Welmer

According to statistics, adultery is on the rise in America. Much is made of the fact that wives are cheating nearly as much as husbands these days. Since the statistics come from polls, and women are less likely to admit to adultery than men for both cultural and practical reasons, it is likely that men and women cheat at roughly equal rates.

Adultery has always existed, but it does seem to be a growing problem. Birth control mitigates the consequences, and electronic communication widens the potential pool of affair partners. Society’s attitude toward infidelity has become so blasé that commercial services procuring affair partners are making substantial profits. Many people see affairs as a justifiable escape from the frustrations of a long-term relationship. They are, however, just as destructive to the institution of the family as ever, and it is the children, as always, who pay the heaviest price for marital dissolutions. [Read more →]

Since I first discovered my desire for women, I have always taken this attraction for granted and held it to be an inseparable part of my straight, male identity. It has been just over twenty years since I began to lay awake in bed, imagining the female form and feeling a need for its presence. Although I knew that my need for women would eventually lessen, I expected it to last for the rest of my life. I saw it in my grandfather in his old age, after all, and expected it would be the same for me. I thought of it as an essential element of my masculinity — a part of my being that I’d both exult in and suffer for throughout my life. [Read more →]

The new realities of an energy-deficient world will inevitably create an economic shift away from our current service-oriented economy to the production of commodities. Unlike any other time in history, the production of food has been a relatively small part of our economic output for decades, with only a small fraction of our population actively engaged in agriculture. Huge advances in transportation and mechanization brought on by the Industrial Revolution and the use of cheap, abundant fossil fuels have enabled this transformation, but the availability of this energy is clearly not what it used to be.

Not only is the cost of transportation rising, but the cost of sowing, harvesting, fertilizing, irrigation and pest control have seen commensurate increases as well. It is not only biofuels that are spurring the recent rise in food prices; virtually every single agriculture-related cost has risen along with energy costs. The literate, urban class of writers, intellectuals and professionals has been focusing on the changing urban paradigm, promoting car-free spaces in cities, urban density and a transition away from the suburban lifestyle that characterized the latter half of the 20th century, but these concerns, in the long run, will turn out to be relatively minor compared to the vast changes that will accompany the looming, new reality.

What we are looking at is not a shift toward a more sustainable model of today’s society based on technological innovation and efficient design, but rather a return to more traditional modes of production. As the cost of food rises and transportation become increasingly expensive, agriculture will look like a more promising occupation than it has in a long while. Fertile land near population centers will become increasingly valued for its food production potential rather than housing development, and those who own it can realistically expect to see a rise in its relative value. Technology will doubtless soften the blow, but electric power from renewable resources will not be able to replace gas and liquid fuel and "organic" farming will become more of a necessity than a fad as fossil fuel derived fertilizers and pesticides see dramatic price increases. Huge factory farms will no longer have their current advantage, as the machines needed to run them will become prohibitively expensive to run, so the productive, family farm will gradually return as a vital part of our economy.

It will be the suburbs, where most Americans currently live, that take the biggest hit as the basis for their existence - the personal automobile - slowly becomes prohibitively expensive. The approaching irrelevance of the suburban lifestyle will be a devastating blow to many Americans, and will likely cause a rather abrupt increase in economic hardship amongst a previously affluent demographic. In fact, the trend has already begun, with poverty rising faster in suburbs than anywhere else.

Many of the people currently dwelling in suburbs, and some in cities, will be compelled to look for work in a revitalized agricultural sector. Some suburban lots and developments will probably be transformed to productive land, but the shift may be too rapid for an easy adjustment, and a significant proportion of those who must find work in food production rather than service jobs will be ill-prepared for their new occupation and will see a decline in status and lifestyle.

Historically, this would not be the first time a society has become more rather than less rural. Wars and epidemics have emptied cities many times in the past, and even deliberate policies, such as China’s Cultural Revolution, have resulted in population transfers from urban centers to rural areas. However, this time it will merely be a response to a new economic situation, and hopefully the result will not be as painful, but doubtless it will be profoundly unsettling to many, many Americans.

