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marke
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« on: April 18, 2005, 12:08:29 AM » |
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In response to a request from Zooey to read an essay that I wrote, I am starting a new thread for everyone to post essays, term papers, thesises (thesi?), or other literature written specifically for class. They can be particularly good, particularly bad, or just plain mediocre.
It would be nice to include the date, school, and class along with any explanation necessary.
Maybe this will be enlightening, or maybe it will just give us some compassion for the teachers and professors who have to wade through this shit.
So everyone scan your old harddrive folders and cut and paste here!!!
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« Last Edit: April 18, 2005, 12:23:08 AM by marke »
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...and then I stabbed him.
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marke
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« Reply #1 on: April 18, 2005, 12:11:18 AM » |
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Ok. I'll start. This is an essay I wrote about architecture which Zooey wanted to read because I basically spent the entire paper critiquing the professor, his beliefs, and the question we were meant to answer. I didn't spend enough time on it for it to be good, but I'll be damned if it isn't audacious. Ok, some of it is good. I thought I would either fail or get an A+. I got an A+, so I guess that proves that professors like dissent...or don't read our essays. Anyway, here goes...and just ignore any esoteric architecture jargon or references, they're probably not important to the essay anyway.
Marke Evans Johnson January 18, 2005 Buildings, Texts, & Contexts Professor K. Michael Hays Teaching Fellow Robin Schuldenfrei
Unask the Question: Deconstructing the Myth of Either/Or in Architectural Autonomy & Context With Critical Analysis of the ideas of Roland Barthes and Beatriz Colomina
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"Mu means "no thing”… it points outside the process of dualistic discrimination. Mu simply says, "No class; not one, not zero, not yes, not no." It states that the context of the question is such that a yes or no answer is in error and should not be given. "Unask the question" is what it says.
Mu becomes appropriate when the context of the question becomes too small for the truth of the answer. When the Zen monk Chao-Chou was asked whether a dog had a Buddha nature he said "Mu," meaning that if he answered either way he was answering incorrectly. The Buddha nature cannot be captured by a yes or no question." -Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
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“Throughout this course, we have emphasized a central question:
Is architecture an absolutely independent object, event, or experience, a free-floating signifier? Or does it relate to some context or ground? In that case, does it simply replicate this ground ideologically, or does it possess some autonomous force with which it could also be seen as negating, resisting, compensating, or otherwise distorting the ground or context?
Your assignment: Answer this question.” -Professor K. Michael Hays, 4202 Final Assignment
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Unask the Question To the question posed by our beloved professor “Is architecture an absolutely independent object, event, or experience, a free-floating signifier? Or does it relate to some context or ground?” my answer is, necessarily, “mu.” I am not being trite by giving this answer. I do not consider this question of architecture’s autonomy to be trivial. In fact, I do not even think it is necessarily unanswerable. But I do believe it is a dangerous question. And to accept it by merely answering with a well-reasoned “yes” or “no” is even more dangerous. To answer either way is incorrect. Asking this question presupposes a conceptual space within which an answer must be found. It is not that an answer that meets the a priori criteria cannot be found, but rather that such answers cannot tell anything valuable about architecture. The question is, and has been throughout its long, contentious life in modern architectural theory, “too small for the truth of the answer.” The true nature of architecture—its production and reproduction, its reality and abstraction—cannot be apprehended by a binary answer to a binary question. Now, if this premise is true, the recent history of modern architectural theory may be seen in new light. Because this polarizing issue of autonomy versus context has dominated recent theory, it has (by nature of its own formulation) divided modern architectural theory. It has permeated the language of critical discourse, seeping into every corner of thought and speech. It has become ingrained in our critical patterns and naturalized itself as the conceptual space of architectural theory. In short, I propose, it has gained the authority, naturalization, and near-invincibility of Barthesian “myth.” And I say here ‘near-invincibility’ because I also believe there exists a means of deconstructing this harmful myth. We can, and must, unask the question. We must refuse the either/or dichotomy along with its reductive and, ultimately, restrictive presumptions. In deconstructing this myth I do not mean to take the tools of creation and interpretation from the architect and critic, leaving them empty-handed. Rather, I hope to point towards new tools that might more-fully apprehend the complete nature of architecture. Towards this goal, I reject the question “how does architecture exist?” in favor of the more basic question “where does architecture exist?” This question opens a less restrictive and more fruitful conceptual-space of exploration. If architecture is then found to exist in multiple spaces (as seen in the ideas of Beatriz Colomina), perhaps the dual ideologies of both autonomy and context are required to understand architecture across the full spectrum of its existence.
