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Politics Short Essays TV and Film Writings

The Knights of Gamestop

Seems all I do now is write about coup attempts.

The last one was pitiful. The most recent one, however, is not.

Storming the gates of Congress doesn’t seem to have made a fraction of the impact of a much larger horde of barbarian traders outmaneuvering hedge fund managers. No action scenes from the Capitol, just pasty folks swiping smartphones, but all the classic takeovers were accomplished with coordinated bureaucrats, so it’s fitting.

The company, however, is not. Gamespot is an antiquated storefront that has no realistic value in 2021, or even early 2020, the last time when a responsible adult could walk into one without a face mask. Not that there was any reason to do so. Everything they sell can be gotten far easier and cheapest online, and most of the console gamers have moved online as well thanks to applications in their consoles. Their PC presence is long dead, too, thanks to Steam. Unlike board gaming, which actually has a sustainable niche model for a storefront, Gamespot has no more future than the 1995 Blockbuster store that Carol Danvers crashed into early in Captain Marvel. The name has nostalgia value, sure, but not at $300 a share.

But hey. I am all for a legal redistribution of funds from the rich to the poor. This suggests a glaring logical discrepancy, then, in the name of the company Robinhood, whose app had a hand in making the short squeeze happen. The mechanics of their suspension of trading seem to have more to do with a glaring lack of financial preparation for a run on a single stock than the guts to empower their user base, but that reputation hit was a doozy. Errol Flynn to Eric Idle in one press release. It’s hard to recover an edgy stance after having gallantly chickened out.

There are bigger coups out there, of course. Brave Sir Robin is only one of the many technological knights pursuing the Holy Grail of transforming all humans into electrical conduits for profit. Facebook and Twitter, having reduced Donald Trump to a limbless social media torso that cannot acknowledge its electoral defeat, are marching on, regardless of what progressive Europeans think of their elderberry-smelling policies. The would-be autonomous collectives currently propping up Gamestop are just peasants mucking about in the mud and dung. Arthur has his eyes on the prize; Lancelot, more on ancillary carnage. C’mon, map them to who you wish; it’s pretty easy.

Needless to say, the end of that film is its most fantastic and unrealistic element. Having summoned a ragged army from nowhere, the shit-covered Arthur announces a frontal assault on a castle in a bog without a single piece of siege equipment handy. Cue the constables, who quickly round him and the knights up, hustled possibly to asylum care.

Does anyone seriously think the boldest and most dogged antitrust lawsuits could accomplish this with Facebook or Twitter or Amazon? In our world, the castle has long fallen. We are not even the French guys on the battlements, clucking disapprovingly and launching a cow or two without much enthusiasm.

No. We’re the peasants in the muck, ineffectually whining about the arbitrary nature of authority. Meanwhile, well-organized corporations took what they wanted, mostly because we gave it to them freely, accepting the growing tech feudalism with more enthusiasm than any historical serf. Broadband internet, a LCD TV, a smartphone and a game console, and you can take whatever you want from us.

Still, the film and legends do have one thing in common. The quest is a pointless one that leads only to tragedy and farce. Seeking immortality or a technological singularity helps no one. Even Indiana Jones figured it out in The Last Crusade, choosing family over glory.

I wonder if the knights of Gamespot will figure it out, too, or they will be like the fools of the Jan. 6 riot, a rogue wave trying to shatter a hydroelectric dam. They will not be the ones sitting at the right hand and left hand of the throne of the coming kingdom. Those seats are currently reserved for Google and Facebook, with a long and largely predictable queue just behind.

But don’t bother looking in another castle, Mario. The princess isn’t in this one. Or any other.

Categories
Politics Short Essays Writings

The Selfie Coup

Earlier today, a few hundred yahoos in MAGA gear, QAnon paraphernalia, and a Confederate flag or two stormed the Capitol building, drove both houses of Congress into hiding, and thus disrupted the final counting of electoral votes to certify Biden as president. One of them was shot dead under hazy circumstances. I dub it the Selfie Coup, as nearly every shot of these fools has them taking one.

