Dystopias

I have enjoyed dystopian literature since well before it became a subgenre, or I knew how to describe it using that term. My first love was 1984, a brilliant book about a dark future of government control and hopeless rebellion. Animal Farm was in the same vein, but lighter and more of a fable. The Giver probably marks the more recent start of the trend toward dystopia, and is an utterly charming book. The moment when the boy first sees something different in the apple is etched forever in my memory, a mind-blowing event and a brilliant way to capture the nature of that particular dystopia. The Hunger Games of course rocketed dystopia to the top of popular culture, and is unrivaled among series dystopias.

I love books that can create alternative realities, and perhaps I am drawn particularly to dystopias because they are often explicitly political. The bleak futures involve authoritarian governments, usually engaged in severe repression, sometimes violently. In this way, they are perhaps more realistic than most fantasy/science fiction. When I wrote my book report on 1984 in 11^th grade, I argued that such a world might in fact be in our future. My teacher responded that such a world had already been created. We were both right. I was well aware of the terror that was the Soviet Union, the closest we have come to 1984 on Earth, but our society did not yet have the technology to gain control in such a totalizing way. The Soviets could not observe every movement of every subject; one day, that might be possible. But they certainly built an everyday dystopia. Such dystopias continue to exist. Descriptions of North Korea boggle the imagination: the average height of North Koreans is a few inches shorter than that of South Koreans, just 60 years after the country split, with the same genetic pool. Stories of prison camps and the absence of food are the stuff of nightmares.

Hence, it frequently surprises me that people express surprise when dystopian novels take the nearly inevitable political turns. People seemed to think The Hunger Games were about Katniss; they turned out to be about control and rebellion. Of course. Reviews of Divergent often express the same sentiment: a supposed “plot twist” occurs 80 percent of the way through. It’s the same event as in many dystopias: the character who doesn’t quite fit in while interacting with a few becomes the center of the social rebellion of the many. This is also the genius of dystopias: they translate systematic terror into the personal and the individual; they make it intelligible and compelling.

Some build these imagined worlds much better than others. I admire most those books that capture something fundamental about humanity while constructing these alternative worlds. Building strange realities can makes us more easily see who we are.

Underdoggedness

Listening to a Radiolab podcast, I learned that 80-90 percent of people will choose the underdog in any contest: business, sports, politics, best landscape painter, etc. This holds if they know nothing else about the contestants.

I have thus learned that I am not in the minority, as I had supposed. I have always thought my underdog preferences were held by others, yes, but only by perhaps 20-30 percent of people. After all, look at the legions of fans adoring Apple Computer, the Lakers, or the Yankees. None of these folks could possibly root for underdogs, could they?

Perhaps they have weak underdog preferences, and when they learn more, those underdog preferences easily get eclipsed by other preferences. If so, then I might still be in the minority: People who cling strongly to underdoggedness.

For example, I used to love Apple. My attachment grew fierce in the mid to late 1990s when Apple was on the verge of folding, being quashed by the dominant and overwhelming PCs and Microsoft. When I came to BYU in 1998, I requested a Mac computer and received one, but computer support steadfastly refused to service it in any fashion and I was soon forced into PC-dom. Now, Apple rules the world, but I can't bring myself to want any of its products. It has become the elite, the costly, the expensive, the desirable. Even if it is the best, my responses to it range from disinterested to repulsed.

Likewise, once my beloved Packers started winning, I became less enamored of them. Same for the Red Sox. Give me a loser any day. It has to scream underdog for me to become interested. Now, I don't love all underdogs. The Cubs have never enticed me. But if I do fall in love, it's with an underdog. As the underdog makes its way to the top, I become wary, unsure, a little bewildered. I associate the powerful with bullying, with immoral choices, and with oppression. That can't include me, can it?

My underdoggedness was probably most strongly shaped in late elementary school and junior high school. I am told now that everyone feels a bit isolated, insecure and weak during those years. I find that hard to believe, still, because some seemed so strong, so popular, so dominant. I felt myself on the outside looking  in, and imagined myself in the firm minority.

Hence, cheering for the underdog, for myself, against brutish oppressors became part of my identity. It's still deeply inside of me. So deep, that I feel only a fleeting happiness when my sports teams win, unless it's a win against all odds sort of victory. So deep, that I prefer mom and pop stores even if it costs me a bit more--and I also hate to spend money. So deep, that it undoubtedly influences my distrust of US power in the world.