The concept of what a father’s role should be in the family is changing rapidly, and although this is deeply unsettling to many men, it may provide us with an opportunity to rediscover what being a father is all about. The provider/homemaker paradigm has been shattered by mechanization and the diminishing value of male labor. Men, particularly young ones, are no longer better financial providers than women. In a growing number of metropolitan areas, young women earn more than young men. Young men are not as well-educated as young women in general, and most don’t have what it takes to make good money in the specialized fields that remain largely male.

However, despite the trend in artificial insemination, most children are still conceived the natural way, and therefore have real, present, biological fathers. So for the many, many young men who are fathers, but could not be considered "head of household," what role is there to fulfill? Can we find anything besides the role of "provider?" Yes, there is something much better; something that comes naturally to us and can’t be replaced.

When the current situation first began to present itself in the late 20th century, one of the main arguments was that men should simply take on more feminine roles while women took on more traditionally masculine roles. But that idea was based on the contemporary view of "feminine" and "masculine," and the ideals of the mid-20th century were no more natural or less distorted than what we’re faced with today. Idealizing the 1950s, with its American suburban uniformity, made possible only because we were enjoying the fruits of global power and victory, is self-indulgent fantasy. And many forget the darker side of that time: the countless men who squelched their hopes and dreams to settle down and submit to its cultural dictates.

Another distorted perception that grew out of the changes brought on by the 20th century is that work was the realm of men, and the domestic sphere properly belonged only to women. Prior to mass transportation most men worked within shouting distance of where they slept. Tradesmen worked out of their own homes, and farmers in the fields surrounding their homes. Women also worked, keeping books, selling produce at the market, milking cows, etc. While in China, I saw illiterate peasant women selling food at farmers’ markets and, for keeping track of sales, using an abacus with great skill and efficiency. In pre-modern societies, including the West, women were essential economic contributors to the family just like men.

In times past, education of children fell mainly to fathers, who were more likely to be literate than their wives until fairly recently. Most men were involved in their children’s lives from morning to night; only infants relied almost entirely on women for care and nurturing. But this all changed with the Industrial Revolution, which took men away from their homes and put them to work far afield. To compensate for their absence, state-sponsored services sprouted like weeds throughout communities in the West to do the jobs fathers had previously handled. Inevitably, society’s view of a father’s role and responsibilities shifted from viewing him as an equally-responsible partner in child-rearing to a mere provider of goods and labor, and men became little more than draft animals. Is it any wonder that the law came to reflect this new reality and gave parental rights primarily to mothers?

The cruel irony of these developments is that the mechanization that originally removed men from their traditional family role has drastically lowered the relative value of their labor even as alternative social services have become substitutes for them at home, so many men find themselves neither economically nor socially relevant as parents.

As I mentioned before, the popularly offered solution is for men to take on more "feminine" roles. But that is a misinterpretation of the situation; actually, men now have an opportunity to regain some of the grievous losses we have suffered over the years. Many men bemoan their lower status as a result of not being able to be "good providers," but they don’t realize that this role is what lowered their status in the first place. When a farmer wants to raise a male calf as a working draft animal - a good provider of labor - what does he do? He castrates the young bull. In the course of the recasting of the American male as a reliable, subservient economic provider rather than a free man, he has been stripped of his essential, spiritual elements of masculinity. Being a father, in every sense of the word, is as masculine a role as one can have; it is the inverse of femininity, and it has been marginalized to the detriment of both men and their children. One need only think of the deep sorrow fatherless children, whether well-fed and clothed or not, experience to know how important it is for boys and girls to have the creative, energetic and liberating spirit of masculinity in their lives.

So rather than submerging ourselves in bitterness over the loss of a role that put us in this unfortunate position to begin with, we fathers should breathe a sigh of relief and give thanks for our renewed opportunity to be more than a mere gravy train. Now we can love and teach our children like fathers always have, and we can once again take on our fair share of involvement in their lives. In addition to sharing the fruits of our labor with them, we can offer ourselves as their companions and protectors.