More precise details are still forthcoming as I write, though I’m happy to note that Congress has reconvened to finish the electoral process, the Democrats won both Senate races in Georgia, and talk of impeachment and the 25th amendment have returned.

Some things are painfully clear already:

1) This wouldn’t have happened without two full months of instigation by Trump and his many enablers and sycophants since November 3th, not to mention well before;

2) This wouldn’t have happened without Twitter, Facebook, and every other social media organization sitting on their hands as their tech was used to organize and whip up emotion around a fantasy of a stolen election;

3) This wouldn’t have happened without Trump’s usual nonsensical rally speech in Washington earlier in the day, calling for his supporters to march on the Capitol building with a nod and a wink to white supremacy;

4) This wouldn’t have happened if the capitol police had defended the perimeter of the building adequately, though it’s not clear yet if they withdrew tactically because they were outnumbered, because some sympathized with the assault, because the protesters were white instead black, or they just completely dropped the ball. The fallout there is going to be really interesting.

5) Every well-photographed idiot looting the building or attempting a Monty Python skit on the Senate floor has an interesting future ahead of them, though I suspect many were not exactly gainfully employed beforehand.

Putting those four points aside, the Selfie Coup has changed the political game.

Trump deliberately placed both houses of Congress in mortal danger, including all of his stubborn Republican supporters (six of which just voted against the electoral results tonight!) by sitting on his hands for two hours in the White House during the assault on the building, even if I discounted the speech that incited the riot. Even when he finally spoke by Twitter and video, he somehow forgot to call for the arrest of those that attacked and looted the U.S. Captiol. Whoops.

Pence, on the other hand, finally took charge, perhaps sometime after noticing that the Secret Service had carried him out of the building. And thus the National Guard was called without Trump’s input, and Congress reconvened later in the day.

Now, if I was a Republican congressperson or senator, I’d be looking to Pence, not Trump, to cover my hide. McConnell has finally folded on the election because of Georgia, which diminishes him for at least two years if not permanently, and Pence already was forced to split with Trump earlier today given his ceremonial Senate President role. Trump has nowcast his small and ineffectual mob at his enemies and allies alike; if I’m looking around for cover before the next logical but fruitless step of martial law, Pence is the only game left in town.

I wish I could say Trump is not capable of trying to invoke a military takeover. But that worry is moot. If Pence did indeed summon the Guard today as news outlets claim, which he does not constitutionally have the right to do, then he is the de facto acting President already and Defense will look to him for orders, not Trump. Thus a resignation, removal by the 25th, or a second impeachment, all of which would be justified, are unnecessary.

We just have to grit our teeth for two more weeks.

But the woman that was shot dead? It’s too late for her.

Categories
Argumentation Politics Short Essays Writings

The Dark Mark and the Fantasy Theme

In J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books, all of the hardcore inner-circle followers of Voldemort, the so-called Death Eaters, have a permanent brand on their left forearm, the Dark Mark. It serves as a perverse badge of honor and a way for Voldy to summon them to him quickly, or vice versa.

All the DE are second-rate henchmen at best, of course; Harry and a bunch of kids defeat their entire lineup in book five, and they only start racking up kills at the end when Voldy was right there with them at the height of his power. Not much more than vanilla stormtroopers talking trash while Vader does the carving. Ron’s mom took out Lestrange by herself, and without Voldy as a foci for their pettiness, they collapsed. Survivors got a date with the Dementors; the Malfoys turned, as the most inept and cowardly of the bunch, and were pardoned.

But the Marks remained, even just as a scar that no longer burned.

