The Death of Discourse

I was planning to write this weeks ago, before the advent of ChatGPT-4. Now, with each passing day, my piece is rapidly losing any semblance of prescience, so I figured I’d better hammer it out tonight.

The latest iteration of artificial intelligence, championed by ChatGPT-3, has been made public for some months now. Pretty much anyone who tried it was initially impressed, but many proceeded to find it lacking in substance. Just among blogs that I actively follow, we have Brett Devereux (historian) saying the (then) current generation of AI will not meaningfully impact academia. Then there is Scott Aaronson (complexity theorist) fervently defending the potential of AI from doubters of its capabilities.

They are both, in their way, correct. For my part, I do not know what positive use cases may exist for AI, and I especially don’t know whether Large Language Models are ever going to be a path towards true human-like intelligence or a mere deadend. What I do believe with some confidence is that even as it exists today, AI heralds a big problem, and it comes to us long before the threat of Skynet or Roko’s basilisk yet looms over the horizon. ChatGPT spells the end for discourse on the internet.

In order to expand on what I mean, let me use a current event as an example: the ongoing protests in Paris. As it happens, I am writing this from Paris right now, where I am spending the weekend. I have not seen much signs of actual disturbance, mostly because Europeans take everything easy on Sundays, even la Manifestation, but the ample amount of piled up garbage is testament enough to the impact on the city.

Picture I took today of a Parisian street corner, only slightly more cluttered than the average.

So regarding this protest, in the discussions I’ve read about it online, I’ve seen all of the following points made:

• That these protests are a great representation of the French people asserting their will, in a way Americans and other countries do far too rarely
• That the French are lazy bums who strike on a whim, even for something as benign as raising the retirement age to 64, still among the lowest of such age restrictions in the world
• That raising the retirement is a mandatory course any realist must take, because there is no possibility for the current system to be economically sustainable, with the shifting of demographics due to longer lifespans and lower birth rates
  • That this is a lie, the system is perfectly sustainable accounting for X, Y, and Z
  • That this is true, but punishing the working class when wealth inequality is so high is unacceptable, and taxes should instead be levied on the 1%
    • That his has been tried before, but failed because the wealthy taxbase will simply relocate themselves or hide their assets
      • That this in turn is a lie, spread by the same corporate lobbyists who profit from your believing it
• That Macron did this by sidestepping a vote by parliament, a betrayal of democracy that marks France’s descent into tyranny
  • That Macron used a mechanism in the constitution that has been deliberately designed for this purpose, is entirely legal, and has been used frequently for similar purposes
    • That Macron used the mechanism only after knowing parliament would vote against it, and so is betraying the principles of democracy regardless
      • That Macron, who was only recently and fairly elected, with the raising of retirement age as part of his campaign promise, could in no way be accused of breaking with democracy
• That the protests have all been peaceful, but the police have turned to violence because they are not defenders of the public, but rather enforcers for the ones who pay them
• That the protests were the first ones to start looting and set fires, whereas the police are doing their duties to protect the properties of citizens
• etc etc…

Now some of these points are factually incorect (logically at least a few must be since they contradict each other), others are simply things one might disagree with. I do not bring them up here to express any personal opinion on this matter, but simply to say that I have seen every one of these points made by at least one online personan who seemed reasonable, cogent, and genuine in their belief of their expressed opinion.

And I was reasonably sure none of them were AI.

And that means there’s some value in the discussion, since if there is any point to discussing politics on the internet, it’s to see what others think. We may fall into traps of our own making, get caught up in biases or only engage with our own isolated bubbles, but if we are careful it is at least possible for us to hear from someone we don’t agree with, and learn something.

Now you may object to this assertion outright. You may say that anyone who takes anything online with any credibility is a fool. The only source for facts are the primary, and the only correct opinions come from <insert authority figure of choice>. Before you have finished getting a degree in sociology or political science, and read the whole corpus of Marx/Locke/Wittgenstein, you shouldn’t have a political opinion at all.

Even if I agreed with that in principle, it doesn’t matter because that’s not how political discourse happens in the real world, and that’s not how people become politically aware, and so that’s not what affects how people vote and who gets elected.