So now I'm wondering, not just how many have weak preferences for underdogs, but how many are fiercely attached to an underdog identity. And, if everyone feels weak and isolated at some point in the middle school years, why aren't there more of us identity underdogs? Or perhaps the world is full of identity underdogs and I am again mistakenly imagining myself in the minority.

An Ode to Fall, in Photos

Free Trade

I generally support freer international trade. Conservatives of course typically support free trade because of classical economic arguments about greater market efficiency and smaller government. But this is not the argument that most persuades me. Rather, I tend to be attracted by arguments that freer trade will help the poor, even more than it helps the wealthy. Surprisingly, one can make a good case that freer trade is especially likely to help the poor in developed countries, though it could also help the poor in developing countries as well.

Debates of course rage about the effects of freer trade on poverty. As is often the case, nothing seems terribly settled or clear in academic studies. So, my attraction to these arguments is not based on any iron-clad evidence or proof, but rather a hunch and my own reading of history.

Freer trade undoubtedly creates winners and losers. The large difficulty is figuring out whether the benefits to the winners justify the costs to the losers, and whether overall wellbeing might be improved.

The main case for free trade helping the poor is fairly straightforward. Freer trade results in lower prices, and hence decreases the cost of living, making vital goods more affordable.The case against freer trade revolves around job losses. Most of the jobs lost to freer trade are held by lower-income workers. So, in some ways, the question is whether lower prices for all can justify the job losses of some. It's tough to put an overall price tag on those two things and figure out whether the benefits outweigh the costs.

But consider the following arguments in favor of freer trade:

1. Freer international trade is going to affect manufactured goods more than services (which are not as likely to be produced internationally), and will probably most affect manufactured or agricultural goods that are widely used. Poor people spend a disproportionate amount of their income on basic goods, so any reduction in prices helps them more than the wealthy. As a result of free trade, the inflation rate for the poor has arguably been much lower than the inflation rate for the wealthy. See http://www.newyorker.com/talk/financial/2008/05/26/080526ta_talk_surowiecki

2. Freer international trade might also help the poor in developing countries. First, the developing-country poor benefit from the same price decreases as those in wealthy countries, and they can also benefit from selling more goods to the wealthy countries. This is all very complicated and unclear, because there are winners and losers in developing countries too. 

3. Freer trade can actually help increase labor standards in developing countries because major multinationals are more likely to invest in those countries. Despite the fact that major multinational corporations are accused, undoubtedly with some justification, of poor labor standards, they tend to have higher labor standards than local companies in developing countries and to be under greater consumer scrutiny. This this study recently found that labor standards in developing countries actually improve through free trade: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/28/opinion/free-trade-by-itself-can-lift-labor-standards-abroad.htm

So, let's say you favor free trade. Who should you vote for?

The clearest answer is Bill Clinton. It's pretty easy to argue that he presided over the largest expansion of free trade in the world in recent decades. In contrast, George W. Bush was pretty anemic in his support of free trade and Obama has been hostile at worst, and quite neglectful at best.

Alas, it's 2012 and you can't vote for Bill. So, should you look at Romney? Apparently, yes. I went to his website and was pretty surprised to see the strength of his support for free trade. I was surprised because the conventional wisdom is that free trade hurts jobs, and he is running on the platform that he knows how to create jobs. In the short run, free trade destroys some jobs, so I'm not surprised he didn't talk about free trade (or much of anything else) in his nomination speech. To be so much in favor of free trade on his website is risky because I'm not sure it's an issue that will rally supporters, and it has the serious potential to undermine his main claim that he knows how to create jobs.

Bottom Line: I'm actually pretty impressed that he takes such a strong free-trade stance, and it's one of the factors that attract me toward him.

Birch Hollow Canyoneering

Nathan, Jared (Nathan's friend), Kenny Barlow and I went to Zion National Park on the last weekend in August and went down Birch Hollow Canyon. These photos are from that trip. On our drive through the park we saw these bighorn sheep right off the side of the road. The one male had very large horns, bigger than any I had seen before in the wild. Because they grow throughout their lives, he must have been older, perhaps 7 or 8 years. 

Birch Hollow was a wonderful canyon. We did 9 rappels and two downclimbs. The biggest rappel was 100 feet; many were 60-70. A few were fluted, which means it looks like there is something like a smooth, narrow waterslide carved into the rock. This makes them very photogenic and pretty. The rappels were pretty straightforward, not too difficult. It's a great beginner canyon.