I imagine it made for some awkward conversations in public, assuming they ventured out at all after the war. Did Draco Malfoy simply deny if asked that he was once a Death Eater? Maybe he just stuck to long-sleeved shirts? Perhaps he simply hung out with his former toadies and moaned about the good old days. Or he turned a new leaf and stopped being an ass. But even without permanent physical proof of his sworn loyalty to the Dark Lord, I’d think it would be the first thing on anyone’s mind when interacting with him. A lifetime of benign philanthropy would help, of course, but he’d always be the ineffectual bully who agreed to kill Dumbledore, even if he ultimately refused and his family cruelly manipulated him.

The election is what made me think of this.

Imagine if after Harry zapped the freshly Horcrux-bereft Dark Lord with the Elder Wand, Voldy managed to file multiple lawsuits claiming the Elder Wand was stolen and rightfully his, making his death technically impossible and leaving his existence in magical limbo, even though Draco Malfoy’s ineptitude, Neville’s prophecy, and a half-ton of heroics made it very possible.

The wizarding world then pauses indefinitely to allow the suits to play out; the now incorporeal Voldy summons all of his remaining Death Eaters via their Marks, who insist they really won the war despite being powerless, and the word spreads. The Daily Prophet attempts to point out the truth, but with its reputation in tatters after being taken over by the Death Eater-run Ministry of Magic during the war, few minds are changed. Fake news. Harry is flummoxed; rather than return to the status quo, he retains the Elder Wand just in case, maintaining a permanent epistemic cold war where Hogwarts both won the Second Wizarding War and lost it, depending on who’s talking.

In a weird way, a version of this scenario essentially what starts the Potterverse – Voldy being killed by his own spell, but refusing to die and plotting to return with the help of his inane followers.

This is all of course nonsense, even by the standards of a work of fantasy. Trump lost the election and the election wasn’t rigged in every battleground state in a massive conspiracy that necessarily would need the active, enthusiastic, and sworn-silent cooperation of hundreds of Republican officials, and any solid evidence otherwise would make any investigative reporter’s career.

And yet it is quite popular to believe otherwise because there is an emotional truth that supports that belief, and that emotional truth rests secure and invincible within a narrative shared between Trump and his supporters.

It is not as simple as a discreet Q pin or a MAGA hat or even the standard dog whistle phrasing and GOP talking points.

It’s a fantasy theme.

Fantasy themes are an old idea in rhetorical theory, related closely to narrative and social movement criticism.

The concept works thusly.

All humans don’t like bad news. Rather than deal with it directly and honestly, we tend to rationalize it. And when we rationalize bad news, we create a new mental narrative, a fantasy theme, that allows the rationalization to keep going.

The longer the rationalization keeps going, the stronger it gets and the more bad (and good) news it sweeps into its growing storyline. Confirmation bias is a closely related concept, as any incoming data is explained as part of the fantasy theme in a way that does not threaten the theme itself.

I am familiar with how this works not because I have some deep insight into Trump supporters. I am familiar with how this works because I have a deeply anxious personality that I am not always successful at working around; I thus alternate between deep dives into fantasy-theme thinking and cold rationality. I’m not alone in this.

Anxiety is an extremely fertile ground for fantasy theme development. In fact, it’s the only place, I believe, the worst fantasy themes can really take off.

Everyone uses fantasy themes, of course. Many are helpful and useful. My son thinks, for example, that I can fix anything and that I’m the greatest dad in the world. Both beliefs are completely and utterly false but this illusion protects him and lets him learn the value of trust and attachment, but I have to keep up my end to make that happen. He will discard these beliefs, of course, when he’s a teenager, and form another about how mindbogglingly stupid I am, only to discard that one around 25 or so. And so it goes.

Trump is anxious too. His supporters are as well. Many fear they are going to lose something if he does not get another term. Rather than confront this fear directly and form a coherent plan about future elections that involves the rest of the country’s wants, though, the wild west nature of half the internet combined with the wear and tear on the reputation of media outlets that fed Trump oxygen for years has given Trump voters a spectacular outlet for their anxiety.

So weird claims abound, and some days, even Fox News looks reasonable.

These claims don’t need to make much sense to fit into the shared illusion. They need only raise questions, and more questions, poking and prodding like a kid asking “why?” over and over, until the only answer is “I told you so,” the last argument of parents and the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

There is no external argument to be made to a fantasy theme. It is completely self-sustaining and spreads easily, much like Covid. However, I do know of one thing that can shatter the hold of a fantasy theme.

Pretty much every postmodern novel since 1950 concerns itself with this question. The characters are enmeshed in a comfortable fantasy theme of some sort that avoids some structural unpleasantness in their lives and society. They grow uneasy and question the nature of reality and modernism. This conflict is brought to a head through some kind of violent act that kicks the protagonist into a new perspective that usually involves a spiritual reconnect to a supposed higher plane, though whatever form this new viewpoint takes, it’s really just another fantasy theme.

Perhaps a personal reckoning with reality isn’t enough anymore.

The center cannot hold, sure, but de-centering doesn’t seem to be holding very well lately, either, if people dying of Covid are refusing to believe they have Covid, a vaccine for a pandemic is seen as the problem, and gutting democracy is preferable to a one-term Democratic president, a critical alliance with Europe, better health care, and treating people that are not white as human beings with rights and dreams and value.

1860 comes to mind, when despite every slave state that eventually seceded having left Lincoln off the federal ballot, their inhabitants felt justified in declaring the union a tyranny.

But I’m being alarmist. There is nothing new under the sun, including saying there is nothing new under the sun.

At the height of classical Greece, a jury of 500 men in the world’s most famous democracy sentenced the most famous philosopher in the Western world to death for the crime of being really annoying. Richard Weaver, one of the few deans of Southern agrarian conservatism (and a noted rhetorician) once wrote a essay where he argued Socrates’s death sentence was just and deserved, as his open questioning of all of the Athenian sacred cows was a direct threat to the integrity of their culture. To allow him to wander the agora and speak to their inability to defend their arbitrary values could not be allowed to continue.

Weaver thus showcased the ultimate core value of conservatism – the preservation of a preferred culture in suspended political amber, the ironic elektron. The particulars are surprisingly unimportant compared to the steadiness of the refusal to move. Any inconsistencies or injustices or inhumanities are excusable as long as that central principle of culture in suspended animation is preserved.

Physics tells us that even the coldest atom is still vibrating with potential, but Weaver’s philosophy seems to take even that slow-motion quiver as a potential problem to be kept in check.

Refusal to acknowledge the election is over is, then, a massive and powerful fantasy theme of conservationism – a spectacular kind of shared hallucination that no change has happened. The silent majority triumphed. Four more years. Nothing to see here. All indications otherwise are fake news.

I am afraid, though, is that when that hallucination ends, one way or another, memories may fade and forgiveness may be doled out on an individual basis, but the internet has largely lost the ability to forget. This fantasy theme was recorded.

Every op-ed and Facebook post and tweet and text and letter and email insisting the election was rigged and Covid is just the flu and Trump is almost ready to finally destroy the deep state and launch an thousand-year reign of white civilization is now a permanent part of individual histories.

January 20 rolls around soon, and when it does, the Dark Marks will remain. They will not fade to scars. Slipping on a henley will not conceal them when anyone with a smartphone and half a brain can do a quick search.

Of course, in America, no conspiracy theorists rot in Azkaban. They will continue to roam the expanded agora, unlike Socrates, as long as they are peaceful. America remains more mature than Athens ever was, allowing even the dimmest philosophers and prophets to hold forth. The marketplace of ideas eventually devalues intellectual stock that bears no profit.

The Malfoys that tap out beforehand – and there is still plenty of time remaining – will rejoin and work with the centrist and center-left folks, as they always have, to build and grow the world. Perhaps they will cast themselves as victims of temporary insanity. It will be awkward. Second acts always are. But there is plenty of room for Slytherins in the world. Some of them have even been known to teach at Hogwarts.