What little boy would give up learning to ride a bike or fly a kite so his daddy could work all weekend to put more money into mutual funds? What daughter would give up the irreplaceable special attention of a loving, approving dad? Yes, as fathers we have a far, far richer and more important role than "provider."

It is well-known that commerce is deeply rooted in Chinese culture — so much so that it seems at times to be an immutable genetic trait among Chinese. However, there are important differences between Chinese and Western cultural views on trade and business. After coming into contact with overseas Chinese and gaining first-hand experience with Chinese commercial success, Americans often come to the conclusion that Capitalism is the natural state of affairs in China, and that Communism was a mere interlude that was inevitably rejected by the entrepreneurial Chinese spirit. There is some truth to this, but there are elements of Communism that allowed a continuance of ancient Chinese administrative traditions. Government monopolies on commodities, for example, were traditional sources of state revenue in imperial China. Salt was particularly important, and rice, of course, was indispensable. Importantly, the state also maintained a monopoly on mass labor through corvée conscription taxes.

Although petty traders and small-scale commercial ventures operated relatively freely and thrived for many centuries in China, big business has traditionally been under strict supervision. International trade was also tightly regulated, leading inevitably to clashes with Western powers in the 19th century. Westerners were not the only ones who chafed over such commercial inflexibility; many Chinese merchants sought ways to circumvent the system. They did this in a number of ways, some of which are familiar to the many different peoples of the world who have come into contact with Chinese. The coastal south developed a commercial culture based on trade beyond the shores of China, sailing in their junks throughout the archipelagos of Southeast Asia, establishing Chinese trading colonies in Taiwan, the Philippines, Indochina, Indonesia and Malaysia. Farther north and inland, smugglers set up salt trading routes to break the government monopoly, cutting into state revenue while enriching themselves.

China’s ruling philosophy, Confucianism, relegates business and trade to a lesser status than farming the land, but there are aspects of Confucianism that encourage the kind of trust and bonding - particularly in patriarchal clans - that confers great advantages in business and trade. Being a natural human activity, trade was necessarily carried on in and between clans. Loans, inside connections and special knowledge became immensely valuable assets to members of powerful merchant clans, especially in the south. The ideals of compassion, mutual responsibility and filial piety were the glue that held these extended families together. Thus, Chinese success in trade is based on in-group moral principles that, applied over many generations, reinforced loyalty and encouraged benevolence on the part of clan leaders.

Because Confucian principles chastise trade even as they create conditions for the successful practice thereof, China itself has long had an ambivalent, often suspicious attitude toward business, even before Communism became the ruling ideology. So in order to maintain a dominant role over trade, the state, which in China has always placed more value on the sanctity of the human hierarchy than the rule of law, practices patronage over traders and businessmen. It is permissible to get rich and to do business, but the dues must always be paid to officials, who pay their dues to higher officials, and so on up to the top. When everyone is reasonable this can work out fairly well, but human nature being what it is, abuses have always been common. There is always a motive to cheat, and retaliation takes on personal overtones. Abuse of state power is another common problem, and it can result in the suppression of profitable trade as venal officials collect profits for their own personal enrichment. So although China is blessed with rich land and plenty of human capital, its cultural and administrative structure, which are deeply intertwined, retards the development of business and trade.

When freed from the restrictions of the Chinese administrative system, however, Chinese cultural strengths can shine brilliantly. This can be seen in the spectacular success of peripheral and overseas Chinese colonies and states, such as Singapore, Hong Kong and Taiwan, freed from central control and influenced by Western governments. The unique characteristics of Chinese culture confer a great advantage in economically permissive environments while the Anglo-Saxon concept of law places a strong check on the runaway patronage that could easily ruin such shining outposts of Capitalism.

