Friday, April 24, 2015

Ex_Machina misses how we're actually wanting


This might seem a bit cruel, but isn't it likely that the first thing that you'd test when you employed a company coder to gauge whether someone seemed real or not, is actually whether said person was so scared of actual alive people -- of actual alive women -- that putting anyone that resembled such before them would cause such a harsh psychic retreat they'd suddenly fantasize a computer "brick" as the most wonderfully receptive of playmates? I mean, isn't that now the most interesting thing about the Turing test? That at some point in time we actually didn't blink at the fact that someone who's life had been all math, and which would evolve all around circuit chips, was casually, readily associated as an arbiter of anyone or anything's degree of true aliveness? Shouldn't it have always been the Shakespeare test? The Yo Yo Ma test? The Bach test? The Gertrude Stein test? Shouldn't it have always been someone we associate with tremendous emotional depth, to become the emblem person we imagine scrutinizing any object's humanity? Surely any of these than "the good guy" -- the good guy who's liable to blush at any pretty woman who responds to him with even pseudo-interest, and who's of course ejaculated to buckets of porn -- some of them, be sure, cartoons.  

I think it is. And while I doubt that any geek would come to anywhere near the same conclusion -- irregardless, of course, of IQ -- I'm pretty sure that in the context of what they've been thinking of today, they weren't as ready as perhaps the director might have assumed to jump into the skin of this movie's pro-offered equivalent of them. The director might have assumed that he'd have his audience, that they'd have been humiliated to find their equivalent, their ostensible hero, Domhnall Gleeson's Caleb, ultimately summed-up by the Steve Jobs equivalent in this movie -- Oscar Isaac's Nathan -- as in fact actually only a mediocre, as only an "okay" coder, rather than the best one in the company, and thereafter jubilant to find him turn the tables on him ... ingeniously, and thereafter humiliated for all time by his ostensible love interest's caring not a scat about him once she's ultimately free, bathing herself first in the great outdoors, and then afterwards, in her dream place, probably town-centre New York city. But it's doesn't work out for him, because we're not so much in the mood to be anyone's Charlie of the Chocolate Factory, and are instead thinking on exactly what kind of brew of different things Jobs explored so that when he afterwards reconnected with human life, the guy saw no one else pursuing what he plainly saw as the new frontier before humanity. We don't quite dip ourselves into our geek proxy, because we've been tuned in through the like of Isaacson's "Steve Jobs," that we can't help but be off of him as soon as meet this film's Tony Stark. 

I was wondering if I was Tony Stark/Steve Jobs/Isaac's Nathan, would I want his home, his kingdom, of not a quantified number of acres but clearly simply a kingdom? Or would I want the best piece of property in condensed downtown New York, where out to the most refined cafe, I could "people watch"? Do I want to spend most of my time, ideally, like Isaac? Or rather like Eva, the sizeably-breasted, dollish, ostensibly-android love interest, who's name suggests she wants plain fields and plain simple just-human contact, but who out of character actually wants the sublime constituents of urbanity -- to sit before other people, as an especially acute observant, being a flaneur? The truth is, many of us want both -- and so I took the films' pro-offered first-choice of tempting devil, and then readily changed the ignorant ending, where we're supposed to be bathing in then fuming at the young punctuating woman who spurned "us" all for her own glorious turn, to just go along with her, without any of that ... with no sense of later humiliating the spurning, self-interested "bitch" (something, of course, the director will be for-sure be pursing in his later films; watch for it -- this fellow is no feminist but someone setting up women for later loud revenge). 

I have little to add, other than I borrowed from the film some "furnishing" tips. One, adding a little Japanese might make feel more excelsior. Two, I need to make running water, streams and outdoor grandeur, more of my future life, however much it reminds me of my mom when she was claiming her rightful glamour. I'll kill her in some way -- rhetorically, I mean, because she is a lovely woman who deserves life to be respondent to her every hope and dream. And then I'll go back there a bit more myself. I love, love, love, a headily running stream, brushed along the side, with the alien encounter of all that couldn't discern me from any other object of wariness. 



Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Two full psychohistorical conversations (with all names other than mine, changed)


Rather than skimming through it, I finally read all of Steven Pinker's "Better Angels of our Nature." I'm guessing that the one thing others have not discussed is his description of the crazy, utopian 1960s. In a nutshell, he's not for it. It was a period of the relaxation of self-control -- "Do your own thing, Let it all hang out, If it feels good do it, Take a walk on the wild side." What happens out of all of this is what happens to, for example, the why-don't-you-all-fade-away band, the Who, where as he says one of the band members end up being a homicidal maniac, running over his bodyguard and such. For a peaceful society, you have to eschew these temptations to be free. If you're not up for it, perhaps you're lucky enough to be like Pinker and have a mother who dissuaded him from becoming other than the perfect mensch. 

So he's ostensibly telling us the good news -- society has gotten better; much better -- while warning us away from getting too excited. So if you are to read his work about how history is "shockingly violent" and "deeply brutal." About how most previous societies were profoundly infanticidal. That it was about rapes, a lot of rapes. That tribal cultures are the worst -- he says, believe it or not, the colonialists reports of their savagery was spot-on. You're not supposed to say -- well then, why the hell History? why the hell Anthropology? and count the future as open terrain, spared heeding any scoldings to read history else repeat sins. Such blatant, youthful repulsion of elders and of the past, doesn't in his mind lead to 1920s modernism or 1960s hippie-love, but to your eventually taking a knife from your kitchen drawer and skewering your neighbour. No, as absurd as his account makes of these ginormous realms of interest and study, he wouldn't dare question any discipline -- a word he surely loves -- that encourages kids to spend dutiful hours studying, studying, studying, and enlarging their capacities of self-control and reason and self-denial. 

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Ann Coulter, calling for sacrifice of young men


Salon.com has an article about how Ann Coulter is calling Christians -- her kind -- wimps, in face of confident, effective, aggressive atheism. This bit:

O’Reilly then asks Coulter how it is that the 80 percent of Americans who consider themselves Christians “are getting thumped, they’re losing . . . .  How did that happen?”

For Coulter, the answer lies in pusillanimous Christian leaders (abetted by spineless Republicans).  Their cowardice is, she says, “ridiculous,” because “the one thing every Christian should have is courage.  The most important thing in your life, eternity, is already taken care of.  Go out and fight.  You’re afraid of being sneered at by the New York Times?”

brings to mind deMause's description of the start of wars, where mothers are demanding courage and sacrifice and show of loyalty, from their suspect youth: 

That wars are seen emotionally as led by dangerous Killer Mothers, with war
goddesses from Athena to Freyja and from Brittania to Marianne depicted as
devouring, raping and ripping apart her children, is one of my most unexpected
findings during the three decades I have studied war psychohistorically. The further
back in history one goes, the more wars are openly considered as being fought for
Killer Goddesses, from Tiamat, Ishtar, Inanna, Isis and Kali to the Aztec mother goddess Huitzilopochtli, who had “mouths all over her body” that cried out to be fed the blood of her soldiers.

[...]

It is men who join the military to appeal to women as brave heroes who will save them, who respond to recruiting posters saying “Women of Britain Say ‘GO!”, who claim “all women like to hear of men fighting and facing danger” and who go to their death in battle with one word, “Mom,” on their lips. Mothers today may not send their sons forth to battle with the adjuration “Come back with your shield or on it” as did Spartan mothers, but in fantasy many soldiers still hear the inner voices of their mothers saying to them: “Grow up and be a MAN”—i.e., kill or be killed. 

Origins of War, "Killer Motherland"


Christians are being insulted by Ann Coulter, representing their dangerous, angry mother, and it probably won't be long before she's effectively painted on shields and carried as the protective proud mother onto battlefields, as young Christians suit up against the unrelenting "bullying" (the bullying they knew from their own mothers, projected onto an outside source) of the new atheists. War of psychoclasses, like the American Civil War, and the War of Revolution.


---------

Dear Patrick, 

I have not seen that "Killer Motherland" quote before, and in my opinion it is an hysterical bullseye. With little exception, it seems, women are mostly portrayed as the "collateral damage" in wars, which they encourage their sons and spouses to fight at risk of social or military dishonor and sexual humiliation. But when it comes down to the trenches, in hand-to-hand live combat, soldiers (at least the organized and commanded ones) do not necessarily fight for motherhood and sexually loaded cherry pie, which of course represents the motherland (in most places, but not all). 

In fact, they move forward so as not to be deemed cowards (by fellow soldiers) and to fight for the approval of their comrades, who will seldom tolerate deserters (current case to wit), and for the flag under which they are pledged to serve. (Napoleon paid special attention to flag bearers and had them protected fiercely.) If fatherhood is squandered on battlefields, history until now says so be it. Nonetheless, it is widely regarded as a crime to kill women and children and a shameful lack of manhood if any male in the family even conscientiously objects, much less "deserts" the cause. 

