by John Scalzi
Now, I understand that these answers would suggest a certain and elemental shallowness to my nature—a willingness not to think about topics or issues that are weighty in themselves and worth thinking about. What I’m leaving out here, for the space of relative brevity, is a detailed examination of processes by which I came to this intellectual methodology, generated through years of self-examination and self-realization via intentional and unintentional experiential phenomena, to produce the robust heuristic structure through which I filter data. As regards that, let me just say that I’ve had a life, and I’ve paid attention, and this is what works for me.
I don’t discount that in the end, everything I do, say, write and am will amount to a whole lot of not much; I just don’t think it’s a relevant metric. The relevant metric is: Have I constructed a life that gives me happiness, allows me to give happiness, and allows for this life to have meaning within its admittedly limited context? If I am succeeding in this particular metric, I think I’m doing pretty well. Yes, one day my species will be replaced by hyper-intelligent squids, the earth will turn into a charcoal briquette and the universe will end in an increasingly thin proton soup. But that’s all waaaaaay in the future. Right now, things are good.
HOW DRM
IS LIKE
GUANTANAMO
How is Guantanamo like DRM, you ask? They’re alike in two ways: First for what they are not, and then for what they represent.
Let’s begin with the first: Both are used by the people who have created them for purposes other than what they’re ostensibly used. In the case of DRM, it exists not primarily to combat piracy but to amputate the right of “fair use.” In the case of Guantanamo, it isn’t primarily for harboring dangerous terrorists but for concretely embodying the extra-constitutional idea of expanded executive powers.
Both represent different immediate aims, but both are bad for precisely the same reason: they’re about taking a society based on rights and turning it into a society based on access. In the case of DRM, the idea being posited is that we don’t have fair use, or the right to personal copies of work we’ve purchased—the originator of the material has every right to the work, in perpetuity, and access to that work is given on sufferance. In the case of Guantanamo, the idea being posited is that the executive has the ability to create a new framework of rights, irrespective of those outlined in the Constitution, which means that the executive, not the Constitution, is that from which our rights derive, and access to those rights is given on sufferance. And in fact in both cases there are no rights at all for the individual or the public. There’s only access, controlled by entities whose list of priorities are not notably congruent to those of the public, and are likely to become less so over time, so that access is progressively more strictly managed.
None of this is new, of course, and it’s axiomatic that yesterday’s freedom fighters are today’s rights pocketers. Hollywood—where the push for DRM is based—was founded by pirates who fled the east coast and the monopoly imposed on film by the Edison Trust. The Bush Administration—which has vigorously attempted to expand executive power—is the final reduction of a political movement begun in part as resistance to the expanded executive powers assumed by FDR. But just because these are merely This Year’s Model of rights arrogation doesn’t mean they don’t need to be fought against.
One of the interesting things about right now is that I think we’re in the (very) early days of the pushback. People are better educated about how DRM messes with their ability to do what they want with the stuff they own; people are fatigued with and suspicious of the Bush Administration and its goals and motives. Naturally neither DRM promoters nor the executive ascendancy crew are going to go down without a fight; the question is whether now being on the defensive makes them more canny in achieving their goals or will simply cause the backlash to be even more intense. I have no idea, personally, although I suspect things aren’t going to get any easier for either group from here on out.
I’ll tell you what I hope for, however. In the case of DRM, I think the entertainment companies will eventually recognize it’s bad business. I have nothing against renting when I’m actively renting (I love my Rhapsody music service for a reason), and I think DRM is perfectly fine there. When you buy something, however, you shouldn’t need permission to do what the hell you want with it. I personally ignore or break DRM when I come across it on things I buy, and if it’s not possible to do either I don’t buy the product. In the case of executive overreach, naturally I’d like to see that reined in by more active and engaged Congress and courts, and by members of all political persuasions who at least temporarily will put the text of the Constitution ahead of political expediency. I suspect by dint of its sheer incompetence, the Bush administration has admirably exemplified why the executive branch should not be legally ascendant above the other branches of government; this may indeed be the only useful thing to come out of this administration. But as in all things we will have to see.
I will say I’m looking forward to the day that DRM and Guantanamo—and the philosophy of rights they symbolize—plop onto the dustbin of history. That’ll be a good day for me, and for us.
LEVITICANS
On occasion people ask me what, exactly, it is I have against Christianity, inasmuch as I seem to rail against it quite a bit. My general response is: I have nothing against Christianity. I wish more Christians practiced it. The famous bumper sticker says “Christians aren’t perfect, just forgiven,” but I often wonder just how often they check in with Christ about that last one. I look at the picture I saw recently, of a kid with an allegedly Christian group protesting the gay marriages in San Francisco, wearing the shirt that has “homo” written on it with a circle and slash through the word, and I try to find some of Christ’s teachings in that. As you might imagine, I’m finding very little.