Many Westerners marvel at the economic miracles wrought in Chinese communities throughout Asia and the world, but they often fail to understand that two contradictory philosophies have intersected to create the conditions for economic success. This is far from unprecedented, but it is a precarious situation, and exists only in exceptional rather than typical circumstances. This must be kept in mind when considering China’s economic future. In time, one philosophy will have to give way to the other, and I am skeptical as to whether China could adopt Western ideals in lieu of its 2,000 year-old governing culture. Even if it did, then China’s unique advantages in business would eventually disappear as collective bonds give way to individualism.

The recent rush to modernize and the rapid economic growth of China has led to a huge construction boom throughout the country. In my neighborhood in Beijing, when I lived there in the late 90s, it seemed as though a new building sprang up every week or so. Migrant laborers thronged the streets in hardhats and brightly colored construction jackets, speaking incomprehensible dialects from the provinces. The new buildings were built to look “modern,” with large glass windows and steel frames, so it was somewhat comical to see the workers using traditional bamboo scaffolding.

A cursory glance at the new buildings might give one the impression that they were essentially the same as those that fill the office parks of suburban America, but having seen them rise from the ground up, I knew there were some major differences. Because the most recent building boom departed radically from the Communist-era command economy’s construction mandates, there was almost no precedent and regulation for the new construction practices. As with so many things in China, a decent enough outward appearance to make a sale is sufficient. The structure, if hidden, is of little consequence.

A couple blocks down the street from me I saw a 10-story office building built on dirt. No attempt was made to dig and lay a foundation; the building was slapped together like a box on the ground. I really couldn’t believe what I saw, so I started checking for basements whenever I visited these new office buildings. Amazingly, the lack of a foundation turned out to be surprisingly common. After seeing enough of these examples, I felt sure that a significant quake in Beijing would kill a huge number of people.

Many of the new apartment towers being built in the suburbs were very poorly built. The concrete hallways were uneven, sagging in places, and the wiring was unreliable and dangerous. Water seeped through the walls, and people were moved in before the building was complete. For all the hype over China’s economic boom, these buildings are a stark reminder of the fundamental instability of China’s economy. A shining office building without a foundation, sitting precariously on the ground in a seismically active region, is a good analogy for today’s China. Give it a firm shake - one that’s guaranteed to come eventually - and the roof comes down on its unfortunate occupants.

Now that gender equality in terms of income has been achieved in the younger generation, and educationally women currently surpass men, most of us ordinary men find ourselves staring irrelevance straight in the face. A friend of mine recently observed that women are “taking over” his department at his former company. Except in specialized occupations that require male minds or bodies, women do indeed appear to have the upper hand. However, I observed to my friend that the top remains largely male, while the middle is dominated by females. The bottom, like the top, is predominately male. Unfortunately for us men, there’s a lot more space at the bottom than at the top.

So what does that mean for men who are not among the fortunate few? Are we destined to be lowly peons shoveling muck out of gutters? For many of us, our fate could be worse than that. Gutter cleaning pays fairly well, at least according to the last bill I saw for that service. The future certainly does look grim, but could there be anything redeeming about our new status as disposable goods? Yes, there could, but only when we learn to accept and finally embrace it.

Bound by a sense of duty and responsibility to family, employer and country, men demanded certain guarantees in return. All these guarantees can be summed up in one word: fidelity. We expected not to be cheated, lied to or abandoned. Sadly, all these things have come to pass. Perhaps our own complacency is as much to blame for this as anything else, but our betrayal is a fait accompli. There was the inevitable denial, rage, and despair, but finally we find ourselves at the point of acceptance.

Accepting such a great loss of security, confidence and trust is a very difficult thing to do, but it is profoundly liberating. Whereas before one was shackled to deceit and resentment, now the fetters are broken, the cell door opens, and suddenly the world is revealed. Feelings of guilt, inadequacy, anger, envy and disappointment dissipate in the open air; ought gives way to is. When one arrives at this state of mind, all of the countless obligations, worries and responsibilities lose their sting. It becomes clear that reality - the way things are - is our only true master. We owe no debt to anything or anyone else.