I will read "Killer Motherland" with interest to see how the implications of the above unflinching look at motherhood plays out with mothers and their minions. Is it possible that when women write history the world looks different? What might life be like if all the mothers in the world turned deMausean? 

Thanks for the perfect quote.

Fred

———-

DeMause's take is that the unit of soldiers, the group, is itself maternal -- "regiments are our mothers". Officers as "hens." Cannons called "mom," and such. Everywhere he's written about the flag as placenta ... except in his most recent work -- "Origins of war" -- where "the fetal" seems near (this is an exaggeration, but not much) to have disappeared from his thinking. It'd be good exercise to see if he really thinks of it as such. It might be more accurate to wonder if he now thought of it more as a conduit to mother (making it comparable to one of those arms upraised to Hitler) than it is something separate, something of itself, which is how he originally viewed the fetus's relationship with the placenta. 

De Mause believes wars are specifically about the chance to kill women and children. People do a split, and project all the dangerous and bad aspects onto the others you're fighting. Your mother country becomes all good, and you're all good -- the favourite you always wanted to be -- by standing up for Her. You revenge against her through your killing/raping enemy women, and against your own bad, spoiled, vulnerable self, by killing enemy soldiers, enemy children. 

One of the strange things I have noticed in his writings, though, is a quote of his of how Hitler saw medusa's eyes as the eyes of his own mother. What I mean, is, shouldn't this have been projected -- out?, leaving his mother perhaps stern but never monstrous?

About the fact that it was regarded as a crime to kill women and children, de Mause believes that, at some level, everyone knew that though "Wars are thought of as being fought mainly by men against men, [...] most wars kill more women and children than men—today for every soldier who dies in war, ten civilians die, about half of them children." 

The sense we have of men who are sticking up for one another, who don't want to disappoint one another -- a band of brothers -- is certainly how they are shown in film. Sort of a homosocial, homosexual enclave, while a raging tempest ensues around them. Whatever the reality, the pleasure we might take in films when we see this, is what we may want when we are not quite in the mood to remerge with her but rather feel the need to situate ourselves in a simulacrum of our own terrifying infantile state, armed with some kind of totemic power. 

More along this line of thinking, that is -- "New Guinea social, religious and political institutions are primarily constructions by men to defend against maternal engulfment fears through shared beliefs and rituals." And this: "Men cling to their various solidarity arrangements to counter engulfing, poisonous women, because "Women represent an enemy, the enemy, and aggression is based on opposition to them. At every stage of the developmental cycle,men have an internal, united organization as reference; women and external enemies are the target of concern, they are conceptually equivalent."


De Mause would also say that during wars the idea, the image, of young men all dead on the battlefield is actually a pleasant one -- they've finally martyred themselves, and are being blanketed in remorse and love and appreciation by their mothers. Such was the purpose of war, what men ultimately signed up for -- this sacrifice of their youth. I can't say I've ever seen such reflected in films -- usually there's a strong sense that someone ought to pay! But I think we can perhaps catch some sense of this when we see gravestones of soldiers, side by side, or of their returning caskets, cloathed in "swaddling cloth." These men are heroes, cleansed of sin and now loved in Heaven -- not entirely a sad fate. 

Steven Pinker: No Utopian, he


Rather than skimming through it, I finally read all of Steven Pinker's "Better Angels of our Nature." I'm guessing that the one thing others have not discussed is his description of the crazy, utopian 1960s. In a nutshell, he's not for it. It was a period of the relaxation of self-control — "Do your own thing, Let it all hang out, If it feels good do it, Take a walk on the wild side." What happens out of all of this is what happens to, for example, the elder-defying, the why-don’t-you-all-fade-away band, the Who, where as he says one of the band members end up being a homicidal maniac, running over his bodyguard and such. For a peaceful society, you have to eschew these temptations to be free. If you're not up for it, perhaps you're lucky enough to be like Pinker and have a mother who dissuaded him from becoming other than the perfect mensch. 