If that kid were hit by a bus and got to meet Christ shortly thereafter, I do imagine the conversation would be a sorrowful one, as the homo-negating young man would have to try to reconcile his shirt with the admonition to love others as one loves one’s self. I would imagine at the end of that conversation, the young man would be looking to see if Christ were holding a lever, and if there were a trap door under the young man’s feet.
In a recent comment thread, one of the posters wondered why many fundamentalists spend so much time in Leviticus and so little time in the New Testament, and I think that’s a remarkably cogent question. Indeed, it is so cogent that I would like to make the suggestion that there is an entire class of self-identified “Christians” who are not Christian at all, in the sense that they don’t follow the actual teachings of Christ in any meaningful way. Rather these people nod toward Christ in a cursory fashion on their way to spend time in the bloodier books of the Bible (which tend to be found in the Old Testament), using the text selectively as a support for their own hates and prejudices, using the Bible as a cudgel rather than a door. That being the case, I suggest we stop calling these people Christians and start calling them something that befits their faith, inclinations and enthusiasms.
I say we call them Leviticans, after Leviticus, the third book of the Old Testament, famous for its rules, and also the home of the passages most likely to be thrown out by Leviticans to justify their intolerance (including, in recent days, against gays and lesbians—Leviticus Chapter 18, Verse 22: “Thou shalt not not lie with mankind, as with womankind; it is abomination”).
To suggest that a Christian is actually a Levitican is not to say he or she is false in faith—rather, it is to suggest that their faith is elsewhere in the Bible, in the parts that are easy to understand: The rules, the regulations, all the things that are clear cut about what you can do and what you can’t do to be right with God. Rules are far easier to follow than Christ’s actual path, which needs humility and sacrifice and the ability to forgive, love and cherish even those who you oppose and who oppose and hate you. Any idiot can follow rules; indeed, there’s a good argument to made
that idiots can only follow rules. This is why Leviticans love Leviticus (and other pentateuchal and Old Testament books): Chock full of rules. And you can believe in rules. That’s why they’re rules.
So, back to the guy with the “homo” shirt. Is he a Christian? Well, on the basis of his actions, it would appear not. But he’s undoubtedly a Levitican—a Levitican is just the sort of person who would go to the San Francisco City Hall and yell at gays and lesbians for having the temerity to want the same rights as the rest of us. Fred Phelps and his merry band of followers who picket funerals of gay men with “God Hates Fags” signs are Leviticans through and through—not a drop of Christ in them, but they sure are full of their Bible books. John Ashcroft: Filled with the Levitican spirit and not terribly shy about it. Pat Roberts and Jerry Falwell showed their Levitican membership cards right after 9/11 when they suggested that America invited the terrorist attacks by being tolerant of “the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle.” The guys who shoot abortion doctors: Leviticans to the core. Judge Roy “Put those ten commandments in the rotunda” Moore: Levitican. Hardcore.
Let’s be clear: Not every Christian is a Levitican, not by a long shot. Not every fundamentalist Christian is a Levitican. And not every person who believes that allowing gays and lesbians to marry is morally wrong is Levitican, either. (Also to be clear: Although Leviticus is part of the Torah, I don’t see too many Leviticans among the Jews, who in my experience see the Torah as a jumping off point to engage the world rather than a defense against it.) People of good will can disagree, vehemently, about what it right and what is wrong, what is moral and what is immoral, and what should be done about it. What makes a Levitican, in my book at least, is the willingness to transmute one’s beliefs into hate and intolerance, to deprive others of rights they ought to enjoy. Leviticans have ever been with us. They quoted the Bible to justify slavery. They quoted the Bible to try to keep women in the home. They quoted the Bible to keep the races pure. They quote the Bible to try to keep gays and lesbians from the benefits of marriage. And each time, after they’ve quoted the Bible to their satisfaction, they go out and use that justification for their hate to do terrible things.
In my opinion, the best thing Christians can do is recognize this group within their host—one that reads the same book, purports to follow the same teachings and alleges to worship the same Christ, but through its actions proves itself time and again to be something other than Christian. And I think Christians should ask these people: Who are you? Do you follow the loving example of Christ or do you follow the rules of Leviticus? Do you use the Bible to illuminate your love or justify your hate? When Christ comes back, how will you show that you’ve followed his path? By the number of people that you’ve loved, or the number of the people whom you have “righteously” opposed? Do you love Christ or do you love rules? Are you a Christian, or are you a Levitican?
As for the rest of us, I propose we do our best to separate the Christians from the Leviticans in our minds. I see no reason to blame those who genuinely follow Christ for the actions of those who merely use Christ as a shield for their own hates and fears. And when a Levitican comes across your path, politely point out to him or her what he or she really is: Not a Christian, merely a Levitican.