The Myth of Either/Or In Barthes’ Mythologies, the most prominent characteristic of myth appears to be its ability to naturalize that which is motivated and constructed. Essential to this characteristic is Barthes’ idea that “myth hides nothing” but rather “distorts.” This seems to be the most insidious element of myth, as well as what accounts for its almost complete invincibility. If myth merely hid the actual meaning of its signifier material, it could be destroyed by simply finding that hidden meaning. However, no motivation to find that natural meaning presents itself because, in fact, it is not hidden. It appears in plain light, yet distorted. Thus the relationship between the meaning-form signifier and the concept signified exerts the imperative impression of true nature. This naturalization process has important consequences in both the realm of architectural production and architectural theory. The application of myth to architectural production is made clear by Barthes himself. If, as in his example of the “mythical” reproduction of Basque-style architecture in Paris, the architectural reproduction undergoes that naturalizing character of myth, then the original vernacular loses its natural validity while the conceptual reproduction gains an unshakable myth of natural vernacular. The signification (myth) replaces the meaning of the original. Within this construct, Barthes’ three categories (cynical producer, demystifying decipherer, and myth-subject reader) coincide with the architect (cynical producer), the aesthetic critic (demystifying decipherer), and the client or inhabitant (myth-subject reader). These roles, however, change when myth is examined outside of architectural production and within architectural theory. The application of myth to architectural theory is more complicated and involved. As I claimed above, the long-standing question of architecture’s autonomy is, in itself, a myth. The formation of the question, as such, does not hide architecture but distorts it. Simultaneously, it naturalizes itself and its object. It presumes the realm of architecture to be a field divided between autonomy and historical context, while reinforcing the distorted notion that these elements are mutually exclusive. Here, Barthes’ three categories collapse. Both the architect and the architecture critic are responsible for creating and consuming the myth. They are simultaneously the “cynical producer” and “myth-subject reader.” However, left out of this construct is the “demystifying decipherer.” This incomplete construct then provides grounds for interrogating this unquestioned myth—for attempting the role of the demystifying decipherer. Whether the architect believes s/he is creating autonomous or contextual architecture does not matter. Similarly, whether the critic theorizes architecture as autonomous or contextual does not matter. They both are bound by the narrow constraints of the conceptual space delimited by the myth of the dominating question: “how does architecture exist.” To merely understand architecture as either purely autonomous or purely contextual is incomplete—to be bound by creating architecture that is either purely autonomous or purely contextual is paralyzing. This paradox proves the speciousness of the assumption that architecture is either autonomous or contextual. It begs the question whether there is not some space where these constructs are not mutually exclusive. To pursue this idea we must shift our focus to the question “where does architecture exist?”
The Multiple Spaces of Architecture Beatriz Colomina’s Introduction: On Architecture, Production, and Reproduction established, or at least recognized and identified, an argument for a new ‘space’ of architecture. That is to say: a space separate from place, separate from the construction site, and therefore separate from the user. This ‘space’ is an ambiguous and abstract zone of critical thought and spectacle reproduction (media). This notion becomes interesting when compared with Benjamin’s discussion of l’art pour l’art. The implication of a new realm of architecture production changes architecture into art. For instance, for Loos, architecture (or anything useful) did not properly belong to the realm of art. However, in this new space where architecture not only addresses the user but is (re)produced in image, narration, and criticism for the observer, architecture thus must take on a duality of purpose. It still exists in time-space and serves a user, but it now also exists in media-space and critical-space and serves an observer. This simultaneous existence of architecture in multiple spaces has unexpected implications on the debate over autonomy and historicity. What were initially supposed to be mutually exclusive constructs now have the possibility of simultaneous existence, each concerning its own proper space of architecture. The concrete reality of a building with its site, material, finances, history, and inhabitants is governed by the construct of historical context. The abstract representation (or reproduction as Colomina would say) of architecture with its logic, intention, meaning, and interpretation is governed by the construct of autonomy. This conception of architecture allows one to abandon the reductive arguments of either/or and replace them with comprehensive arguments that allow for both/and. If architecture can exist in multiple spaces, it surely can exist in multiple critical constructs.