So now the question is, if an actor, with the resources of a government or large corporation, could benefit from controlling that discourse, why wouldn’t they? Already, propaganda and astroturfing are the most harmful things to the health of the internet, but at least today if it’s done by bots then it is noticeable, and if it’s done by people that still accounts for a minority of opinions found online. With the power of LLMs, there is absolutely no reason why this wouldn’t become the overwhelmingly dominant form of online speech, to the point that soon you should doubt you could have a conversation with a real human on an anonymous forum at all.

I don’t really see any solutions that could mitigate this. I certainly don’t think it’s possible to contain AI through legal repression now that it’s out of the box (that has never worked). For a brief while, there was talk that AI generated content could somehow be detected algorthimically or through some special signature. That was always obvious to me to be a vacant hope: the whole point of these things is that they emulate human speech, a job they will get exponentially better at. And even if OpenAI can be convinced to rein ChatGPT in with some watermark, there is certainly no reason a malevolent actor using some clone of it has to. Lastly, if we try to enforce the authenticity of online content through some kind of mass censorship and/or surveillance/vetting of the publisher, that will nevertheless destroy the web as we know it.

And of course, this isn’t just about politics. For the time being, we might hope we have some measures that could guarantee the sanctity of absolute truths online, say the formulation of Euler’s identity, or the exact words of the Gettysburg Address. But anything that is subject to any kind of subjective opinion is doomed, whether it is about which movie deserves credit for its introspective take on nihilism in the multiverse, or which restaurant serves a dish best with regards to authenticity and deliciousness. The whole point of conversation would be removed, and all that could remain is content fit for consumption (which one hopes might be manmade, until TarantinoGPT comes along…).

Now this is a lot of doom and gloom, especially for me who usually has the more moderate takes on things. Indeed, this is a rare occurence where I find myself on the fringe but am very certain of my own position. I make no claims to be the originator of these ideas, but the majority stance among experts seems to be to acknowledge the problem, but in a much more relaxed way as a thing to watch out for eventually. To me the scenario is imminent.

If there’s any situation for the impact to this to be remotely less severe than it sounds, the only one I can think of is for the Futurists to be right – for AI to be so revolutionary in other ways that it produces a paradigm shift at least as disruptive as the internet and smartphones were for my generation. In that case, maybe even the death of discourse is not going to be the topmost issue on anyone’s mind. I don’t know whether that possibility is something to hope for or dread.

Traveling Diaries 20 – Retreading Old Ground

A week ago I returned to Florence, on what is my third trip to the city. I had a great time.

That seems like the most banal of possible statements, except in revisiting my old blog entries I remembered I had a singularly unpleasant impression of Florence. During my 2014 road trip through Europe, I had this to say:

“What I found instead were: tourists; historic scenery made unsightly by the presence of posing tourists; the impossibility of getting anywhere on time due to parade of tourists; three hour long lines for every attraction composed of impatient tourists; overpriced goods and services to swindle tourists; and locals who despise you for being another god-damned tourist”

I don’t believe tourism in Italy has declined since then, in this post-pandemic boom; nor has my tolerance of long lines improved. Certainly for the entire weekend, there was always an interminable line around the Duomo and the other two most popular attractions, the Uffizi Gallery and Palazzo Pitti. So what’s changed?

To be frank, 2014 was my first big solo trip, and I made many, many mistakes. Looking back, I almost wince at the wasted time and squandered opportunities. The only saving grace is to see it as a learning experience. With the benefit of greater experience, especially after moving to Zurich in 2018 in order to have easier access to Europe, I feel I have a much better grasp of how to enjoy a city like Florence. Hopefully there is someone else in the world that might benefit from the things I’ve learned.

The Duomo, or Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, with line going around the corner.

1. Going in with a plan

This is not the same as preparing a full itinerary. I prefer to be fairly spontaneous in my travels, and a great part of the joy of exploring European cities is in the wandering. But I knew I had one goal for the weekend, which was to see the David, and that was in the Galleria dell’Accademia, which always had long lines, so I made sure to book my ticket well in advance.