So he's ostensibly telling us the good news — society has gotten better; much better — while warning us away from getting too excited. So if you are to read his work about how history is "shockingly violent" and "deeply brutal." About how most previous societies were profoundly infanticidal. That it was about rapes, a lot of rapes. That tribal cultures are the worst — he says, believe it or not, the colonialists reports of their savagery was spot-on. You're not supposed to say — well then, why the hell History? why the hell Anthropology? and count the future as open terrain, spared any heeding of scoldings to read history else repeat sins. Such blatant, youthful repulsion of elders and of the past, doesn't in his mind lead to 1920s modernism or 1960s hippie-love, but to your eventually taking a knife from your kitchen drawer and skewering your neighbour. No, as absurd as his account makes of these ginormous realms of interest and study, he wouldn't dare question any discipline — a word he surely loves — that encourages kids to spend dutiful hours studying, studying, studying, and enlarging their capacities of self-control, reason and self-denial. 

De Mause wouldn't discount that periods where you really feel you can let it go, be free — youthful, golden age periods — lead to a lot of violence. But his take is this isn't because adolescent periods are always that, which is why we should tutor ourselves to prefer the elder. His take is that they needn't be violent at all, they could be just times conducive to the most enriched living; but in the past they inevitably became violent because few of us were raised with enough love that we're not still under pressure from our internal perpetrator parental alters to feel like we'll be abandoned or killed if we enjoy ourselves too much (our alters, representatives of our denied, depressed mothers, required us to fill their gaps, and rejected us when near as infants focused on ourselves). So when things get really good, and we can't retreat, recess — we go amok. 

Pinker's work, that is, is actually for me a bit of a kill-joy. As much as I quickly realized my dreaming, Utopian-visioned professors of pre-modern History or Anthropology weren't quite seeing their peoples quite right, I knew at least that these professors were well-loved enough to inspire me to dream big, to try and be big — they wanted the people they studied and admired to be magical, at least in part, for their own sakes: they deserved no less. These well-wishing professors, I knew, inspired by the 60s youthful culture, will be the best we'll see until a new Golden Age inspires even more healthily raised people to change the world. When they start being discounted, it'll be mostly about liberating ourselves from their permission and goodness — from them as emblems of allowance — not truly their blind sightedness.  

Pinker is adamant that a bourgeois society is an elder one, a sober one. This is different from de Mause. De Mause talks about them as if they were youths stepping out into a new land of promise — ongoing growth, accruing wealth, accruing self-satisfaction, accruing self-attendance. He would argue that Pinker's sober world isn't actually intrinsically so inhibited at all; that we are prone to colour it that way so we can try and hide from ourselves the fact that what we wanted for ourselves is being realized — surely Pinker's current state of mind. If this isn't successful, if we begin to feel like we've empowered ourselves too much, have gone too long without some large sacrifice for our sins, we'll precipitate a war or deep recession. 

One does note that even as much as Pinker goes to great lengths to suggest that "Iran" isn't so bad, he leaves room to change his tune. What is absolutely abhorrent, what was a disgrace, was the 1960s, because with its upsurge of adolescence it upset a pleasant graph that showed violence on the downswing. As much as he has talked about the current religious as having compartmentalized many of their beliefs so they're out of the way of everyday life, he doesn't spare setting them up so that they don't seem like people out of several hundred years ago, still living with us today. He doesn't spare them being seen as people "before the (Protestant) revolution" — the New Atheist way of looking at Muslims. 

If Pinker's mother didn't just bless him by discouraging his freedom but also humiliated him, if he too at some level desires revenge upon her, not just to credit and acclaim, he might re-stage by setting up the Muslim world as both the Terrifying Mother and the Bad Child and start pointing fingers — look you, what's with all this disruption! 

We'll see if he goes like fellow reasoning, rationalist, atheist Dawkins, who was all Biology and study and peace and urbanity and Enlightenment ... until he wasn't, and had to settle scores. 

———

This is the most noteworthy passage for me in the whole book:

[Norbert] Elias had written that the demands of self-control and the embedding of the self into webs of interdependence were historically reflected in the development of timekeeping devices and a consciousness of time: "This is why tendencies in the individual so  often rebel against social time as represented by his or her super-ego, and why so many people come into conflict with themselves when they wish to be punctual." In the opening scene of the 1969 movie Easy Rider, Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda conspicuously toss their wristwatch into the dirt before setting off on their motorcycles to find America. That same year, the first album by the band Chicago [...] contained the lyrics "Does anybody really now what time it is? Does anybody really care? If so I can't imagine why." All this made sense to me when I was sixteen, and so I discarded my own Timex. When my grandmother saw my naked wrist, she was incredulous: "How can you be a mensch without a wager?" She ran to a drawer and pulled out a Seiko she had brought during a visit to the 1970 World's Fair in Osaka. I have it to this day. (page 111)