So once a man throws off his countless restraints and goes all the way up the chain of command to take orders from the top, how does he deal with his only boss? Perhaps surprisingly, dealing with reality is very simple; it is only a matter of “can” and “cannot.” There is no want, should or ought with reality. All those are subjective, and have nothing to do with the sun setting or things falling when dropped. A man who has a good idea of what he can do has a great deal of choices and ability, because there are infinite things men can do. Of course, there are always consequences. For example, you can jump out of an airplane without a parachute, but you cannot survive it. This is where judgment comes into play. However, although dealing with reality requires good judgment, letting other people do so for you requires absolute faith in their judgment AND their interest in your own welfare. That’s a risky bet.

Once a man is freed from the bondage of others’ expectations and desires, all that he does comes from his own heart. Any help or affection is freely given and not in any way coerced. His love and goodwill are pure and free from any taint of flattery. Likewise, any malicious acts are undertaken only by his own initiative. His heart and intentions are made clear through his actions. Because reality is truth, he embodies honesty.

These principles apply to all people, whether male or female, but the loss of direction among men in our civilization is a fairly recent development, and needs to be addressed. At this point, a politicized “men’s movement” might be counterproductive, because it would lead us down into the sewers of contemporary discourse. But a spiritual awakening, accompanied by a recognition that we have our own priorities, is sorely needed. Women rebelled against their social obligations and limitations and threw them off. Men, too, can do the same.

When men see that bondage is a state of mind - often an unconscious choice - they realize how easy it is to cast it aside. Our own bondage came from the guarantees that we demanded, which slowly created obligations that we came to see as inevitable. But now that the guarantees have been removed, we find that we are still in chains, and herein lies the great liberating opportunity afforded by injustice. Without the shock of betrayal and loss, we might have plodded along forever, devolving into something akin to oxen, fit only for heavy burdens and the whip. But that will not happen now. The deal we’ve got is clearly rotten, and there’s no good reason to haul that load.

The uplifting feeling one gets when laying down a heavy burden does much for the spirit. The bitterness over loss and betrayal is forgotten as the realization sets in that one’s life is in one’s own hands. What others want, think or expect becomes no more important than anything else, because all that matters is what IS and how one chooses to deal with it. When men know that, they know true freedom.

The vast territory of China encompasses many different lifestyles, cultures, nations and even races. Even within the prevailing Han ethnic group there are differences at least as important as those between the various Romance countries of Europe. The lowland farmers of the Yellow River basin are distinct from those of the Yangtze, who are different from those of Fujian, and Canton and so on. The Mongols, Turks and Koreans of the north and west speak languages unrelated to Chinese and maintain a distinct identity. If one looks at an ethnic or linguistic map of China, there are fairly large contiguous sections representing the Han majority and its subsets, Turks, Mongols, Tibetans and then smaller areas that look like paint splattered across sections of the map representing the small minorities such as the Manchu and Miao.

The reality in China is very different from what one might gather from looking at these maps. Boundaries are not so clear, and the many intersections between different cultures are neither neat nor well-defined. Here in America, we tend to assume that populated areas are all accessible, and only empty widerness is off-limits to the casual traveler. If one flies over our country, all inhabited areas are seen to be neatly linked by roads, and it can be safely assumed that where transportation infrastructure is lacking there are no people. However, if one flies over China, except for the infertile deserts and the very highest peaks and plains of the Himalayas, it can be guaranteed that there are people below. In arid, mountainous central China or the rugged, moist coastal south one can observe terraced hills and other signs of agriculture from above, but very few roads. Even the vast plains are mainly crossed only by rail or dirt roads, and getting from town to the train station often requires a gruelling days-long bus ride over terrible roads. Despite the massive population of China and the existence of people in practically every fertile nook of the country, most of China’s people live in a state of isolation that very few Americans can relate to.