Spatial & Critical Overlap It seems, in conclusion, that unasking the question at hand allowed us to circle back to a more complete answer. A conception of architecture that acknowledges its simultaneous existence in multiple spaces overlapping with multiple critical frameworks allows for complete creation and consumption. To design architecture as purely autonomous ignores a vast part of the concerns proper to good building. Similarly, to design architecture as purely contextual or historical does the same. The destructive distortion of the either/or myth comes into sharp focus when one considers this. As Barthes said: “All criticism must include in its discourse an implicit reflection on itself; every criticism is a criticism of the work and a criticism of itself. In other words, criticism is not at all a table of results or a body of judgments; it is essentially an activity…. Can an activity be “true”? It answers quite different requirements.” If we attempt to avoid the dual roles of “myth producer” and “myth-subject reader” in both the creation and consumption of architecture, we can begin to approach a more holistic understanding of the true nature of architecture.
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« Last Edit: April 18, 2005, 12:31:49 AM by marke »
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...and then I stabbed him.
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AEsposito
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« Reply #2 on: April 18, 2005, 12:26:57 AM » |
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great essay marke
this next gem is total b.s. written for ap english. northport high school. i remember being pretty pissed at the ridiculousness of the question. these essays take the fun out of reading
Aaron Esposito A Doll’s House and The Awakening Essay
The authors of A Doll’s House and The Awakening, Henry Ibsen and Kate Chopin, respectively, use several different literary devices to invoke excitement from significant psychological changes in the main characters. The main characters in both stories sway from the conventional standards of society and they step out into a world that is unknown at the time. These women, Nora and Edna, experience psychological changes that make it necessary for them to step outside of the box.
The overall theme in both stories centers on the idea of a woman feeling the need to act for her own benefit. The main women in both stories experience feelings, whether it is a feeling of inferiority or a need to find themselves, which require them to get out of the situation that they are in at the moment. Nora feels the need to learn things for herself and to find who she really is, so she leaves. Edna feels trapped in a situation where there is no love in her relationship, so she finds her way out. The authors make the reader side with the woman, and help the reader to see her side of things. Although these feelings are not always expressed outwardly, they are made known to the reader.
Ibsen portrayed Nora’s situation as a kind of dramatic irony in which the reader knows what Nora is going through. The reader also knows the constant tension that she must feel, keeping a secret from her husband for so long. The reader knows the effect that her secret could possibly have on Torvald. As a result, the constant tension she experiences changes her outlook on her life. She realizes that she’s stuck in an endless cycle of submission and she doesn’t want that any longer, so she leaves her husband with an act of impulse.
Chopin wrote her whole book using the limited-omniscient point of view. This point of view is a “third person narration in which the actions and thoughts of the protagonist are the focus of the attention.” This point of view really gives the reader an inside look of what Edna is feeling. The Awakening is entirely based upon the development of Edna’s emotions and the events that cause such a change to happen in her mind. This narration lets the reader know everything that’s going on with Edna and lets the reader make assumptions about what might happen next.
Both Nora and Edna are round characters, or characters that undergo change or growth. These changes are made clear by the efforts of Ibsen and Chopin and their use of different literary techniques. Both authors give these seemingly boring internal events life. Psychological changes occur in both Nora and Edna and they go to extenuating circumstances to help them with their problems.
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« Last Edit: April 18, 2005, 01:37:39 AM by AEsposito »
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Bam
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« Reply #3 on: April 18, 2005, 12:46:34 AM » |
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To answer either way is incorrect. Asking this question presupposes a conceptual space within which an answer must be found. It is not that an answer that meets the a priori criteria cannot be found, but rather that such answers cannot tell anything valuable about architecture. The question is, and has been throughout its long, contentious life in modern architectural theory, “too small for the truth of the answer.” This has been a general frustration of mine. Thanks marke, this is great stuff. I'll see if I can find anything to post.
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nobody messes with adam we...
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marke
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« Reply #4 on: April 18, 2005, 01:26:03 AM » |
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I look forward to it. Have you read "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance"? You probably have, but I think you would really like it if you haven't.
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...and then I stabbed him.