He concludes the book, incidentally, this way: 

A final reflection. In writing this book I have adopted a voice that is analytic, and at times irreverent, because I believe the topic has inspired too much piety and not enough understanding. But at no point have I been unaware of the reality behind the numbers.To review the history of violence is to be repeatedly astounded by the cruelty and waste of it all, and at times to be overcome with anger, disgust, and immeasurable sadness. I know that behind the graphs there is young men who feels a stab of pain and watches the life drain slowly out of him, knowing he has been robbed of decades of existence. There is a victim of torture whose contents of consciousness have been replaced by unbearable agony, leaving room only for the desire that consciousness itself should cease. There is a woman who has learned that her husband, her father, and her brothers are dead in a ditch, and who will soon "fall into the hands of hot and forcing violation." 

So we get this sort of neutral, distanced, account throughout, where amongst other things we learn his life was saved from depravity owing to a highly memorable incidence involving a watch where his grandmother stepped in to reign in his youthful impulses. And he finishes with a graphic afterwards, where a young man watches the life drain out of him, and afterwards, "the coup de grace," of an adult woman, already deprived of everyone that matters to her, about to be raped. 

Are we encountering here mostly his profound sadness and dismay, amelioration to those who wonder how he can talk about such awful subject manner and remain so cold? Or is it more unconscious payback against the women in his life who stepped in during his blooming adolescence during a blooming time in America's history, and made bloody sure he didn't grow up to be a rock and roll star?



Monday, April 6, 2015

People with short-term memory, or people with brilliant long-term, who well remember the terrors?



Paul Krugman, at his blog, has just explained why austerity-favouring politicians in Britain might well get re-elected. He writes:

Well, you could blame the weakness of the opposition, which has done an absolutely terrible job of making its case. You could blame the fecklessness of the news media, which has gotten much wrong. But the truth is that what’s happening in British politics is what almost always happens, there and everywhere else: Voters have fairly short memories, and they judge economic policy not by long-term results but by recent growth. Over five years, the coalition’s record looks terrible. But over the past couple of quarters it looks pretty good, and that’s what matters politically.
This is the common sense understanding of how people work that liberals generally (always?) prefer, that they're basically good but have certain weaknesses that make them exploitable. He's wed to it, unfortunately, so that if it was only one quarter that looked pretty good, he'd of made the exact same argument. If it wasn't even that ... if there weren't any promising economic quarters but conservatives we're dangling goodies of some kind, like tax cuts, it would be amended slightly, but he'd in essence argue the same thing: These good people's weakness isn't their "fairly short memories," but their "sweet tooths" --  sadly ready to gobble down anything sweet-sounding given to them without thought of the long-term. The liberals role is to press and educate, get the news out, so that perhaps these instinctive tendencies in the populace can be abated by forcing them to do some hard recall, some temporary restraint and denial ... this too -- thank God! -- they're capable of. 

I think this common sense understanding of people is wrong, and, other than deMause, the only person I've heard argue that people actually know what they're getting when they vote in people that will ensure hard times, is the conservative historian John Lukacs. Lukacs had argued that people knew the kind of world Reagonomics was about to bring, they weren't fooled or conned or exploited, and that the people chose it because they knew it was required to breed character, something Lukacs believed it did as well (and also David Brooks: his new book is all about it). To him, it showed something impressive about them that they intrinsically preferred a "testing" environment to one always dispensing "candy." 

Lukacs is a very erudite nut, of course. It's de Mause who's got it right. At certain times, people vote in politicians who will ensure further suffering and growth-inhibition, because, without it, they will feel something worse: complete abandonment by their mothers, installed as alters in their right hemispheres. 

De Mause would argue the should-be-common-sense argument that voters actually well-remembered the five years of suffering, not the two quarters of economic improvement; and in fact are maybe about to vote back in conservatives in spite of the fact of recent economic improvement. In de Mause's view, the people aren't good but prey to unfortunate weaknesses, but rather people who rightly fear the feeling of apocalyptic abandonment they experience when they know they've still been enjoying themselves way too much, making life "selfishly" about themselves, rather than the group (the mother). In de Mause's view, people aren't those out of some quaint Irish village that are maybe prone to drinking too much and forgetting themselves, but rather those who've seen wicked terrors and can spot those who'll invite them back -- i.e true society-advancers -- progressives -- a mile away. He sees them as more "Grimm," and rightly. 