For everything else, I had a rough list of secondary attractions, and I did not anticipate any of them to be particularly problematic as long as I avoided the Big Three. Indeed, I had no trouble getting into the basilicas Santa Maria Novella and Santa Croce, and San Marco was positively deserted despite being a mere block away from the Accademia. I was excited to find the Bargello National Museum unexpectedly open in the afternoon, which only happens on Saturdays, and that added an impromptu stop. When it turned out La Specola, the natural history museum founded by the Medici, had been closed since COVID, it was no great matter to instead visit Museo Galileo.

And for this, the sheer concentration of interesting places to explore and how traversable the old town is by walking, Florence really shines. Yes, the cathedral is a magnificent edifice of the high renaissance, but if you spend half a day in line just to get in, then it’s not really as comparatively impressive as other cities you could visit.

Better instead to just drop by and spend fifteen minutes walking around the courtyard of the Badia, which is not really even an attraction as much as a functioning monastery with monks selling their daily produce instead of tickets to some exhibit. But its belltower is an iconic fixture of the Florentine skyline, and the Benedictine cloister makes for an interesting contrast with the Dominican San Marco and the Franciscan Santa Croce.

2. Spend money where it counts

Pretty much every European city is a better experience to walk or take public transport than to drive in. Florence in particular is a nightmare to take a car into its narrow winding alleys. This time I was able to catch a direct flight and simply take the tram from the airport, but in 2014 I was driving. That in itself is not a problem. Roadtrips are great fun and the best way to visit the equally interesting and picturesque villages and natural scenery. But when staying in the center is a key part of the city experience, sometimes you just have to suck it up and pay for the downtown hotel valet parking, even if the car itself will be utterly useless to you while you are in the city, and even when it costs 50 euros a night. Following this one rule would have saved me so much time and frustration back then.

Conversely, so long as the accomodations are well located, I’ve found little reason to splurge on space and quality. Star ratings are quite inconsistent across Europe, and generally hotels in the city center will feel cramped compared to the American standard unless you really pay through the nose. In the end it matters little, as there is always something to do out there, and no reason to be in the room except to sleep.

Another costly purchase that I’ve never regretted is a good data connection. I’m paying almost 80 a month for an unlimited pan-Europe phone plan, though if I lived in the EU it would be much cheaper. Even in the year of our lord 2023 there is no guarantee that even a well-regarded hotel will have reliable wifi. The problem is thankfully moot when you have 4G and tethering.

Food is a good opportunity to save money, while at the same time sampling the native streetfood specialties like tripe or lamprey sandwiches!

3. Nothing beats local expertise

This is perhaps the most common traveling tip out there, and not a point worth belaboring. Of course it’s obvious that having a friend who knows the place makes everything better, but not everyone has that privilege! But look, I don’t know anyone actually from Florence either. And it is possibly for that reason that it remains off my list of favorite Italian cities, surpassed by some others I was more intimately introduced to. But what I did have (and anyone could have) to my advantage this time was an extended perusal of Ada Palmer’s excellent history blog exurbe.com, half of which content is basically a love letter towards the city of Florence. Thanks to her, my trip was made more entertaining in a myriad ways, either by spotting the local saints Zenobius, Cosmas, and Damian in all manner of artwork, or sampling her recommendation of the city’s gelateria.

Walking into Santa Croce, I had my most vivid recollection of this, when immediately above the portal I spotted this painting of the embracing Saints Dominic and Francis, recognizable respectively by their red star and stigmata. The old me would have simply walked past this in blithe ignorance, but thanks to the blog teaching me not only how to recognize the two saints but the history of their orders in Florence, I managed to really appreciate this small token of fraternity.

The Third Coming

Towards the Republic has been off the air for two decades, so it is quite the surprise that it recently made waves in China again. What’s even more of a coincidence is that it had to do with the most recent episode I just happened to post – Episode 52 (at least in this 68-episode version). Dear reader, have you heard about it?

Basically what happened was a particular individual was confirmed as President of the People’s Republic of China for his third term, against all previous political precedent. Of course, this was a foregone conclusion to anyone who was paying any attention, after the constitution was changed to make this possible in 2018, and especially after the results of the 20th Natioanl Congress last year. But still, not everyone was paying attention, were they? Oh, and he was elected unanimously.

So the memes came out and flooded the Chinese web, and a particular meme was from Episode 52, when Yuan Shikai was elected unanimously and hailed as the second coming of George Washington. So of course there was much mockery and sarcastic comments made thereof.