Most likely, the Levitican will hate you for it. But that just goes to prove the point.
A QUICK NOTE
TO ABOUT-TO-BE-MARRIED GAYS
AND LESBIANS
I have married nine people. One of them I am married to; the other eight I have married to each other (two at a time). So I have some experience on the whole wedding and marriage thing. Please allow me the honor of sharing some of it with you.
Remember to breathe.
It’s all right if you stumble over words during the vows, but don’t screw up the name of your spouse.
If you feel yourself crying, go with it, but remember to sniffle strategically—tears are endearing in a wedding ceremony, a runny nose less so.
Don’t lock your knees.
The old saying that if the ring gets jammed as you slip it on it means it’ll be a troubled marriage is a contemptible lie, so don’t let it worry you. But strategic use of talcum powder wouldn’t hurt.
You will almost certainly have trouble focusing on anything but the face of your beloved during the ceremony; that’s why there’s a third person up there to direct traffic.
Even if you’ve written your own vows, you’ll barely remember what you say. So don’t sweat most of the words. It’s the “I do” that counts.
Speaking of which, I think it’s always better to say “I do” than “I will.” You’re going to be married in the future, but you’re getting married now.
But remember, it’s your wedding. Anyone else’s opinion about what the two of you should do or say during the ceremony is strictly advisory.
When you’re told to kiss your spouse, do it like you mean it.
Be aware that this last piece of advice will be almost entirely unnecessary.
When you plan your wedding, try to cover all contingencies. When the one thing you forgot could go wrong does go wrong during the wedding itself, accept it and keep going. Weddings are often imperfect, like the people in them. It doesn’t mean they’re not still absolutely wonderful (like the people within them).
Before the ceremony, pee early and often. I know. But look, you want to be up there with a full bladder? You’ll be nervous enough.
Some people don’t think you should invite your exes to the wedding. But I think it’s not such a bad thing to have one person in the crowd slightly depressed that they let you get away. They’ll get over it at the reception. Trust me.
There will not be nearly enough time at the reception to spend all the time you want with all the people you want to. They’ll understand and will be happy for the time you can spare them.
Smashing wedding cake into each other’s face is strictly amateur hour.
It’s your best man’s (or the equivalent’s) job to remind people that at a wedding reception, as at the Academy Awards, speeches are best very short. You didn’t spend an obscene amount on the catering just to have it grow cold as Uncle Jim blathers on.
Remind the DJ or band that they work for you, and they’ll damn well play anything you want. For some reason I think this may be less of a problem at gay weddings. Thank God.
There will be drama of some sort at the reception. If the wedding party lets any of it reach the newlyweds, they haven’t done their job.
Don’t fill up on bread. You’ll have to dance later.
The first dance should be a song people expect from you. The second dance should be a song they absolutely don’t. It gets things going.
Try to remember as much as you can. Don’t worry if you don’t; what you absolutely will remember is how it feels to be with those who love you, who are pouring their love and happiness over you. Weddings are testimony to your clan of family and friends. You put them on to give them a chance to share your joy. They come to them to remind you that they already do.
In case this is in any way an issue, let someone else clean up the reception hall. You have better things to do on your wedding night.
There are very few things in the world that are better than the very first time you wake up next your spouse.
In some ways, your marriage will be like every other marriage out there. In other ways, of course, it won’t. Those of us who are married now will certainly offer you advice, whether you ask for it or not. But there are some things where you’ll be the first married people to experience them. In some ways, those of us who are married now will be glad we don’t have to go through them. In other ways, we’re deeply envious.
Marriage is work. It never stops being work. It never should.
I’ll be married nine years next June 17th. During all that time, there hasn’t been a single day where I haven’t said “I love you”
to my spouse—several times if at all possible. The two facts are related.
Other short phrases which also occasionally come in handy: “I’m sorry,” “You’re right,” “I’ll get that” and “Of course I’ll go down to the freezer and get you some ice cream, even though it’s 3 am and you woke me from a dead sleep. There’s nothing I’d rather do.” Okay, so that last one is not that short. Think about all the times you’re entirely unreasonable, and then go get the ice cream.
The thing about marriages—even the really good ones—is that human beings are in them. And you know how people are. Keep it in mind.
I have no advice to give you for the people who have decided that your marriage threatens their own. Only remember that some of us out here would wish to give you the strength to endure them.
I cannot speak for all married people, but I can speak for myself. Marriage has been so good to me that I cannot imagine not sharing it with anyone who wants it. I celebrate your weddings, and I offer the greatest gift I have: That you receive in your married life the joy I have had in mine, and that you share that joy, every day, with an open and loving heart. You’re about to be married. There is nothing better.
