(no subject)
Mornin' all.
Iraqi Death Toll
So 40,000 or 655,000 or, I dunno, eleven, this is what happens when war becomes part of daily life. The problem is, we can pick and choose our stats. Big fan of the war? Choose the 'optimistic' 40,000. Feel aggrieved with the Western world? We have this nice, slightly round -- but not too round -- 655,000 here for you, bargain price.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/6040054.stm?ls
Once war becomes part of everyday reality, it's impossible to determine if there is even a death that isn't connected, whether directly or indirectly, to the war. When war is all around you, all the dead are war dead. Power cut in a hospital and someone's respirator goes off? War dead. Medicines can't get through because of military blockades? War dead. Poor sanitation and poor nutrition undermine a child's immunity to disease and he or she dies of something mundane? War dead.
There isn't a single person in Iraq who has died in the last 3 1/2 years whose demise is not connected to the war, and I accept this and believe it, but are we so clueless that we need to be told this sort of thing? Are we so inured to news that we need to clutch stats for dear life, and now new kinds of statistics? Once we start to take things to the 'indirect' level, we become more aware of the complex web of the world we live in, but we also become less able to get our heads around the numbers. Everyone in Iraq who has died in the last 3 1/2 years has died in a country where war is there, every day. Even if it wasn't just outside the door, the spectre of it, the possibility of it, were there when they went to bed at night, there when they got up in the morning, and there as they let out a last breath. My own problem, I suppose, is that I'm less affected by the 655,000 than I feel I should be. This isn't because I can't accept that all deaths in a war-torn country are war-related, but because I'm not particularly moved by statistics in the first place. And there's no better way to devalue human life than by making a person into a number.
Anyway, I'm not sure what my point is, except that I'm tired of statistics. I'd be interested to see how you could apply the same formula to the US: how many Americans have died as an indirect result of the Iraq war? How many people who lost their jobs or their health insurance or their homes, died prematurely, or in more pain than they should have? How about New Orleans, the people who died as a direct result of the National Guard equipment having been sent to Iraq for hurricane season, or the money for the breached levees being diverted to fund the war? How about the people whose increasingly appalling living situations as a result of the hurricane, are not going to live very long? Or are simply going to be miserable? Do we only care about the dead? What about people who worked for Enron and lost their pensions, and have to work past 65, forgoing retirement, maybe working themselves to death? What about people whose financial situations led someone in the family to enlist in the army and head off to Iraq? What about people whose poverty, as a result of the economic policies brought about by the financial burden of the Iraq war, has caused them to have poor nutrition, become morbidly obese and die of obesity-related illnesses?
This is my problem, maybe my point, maybe I just need more coffee. A statistic looks like an end result. 40,000 might tell us how many people have died as a direct result of the war, and we are left to extrapolate out what the knock-on effects are. 655,000 tells us nothing. It tells us that someone used different criteria for counting, but once you start to try to account for indirect effects, stopping arbitrarily is to do a disservice, to leave people with the impression that you've counted them all. The 600,000 or 655,000 or whatever is not attempting -- as far as I can tell -- to account for the indirect deaths as a result of poor infrastructure, and rather the generalised violence that has been caused by the war, but I'm still uneasy. Maybe I do just need another cup of coffee, but I guess my point -- if I have one -- is that when we focus only on the dead, we leave out completely the reality of life during war, a reality almost none of us understand now, or ever will (I hope): the living are the ones who are fucked.
Ack, I really don't have a point. More coffee, please.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Recorded two segments for Viewfinder last night. A comedy disaster! Lost a page of my notes somewhere between, um, my hand and R's car, and speaking of stats, they were my page of stats for one of the topics, which was women in film. Luckily, I remembered some. And then I didn't really use any anyway. Got in there, phone problems, then more recording problems, and then things had to be re-recorded, and then recorded a half-decent review, which turns out to have fed back the entire time. Second go was definitely unsatisfactory. That's the problem with pre-recording, I always walk out thinking, "Oh, if only I'd said '[insert much snappier line here]'." Live, I don't mind. I never say things the way I want to, but I wash my hands of the whole affair as soon as I walk out. Pre-record me and I'm haunted by my own bumbling inarticulacy for approximately the rest of my life.
Segment on Women in Film did not match my notes. Rambled far too much. Had much more interesting stuff to say, but stupidly, that all stayed on the pages in front of me while a whole load of bullshit came out of my mouth. Ack. But see, if it'd been live, I don't think I'd have so much of a problem. It would have been the same, but of course, I wouldn't have minded. Anyway, we didn't finish up until after 11, after which there was beer and gabbing without having to worry about levels or mics or whatnot.
Okay. I really have nothing to say. I do, but I can't make it come out of my brain. My brain just wants more coffee and tells me that I should not have three bowls of cereal in one go.
Iraqi Death Toll
So 40,000 or 655,000 or, I dunno, eleven, this is what happens when war becomes part of daily life. The problem is, we can pick and choose our stats. Big fan of the war? Choose the 'optimistic' 40,000. Feel aggrieved with the Western world? We have this nice, slightly round -- but not too round -- 655,000 here for you, bargain price.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/6040054.stm?ls
Once war becomes part of everyday reality, it's impossible to determine if there is even a death that isn't connected, whether directly or indirectly, to the war. When war is all around you, all the dead are war dead. Power cut in a hospital and someone's respirator goes off? War dead. Medicines can't get through because of military blockades? War dead. Poor sanitation and poor nutrition undermine a child's immunity to disease and he or she dies of something mundane? War dead.
There isn't a single person in Iraq who has died in the last 3 1/2 years whose demise is not connected to the war, and I accept this and believe it, but are we so clueless that we need to be told this sort of thing? Are we so inured to news that we need to clutch stats for dear life, and now new kinds of statistics? Once we start to take things to the 'indirect' level, we become more aware of the complex web of the world we live in, but we also become less able to get our heads around the numbers. Everyone in Iraq who has died in the last 3 1/2 years has died in a country where war is there, every day. Even if it wasn't just outside the door, the spectre of it, the possibility of it, were there when they went to bed at night, there when they got up in the morning, and there as they let out a last breath. My own problem, I suppose, is that I'm less affected by the 655,000 than I feel I should be. This isn't because I can't accept that all deaths in a war-torn country are war-related, but because I'm not particularly moved by statistics in the first place. And there's no better way to devalue human life than by making a person into a number.
Anyway, I'm not sure what my point is, except that I'm tired of statistics. I'd be interested to see how you could apply the same formula to the US: how many Americans have died as an indirect result of the Iraq war? How many people who lost their jobs or their health insurance or their homes, died prematurely, or in more pain than they should have? How about New Orleans, the people who died as a direct result of the National Guard equipment having been sent to Iraq for hurricane season, or the money for the breached levees being diverted to fund the war? How about the people whose increasingly appalling living situations as a result of the hurricane, are not going to live very long? Or are simply going to be miserable? Do we only care about the dead? What about people who worked for Enron and lost their pensions, and have to work past 65, forgoing retirement, maybe working themselves to death? What about people whose financial situations led someone in the family to enlist in the army and head off to Iraq? What about people whose poverty, as a result of the economic policies brought about by the financial burden of the Iraq war, has caused them to have poor nutrition, become morbidly obese and die of obesity-related illnesses?
This is my problem, maybe my point, maybe I just need more coffee. A statistic looks like an end result. 40,000 might tell us how many people have died as a direct result of the war, and we are left to extrapolate out what the knock-on effects are. 655,000 tells us nothing. It tells us that someone used different criteria for counting, but once you start to try to account for indirect effects, stopping arbitrarily is to do a disservice, to leave people with the impression that you've counted them all. The 600,000 or 655,000 or whatever is not attempting -- as far as I can tell -- to account for the indirect deaths as a result of poor infrastructure, and rather the generalised violence that has been caused by the war, but I'm still uneasy. Maybe I do just need another cup of coffee, but I guess my point -- if I have one -- is that when we focus only on the dead, we leave out completely the reality of life during war, a reality almost none of us understand now, or ever will (I hope): the living are the ones who are fucked.
Ack, I really don't have a point. More coffee, please.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Recorded two segments for Viewfinder last night. A comedy disaster! Lost a page of my notes somewhere between, um, my hand and R's car, and speaking of stats, they were my page of stats for one of the topics, which was women in film. Luckily, I remembered some. And then I didn't really use any anyway. Got in there, phone problems, then more recording problems, and then things had to be re-recorded, and then recorded a half-decent review, which turns out to have fed back the entire time. Second go was definitely unsatisfactory. That's the problem with pre-recording, I always walk out thinking, "Oh, if only I'd said '[insert much snappier line here]'." Live, I don't mind. I never say things the way I want to, but I wash my hands of the whole affair as soon as I walk out. Pre-record me and I'm haunted by my own bumbling inarticulacy for approximately the rest of my life.
Segment on Women in Film did not match my notes. Rambled far too much. Had much more interesting stuff to say, but stupidly, that all stayed on the pages in front of me while a whole load of bullshit came out of my mouth. Ack. But see, if it'd been live, I don't think I'd have so much of a problem. It would have been the same, but of course, I wouldn't have minded. Anyway, we didn't finish up until after 11, after which there was beer and gabbing without having to worry about levels or mics or whatnot.
Okay. I really have nothing to say. I do, but I can't make it come out of my brain. My brain just wants more coffee and tells me that I should not have three bowls of cereal in one go.