We congratulate Lord Yuan on becoming the world’s second Washington, and China’s first Washington

The official response to this was as rapid as it was predictable. In short order, not only were all the images and discussions about this particular meme removed, but terms such as “Yuan Shikai” and “today in history” became sensitive topics that could produce no results in Chinese search engines. Again, no one should be shocked, if they followed any reactions to dissent about the lockdown measures during the pandemic, or to recent protests of the 20th congress.

But to me, this reaction is more distressing than the event itself. Look, we always knew and accepted that China was a one-party state, even a one-person state. That is the world we grew up in. This degree of sensitivity to public discourse and intolerance of even the mildest form of critique is something more recent.

In retrospect, Towards the Republic and Ming Dynasty 1566 are both products of an unique era, although that was not obvious at the time. In the early 21st century, increasing political awareness in the public provided both the ability to produce such shows and the audience to appreciate them. Of course, any criticism of the current regime is not directly possible, and must be made in the most veiled and circuitous of ways. Still, there are many, many lines of dialogue in Ming Dynasty and especially Towards the Republic which you cannot watch without drawing the allusion to current events.

Of course, at the time, we all hoped this was just a beginning, that the opening of the market would eventually lead to the opening of political discourse and mayhaps even political participation. I think only a small number of people could have predicted back then that the opposite would occur – not only would political freedom not expand, but even the market may be closing back down.

In this day and age, Ming Dynasty 1566 and Towards the Republic are no longer possible to re-air on TV, much less be produced. In fact, I’m sure they only still exist to be found online within the Great Firewall due to how blatant a move it would be to ban them. But we’ll see how long that lasts. It is a shame. A China that could produce shows such as these was still one I could respect, identify with, and maybe even feel patriotic about. I do not know when it will ever return.

Untitled

人嗤嗤，故试士

寒窗十年拼黜陟

书篇篇，志源远

黄粱梦醒桃花卷

–

事咄咄，水浊濯

覆巢之下焉峻擢

自旭旭，错律吕

商女犹唱后庭曲

Translation of 山鬼 (Spirit of the Mountain)

Spirit of the Mountain – 山鬼

Author: Qu Yuan

Composition: Around 300 BC

Original text:

若有人兮山之阿，被薜荔兮带女萝
既含睇兮又宜笑，子慕予兮善窈窕
乘赤豹兮从文狸，辛夷车兮结桂旗
被石兰兮带杜衡，折芳馨兮遗所思
余处幽篁兮终不见天，路险难兮独后来
表独立兮山之上，云容容兮而在下
杳冥冥兮羌昼晦，东风飘兮神灵雨
留灵修兮憺忘归，岁既晏兮孰华予
采三秀兮于山间，石磊磊兮葛蔓蔓
怨公子兮怅忘归，君思我兮不得闲
山中人兮芳杜若，饮石泉兮荫松柏
君思我兮然疑作
雷填填兮雨冥冥，猨啾啾兮狖夜鸣
风飒飒兮木萧萧，思公子兮徒离忧

Explanation: the “spirit” of the mountain is described as a god or demon. However, her actual identity is a woman, possibly a priestess or shaman, who gathered herbs in the mountains of the ancient State of Chu. It was also in these mountains that she would meet her lover.

Translation:

Deep in mountains I am found; gilt in vines and ivy clad

Charming figure lithe and gowned; laden eyes which once beguiled

Bright my bannered chariot ride; through magnolia blossoms gad

Red the leopard fore it stride; trailed by felines striped and wild

Folia cloak’d, asarum girt; folding stems’f remembrance

Bamboo born of virgin dirt; mark the steep path tread alone

Rise atop the mountain peak; cast in clouds my semblance

Sunless skies roil dark and bleak; by the east gale rain comes flown

Spirit whom had long yet stayed; folded under track of time

Gathered days did by us fade; lover’s visage, bygone year

Heaven’s herb grew on that hill; over rocks did twined roots climb

Lady’s longing seasoned thrill; lord’s departure kindled fear

One who in the mountains trekked; fragrance bound by wilder bloom

Drank from pools in stones collect; shaded under piny gloom

Marvel I to your recall

Thunder cracks in fits of rain, gibbons shriek the night awake

Furious storm splits wood in twain, I who linger know your ache

See also: a song using the poem as lyrics

上海1912

 