The difficulty is the hike out. It's a long, uphill slog through very thick brush in parts. A real bushwhack, literally! At one part, Nathan stumbled for several steps in a row and had to put his hand down to steady himself. He pulled it up quickly, shouting in pain about being stung. My first thought was Scorpion!, but I didn't see one. So then I wondered what it could be. A bee? In the desert? I looked around more closely, and sure enough, there was a little 2-inch little scorpion beastie on the ground, about the same color as the sandstone. He was in quite a bit of pain, and we were still a mile and perhaps 45 minutes from the end. So we just pushed through and made it. We went to the ranger station, but he wasn't having any other symptoms and they said they don't really have poisonous scorpions through there.

He and Jared were quite tired, so Kenny and I did a second canyon, Keyhole, while they rested in the car. It's just a short little canyon, pure dessert happiness. No pics of that because it's full of lots of water and we were pushing hard to get through in the evening before losing daylight. What a great trip! 

Ryder Lake, Uinta Mountains

Some pictures from our backpacking trip to Ryder Lake in the Uintas! On the way up, along the Stillwater Fork of the Bear River. 

 This is Ryder Lake, early evening.

 Heading up to Mount Agassiz, nearly 12,500 feet. Of course, we're camped at 10,100 feet, so that makes the ascent a little less bad. We're headed for the saddle at the top of the photo. Sort of a nasty climb through a boulder field. No path anywhere. We just bushwhacked through the forest and then boulder fields.

 At the saddle, looking back down on Middle Basin. The meadow in the middle of the photo was simply spectacular. We set up camp at the east end of the giant meadow, just inside the trees. Maybe the best campsite I've ever had. The night temperature in my tent at 3:30 am was 52 degrees. Perfect.

 The boys on the saddle. The ones who struggled the most to get there enjoyed it most.

 Nathan and I on the saddle, looking down into the basin on the other side, Naturalist Basin.

 Going up the ridge to the top. A boulder-fest! Looks very steep, especially from a distance, but really not bad. There is never any real exposure. A fall would mean just falling to your feet.

 On the summit. We could see forever. Mt. Timpanogos in particular, 50 miles away, was clear as a bell. We were looking right down Provo Canyon toward home. As is often the case, we got cell phone reception on top and made the celebratory phone call.

 Our meadow, with the upper Stillwater meandering through it.

 The beauty of high alpine flowers!

 Back down at Ryder Lake, jumping off about a 10-foot mini-cliff. Cold water! Tons of fun!

 Evidence that I can jump just like Nathan. Though, he beat me to the summit by about 10 minutes. He climbed that boulder-strewn ridge up 800 feet over about a quarter-mile in 30 minutes flat.

Nathan fishing Smeagol-style

The Theatre

I love the theatre. Live plays give me joy. This is true even when the play is not something I would otherwise want to watch. Take "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers." It's a silly play with an inane plot and underdeveloped characters. Yet I saw it at Sundance Summer Theatre outdoors this past Monday evening and loved it. Why?

1. The setting. Well, it's hard to beat Sundance outdoors on a summer evening. The large trees surrounding the stage absolutely gave the illusion of the Oregon wilderness. Still, I would have enjoyed it indoors too. So:

2. The intimacy with the actors. I didn't sit particularly close, but would have enjoyed it even more if I had. My favorite theatre is the Hale Center Theatre in Orem, which has all of about 6 rows. Being able to observe even the smallest motions brings stories alive.

3. Knowing the actors are struggling students or amateurs, still learning and perfecting. I'm always a sucker for the underdog. This must be why I love junior high and high school plays. 7 Brides involved BYU and UVU students.

4. The quality of the play. Yes, the plot is silly, but it still manages to offer some great insights into human nature. The lyrics and actions frequently get across complex ideas in relatively simple ways, a real achievement. We cringe at the awkwardness of the boys, in part because we see ourselves in their antics and we're relieved we didn't do quite as badly.

I went to London in Summer 2009 expecting to see spectacular theatre that everyone raves about. I did see some awfully good stuff, but also saw a couple of the most dreadful plays I've ever seen. The most disappointing by far was "A Winter's Tale" put on in Shakespeare's hometown of Avon. Never have I looked forward so much with such great disappointment. The play doesn't seem to be that great, the actors often couldn't be heard, and the director seemed to have a scattershot approach in terms of setting the tone. Simply awful. I'll take my local theatre any time. I suppose one has to take risks in England to stand out, and so the crash and burn is all the more spectacular.