De Mause says that most children did not have parents who could be completely enthusiastic about their children's growth, and tended to punish them, abandon them, when they focused too much on their own needs rather than those of their own. He argues that most children conclude out of this experience, two things: one, self-attention and growth is bad, a sin; and two, that being vulnerable -- what they most felt like before being abandoned -- is itself a terrible, punishment-worthy crime. This they learn so hard it changes their brains -- "super ego" develops ... which to super-ego-almost-never-saying de Mause, is really internal perpetrator alters. If you renounce growth, you're not anywhere near as deserving as punishment. If the 60s and 70s had just continued on, it would have driven people mad. 


Not you or me, no -- but we were better loved. 

Saturday, April 4, 2015

Cosmopolitanism as a group-fantasy




... And the charge of "reductionism," often leveled against psychohistory, is simply misplaced, since it is not a failing but a scientific goal to reduce seemingly complex and disparate processes to simpler and more basic forces and principles. Lloyd deMause, Foundations of Psychohistory


DeMause's argument doesn't play very well right now. DeMause's goal, that we should "derive less from William Langer's famous 'Next Assignment' for historians to 'use psychoanalysis in history' than from Freud's initial hope that 'we may expect that one day someone will venture to embark upon a pathology of cultural communities,'" doesn't play well right now. It is very difficult for the cultured mind to shake out of thinking it as immature, eager, "conquistatorial," maybe spoiled ... as obviously untrue to the world as it is. An approach for a child who wants everything conflated for effortless, immediate consumption. 

Those who see deMause as reckless and overreaching would disagree with this, but I would suggest that if evidence ever came in that suggested that the nature of a society's overall experience of their mothers in the first few years of their lives determines, well, everything else, that if you were able to attend to these children, see the manner in which they were being raised, unless they were of the helping psychoclass whose resulting society hasn't quite ever been felt yet in history (we're beginning to), you could spell out pretty much exactly what kind of society these children will erect for themselves as adults, the evidence wouldn't be allowed by their psyches to be seen. The world will always be complex, multi-causal, multi-variant, even if proof emerges that there's something truer scientifically about seeing it as pretty basic -- one primary element, from which everything else can be extrapolated, from which everything else, "bloomed." They might allow “a theory of everything” in physics, but that’s when it barely bleeds out of the cosmopolitan medium in which it was encountered, and plays only as flattering the sophisticated palate. 

I personally think that there's something of this invariantly mature mindset that smacks of a collective group fantasy, an agreement, a collusion, to see the world in such a way that one's own childhood terrors are somehow kept at bay. From deMause, it's this bit: "so group-fantasies are substituted as shared defenses which prevent regression to childhood traumas." A world that is essentially complex and irreducible, that requires an enormous amount of experience and careful scrutiny and a cultivated, measured sympathy to be able to understand, is a cosmopolitan world; it is an adult world. Cosmopolitan people, like Obama (and unfortunately for Canadians and his victims, like Ghomeshi), who smack of the city rather than the creatures of incest in fly-over, are actually in a sense being clung to (in Ghomeshi’s case, his satisfying group-fantasy needs is why there really was no environment that was going to friendly to his multiple, educated, normally to be thought of as empowered accusers, until only very recently). They help "furniture" our world so that it becomes difficult to believe that our early childhoods of unchanged diapers and deliberate abandonments, has any place ... it can't be elevated into it in a way that the mind can make sense, so it is -- victory! -- left out.  

There is a lot to be said about keeping this group-fantasy alive. Those beholden to it are those still astonishing us by still pushing for a more evolved world ... news of the agreement with Iran is fruition from these sorts of people. And there's not a lot to be said for when they'll feel the need to leave it behind, the surrendering of the cosmopolitan group-fantasy, and start seeing sense in reduction, like editor of Atlantic Andrew Taylor is (against Islam), like former New York Times reporter Chris Hedges is (against “spoiled,” people-betraying liberals and the corporate state), like where the influential black intellectual, Salon’s Brittney Cooper (who just abandoned longtime hero Obama for blood-in-the-streets, race-war) is, where they can re-experience their childhood humiliations — no more waiting, as every bit more “unallowed” personal and societal growth was making them more manifest — by taking righteous revenge.