 

上海1912

自古鱼米不过吴
绍兴醉酒漾蒲芦
欲观埠旁奏云庆
远闻软语吟紫竹

曲项为把吟者察
只见红颜过年华
问莫思君鞍马稀
答笑此曲非琵琶

官人本做烽火筹
愿为千里觅封侯
闺中传信言凿凿
不着朱紫不绣球

十载戎役不计数
飞鸟尽后终迁沪
虽无封疆开府事
但求田肥丝织富

乃至国破归武昌
天子复如田舍郎
党同伐异多祸变
保身乌蓬渡轮忙

石库阑珊起孤芳
门阀落寞摆弄堂
老持雨棹笑涟漪
少从湘淮谓轻狂

Traveling Diaries 19 – State of Indifference

After my ambivalent experience in China last time, one would think I’d wait longer to go back there again. Unfortunately, family obligations say otherwise, and so once more unto the breach… In retrospect, China is a country well worth revisiting. In the intervening three years there have once again been changes that would take decades to resolve in the west. Even in my mother’s small hometown of Bengbu (which, whilst a tier 3 city by the national standard, nevertheless rivals San Francisco in population), this is more than evident.

Xidi, Anhui, a historical site where beauty of the pastoral life has been so romanticized as to resemble nothing of actual Chinese villages.

On the one hand, many things seem to have improved. Drivers are marginally more respectful of pedestrians, people are mildly less liable to spit in the street and more likely to form queues. All in all, the advances in common decency are subtle but fairly noticeable, as might be expected for a country whose wealth has seen such steady increase. Large scale problems like pollution and housing prices are becoming milder as well, at least if state media could be believed.

 

At the same time, sweeping reforms have overtaken the nation. I was shocked to find that people barely spend cash anymore. Everything from vending machines to restaurants to brand name stores now preferred to accept payment from the smartphone via Wechat or Alipay. The sharing of bicycles, facilitated by Ofo and other such companies, has suddenly become ubiquitous in urban areas. Every street corner is now littered with these yellow and orange bikes, and commuters riding them have become an iconic sight. Meanwhile, the bullet train network continues to grow bigger and faster. The newest Fuxing model makes the trip from Beijing to Shanghai in just over four hours, an unthinkable feat in my childhood, and still several hours faster than when I last took the same route in 2010.

The mists of Huangshan offer a welcome moment of solace, though one needs only turn around to find the crowds.

The convenience of these things are hard to overstate, and probably sound wondrous to the beleaguered Bay Area suburbanite. Indeed, all my Chinese relatives and acquaintances have expressed rightful pride at the changes to the country. Unfortunately, none seem to also see the inherent danger. I mentioned drivers becoming more law abiding. Why has that occurred? Because security cameras are now placed at seemingly every intersection and interspersed  throughout the highway. Every driver I spoke to understood that the slightest infraction will likely result in a fine and point deductions arriving in the mail. I mentioned the convenience of phone payments and bullet trains, but in truth I could not use Wechat to pay for things because it required binding to a Chinese citizenship card. Likewise, purchasing train tickets with a passport was painfully difficult. Are these deficiencies mere oversight or bad engineering? I would argue no. The government wants to ensure you bind everything to your ID so they can track your every purchase (after all, Tencent and other Chinese tech companies are well known for their abundant cooperation with the CCP), and when you scan the shared bike that you use, they can also track your every movement. Living in China is to live in the constant gaze of some unseen watcher. This has become a mere fact of life for the citizens, as unremarkable as the TSA-like security checks at every train and subway station, or the requirement to provide identification for every guest at hotels. I just watched Blade Runner 2049, and the most unrealistic aspect of the movie isn’t the robots / synthetic people, it’s the thought that you would still need detectives to find anyone in the future.

 

Look, I know that the US and other “free and democratic” countries also have traffic cams and security check-ins. I know the NSA also aspires to track my every action, and undoubtedly they wish they could emulate the Chinese’s efficiency. What I wanted to find out was why, when China dialed the whole surveillance state up to 11, no one seemed to care. And I don’t think it’s just a matter of suppressed political discourse – at least in my experience, people’s private opinions matched their public personas. That is to say, everyone is too preoccupied with managing their Taobao stores and speculating on the housing or cryptocurrency market to care about their own rights to representation and privacy.

