Lament for a Neighbour

2014 has been a rough year for people who like the United States.

The gap between the super-rich and the poor is wider now than any time in living memory. Forget about a new age of robber barons; we are quickly approaching a new age of feudal lords.

The police establishment's apparent war with young men of colour (the well-known incidents of "blue on black" violence and the less well-publicized epidemic of "blue on red" violence towards First Nations males) has expanded to war with anyone who dares question it.

The government that inspired democracy lovers the world over has degenerated into a cesspit of partisan vitriol where the pursuit of short-term tactical advantage by all parties trumps decisions for the greater good.

Despite frequent exhortations to the Divine, there is a distressing soullessness in America today. The pinnacle - or nadir - of America's devolution has to be the recent release of the torture revelations. The acts of the torturers are bad enough, but it seems to me that even the critics have bought into the arguments of the advocates. Most of the criticism has been about whether torture works, but the issue is not one of efficacy, it is one of morality.

Torture was wrong when the Nazis did it. It was wrong when Stalin's goons did it. It was wrong when the Shah's Savak did it. And it is wrong when the United States does it.

Torture is not wrong because it doesn't work. It is wrong because it is an evil act. It deprives victims of their dignity and basic human rights. it degrades the wretches who administrate it unwillingly and debases the sadists who embrace it with ardour. It subordinates the value of human life to the needs of an impersonal, unfeeling state.

There will come a day when history will judge America's use of torture and will find it wanting. I fear that the day will also come when Americans will also face justice in war crime courts. That will be a sad day, indeed.

Poppies

94 years ago today, the Great War came to an end. Life in Canada went back to normal, or as normal as things can get when a small nation loses over sixty thousand dead and suffers even more wounded. The country attempted to return to a sense of normal in the years and decades that followed, until an even greater war broke out in 1939, followed by a brutal war on the Korean pennisula, smaller conflicts that fell under the guise of "peacekeeping" even when there was no peace to keep, and our own contemporary war in Afghanistan.

Ever since the firing ceased in 1918, the poppy has served as a symbol for remembering the sacrifices of the combatant. Whether it was inspired by the great Canadian First World War poem In Flanders' Fields, or whether it was the result of a natural association between the poppy and opiates which bring the sleep that serves as a metaphor for death, the days leading up to Remembrance Day are awash in a sea of poppies.

In a way, it is fitting that the poppy serves this role. It is a link between the First World War, where poppies grew between the crosses in Flanders' fields, and Afghanistan, where drug lords harvest them to make drugs to sell to the rest of the world.

Autumn

After an extended summer, autumn has officially arrived in my neck of Ontario. The days are still sunny and even warm, but the nights are getting cooler, the rains are colder, the daylight hours grow shorter. The change of seasons is a natural, even beautiful, thing, but it is always tinged with sadness.

Autum is not without its charms. The leaves are changing colours on the trees. The geese are flying in honking vee formations in the twilight sky. The pumpkins are turning orange on the vine. The evening air is crisp and refreshing.

It is a sad time, but it is good.

Departure (D-3)

The long to-do list from last week has now been whittled down to three remaining tasks. My calendar has  three meetings booked. The surface of my desk is almost supernaturally empty.

It is really odd talking about projects today with people I will probably never see again after Friday, but that's the way it is.

Departure (D-4)

I have not blogged for a while.

In part, this absence has been because of summer vacation. In part, it is because I was in the midst of job interviews. In part, it is because I have been busy trying to get all my outstanding projects completed so that it is a clean transition.

I have been so busy that I have been able to avoid the emotions that come from leaving colleagues I have worked with for almost five years. But now, as the to-do list gets whittled down, the emotions are starting to creep in.

It's going to be a rough week.

On Winning

Someone asked me recently whether it is better to win or to do your best. It's an old question, I know, but it never ceases to get me thinking. As usual, the original question led to a whole lot of additional questions:

• Is it truly winning if you didn't do your best?
• If you truly did your best, does it matter if you won?
• If you lose and didn't try your best, is it worse than if you gave it your all but still wound up in last place?
• Did you win if you were the Most Valuable Player on the last place team?

Everybody has to answer these questions for themselves. As for me, here's my take on winning:

The goal in life is to win honourably and elegantly.

If that's not possible, the goal is to win honourably.

If that's not possibly, you haven't really won.