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Zooey
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« Reply #5 on: April 18, 2005, 03:27:20 AM » |
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Thanks, Marke! That was really enjoyable, and I like the idea of putting it up here, where other people (like me, soon) can put up their own essays.
I don't have any essays on hand, but I do remember writing one about Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, in which I argued that the monster, as opposed to Dr. Frankenstein, was the more sympathetic and morally justified character.
And after a thorough analysis -- well, none too thorough, considering the time I allowed myself for writing it -- where I had proven my side of the argument, I ended the paper with this: "Yes, yes, but he's ugly."
There's nothing sympathetic or especially morally justifiable about ugly people. Unless we want to consider personality. Which I don't.
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Zooey
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« Reply #6 on: April 18, 2005, 03:35:20 AM » |
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And Aaron, I liked yours as well, because it was very funny in the way it laboriously went about completing its humorlous task: "Give a summary of these books, including a compare-and-contrast of the female leads, and also identifying what point-of-view the authors wrote from."
Your paper was a nice, long way of saying, "Why?"
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Bam
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« Reply #7 on: April 18, 2005, 04:30:05 AM » |
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I look forward to it. Have you read "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance"? You probably have, but I think you would really like it if you haven't. Sweet, thanks for the recommendation. I have in fact read it, but it was way back 7 years ago or something. My h.s. choir director was very well-read, and liked to stop us during rehearsal and spend 30 minutes lecturing on a variety of topics. Actually, mostly how American teenagers are a bunch of yahoos and wouldn't know good art if it bit them on the ass. But he'd reference books like The Closing of the American Mind, and then say that we'd never be able to follow it if we tried to read it. Needless to say, I read it. I took mental notes, then went out and got the books from the library and tried to figure out what he was on about. Not all of them were difficult, like M. Scott Peck's The Road Less Traveled, which, my director never failed to point out, begins thusly: "Life is difficult." Oh, and Tuesdays With Morrie. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance was a completely different story. I had no idea what to make of it, no context for it. Needless to say, there was much in there I did not understand. Anyhow, I trust your recommendation, and I'll pick it up on my next visit to the library. --------- Zooey and Aaron, that type of shit is exactly what turned me off to "English". I was in honors classes in hs, won some national english teachers award for writing, and scored a 5 on the AP English exam. But it SUCKED. And it sucked worse when I got to college as an English major. Those idiots (English teachers) ruined so many books for me. I'm still pissed about it.
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« Last Edit: April 18, 2005, 04:33:36 AM by Bam »
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nobody messes with adam we...
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Zooey
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« Reply #8 on: April 18, 2005, 04:47:32 AM » |
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I would sort of agree with you, in that that is what often happens, but I absolutely loved my A.P. and honors English classes. That's mainly because of my professors, though, who were good-humoured and reluctant old bastards who taught me a lot about books and life.
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Bam
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« Reply #9 on: April 18, 2005, 05:03:59 AM » |
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That's mainly because of my professors, though, who were good-humoured and reluctant old bastards who taught me a lot about books and life. Lucky...
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nobody messes with adam we...
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Zooey
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« Reply #10 on: April 18, 2005, 05:17:23 AM » |
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No. Blessed.
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Bam
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« Reply #11 on: April 18, 2005, 05:42:43 AM » |
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I was searching through my old college papers, and getting discouraged, because none of them were really worth posting. Lots of craptacular, but not quite pedantic musings. Finally I gave up. A few minutes ago, I found it. I didn't even remember what it was til I read it. This was written for a philosophy class called Contemporary Moral Problems. We wrote very few papers, all of which were graded very easily, which made it easy to slack off. This particular "paper" was literally written in a straight shot from beginning to end.
Anyhow, the trash that follows is meant to answer the question "Is war ever ethically acceptable?" This was just after 9.11, so I'd been hearing Wheaton students debating the ethics of war for weeks. Basically, I took some typical conversations and wrote them down as my paper.
Notice how the idiotic "play" format allows for huge indents and lots of filler. I've also used a lot of quotes and Bible verses. Useful if you want to take up lots of room. Oh, and it was originally double-spaced as well. I don't even agree with what I've said here. Whatever, I hope you like it as much as I do.