At the Sun Yat-Sen mausoleum, the founding father of the country rests high above the city, carefree of its ills. Will the visitors do the same?

As always, a visit to China leaves me thankful for the things I otherwise take for granted in my life. This time, more so than clean air and sanitation, I am thankful for the people: journalists who bother to report on policy instead of the next celebrity gossip; corporate elites who champion net neutrality or decry the installation of backdoors; everyday joes who give up a workday to protest in front of the White House. Even if their purposes may ultimately be misguided, their motivations are not.

Traveling Memoirs 1 – The Keystone

Sometimes, in my travels, I encounter a rare keystone moment. Memories of the overall journey will, regrettably, fade with the passage of time. An experience is eventually reduced to a collection of details. I can remember cheering for Real Madrid with a group of locals in a Spanish tavern on a warm September eve, but can no longer recall the faces of any patron of staff, or the taste of the undoubtedly delicious suckling pig, or even what team they were playing against.

The keystone is different. Here, a memory seems to persist so vividly that all the images, sounds, and other sensations can be conjured up, and relived, as though they had just occurred. It is a precious and magical form of time travel. The romantic side of me would say that is has become a part of the tapestry of my soul. The analytical side would say that these memories have been recalled so often, those neurons triggered so frequently, that they have settled into an almost permanent configuration.

Alas that, too, is a lie. In truth there is no way to convince oneself such potent memories bear any resemblance to the actual circumstances that created them. Each time we remember something, we are also distorting it, coloring it with our current biases and perspectives. In a sense, as much as the keystones are the most lifelike of recollections, they are also the least real.

That does not mean they are not something to be cherished. My fondest keystone memory was borne thusly: I had just arrived in Athens at the first stretch of my Central European trip. An extended and sleepless flight followed by the train ride from the airport left me harried and limp. When I checked into the hotel it was mid-afternoon, and I hadn’t even the energy to eat. A complimentary bottle of wine from the receptionist did not help matters. Next thing I knew I had awoken in the early hours of the following day.

Amidst the Plaka narrows, a sign towards the Acropolis.

The entrance of the hotel led directly into the narrow labyrinths of the Plaka – the ancient neighborhood directly below the Acropolis. Sensing no prospect of an early breakfast, I decided to make the trek upwards. Overnight rain made the cobblestone inclines surprisingly treacherous, and the twists and turns of the road frequently led to dead ends or barred gates. Nevertheless, I made it to the park entrance before it had opened for the day. The only other early risers were the owner of a gift shop and two dozy hounds – to date I do not know if they belonged to the shopkeeper or were strays. Together we waited, half asleep, for fifteen minutes or so before the portal finally parted.

By then more had arrived and there was a small group of us, as we headed inward the first thing that grasped my attention was the Odeon of Herodes Atticus, a remarkable sight in its own right and enough to distract me on any other occasion. However everyone else had also stopped to gaze so I resolved to find my own way up onward. Ascending the Acropolis for the first time is, I’m certain, a defining experience for anyone. Doing so alone in the dim predawn twilight doubly so. I felt the smile of Athena Nike lend me strength as I crested the last steps of the Propylaea. There I caught my first glimpse of the Parthenon, but even this did not make me tarry. Some force drove me to the deserted eastern edge.

Lycabettus from the Acropolis

And then, the wind stilled along with the birdsong. A gravid suspense lingered in the air, directing my gaze to the horizon. There, I stood transfixed as the first light of dawn peeked above Mount Lycabettus, crept its way over the still drowsy Athenians, caressed the Temple of Olympian Zeus, climbed its way up the Rock that bore the Acropolis, and finally brought the full glory of day to the topmost frieze of the Parthenon. This brief sequence, lasting no more than five minutes, came to define my experience in Greece. I imagined the ancients who once resided here, basking in the same morning warmth as I did, laying down the bedrock of western civilization, to which I felt, for the first time, a part of.

