Fexmouth

/ˈfɛksməθ/

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  • Zombie Apocalypse: Strangers

    As I watch the series The Walking Dead, I will be reflecting on what it would be like to live and survive during a zombie apocalypse.

    One of the main issues of surviving in the zombie apocalypse is how to deal with strangers. How to deal with them wanting to join is one thing, but overall dealing with strangers during a time of hunger, violence, and destitution

    It is worth noting that savagery is not something new to human society. There was a time when all of humanity was composed of savages. The tension is apocalyptic stories lies primarily in how we are forced to return to this previous state of human existence while maintaining values that have developed thousands of years since then.

    Thousands of years ago, during tribal society, strangers were enemies. If someone wandered in from the wilderness, that person must have been exiled from their tribe, and if that person was exiled, then they must have done something terrible. So, they were done away with. Animals who live in groups continue to do this. The exception is if the lone animal takes over the group via slaughtering the existing leaders. Lions and primates do this.

    During the zombie apocalypse, the easiest method for dealing with strangers is killing them and taking all of their possessions. This eliminates risk and enriches the group, as one cannot truly determine whether a stranger has good or bad intentions. One cannot determine their weaknesses or failures or strengths. These things tend to emerge only during crises—i.e., during which they matter the most.

    The reason we don’t do that, however, is because doing so would be considered barbaric, and engaging in barbarity lowers group morale. In surviving, one essentially creates the conditions for a state of being where it is not worth surviving. The exception here is if the people develop a culture of barbarity. But I believe that, given enough time, a culture of barbarity is liable to destroy itself. I believe that this is a near necessity, and one of the reasons why humans developed a strong sense of altruism even if sacrificing one’s self seems to be contrary to the principles of self-preservation.

    I even imagine that, during the dawn of the age of humanity, some groups of people did develop extreme brutality as their core cultural trait. But I imagine none of them survived, and so the traits that produced such a culture were not passed on. And now I think we have a general aversion to such things. I think our need for peace, stability, and altruism is genetic and essential. And if we let those things go, we do not only lose what it means to be good; we lose what it means to be human.

    I believe that history is the progress by which we have come to realize these values.[1] And if we are ever put in a position where we need to regress on such progress, we become confused. We try to retain it, all the while having to respond to situations that require things contrary to our natural impulses.

    Thus, how do we balance our values with necessity? The question, when posited this way, seems elementary, although not simple. This is the question we encounter today with things like security, privacy, and governance.

    All answers short of shunning or killing all and any strangers would require a tremendous amount of resources. For example, it might be a good idea to screen people or to leave them in a place where they are isolated from the main group. Here, they can prove themselves, and they can be observed. But the resources that would be required to create and maintain such an area are exorbitant.

    That is to say, prosperity and peace come hand in hand. And in times of calamity, we simply cannot afford peace. So, up until that point that we can, I think the best policy with regard to newcomers is to avoid them. In many cases, it might be wise and humane to grant aid and supplies to passersby, but to integrate anyone into the group without knowing them, or even after spending only some time with them, is deadly.

    And if strangers force their way in, then they are invaders. And they should be dealt with the way all invaders should be dealt with. Although it is worth considering that death should not be the penalty for all invaders; it is possible to simply incapacitate them and displace them, perhaps leaving supplies with them.

    This will only change if and when our settlement can afford a professional police force. Then, we can count on them to maintain order if newcomers make trouble. But that is a long ways away for most groups, as most groups are nomadic bands rather than settled.

    The issue with this policy is that there will be many instances where we will strangers will die as a result of being turned away. This dilemma is familiar: Is this not what we think about when we think about the migrant crisis? One of the most pressing political, economic, and moral challenges of our day.

    Unfortunately, during such times, sacrifices need to be made. Not only physical sacrifices but also moral sacrifices. This is one of them.  

    I could go on and on. But I’ll spare you.

    [1] Despite this, I do not hold the vulgar Hegelian position that we are teleologically inclined towards democracy and freedom, &c., in that our inclinations are still defined retroactively by the meanings and outcomes of our actions.

  • The Walking Dead S3, E9: “The Suicide King”

    Woodbury has gone to shit now because the main group invaded it to save Glenn. And while this was of course inevitable, I was sad that we did not spend enough time discovering how the settlement worked. Barbarity living alongside civilized geniality is one of the core themes that would be interesting to explore. It could also serve as a reflection on how, even in our current times, dark, terrible, painful, and horrifying things underpin our luxuries and comforts. Sadly, these things were not given enough time to develop. On the whole, our visions of Woodbury were only scattered snapshots.