--------------everything that follows is my paper, ha----------------------------------
Benjamin Esposito Contemporary Moral Problems Fall 2001
Justice without force is a myth, because there are always bad men; force without justice stands convicted of itself. We must therefore put together justice and force, and so dispose things that whatever is just is mighty, and whatever is mighty is just. --Pascal--
America is currently involved in a war against Al-Queda (sic), the group of terrorists responsible for the destruction of the World Trade Center towers on September 11, 2001. Their act of aggression made it impossible for America not to go to war; we had no choice. Or did we? Some Christians have gone so far as to say that this was actually an attack against Christianity, and against God, and we need to defend him. Is it? And do we? This current crisis has many Americans beginning to try to answer questions they have never thought through before. Perhaps one of the biggest questions for Christians especially is this one: Is war ever ethically acceptable? In my opinion, it is, under certain circumstances. The following is a dialogue between two imaginary students at Wheaton College, center for the development of evangelical Christian thinkers who integrate faith and learning. Ana is a pacifist, and Thomas is a proponent of the Just War philosophy.
Ana: As a Christian, I do NOT agree with this war!
Thomas: Whoa, there! What are you trying to say? That it’s un-Christian to go to war?
Ana: Yes! I “believe that war is altogether contrary to the teaching and spirit of Christ and the Gospel; therefore war is sin.”
Thomas: Show me that in the Bible.
Ana: Ok, I will! Jesus said in Matthew 26:52, “Put up again thy sword into his place; for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.” And in II Timothy 3:24, it says, “The servant of the Lord must not strive; but be gentle unto all men.”
Thomas: But those scriptures certainly don’t mean we should just let people attack us without doing anything about it! Isn’t that just plain stupid?
Ana: I don’t think so. In fact, Jesus said in Matthew 5:39, “But I say to you, do not resist one who is evil. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.”
Thomas: Ok, now you’re not making any sense. I agree that we should try to live at peace with everyone. Romans 12:19 says exactly that! But sometimes we need to use force in order to preserve peace. As a Christian, I do believe our first response to aggression should not be to immediately go to war. War should be a last resort. And our intention in war is not revenge or conquest; we seek in war to return to peace. “The purpose of war must ultimately be directed toward reestablishing a just order.”
Ana: But doesn’t that seem somehow contradictory? That if you want peace, you have to make war? We should “overcome evil with good,” “love (our) enemies and pray for those who persecute (us).”
Thomas: I respect your position, but I think it is somewhat misinformed. Certainly we should pray for the members of Al-Queda and the Taliban. God can still have mercy on them and save their souls. However, sometimes the only way to overcome evil with good is to do the good of preventing that evil from perpetrating itself. If we stood back while thousands of innocent people were bombed and killed, and thousands more were kept in fear and oppression, we would be allowing evil to continue when we could stop it. If we choose to ignore injustice, we are ourselves being unjust.
Ana: But it’s not up to us to repay them for their injustice. In Romans 12:19 Paul says, “Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine ; I will repay, saith the Lord.”
Thomas: Yes, I agree, but the purpose of war is not revenge, but to seek peace.
Ana: I’m still not sure I agree with you. If what you’re saying is true, then how do you decide when it is ok to go to war? Isn’t that a subjective decision?
Thomas: I believe there are certain guidelines we can follow when determining whether or not it is ethically acceptable to go to war. There must be just cause. In this case, I think we have more than enough cause to go to war; the unjust attack upon thousands of innocent non-combatants is cause enough. When it is determined that there is just cause, the highest authorities must make a formal declaration of war, with the intention of securing a just peace and not merely for the sake of revenge of power.
Ana: Wait, but as Christians we are citizens of a higher country, and so our highest authority is God!
Thomas: Yes, you’re right, but Romans 13:1 says, “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God.” Our government was given authority by God Himself to lead our country, and we need to submit ourselves to it.
Ana: But what if our government is corrupt, and goes to war with wrong motives? Certainly you can’t support it then!
Thomas: Our ultimate obedience is to God, and so if an authority asks us to sin against God, we are justified in disobeying that authority. To the degree that it requires sin of its subjects, a government strips itself of authority over the people.
Ana: Ok, I’ll give you that, but I still think we should always seek peace.