The static nature of most of China’s population, which has only begun to change as a huge contingent of migrant laborers has congregated in major cities, makes estimates of the true extent of linguistic and ethnic diversity very difficult and throws doubt on their accuracy. In much of the country, the dialects are so numerous and divergent that one need only travel a short distance to find people speaking an entirely distinct tongue even within the solid areas on linguistic maps. In these places the educated officials serve as intermediaries between the locals and all others, and can accrue great power through their status as interlocutors. As one moves further from China’s center, this cultural and linguistic diversity grows even more extreme, and infrastructure even more primitive.

China’s ancient and excellent administrative system, which spread across so much of East Asia, has evolved to accommodate the realities of the extraordinarily complex empire it has managed for so many years. The unwieldy Chinese writing system is often described as a barrier to foreign invasion, but its most important function has been to culturally unite a people who speak so many different languages. One can read Chinese characters in all Han dialects, so that a native of Beijing could read a letter written by a native of Xiamen even though the two couldn’t understand each other’s speech. A phonetic alphabet could never serve that purpose in such a linguistically diverse country. However, this unifying characteristic of the Chinese language is not as effective with non-Han cultures, particularly those with their own scripts and a tradition of literacy. Although primitive, illiterate tribes can be assimilated through intermarriage and long-term exposure to Chinese culture, and many Chinese considered Han today are descendants of such people, this is not practical with distinct cultures such as the Tibetans, Uygurs and Mongols, so a different approach was needed.

Historically, when China has been strong it has asserted itself through control of territory on the periphery of the Han-dominated heartland, which comprises less than half of modern China’s territory, but contains the vast majority of its population. Tibet, Inner Mongolia, Xinjiang, Manchuria and some traditionally Korean territory are currently under Chinese control, but this doesn’t mean these places are properly China or Chinese. Nevertheless, it is important to note that this soft form of imperialism has been the status quo many times throughout the history of the Chinese empire, including during non-Han dynasties such as the Mongol Yuan and Manchu Qing, so it isn’t necessarily attributable to Chinese chauvinism, but rather to a system of frontier management that kept the peace. Because the traditional assimilate and intermarry strategy did not work with these advanced and frequently aggressive frontier cultures, the Chinese central government maintained control over them through garrisons stationed at key strategic locations, often at great expense. Although the relationship between these subject societies and the empire has been traditionally described as “tributary,” the tribute was more of a symbolic than onerous burden, and frequently the net balance of trade and taxes favored the subject peoples. This was the compensation that frontier cultures received for submission to the Chinese empire, whereas the troops in the garrisons were the threat that hung over any potentially restive population.

Although first the ROC, and then the PRC, officially declared the end of dynasticism and empire, thousands of years of culture and tradition are hard to erase. Following the epic failures of the Mao era, China has slowly returned to its historical methods of governance and has even begun to revisit its ancient, underlying philosophies. For the frontier cultures, this is not necessarily a bad thing, because the Han expansion of the Mao era has begun to ebb. However, a different kind of Han dominance has emerged: economic hegemony. During the Cultural Revolution Chinese were sent to the far corners of the country to work the land. Manchuria, which was sparsely inhabited only a hundred years ago, has seen its population explode as Chinese settled there after World War II to work in industry, and then during the Cultural Revolution to farm. However, recently, as population controls have loosened, many Han Chinese have begun to return to their native provinces or to migrate to cities in the prosperous coastal region. There is no longer an imperative to settle outside the Han sphere of influence, so population replacement of non-Han cultures is not as much of a threat as it was previously.

With modernization and prosperity in the Han heartland, a greater disparity between Han and non-Han cultures has emerged. The Chinese in places such as Urumqi and Lhasa are not interested in displacing the local farmers, whose income and land are negligible assets to Han entrepreneurs, but they are perfectly willing to exploit any business opportunities. These businesses could be in tourism, resource extraction construction, government contract jobs or any number of money-making opportunities. With their access to larger amounts of capital and government connections, Han Chinese are willing and able to shove natives out of the way and squeeze every drop they can from local economies. That the official language is Mandarin and the ruling culture Han provides yet another administrative advantage to Han economic migrants. Faced with this, members of frontier cultures cannot compete in modern, profit-driven China, and have been economically marginalized.

