspective, news of bin Laden's death serves as a reminder of the futility of the broader conflict. Two days ago, the man who led, funded, and orchestrated the 9/11 attacks was assassinated, and it has absolutely no measurable impact on the armed conflicts that resulted from his efforts. None. Zero. Zilch.

Totally irrelevant.

This conflict didn't begin on 9/11/2001, and it didn't end on 5/1/2011. It began with the events that led to the Crusades, and it will continue until some indeterminate point in time, many, many, many years from now. We'll continue to grind on in Afghanistan, and when we're finally roused by our disgust at the toll it has taken, we'll leave and take on the new fight du jour.

There's always another terrorist.