You Kant Do That on a Blog, Part III of III

By Observation Deck * Other Observation Desk Posts

As unbelievable as it sounds, I have survived my first semester of 1L year of law school – although barely. Even more unbelievably, I have returned to complete my tri-partide epic about Kant.

As promised, this part is supposed to be about applying Kant’s categorical imperative – but this may be a harder task even than understanding its philosophical underpinnings.

Let’s start with one hypothetical and go from there. I was riding home from work on the subway (some of you may know it as the “metro,” the “tube,” or even the “iron-bellied subterranean beast”) when some old lady gave me a really hard time about not giving up my seat to her. I have nothing against old ladies and the truth was that I didn’t see her. This got me thinking about whether Kant’s categorical imperative required me to give up my seat to this old lady. What immediately occurred to me was how complex an application of the categorical imperative would be in something as simple and mundane as this.

Let’s just start with the first formulation – that we should act “only according to that maxim whereby we can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.” Seems straightforward, doesn’t it? Not so fast. It seems that we may get conflicting answers depending on how we defined this “maxim.” For example, if I defined the maxim as “we should always yield our seat to someone older than us,” this would seem to require that I give up my seat to the old lady. But could I “universalize” this maxim? What if I were handicapped and there was a fully healthy, non-elderly person who just so happens to be older than me? Would I be required by my maxim to yield my seat to him? Doesn’t this seem a little intuitively strange – to require a handicapped person to yield his seat to a healthy person who happens to be older?

What about if I changed the maxim a little, say something like this – “we should always yield our seat to someone who is weaker than us.” This seems to work – I would be required to yield my seat to the old lady but not if I were handicapped or otherwise weaker than her. But there is still a problem -- what if we tried universalizing this maxim as Kant asks us to do? Wouldn’t everyone on the train be required to give their seat to someone who is weaker than them? So let’s say, I followed the maxim and gave the seat to the old lady, wouldn’t she also have the duty to look for someone else who may be even weaker than she were. If she found such a person and gave him/her her (I would use "that seat" to avoid the her her repetition) seat, wouldn’t that third person be required to look for a person even weaker than him/her? Wouldn’t this sort of degenerate into absurdity if everyone were required to look for a person weaker than them to give their seat to every time they wanted to sit down on the subway? It appears that universalizing this maxim leads to absurd results, something that would, under Kant, make the maxim void as a “universal law” for us to follow.

What about the second formulation – the requirement for us to only act in such a way that we “treat humanity, whether in our own person or in the person of any other, always at the same time as an end and never merely as a means to an end? Let’s use the same seat-yielding example as above. At first, there doesn’t seem to be any problems. In yielding the seat, I am clearly acting in such as way that treats the old lady as an end in herself and not as a means to an end. Or am I?

Whenever we act, there may be a whole host of reasons, many of which we may not even recognize as reasons, that motivates us. In the example above, I might have acted to yield my seat because I felt guilty when she started asking for the seat. I might have acted because I didn’t want to get disproving stares from other passengers. I might have acted because I wanted to impress the cute girl sitting next to me. Or there may even be some motivation for yielding my seat that I myself am not aware of. If any of these ulterior reasons motivated me to yield my seat, wouldn’t I be using the old lady as a means to an end – to assuage my own guilt, avoid disapproval from other passengers, impress the cute girl, or some other end I desire that has nothing to do with the old lady or the yielding of the seat in themselves. This example isn’t specific to this situation either – nearly every decision I make can be motivated by any number of reasons. Therefore, applying Kant’s second formulation of the categorical imperative seems to ask us to consider our own thoughts and conform our decisions about when and how to act according to essentially subjective judgments. Yet this goes against the foundational principle of Kant’s categorical imperative – that morality – whether a particular action is justified – is inherently objective and not subjective. Hmmmmm…

That only leaves us with the third formulation. The problem is, I don’t think anyone understands what Kant means when he says that we should “act as if we were through our maxim always a legislating member in the universal kingdom of ends.” I think what Kant is trying to say is that we should try to universalize the action in question and see if this would lead to irrational, impossible, or self-contradicting results. Going once again back to our seating-yielding, I’ve already mentioned above one possible reason why universalizing the maxim may lead to absurd results. Looking at this problem, one might conclude that universalizing the maxim may be impossible and therefore that the maxim is therefore void under the third formulation.

Alternatively, however, one might also conclude that the practical concerns are not actually fatal – for example, we could still imagine a hypothetical system through which it would be very easy to figure out exactly who is weaker than whom and who should yield their seat to whom. Under such a hypothetical system, universalizing the maxim would not lead to impossible results and the maxim would thereby serve as a fine moral law for people to follow. This reveals another difficulty with applying Kant’s categorical imperative to real world decisions – people often differ on what they consider to be “impossible,” “irrational,” “self-contradicting,” or even what are “means” and what are “ends.” Kant’s moral philosophy fundamentally presupposes some singular objective benchmark at which all human beings can arrive through rational thought. The flaw with this assumption is that objective rational thought is often still dependent on subjective concepts or definitions – sure we may all rationally agree that the earth is “round,” but we may differ on what the definition of “round” is.

At the end of the day, I don’t really know how I feel about Kant’s categorical imperative. Part of me has been and will probably always be fascinated by its clarity, its simplicity, and its search for a unifying theory. But part of me also questions its inflexible obsession with absoluteness -- isn’t moral flexibility sometimes useful when circumstances change or arise to which we need to recalibrate our moral beliefs? I guess that’s the hallmark of a good philosophical theory – the fact that it never ceases to provoke more questions, push more boundaries, and demand more of the people that study it.

Oh, and I did not give up my seat to the old lady in the end, because I wanted to universalize this lesson – though duty may be sublime, a sense of entitlement is most definitely not.

Chapter 1

2009 was marked by a myriad of developments that left us craving smaller bites of information.  Through Google reader and iPhone apps we got headlines and snippets to satisfy our data hunger.  Twitter speak limted us to 140 characters and drove an Iranian uprising.   Obama's first year in office could be credited from an internet campaign that generated a grassroots base. 

 

Around the Couch was founded in part to combat this trend.  Longer essays allow us as writers and readers to grapple with complex ideas in our complex world.  Hopefully, you enjoyed the ride thus far and thank you for reading and, to the team, for writing. 

 

Sure it was also founded to tell stories about first encounters with excessive amounts of alcohol, avoiding grime in the streets of manhattan, and comic book heroes. 

 

But one gets sentimental around birthdays.

 

Happy 1st Birthday Around the Couch. 

The Best Video Game of 2009

By Josh Cain * Other Josh Cain Posts

              Before I submit to you my selection for the best video game of 2009, I want to clarify that I am not judging by the normal video game standards such as graphics, game play, story, or even multiplayer.  As a hardcore gamer, I recognize that Assassin’s Creed 2 is far more beautiful, Batman: Arkham Asylum more innovative, Uncharted 2 more engaging, and Modern Warfare 2 more addictive than my favorite game of last year. All that being said, New Super Mario Bros. Wii defeats the competition in what is perhaps the most critical category of all: You can play it with girls. 

              To say that girls suck at video games is a gross generalization. I myself have had the pleasure of playing Halo against the Frag Dolls, a team of legitimately attractive professional female gamers, and while for the most part I slaughtered them like a wolf among lambs, some actually gave me a run for my money. Also, the number of female gamers has dramatically increased in recent years as Nintendo has released a steady supply of quality titles encouraging players to play with puppies and not get fat. Therefore, I am in no way trying to be misogynistic when I say that most girls, when handed a controller, are incapable of fragging noobs or landing sick 15-hit combos. In truth, “girl” could just as easily be “old man” (over the age of 35) or any other person who didn’t grow up with a controller in their hand and who, unlike me, is more comfortable moving and looking around using their body rather than two joysticks.

              When I tell girls that I’m super into video games, they usually stop talking to me. Those who are too drunk or desperate to leave invariably try to engage me by telling me that they haven’t played a game since Mario Brothers, but they really liked that. mildly abrupt transition.  Josh’s Law: every girl on Earth has, at some point, played Mario Brothers. This simple fact makes New Super Mario Brothers Wii instantly accessible to the Non-gamer sex. Even if there is some crazy circumstance in which she has never played Mario, the inherent simplicity of being able to say, “Here are two buttons. Move to the right, jump, and try not to die” means that anyone can pick it up and play. 

                Rock Band is the only other game that comes close to being as female friendly, but I don’t really count it as a “video game” in the traditional sense of the word. Mario has levels, power-ups, bosses – in short, it’s an honest to God video game…and GIRLS will play it with you! It used to be that if I invited a girl back to my place to “play video games” it was equivalent to crudely propositioning her for sex as we would both find the idea of actually PLAYING games upon reaching my room laughable. One time in college I brought a girl home under these pretenses not realizing the guy I shared my room with was working on a paper and I had to suffer through actually playing a game with the girl. Suffice it to say I never saw her again. 

              The joy of the new Mario is that it has something for everybody. To the hardcore gamers reading this, realize that while the lady friend that you somehow managed to lure into your home is enjoying the cute characters, accessible gameplay and nostalgia of the game, you can be appreciating the legitimately challenging levels, hidden items, and upgraded gameplay features. You’ll also both get a kick out of the penguin suit, but for entirely different reasons. The key element that differentiates Mario from the competition, however, is the key word that I keep using - “with.” Mario Wii is the first in the series to be truly multi-player, and it is an amazing experience. To imagine it, think of Mario 3, then think of Mario 3 with two people playing at the SAME TIME. If you’re reading this sentence you didn’t do it right, because if you did YOUR HEAD WOULD EXPLODE. The fact that you can have four people going at once makes it all the more phenomenal. Depending on your skill level, you can either be relying on your teammates to save you when you’re about to die or revel in the added challenge of having people jump on your head and throw shells at you when you’re trying to time a critical jump. 

            Growing up, one of my favorite things to do was have people over for an afternoon to play games, hang out, and eat pizza. I still enjoy doing this, but as I’ve matured I’ve begun actually talking to women and, as such, have developed female friends. Until Mario Wii came along, I was not able to share this most essential of bonding experiences, the play date, with 50% of my friends. Now, thanks to Mario, I can feel comfortable inviting girls over to play a game without them thinking I’m trying to seduce them. For this reason alone, I award Mario the top prize of 2009. Also it’s ridiculously fun.

Traditional By-products

By ned * Other ned Posts
 
The holiday season encourages a variety of activities that inertia would otherwise cause us to ignore or avoid. We all tend to look at our bank balances in early January only to feel like a ho-ho-ho as unexpected gifts and splurges take their toll (the Yule Log dvd excluded). We fill our homes with green despite it being a stark season. We interact with family members close, distant, delightful and curmudgeon.

By-products though of the forced family interactions are the stories that come up about your fore-bearers that otherwise would go unnoticed. We hear stories that we would probably sooner forget of our grandparent and parents in their twenties. Vivid descriptions of times spent on family retreats or at a relative's home that predates your birth or ability to experience. Personality flaws and strengths are exposed of adults that were overlooked when we were idolizing children - ultimately making the connection and bonds we share stronger.

Coupled with these traditions are those of another mortal construct, the end of the college football season. This past weekend bowl bound programs finally stamped their tickets and fans and players of the other teams forgot the completed season even happened. Akin to honored family gatherings, the bowl system itself grows organically and justifies itself on tradition. Although the bowls the spoils of a season, perhaps more tradition rich are the rivalry games that take place at the end of each season before bowl selection Sunday. If you grew up in Columbus, Ohio; Auburn, Alabama; New Haven, Connecticut; Corvallis, Oregon or a host of other college towns you would be hard pressed to disagree with me.