While the traditional methods of governance in frontier provinces have been restored to some extent, the economic realities of modern China have tipped the balance that existed centuries ago under the tributary system so that the benefit to local populations has been erased while the punitive elements remain in place. This is the real source of the current conflict in Tibet, where protesters targeted Han-owned businesses in a very clear statement of anger about their economic marginalization. There are religious overtones, but Tibet is a theocracy, so that is unavoidable. However, people in the West seem largely to miss the point about the unrest, which is that Han economic dominance is the largest factor in Tibetans’ discontent. The same problem exists in Xinjiang, and it threatens to become a more serious problem for the Chinese government in coming years. For China, there is a bit of a dilemma here, in that there are no painless solutions. One measure the Chinese could take would be to grant more autonomy to autonomous provinces, allowing them to make their own languages officially dominant, as Quebec has done in Canada, but that would tend to diminish Beijing’s political control. Another solution could be to clamp down on the cultures and try to assimilate them, but that would be a very painful process with no guarantee of success that would be sure to provoke more serious resistance and unrest, and Beijing’s image abroad would be significantly tarnished, giving it less leverage over Taiwan and its immediate neighbors to the east.

What we may be seeing in Tibet is a turn in the age-old cycle of Chinese expansion and contraction. Large, complex systems such as the Chinese Empire are awesome in their size and power, but they, too, have their limits. Seen from an historical perspective, the PRC is another dynasty, like the Tang or Ming, and one wonders how, without a spiritually galvanizing leader such as Mao Zedong at its head, it can maintain expansionist momentum. As the Chinese people give up the idealistic zeal that led armies of peasants to consolidate the country under their red flag, the masses will inevitably fall back toward the comfortable center, turning their efforts toward profit and pleasure while the barbarians on the outskirts of the empire grow ever bolder and more assertive.

I came across an essay titled "Politics and the English Language" a few days ago and read it before going to bed. It was written by Orwell in 1946, and remains relevant today. However, the examples he uses to make his point that indirect, vague and obfuscating prose has a real influence on our thought and use of language are stark compared to the problems we face today. I was born almost 30 years after World War II ended, and I have only recently begun to understand how dark those years were, including the years directly after the war. The dawn of the nuclear age, the revelations of slavery and mass murder in Europe as well as the USSR, the emergence of the Cold War — all were menacing clouds that rapidly overshadowed the joy of victory.

In the face of these horrors, Orwell advocates discipline in writing; a clear-minded portrayal of reality for the sake of humanity. Given his experience and the circumstances of the times, it isn’t surprising that there is a martial quality to his campaign for more effective and direct use of English. Above all, Orwell sees language as a tool that should be used in the service of mankind, so he deplores writing that "falls upon the facts like soft snow, blurring the outline and covering up all the details." Insincere and indirect writing are detriments to his cause - if not outright enemies - because they cloak barbarous threats to peace and decency in meaningless phrases that "anaesthetize a portion of one’s brain."

Orwell’s stern reminder of the consequences of language, its tendency to be abused and of the obligation to be vigilant against drifting into the semi-conscious lull of convention leaves the reader feeling like a new recruit facing a drill sergeant, and this must have been his intent. He was a soldier who understood the importance of discipline as well as the need to discard useless burdens, and he applies these rules to his art, which is created with a soldierly purpose. His explicit goal in the essay is the "defense of the English language," which he optimistically suggests is "probably curable."

Sadly, Orwell was fighting in vain. In the 62 years since he wrote Politics and the English Language his foes have only grown stronger, the phrases he deplored have not, for the most part, been rejected, and in the cruelest irony (for us — he probably knew it) some of his own metaphors have lost their edge from overuse. Even the academic writing he sampled to point out examples of abuse reads as fresh, clear and reasonable compared to most of the unreadable sludge that oozes out from university print shops today.