Thomas: And I agree! Let’s imagine for a minute that you lived in Afghanistan. Your government has been taken over by the Taliban, and you are now the victim of discrimination and oppression. These radical Muslims have stolen your peace and freedom, and you have no way of getting it back. Wouldn’t you want someone to intervene and restore peace and freedom? Because of the way the Taliban operates, we cannot secure that peace and freedom without opposing them violently. Until we intervene with military force, they will continue their tactics.
Ana: I’m still not convinced. What about when you do go to war? How do you know you’re not killing innocent people, becoming the same evil you’re trying to end?
Thomas: I believe that war is unjust if it targets non-combatants. The goal in war should be to secure peace as quickly and with as few deaths as possible.
Ana: You keep talking about securing peace. Jesus made a distinction between two different kinds of peace in John 14:27: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives…” Aren’t you just seeking the peace “as the world gives”? “Such peace inevitably is sin-tainted, limited, fragile, precarious, transient, and ever ready to collapse into sinking sand. If it is to succeed at all, it will need to be the work not of morally impassioned partisans but of trained, knowledgeable, and open-minded social analysts.
Thomas: Which is exactly why we cannot afford to simply say, “I don’t agree with this war,” and simply ignore it. I agree that the ultimate peace can only be found in Jesus Christ. The Bible talks about how true religion is ultimately related to social justice—caring for those who are oppressed and releasing those who are in bondage. Psalms 82:3 says, “Defend the poor and fatherless; do justice to the afflicted and needy.”
Ana: Yes, I’ve read that verse. However, I still have too many questions and objections to be able to support any kind of war. Even so, I am going to pray for our government that God will give them wisdom as to what to do and how to do it.
Personally, I subscribe to Thomas’ viewpoint, and Ana’s objections are some that I myself have struggled with. At heart, I am a pacifist, yet I am not sure I can be a pacifist without allowing for the possibility of just war as a last resort. If I were called upon to fight in a war that I felt was ethically a just war, I would serve my country. I would however, request to play the role of non-combatant, simply because I cannot see myself ever being able to kill another human being. I do not, however, believe that those who do fight are doing wrong. In supporting peace and pursuing social justice, they are carrying out part of the mission of God in the world, and if they are faced with the choice between allowing evil to continue and fighting it, I believe they are justified in choosing to fight. “What a person does not have a right to do is intend the death of the aggressor, in the sense that the purpose of his action should be to stop the aggressor from doing what he is doing.” In this sense, the death of the aggressor is justified only if it is the only means of stopping him from what he is doing. “The proper target of the discriminate use of force is not the man himself, but the combatant in the man.” So, is war ever ethically acceptable? Yes, I believe so. But God have mercy on us when we make war. Have mercy.
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« Last Edit: April 18, 2005, 01:51:14 PM by Bam »
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nobody messes with adam we...
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marke
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« Reply #12 on: April 18, 2005, 02:53:03 PM » |
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I'm totally stealing that device for making a paper longer. Totally.
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...and then I stabbed him.
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AEsposito
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« Reply #13 on: April 18, 2005, 09:39:06 PM » |
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And Aaron, I liked yours as well, because it was very funny in the way it laboriously went about completing its humorlous task: "Give a summary of these books, including a compare-and-contrast of the female leads, and also identifying what point-of-view the authors wrote from."
Your paper was a nice, long way of saying, "Why?" haha, nailed it i hate this stuff with a passion I would sort of agree with you, in that that is what often happens, but I absolutely loved my A.P. and honors English classes. That's mainly because of my professors, though, who were good-humoured and reluctant old bastards who taught me a lot about books and life. in my tenth grade honors english class, i had an excellent teacher that taught me loads about life and books. he also taught me how to be more critical and not believe everything people tell me. every class we'd walk in and there would be a quote on the board which we would copy into our notebooks and provide a short analysis of what we thought it meant. after that, we would discuss it with everyone. this was great because it was such a welcome change from the monotony of the usual classes. all of the quotes related to the books we were reading at the time as well........very cool oh yeah, and im taking a mythology class this year taught by the same teacher..........different methods of course
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« Last Edit: April 20, 2005, 04:04:21 AM by AEsposito »
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unknownperson
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« Reply #14 on: April 20, 2005, 12:03:42 AM » |
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Marke, I liked the bit about myth...
Bam... what sort of grade did you get on that? And did people realy talk like that around Wheaton? I mean they did where I was but not around wheaton right...? man, what is this world comeing to?
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