Family stories and college football rivalry games became intertwined for me this year at the Thanksgiving table. My mother shared with us her account of her first Yale-Harvard football game, aka The Game, and meeting my father's college buddies for the first time. The course of the actual day were fine, but leading up to the event my mom was concerned about what she had gotten herself into.

Ms. Porter, another product of Columbus, grew up on the traditions of Ohio State football games, an environment where wholesome midwestern tailgating food, beer and values blended with sitting next to a father swearing at silver helmets. She assumed though that Yale-Harvard (best read with your nose in the air and an ascot around your neck) might require a different approach. Wanting to make a good impression, she was open to advice on how to conduct herself.

"So, what should i wear to the game?" my mother asked a high school friend who was one of the first women to attend Yale.

"Do you have a fur coat?"

Startled, the future Mrs. Young responded "I guess I can get one out of storage, but I have a leather jacket."

"Well, I guess that will do."

With one conversation, my mother was now expecting to have to find her place in a setting straight out of a New Yorker cartoon next to the likes of Montgomery Burns - quite a change from the sweatshirt clad crew in the Horseshoe. Unfortunately, the concern about being a fish out of water was only exasperated when she picked up a nice tureen as elegant tailgating food to impress.

"Oh, this will be perfect for the Yale-Harvard game," the cook exclaimed. Just what she wanted to hear to goad on her fears.

Like my father, I ended up becoming a son of Eli. But despite this legacy status, I think my experience with The Game is more like my mother's. My class was the first class since the war, with that war being the Great War, to never experience a Yale victory. The only reason that that class did not see the bulldogs victorious was because they did not play the game in 1919. Like my mother, my experience with The Game was somewhat rocky. However in the end, we both came out winners - perhaps for reasons we did not initially anticipate.

Sitting at us at the Thanksgiving table as she recounted this story were close friends who were at my mother's first Yale game, one of my father's college roommates and his family who have been coming to our Thanksgiving for years. Despite that bumpy start, my mother has gotten personal friendships with impact and depth beyond the Yale Bowl. That maybe the moral of these cold weather traditions: through Thanksgivings, Christmas Mornings, football games or playing catch, the traditions of sport and holidays both force us to behave differently and in a group setting. The end result is not the traditions themselves but a greater connection with the past and with each other. In this way, traditions are more of a vehicle for interpersonal connection than celebrations of the event of the moment.

However that point does have its exceptions. For instance, there is the exception of how I ended up benefiting from the Yale-Harvard game. I ended up witnessing a victory despite the result on the field. But not on the football field. But by having my class get the last word over hahvahd in my senior year game.



Happy Holidays and Bow Wow Wow!

Mixtape Mondays - Best of 2009

The contributors of ATC thought long and hard. After a few games of darts and rock, paper scissors, we each assembled our lists of best songs of 2009.  Here is the synthesis of those lists.  Enjoy! Other suggestions welcome!

Music Playlist at MixPod.com

If issues here is a link to the playlist - http://www.mixpod.com/playlist/37408181

*****

List of the songs included and occasional rationale as to our thinking:

* Passion Pit - "Folds in your Hands" - Song of the year according to one contributor
* Flight of the Conchords - "Carol Brown" - "obligatory fotc song.  my favorite of last season"
* KiD CuDi - "Simple As "
* Cursive - "From The Hips"  

* Suckers - "It Gets Your Body Movin' (Alternate Version)" 

* Los Campesinos! - "The Sea Is A Good Place To Think Of The Future"

* Throw Me the Statue - "Hi-Fi Goon" 

* Juelz Santana feat. Yelawolf - "Mixing Up The Medicine (Main)"

* Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros - "Om Nashi Me"

* A Camp - "Boys Keep Swinging"
* Kirby Krackle - "Ring Capacity"
* Sondre Lerche - "Heartbeat Radio"
* Weezer - "(If You Are Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To"
* MSTRKRFT - "Heartbreaker"
* Parry Gripp - "The Girl at the Videogame Store"
* Royksopp - "The Girl and the Robot"
* Wilco - "You Never Know"
* St. Vincent - "Laughing with a Mouth of Blood"
* The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - "Young Adult Friction"
* Neko Case - "People Got A Lot Of Nerve"
* The Flaming Lips - "The Sparrow Looks Up At The Machine"* Dirty Projector - "Two Doves"
* Dananananaykroyd - "Some Dresses"
* Bill Callahan - "Too Many Birds"
* Andrew Bird - "Masterswarm"

Wanted to include but the program we use has limited reach:

* The Very Best Warm Heart of Africa - "Yalira"
* J.Period & K'NAAN - "Don't Think Twice (Messengers Remix)" 
* Jim Johnston - "Oh Radio"
* The Mountain Goats - "Matthew 25:21"

I'm accustomed to a smooth ride

By ned * Other ned Posts

Certain musicians craft lyrics fitting to comfort the uneasiness of a particular moment. For me, one artist has showcased this talent repeatedly without my searching him out to do so. There is no doubt of Paul Simon’s acclaim as poetic lyricist supreme, but I would like to add one more accolade to his resume – troubadour of serendipitous soothing.


In regards to social relevance, the moments have gone been beyond stumbling on "The Only Living Boy in New York" while jogging through Manhattan to blow off some steam. I first noticed this skill when I saw him perform at Yale’s Tercentenniel celebration in the fall of 2001. The occasion glorified a history of achievement of a grand institution but felt at times surreal and out of touch with the mood of times; the dust had not settled on tragedy 80 miles away in lower Manhattan. The ceremony was out of touch that is until honorary Yale grad, Paul Simon, performed “Bridge over Troubled Water” - a song where the performer reaches out his hand to give his audience strength against adversity.

Fast forwarding a few years, last year America was at the peak of anxiety over an economic recession. Fear about the overall direction of the economy was at its highest fervor in the fall – especially in my home of Manhattan where big banks are king. Personally, my employer had just gone out of business. Out of nowhere Paul Simon pops into my life again to stir up positive emotions.  Promoting a new book, Simon sung “American Tune” on the Colbert Report. By selecting to perform this classic, he broke some of the tension of the times. The song does not shy away from the real hardships in life but is ultimately to me a song of hope.  Its thesis is what you truly need will always be provided, a perspective lacking at the time.




There is one personal exception to this association of Paul Simon and unexpected comfort and joy: whenever I pack to head back to my native land of Columbus, Ohio, I always reach for the song “Homeward Bound.” As I fold – read crumple – my t-shirts into my bag, images from a Saturday Night Live video, baggage on a carousel as well as a lick to the face by a cruel alarm clock known as the family’s lab run through my mind with the song in the background.


Somehow the act of selecting “Homeward Bound” as the fanfare for my triumphal returns fits the occasions. Just as I select a song, I make a choice to return home. Just as I listen to the song, going home is a deliberate act to surround myself with the comforts of the familiar. The images they both extract on first blush are the stuff Hallmark Cards are made of.

Given the simplicity of that depiction of the emotions of going home, perhaps familiarity alone is not the entirety of what creates the comfort of returning home. Part of it may be more like my "American Tune" experience than I realize as I pack. There are unexpected surprises including delightful conversation, particularly good slicing of the turkey, and new traditions. Although overshadowed by the familiar, these unexpected nuances are what make each return memorable and special.

So in all likelihood your joys and comforts this holiday season will be the result of circumstance and conviction, of surprise and sameness. I certainly hope they are plentiful – even while just listening to music on shuffle with your ticket to your destination.

A Night Out With Dad

By Josh Cain * Other Josh Cain Posts

I was pretty sure my friend Gabe was about to be disappointed. It was his first time in New York City and I had just found a bar that would let 18 year olds drink. For some reason his enthusiasm was undiminished by the facts that a) it was a Tuesday b) we were being allowed to drink because the bar was almost empty and my dad knew the owner and c) the only reason the bar was “almost” empty was because my dad was the sole patron.

We arrived to find a simple bar adorned with various sporting memorabilia and outfitted with a dozen televisions, each displaying groups of men using some combination of sticks and/or balls to make scores and thus earn the adulation of the unwashed masses. At the bar sat my father, a handsome 50-something in t-shirt, jeans and a baseball cap casually drinking a beer and watching the progress of his favored squadron. It may seem weird to refer to one's own father as “handsome,” but he once went to a pornstar convention and had to pretend he was gay to keep from getting jumped by the women there. I’m not even joking. The best I’ve managed to pull off is having an overweight drunk girl talk to me at a frat party before pausing to vomit on herself.

Hanging out with Dad was the staff: the bartender, a pudgy, jovial guy who was clearly in his element talking loudly and drinking beer while watching sports; the waitress, a tall blond who might have been hot but looked like she’d lived hard; and the owner, a cute little blond bouncing with energy who was clearly slammin’ back in the day but whose hotness was diminished by the fact that she was at least 40 (which might as well be 80 to an 18 year old).

Gabe and I joined my dad and grabbed beers, made all the more delicious by their illegality. I quietly sipped while Gabe and my dad discussed athletics and politics, two subjects where I know nothing and have no interest in learning. It was likely due to this distraction that I overheard the owner proudly describing her custom-made underwear that prominently featured her own face on the crotch. When the bartender heard this he exclaimed, “oh yeah, check this out! Thunderbolts!” slightly pulling down his pants to reveal the electric undergarments in question. I am, of course, an asshole and thus feel the need to one-up people whenever possible (that’s pretty good, but I’ve got a way better public urination story), so I foolishly said, “man, I’ve got cooler underwear than that.”

Conversation halted and everyone froze. After a few seconds of silence the owner issued a challenge, “Let’s see ‘em,” she whispered.

“Uhhh…I’m not actually wearing them right now,” I said. The superior underpants I had in mind, namely Spider-man undies and my Monopoly board boxers with “Water Works” over the fly, were both items I saved for special occasions. 

“I said show me your underwear,” she said more forcefully, the waitress and bartender shouting down my protests. “Get behind the bar and drop trow,” she ordered.

Uncertain and grasping for help I turned to my father for assistance. Our eyes met and with a slight nod he said, “Do it, son.” This might seem like an odd reaction for a parent, but when you view the situation as a man who once complained that there were just ten truly gorgeous women at his college and he “only” dated 3 of them speaking to his 18 year old virgin going on 19 year old virgin son, you can maybe understand why he was encouraging me to take my pants off in front of women.  

With a resigned sigh I hopped over the bar and soon found myself wearing distinctly uninteresting grey boxer briefs and holding a bottle of whiskey. Gabe’s laughter at my predicament was quickly silenced as the increasingly excited owner commanded him to join me in my state of undress. Pantsless and confused we were told to create a drink neither of us had heard of. Gabe and I floundered behind the bar amidst the cheers of my father and the staff. This was accompanied by the occasional comment by the waitress indicating that she thought we were both “cute,” but “preferred darker men,” leering at me as she said this. The surreal nature of putting on a sex show for two older women and my father allowed me to dissociate myself enough to focus on the task at hand and eventually slop some random combination of liquors into several shot glasses.

We took our shots with gusto and the owner announced that we were going to get our “reward.” As she leaned over the bar and grabbed the bottom of her shirt, the bartender started hitting me on the shoulder and saying “oh man, you are so lucky!” As I turned to face him to figure out what about this event could be construed as “lucky,” I heard a collective cheer. As I turned back with a puzzled expression Gabe leaned over and informed me that we had just been flashed. Yet again I had been denied the adolescent Holy Grail that is the booby.

As I rejoined my dad, newly pants-wearing, he took me aside.

“So I was talking to that waitress,” he said, “and she offered to take you home and show you some things if you’re interested.”

Slightly aghast, I asked, “How old is she? Like 26?”

“38!” he said brightly, a smile creeping across his face.

I admit that I did consider it, but decided that I didn’t want my first time to be associated with public degradation, a woman twice my age, and having my father as a wingman.

“I’ll pass,” I said to him. He told me that it was ok and, strangely, didn’t seem disappointed.