Olympian Zeus from the Acropolis

Oftentimes I am given to wonder – why do I spend so much time and energy in traveling, in planning my trips and recording what I did? If so much is so quickly lost to memory, would it not be more efficient to simply read or watch documentaries about distant places. What purpose does actual experience serve if the end result – a few fragmentary details – could be obtained so much more easily and economically? My only convincing answer is the creation of keystones. I do not believe any book or film could have given me my “Acropolis Moment.” Even though it might no longer depict reality, it serves an even more important purpose: it is the kind of thing I recall, in every moment of stress or doubt, to remind myself why I should find joy in life. These are the things that define me, without which my identity would be that of a stranger’s. After all, nothing about oneself can truly be distinctive, except for those singular, unrepeatable, and unforgettable instants. “Upon this rock, I will build my church.” And it is with these keystones that I realize what is myself.

Agora from the Acropolis

The Truth

I believe, over the course of my life, I’ve read the entirety of the late Sir Terry Pratchett’s magnificent oeuvre, most of it more than once. However, the particular reason I revisited The Truth was due to stumbling upon an interview with Brandon Sanderson, where he said it was the best work among Sir Terry’s collection. When one of my favorite authors makes a recommendation about another, I tend to take notice.

On its surface, The Truth is as absurdly rambunctious as the rest of the Discworld series: a man, a woman, a bunch of dwarves, and a vampire try to start a newspaper, and hilarity ensues! I’m sure this is how I’d interpreted the book when I first read it, in my initial Pratchett binge during middle school. Even at this level, the work stands on its own, and there is shortage of laughter to be found in Sir Terry’s colorful references and unique witticisms. However, on this reread, I found myself at a loss for mirth. There is simply too much reminiscent of the present: we have the usurpation of power by a figure that represents “traditional values” as exhibited by mindless xenophobia; the press being used to manipulate thought and spread falsehoods; and men of true power hidden (literally) in the shadows orchestrating it all.

In some aspects, The Truth is actually pretty atypical for a Discworld book. For once, we have Lord Vetinari actually seeming to fall for a plot instead of having been in control all along (see Guards! Guards! or Jingo). Our beloved watchmen play a role that is, if not outright antagonistic, at least impotent enough to never have solved the problem on their own. The protagonists we do have are hardly traditional heroes. In particular, we have William de Worde, who claims to serve the truth but has no qualms using every form of deception as long as his statements are technically true. In a particular instance, the crew’s solution to competition was to ransack their offices and threaten them at crossbowpoint. It’s easy to cheer for, but hard to admire, these people who may have saved the city but at their core are nothing more than journalists chasing the next big story to feed the eternally hungry press. Despite writing this book about the news I don’t think Sir Terry betrays an overall high opinion of the state of journalism.

So what is the truth and what gives it value? William seems to believe in an absolute truth, but even the rest of his crew don’t seem to share that belief. In any case, as Sacharissa points out, why does absolute truth matter to the masses who live their isolated lives, powerless to affect things other than the categorization of parrots at their clubhouse? Someone has to care about the big truths, William argues, or everything will surely collapse. But isn’t it precisely these people who believe they know better who ruin things in the first place?

One has to wonder, when writing about the invention of news in the nascently industrial Ankh-Morpork, whether Sir Terry foresaw a new era of media dominated by the internet, which at once makes information more readily available but also makes it far easier for people to contain themselves in bubbles of belief, where they encounter nothing except that which confirm their biases. People say they want news, Lord Vetinari explained, but what they really want are olds. I think the “truth” of the matter is rather different – all great writers reflect on the problems of their world. When we say someone’s writings are “strangely prescient,” it really just means that those problems are more eternal. Despite my love of history, the one thing I can never abide is historical romanticism. In my experience, people who blindly believe the “good old days” were so much better only do so at the injury to progress and sensible reform. These are the same people who, in The Truth, use their rose rimmed glasses to justify their prejudice and racism (or, as on Discworld, speciesism), hoping the replacement of the Patrician will drive out all the Dwarves and Trolls and make America great again.