    I would have liked to know how they settle disputes. What their everyday life is like. How families there live. Perhaps we could have had an episode where we follow a single family and saw how they lived: Where they got groceries, where the children go to school. How it was trying very hard to become like modern society but, in some ways, failing, and in some ways deviating in disturbing ways, such as the gladiatorial combat. Perhaps the children get into storylines typical for a Disney movie, but the realities of living in such a world catch up to them. Then the fate of the settlement would have more gravity.

    The Governor of Woodbury

    If we saw the side of the Governor that was more benevolent and sincere, I think his downfall would be more tragic and therefore more satisfying. It would also have been more thematic. In these types of apocalypse fiction, and especially in zombie fiction, one of the things we keep coming back to is how our civilized and modern values do not mean or count for anything in this new world. Trying to be moral or good are futile. We like the people who try to be those things, despite the futility, because they embody a quixotic character. A champion of noble human values.

    The Governor was a straightforward, perfunctory antagonist. He was never truly good; he was merely manipulative. Even his love for his daughter is rooted in control. He did not want to let her go, and so he kept her as a walker, when she should be allowed to rest in peace. In this way, Seth was a better villain. Seth was once a truly good man who was ruined by the apocalypse, as well as the baser aspects of human nature: jealousy, possessiveness, pride. But the Governor was pure sociopathic malice. If his character had more than that, not enough of that side was shown to be substantial to how we perceive him.

    Dr. Julius No

    In any good story, we have to like the antagonist, even if this is only because we are awed by their evil. The Emperor from Star Wars comes to mind, as well as Darth Vader even before the prequels or his redemption. Mere humans like Hans Gruber or demigods like Thanos. The Bond villains, especially from the earlier movies, are also like this. But the Governor is not like this, either. He is neither a gunslinger or especially charismatic. His motives are not particularly grandiose. He is not particularly skilled. He is not even particularly evil or sadistic. Simply put, he is boring.

    In contrast, I think Merle is more interesting. He is opportunistic, vicious, and callous, but he and Daryl clearly love each other and are loyal to each other. One does not really know whether he will be redeemed, or he will snap. He is at the crossroads of good and evil. He takes one step in the direction of one and then back again.

    As of now, I don’t think there is enough time to make the Governor a sympathetic or complex figure. But I am open to being surprised. Though I am disappointed that Woodbury was not better explored.

    I have also been greatly enjoying the character of Michonne. She is mysterious, powerful, and has a cool weapon, all the while still vulnerable and many times almost killed. I was afraid that she was going to be some kind of invulnerable character, like a ninja, but that wasn’t the case, thankfully. I am looking forward to learning more about her.

  • Zombie Apocalypse: Leadership

    As I watch the series The Walking Dead, I will be reflecting on what it would be like to live and survive during a zombie apocalypse.

    I’ve gotten to think about the things I would do if I were in a zombie apocalypse. The most important thing that any group needs is structure. The larger a group grows, the more unlike it is they will survive without leadership. Not to say that a group with leadership will necessarily succeed, but the more things they have to deal with, the more they will find that it is impossible to reach consensus on many things, especially in the harsh conditions of the apocalypse. As the group grows, deadlocks become increasingly dangerous. And sluggish decision making can cost a life or worse cause fractures in the group that lead to deadly in-fighting, leading to the extermination of the group altogether.

    Someone needs to make the decisions, and this person needs to be absolved of the difficult decisions people need to make during such times. Thus, human dignity and the sanctity of life are preserved, all the while making space for the fact that these values need to be transgressed in the name of survival. If the entire group makes the decision to engage in such exceptions, they would be foregoing those values voluntarily. However, if the leader is the exception, then the group as a whole maintains their values and the leader becomes the “scapegoat” (homo sacer) that embodies the brutality of power. Effectively, the transgression is relegated to that role; it is a designated moral sacrifice.

    Physical decay is the most apparent difficulty during the apocalypse, but moral decay is something that becomes apparent once stability has returned. Without the scapegoat, and with the decay of human dignity and values, what survives is the human animal. But in the scala natura, the human is at the juncture of the animal and the angel. Though I’m not religious, I still know that the story of the Garden of Eden has survived for thousands of years for a reason. At the very basic level, it reminds us that the divine aspect of our nature can be lost.

    I think the noble nature of humanity, which is only part of us and not the totality of us, is essential to its survival. Because human capacities are such that we are indeed capable of our complete destruction, if it came down to it. There might have been a time when we thought we could not possibly have enough power to wipe out the human race, simply because we have grown so numerous, but nuclear weapons put an end to that notion.

    And so when we need to act like animals, there has to be a method, a reason, a purpose. And a way to purge ourselves of that action, a way to maintain the integrity of our humanity, as separate from the beast. In Lacanian psychoanalysis, there is the logic of the Primal Father as the exception that bolsters the rule. Maybe we will get into that later.

  • The Walking Dead S3, E1: “Seed”

    I am watching the Walking Dead. I am already in Season 3, Episode 1, “Seed.” So far, the drama is more or less engaging, and the action beats are satisfying. The deaths can also be devastating, which I suppose is a big part of how they convey the horror of the zombie apocalypse. Overall, I am satisfied. I am not necessarily wowed, but I am enjoying watching it.

    One thing that bothers me especially however is the tactical soundness of many of the decisions Rick makes. In particular, here, in the cell blocks where they need to maneuver in the dark to explore the prison and gather supplies. Rick appears to favor the tactic, whereby the form a circle and go in blind. I don’t understand how this is supposed to be a good idea. This doesn’t make sense that he would make this call, either, since he is supposed to be a seasoned police officer—although he did turn his back to an armed criminal in the very first episode, leading him to get shot. Maybe that was a clue to the fact that he is not very good at his job.

    To think of it, that was also one of Seth’s misgivings about him. That he is not very good at protecting his family and not a very good leader. Maybe this shows that he was right, even if he did not go about solving that problem properly. Maybe this is because Seth is himself incompetent.

    If I were to find myself in a situation similar to the one they find themselves in this episode, where we needed to navigate twisting cell blocks in the dark, I would put in place a kind of “chunking” system so that we progressively create a safe fallback space as we traverse the dangerous, unknown parts of the area. I certainly would not move the entire group deeper and deeper into the dark, passing obstacles that could trip us as we escape if things go wrong, and making our escape longer and longer as we go further in. In doing so, the more we go in, the worse our chances for survival become. In effect, the advantages of exploring the place becomes increasingly outweighed by the disadvantages as we go on.

    Here is how I would do it: We clear one specific area, a “chunk,” demarcated by the entrance and the nearest exit or exits. We thoroughly ensure that area is clear, remove all obstacles, clean it, light it, and stock some supplies there. It becomes our fallback area. We explore an area adjacent to it and do the same thing. In this way, if we need to escape, we do not need to run an ever-increasing distance for the exit. It is only in the next exit over.

    I understand that this method has its own problems: Mainly, it is too expensive. Even if we do not put supplies in each chunk, lighting the area, clearing, and cleaning it requires time, manpower, and resources that we do not have. But in this case then I would urge the others to simply not go in or go in too deep. We will have to take our time. But we will certainly not go deeper and deeper, and especially not without protective gear. In the show, they remain in their tattered clothes, with Daryl even wearing a sleeveless shirt.

    It is easy to say that these are artistic liberties and made for narrative tension. But I think it adds more to the story to try and make sense of these things within the story, while negotiating some of the premises laid out implicitly by the logic of the story. Through that method, what I understand of Rick’s character is that he is an incompetent and lackluster leader. He is in over his head. And I suppose that is meaningful, in that he was thrust upon this role. He was an ordinary cop, and not a very good one. For a great majority of us, this is what it will be like. Although we have knowledge and expertise in some areas, that will hardly ever be enough to survive. We will also need to be very, very lucky in the long run.

    I myself have many such ideas about efficiency but obviously one is incapable of knowing what one does not know. I find it likely that before I even have a chance to propose any of my ideas regarding systematicity and efficiency (or any of the liberal arts in which I was trained for a high very price during my college years) I would already be dead because I haven’t the faintest idea regarding the basics of survival.

    Sadly, the episode ends with one of my favorite characters Herschel getting bit. Rather predictably, an obstacle tuns out to be an animate walker and bites him. I don’t know if he will live, but his lower leg had to be severed with a hatchet. The story might make a miraculous turn, but given the arteries that must have been severed, he will probably die. Which is unfortunate because I liked him.

  • 1. I feel sleepy all the time. I do not feel comfortable unless I am lying down with my eyes closed. And when I finally sleep my dreams are vivid, strange, and sometimes terrible. Last night, I dreamt that a bomb was set off in the house, as a result of a failed military test, and I watched as our dining room was totally engulfed in a flash fire behind the glass doors that separated it from the rest of the house. Our family got out, except for our helper, who was consumed by the flames until she was only a skeleton, which even then turned into ash.

    I wake up, and I feel like today is going to be different. Today, I am going to be happy. I am going to play the games that I have been putting off playing, and I will enjoy them. Today, I will watch a movie, and I will feel the way I used to feel after reflecting, moved to write about my feelings. Curious about the world, about people, about what life was supposed to mean. But I spend an hour or two awake, and I only feel tired. And I feel like it was all so meaningless.

    I am 33, the year Jesus started his ministry. At my age, God made flesh redeemed the world. And he was from a very low-income household, with no formal education. His genetics were exemplary of course, but I think in this case we are at the balance.

    I wrote something for a friend the other day. He said: You should read up on how semicolons work. I haven’t been offended like that in a while. And when we went over it, it turned out that it was he who didn’t know how semicolons worked. He didn’t know that they connected two related independent clauses. He didn’t know much about grammar or style. It emphasized how I felt about people.

    I despise stupidity. Which isn’t simply not knowing something. It is impossible to know everything; therefore, everyone has things they do not know. Plain ignorance becomes stupidity when pride gets in the way learning and understanding. Ultimately, stupidity is an aspect of pride. Selfishness.

    2. Something I do all the time is play board games online. I love board games. My ex Fitzgerald was good at games, and if we were still together, I imagine we would spend a huge amount of time playing board games together. He was good to me. He was very good to me. And I wasn’t very good to him. That is the story of my life. Because although stupidity is an aspect of pride, and an aspect that I do not think I possess, I am guilty of pride, too.

    And this pride has ruined my life in many, treacherous ways. When I was a child, of course, this was most apparent. I was prideful in a vulgar way: Boasting, lying, attention seeking. But in college my pride and intellectual vanity became more insidious. And when men loved me, I used that love to remind them, myself, and the world that I was better.

    Now, I consider myself a little wiser. But it is too late for many things. Not too late for many other things, but certain doors have definitely closed for me. And certainly doors to the hearts of certain people. Recently, I found out that included Fitzgerald’s.

    3. I remember that night. I don’t remember anything else but that moment, when I said what I said. It was a terrible, nasty thing. Not vulgar, and without expletives, but it was the truth. That was what made it terrible and nasty. But what was interesting to me was that, when he recounted it to my friend, he did not remember it perfectly. Or maybe he could not even say what I exactly said. Maybe he wanted to forget, and when he needed to conjure the memory it would not come perfectly.

    Freud would more properly call this repression. There is a reason he forgot, or chose to forget, what I said. It makes me wonder what I’ve forgotten, and why.

  • It’s hard to have friends. And to relate with people. It’s not easy, and it’s not inborn. And if you doubt that then you need only to observe children. Society, as a whole, and therefore our entire world as social beings, is defined by relationships. Not things, not concepts, not ideas. These things only come into play as a result of our relationship to each other. Take money—perhaps the singular thing that defines our lives, regardless of how materialistic you are. Money only matters, in terms of its value and the rules for determining its value, insofar as everyone acknowledges them. It is, so to speak, fiat. And even when money was not fiat, it depended still on the value we ascribe to gold—which, though rare and beautiful, is in any case simply metal.

    Despite this, it’s hard. I look back at my 3 decades (so many, but in the scope of things about as pathetic as it is paltry) I’ve lost so many friends. If not through fights or squabbles then through changing sentiments or, simply, time. And the friends that I do have, I find very difficult to keep. I don’t have many now. It’s better that way, but it is also a matter of who I am, and how I am, that I find it very difficult.

    I’m fussy and exacting. At time, I expect so much more of people than anyone could possibly be willing to give. Sometimes, I accept no excuses, no matter how valid they are. Many times, I impose standards that are inappropriate for a situation and berate people in my life for failing to meet them. All in all, I can be selfish and condescending. And it does improve with time, especially since slowly I am conquering the natural human impulses that are incompatible with mature relationships. It takes a lot to do that. Decades, maybe a lifetime. I struggle. But I think that’s a good thing. Most people do not struggle anymore to become better. To become more understanding, more patient, more considerate. They accept it.

    Nowadays, that’s something of a cultural trend. We give ourselves permission to be insensitive or even cruel in the name of freedom of expression or mental health. It’s true that we need to change for those things, but there is a contingent of people who take it too far, many times without meaning to. People are inclined towards being selfish; it becomes a justification for them. As a whole, I think it takes something extremely radical for a human person to become truly virtuous or selfless. Something painful, traumatic. And this thing removes them from the human inclination for selfishness because it cuts them off from their own humanity. I do think that is what it takes.

  • Recently I’ve been trying to do the things that I should do. Not “need” to do per se – I don’t really need to do anything. That’s a blessing. But there are things that I ought to do because, allegedly, those are my hopes and dreams. I am, in any case, 33. This year, I will turn 34. In six years I will be 40 years old. The prospect fills me with terror. I have done nothing with my life. Absolutely nothing with my life.

    Many years I’ve believed that it was my mental illness. After all the medication and the therapy, I think I am at a place where everything is in place. And now that everything is in place, I think I have arrived at a place where I can say the mental illness has nothing to do with it. The reason I haven’t accomplished anything in my life is because I am incapable.

    In six years, I will be a 40 year old queer who has accomplished nothing, done nothing, helped no one.