It may be that the upheavals and terror that Orwell’s generation survived are a precondition for the philosophical determination, devoid of fanciful illusions of chivalry, unwilling to be satisfied with mere gestures of speech, that characterizes his writing. And perhaps it was the same determination that brought the world back to war to settle the unfinished business of the Great War, and then to the brink of nuclear war, because to compromise after such sacrifice for convictions would have been unthinkable. In his writing, it is clear what we were fighting, and, from the perspective of the time, why we had to.

The soldiers of the 20th century, men who lived through disaster after disaster, turned the wisdom they gained from merely surviving the spasms of a world violently delivered into modernity toward the creation of a better world, and they succeeded. Their legacy, though wearing thin, remains, but their lessons are ignored if not forgotten. The grim determination, the profound understanding of the inevitability of consequences, and the philosophical depth gained from carrying on through that troubled century lie buried in graves marked with fading names.

In the written records left by the Lost Generation, one can still find the spirit of those lost days lingering like an old photograph in the yellowing, fragile pages of an ancient book. But even in their works of literature they were not effusive people, and subtlety is all but lost in our world of brilliant screens, blaring speakers and electronic communication, so we live our lives amidst a wilderness of light and sound, largely unconscious of the underlying ruins of their bygone civilization.

In Orwell’s writing, the degeneration of language itself becomes a metaphor for squandered gains, carelessness and the unconscious rush of the herd toward the edge of a cliff. His humanity compelled him to warn us and to fight against it, but the genius and tragedy of his vision was its prophecy.

Only an elite few are familiar with the exquisite pain that is gout, that "disease of kings" that strikes in the wee hours like a thief in the night, leaving its victim howling and cursing as he hops on one foot or hobbles to the medicine cabinet for a dose of painkillers.

Podagra, the most common manifestation of gout, strikes the big toe like a firm blow from a hammer, then hangs on and gnaws at the joint like an angry little beast with very sharp teeth. If the pain were a noise, it would be feedback emitted from a giant speaker at a rock concert; if it were light, it would be a laser to the retina. "Inflammation" is the term used to describe the physiological reaction that causes the pain, redness and swelling that accompany an acute attack of gout, and although appropriate for its association with burning and heat, perhaps "sustained nuclear fusion" would be a better term, as the afflicted joint feels as though it is being held to the surface of the sun.

Tiny, barbed crystals, shaped like jagged spears and formed by the precipitation of uric acid in synovial fluid, pierce cell walls and trigger the immune response that introduces the sufferer to an esoteric realm of pain; a brotherhood whose membership is ordinarily earned through years of diligent dedication to excess, and marked by this searing badge of honor.

One can’t blame the disease entirely on gluttony — it is after all far more prevalent in people with metabolic characteristics conducive to hyperuricemia (elevated serum uric acid), and strikes men at a far higher rate than women. However, the association of gout with the royal lifestyle and its unlikely number of highly accomplished victims has given it a certain status among diseases. If the sufferer is a hefty, ambitious executive with strong drive and a lust for power he can relate to King Henry VIII. A gouty political leader with influence spanning much of the world could ponder the life of Emperor Charles V, crippled by gout at a relatively young age from his voracious consumption of beer and insatiable appetite for beautiful Flemish ladies (it was long thought that gout never strikes men before they have enjoyed the physical pleasures of women). A tormented artist with a brilliant, creative mind, hobbling as he sets chisel to stone, can take solace in the fruitful travails of Michaelangelo, who labored on his masterpieces with a gouty knee. For gouty statesmen and inventors, there is Benjamin Franklin; for scientists Sir Isaac Newton, for writers Henry James, and the list goes on…

Regardless of its long, distinguished and exclusive pedigree, gout, like many other luxuries, has become increasingly available to the masses since the onset of modernity. Increasing body mass, more leisure and access to rich foods has precipitated a steady increase in its sufferers over recent decades. However, gout remains the affliction of a select elite — an elite whose members can limp about with distinction and pride, knowing that the sublime pain to which they subjected is only the duty collected on a life of pleasures both coarse and refined.