So ultimately, my takeaway from The Truth is this: people, all people, crave to be lied to, to be told what they want to hear. There is no shortage of power brokers willing to abuse this to their own advantage. In the face of this, the so-called truth is a meager thing indeed, too fragile perhaps to even define. And there are no heroes to save us besides what we can conjure from ourselves. But, on the positive side, all this has happened before, and in the words that humbled Solomon, this too shall pass. I know all my favorite bloggers and vloggers have responded in their own way about the election. This I suppose is my belated addendum. At the end of day, we owe it to the truth to decide for ourselves how our future should look.

Traveling Diaries 18 – The Myth of El Dorado

Since I started my last entry by drawing reference from a video game, I’ll continue the tradition. This time, I want to talk about another game series by Paradox (hmmm there seems to be a trend here) called Europa Universalis. It’s rare for a video game to have an apparent central theme or thesis, but I always felt like EU had one – namely, the sheer futility of trying to control all of Europe. While other grand strategy series like Civilization and Total War enable the human desire to grow and dominate to an unrealistic extent (which is not to say that I don’t enjoy them), EU has always exemplified the saying “mo’ money mo’ problems” in all its aspects. Here, being bigger just meant having to deal with more hostility from without  and insurrections from within, while the most carefully laid out political schemes can be toppled by untimely deaths and sheer happenstance.

Plaza Vázquez in Úbeda

Spain learned this lesson firsthand starting from the 16th century. One could hardly say that the then nascent empire was not favored to become the new European hegemon – champion of the faith, with most of the Americas as its treasury, and territories as far reaching and strategically vital as Sicily, Naples, and the Spanish Netherlands. “God is Spanish,” declares Gaspar de Guzmán, as he marshals his forces into Germany, Italy, and France. Of course, his own downfall came about not much later, and by the time of the War of Spanish Succession, Spain had become almost devoid of agency, a mere morsel to be divided among the dynastic powers of Vienna, Paris, and London, never again to become the central focus of international politics.

The palace complex of San Lorenzo de el Escorial

So how did all this come about? How did a kingdom whose supply of New World silver was nearly endless end up declaring bankruptcy continuously? How did Spain repeatedly come within an inch of becoming the first global superpower, only to be thwarted each time? These are the questions I brought with me as the first leg of my journey ended, I departed Andalusia, and the Spain of the Reconquista unfolded into the Spain of the High Renaissance, of the Age of Sail, and of the Spanish Golden Age. I knew what I was looking for was not some singular event like when the armada was broken at the isles, what I was looking for was a pattern, an overarching plot.

Monastery of San Juan de los Reyes, Toledo

What I found were the soaring rooftops of Toledo, and I was wowed. I found the gilded chambers of the royal palace of Madrid, and I was stunned. I was blown away by the elegant hallways of El Escorial, made speechless by the towering heights of its royal chapel… the sights to be found just in Madrid alone would take a lifetime to explore. The same can be said for a few other places – Rome, perhaps, but that has millenia of utmost historical signifiance as opposed to a mere 500. Whereas there is but one Versailles in France, it seems no city in Spain is complete without its own palace complex. Therein, I think, lies the problem. You must understand that these things were not constructed separately – their origins can all be traced to that same time period at the height of the golden age. I’m not saying that building a few extra palaces bankrupted Spain, but it betrays a mentality that poisoned the actions of the Spanish rulers – a grandiosity that cannot be sated, reaching too far and aspiring to too much. This was a Spain that tried to do everything at once: to subjugate Italy, to encircle France, to contest the Holy Roman Empire, and economically dominate the Maritime Powers. Meanwhile to assert religious authority she had to fight the Ottomans. All this required gold, and so the American colonies, still in need of pacification, were instead brutally exploited. At the same time, religious divide lingering from the Reconquista was still present, thus the inquisition was born to persecute and control the populace. All this, I think, are symptoms of a monster that consumed too much and grew too fast, only to eventually have to spit it all back out again.

Foyer of the Royal Palace in Madrid. This is the only room where pictures were allowed but I can attest that every other one matched or exceeded it in splendor.

Ultimately, perhaps the follies of the Spanish Empire were such because she was the first to have a real opportunity at true global domination. We will see that those who came after, such as the British, employed much more subtle strategies. This is perhaps why the Victorian Golden Age left seemingly more legacies around the world than the ephemeral Spanish one. Alas, that is also why El Escorial is not to be found in England.

 

My Route: