#like. sympathetic to the feelings! but disdainful of the ideology as ideology

[essektheylyss]

Of course Sarenrae became a mortal and started a family even knowing the terrors of the world and that she would have to leave them alone to face them. What is hope in dire times if not believing that there will be a better world for your children to inherit. What is an act of that hope if not trusting that you have taught them well enough to help make that world after you're gone.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

The Rueful Tale of Philip Wittebane

Why Emperor Belos is the Greatest Villain in Modern Media 

I’ve been sitting on this one for a long time. Full disclosure, I never shut up. My username is no joke. So be prepared for me to go on and on. But I unironically think this character is a masterpiece, that he leaves his contemporaries like Bill Cipher and Horde Prime trailing behind, and I’ve been itching to talk about why. Let’s dive in.

Chapter 1 - The Myth.

Belos is first introduced as an idea, an overarching threat that looms over the heroes and their world. He starts out as an enigma, a mystery, and gradually, the layers are peeled back to reveal the monster underneath. In Season 1, the antagonistic force that The Owl House deals with is less Belos himself, and more the world he creates. Because what he represents is in total opposition to the morals of The Owl House crew and to the very message of this show: Acceptance. This is a through-line that remains consistent about the character to the very end, but we see hints of it from the first episode. Little things like how the prison is called the “Conformitorium.” One of the first things that makes Belos a terrific villain is that his very nature is in conflict with that of the protagonists. This is a battle of ideals, and we as an audience are persuaded to see things the way the heroes do, and understand why Belos is wrong. 

Yet he remains in the shadows throughout the first season, creating slow build-up and a good reveal to his character. Instead, we see the impact that his reign has had on the Boiling Isles, and initially the Coven System is presented as an ideological debate. The story toys with the idea that it might even be a good thing, that Eda is ignorant for her resistance.  For a very long time, we know precious little about Belos apart from his image. Even when we meet him, he is posturing and misrepresenting himself as a prophet for The Titan, and he does it all from behind a mask. Figuratively and literally, he conceals his true nature. We don’t learn the real truth about Belos until Season 2. We don’t even learn his real name. He’s built a mythology for himself in The Boiling Isles, but while other villains might embrace these lies and choose to believe them, Belos is a little different. By no means is he in touch with who he really is or why he feels the way he does…but unlike most villains who fit into this trope, Belos disdains his image as much as he does anything else in the Isles. He prefers his real name. 

As the story of The Owl House develops and the characters are fleshed out, as we learn more about this world, Emperor Belos’ disguise is slowly stripped away, as are the lies and propaganda his regime has established. Supposedly, The Isles were in complete chaos until Belos turned up, yet when Luz and Lillith travel back in time to the “savage ages” we see a world that is happy and free. The clues about Belos are pre-set well before the actual moments of revelation. Notably, a book about Grimwalkers can be seen at the beginning of Eclipse Lake. During the scene where we see him unmasked for the first time, as he shares dialogue with none other than Hunter. That’s not a coincidence, anymore than his nostalgia for the human realm as we learn that he’s been there before. The truth is hiding in plain sight, and many viewers picked up on the hints at the time. That Belos was not who he said he was, that he was likely human. Fans guessed that there was something off about Hunter, and Belos was behind it. 

It is here that Belos deviates from expected tropes. 

When a villain is initially presented as a monster, but the following installment provides them with backstory and context for why they are the person they’ve become…normally, this is the part where said villain gains sympathetic qualities. At least, the memorable villains do. One would assume that in Season 2, when we learn where Belos comes from and why he turned out this way…that we could see things from his point of view. That we could see another side to him. Even if he’s still in the wrong, there must be some explanation for his actions, surely? Something that would earn him compassion from the audience. But that’s not what happens. The scene in Eclipse Lake shows us his face, making it easier to personify him. It shows him being softer with Hunter, gentle with him…but there is still the uncomfortable air of manipulation. Which symbolizes the journey that the audience will take with Belos. Upon learning his origins,  we understand him even better…and as a result, we hate him all the more. Any fragment of fondness is snuffed out when we realize that his more likable qualities are not and were never real. This is why we learn about Philip before we learn who he really is. 

Now typically, the greatest villains are the ones who, in another story, could have been heroes. The villains who have justifiable motives, the villains who feel conflicted about their villainous actions. In essence, the most memorable antagonists are the ones that the audience cannot help but root for, the ones they hope to see redeemed. Prince Zuko from ATLA is an iconic example, Catra from SPOP is another. We as an audience have sympathy for villains who are in pain, who could, under the right circumstances, be brought back into the light. That is fundamentally averse to everything about Belos, not just as an antagonist but as a person. The man is irredeemable, and there are several key moments in the story that prove it. A villain must first wish to be redeemed in order for it to happen, they have to make that decision themselves, and Belos will never do it. Yet he exists as proof that villains do not have to be sympathetic to be well-crafted. They can be complex and multi-layered while still being pure evil. Belos does not earn our sympathy, but honestly, that’s a good thing. A man like him should not inspire sympathy. 

If we want to understand Belos, we’ll have to go back to the beginning.

Chapter 2 - The Past

(Artwork by @a-magpie-in-gravesfield)

One of the signs that a character has been written with care, is that they can be broken down to the essentials and then put back together like pieces of a puzzle. If a viewer can analyze Belos as I’m doing right now, examining his life from start to finish, and understand exactly why he is the way he is...that can only mean he was masterfully crafted. This often traces back to their childhood and family, which is especially true for Emperor Belos. Or should I say, Philip Wittebane. Because a psychiatrist would have a field day with this lonely, hateful old man and all of his hangups, which all stem from his traumatic backstory. Philip’s goal is straightforward and horrifically simple, his motive is unwavering. He wants to eradicate all of the Witches in the Boiling Isles, and then return to the human realm where he likely assumes he’ll be hailed as a hero. (At least initially. That last part would change in Season 3, and I’ll talk about that down the road.) This is in spite of the centuries he has spent in The Demon Realm, interacting with Witches time and again. Nothing has widened his perspective. Nothing will change his mind. There are two reasons for this. The first is plain and simple racism. But the second reason…is Caleb. 

We learn the truth about Philip in Thanks To Them, though the story was heavily foreshadowed in Hollow Mind. Growing up in the seventeenth century, he was raised by his older brother Caleb after they were orphaned. When they moved to Gravesfield, Caleb became a Witch Hunter in an effort to be accepted by the village, and trained Philip in the trade as well. At some point, Caleb encountered the Witch known as Evelyn, and the two of them left for The Demon Realm. Philip set off in pursuit, carrying a jagged knife. From here, we don’t know exactly what happened, and this is where the portraits from Hollow Mind can fill in the blanks. Because even in Season 3, likely due to executive meddling, the truth is still obscured and left ambiguous. However, eagle-eyed fans put the portraits together and deduced how this sorry tale ended. Philip journeyed through the Demon Realm until he found Caleb. By that point, he had already begun to consume Palismen, as Caleb is shown embracing Philip in his hidden, monstrous form. This act from Caleb is a symbol of acceptance, in total opposition to Philip’s mindset. He accepts his brother, even in an inhuman state. But Philip cannot return the favor. Dana Terrace has confirmed that Caleb and Evelyn fell in love, that Evelyn was pregnant. But Philip could not tolerate such a reality. 

It is heavily implied that Philip murdered Caleb, though the details are vague. It’s possible that he was aiming for Evelyn, and Caleb shielded her. That would make a lot of sense, as by his own admission, Philip “tried to save” Caleb’s soul. However, one of the portraits shows Caleb likewise holding a knife, looking frightened and upset, as though Philip has challenged him to a duel. Philip was also stunned into silence at Luz’s accusation that “you did it to him first.” Specifically that Philip/Belos had stabbed him in the back. Whether Luz was talking about Hunter or Caleb, whether or not she knew the double meaning of her words, Belos was clearly thinking about Caleb, evidenced by hallucinating an image of him only hours later. (To see images of all the Hollow Mind portraits in detail, follow this link.)

It’s not clear what the circumstances were, and Belos is not exactly a reliable narrator. The murder of his brother had a profound impact on him that lasted through the centuries. But regardless of the details, Belos being responsible for Caleb’s death is spelled out about as directly as Disney would allow in For The Future, with a hallucination of Caleb that features that same jagged dagger floating over his head. The blade is stained with blood and is pointing at Caleb’s head. It’s an image that evokes thoughts of the Shakespeare play Macbeth - a tragedy that depicts a noble hero descending into darkness and murder. Quite appropriate for Belos, who unfailingly views himself as the good guy, as the savior of humanity, the Witchhunter General. He’ll do “anything��� to save humanity from “evil.” To that end, Philip murdered his brother, and not just once. I said before that a psychiatrist would have a field day with this man, and truly, they could write an award winning paper on the psyche of Philip Wittebane,and the way he constantly recreates Caleb’s death by means of the Grimwalkers. 

We know little about them, but Grimwalkers appear to be imperfect clones created from the remains of a corpse. Which means Belos preserved Caleb’s body and harvests his DNA for this project. Every time he builds a Grimwalker, Belos attempts to reset his relationship with Caleb back to a state that he prefers. He tries to rewrite history, rewrite his own memories of Caleb so that he needn’t face the fact that the big brother he idolized, actually evolved beyond his prejudice. But it never works. Each and every time, the Grimwalkers “choose to betray” Belos. Just as Caleb “betrayed” Philip by leaving with Evelyn. This pattern never changes, yet Belos won’t stop trying. Paradoxically, he also seems to give up on the Grimwalkers remarkably fast. We can see the exact moment Belos decides to kill Hunter, and it’s for no other reason than because Hunter has learned the truth and demanded an explanation. It’s not surprising that Belos would define this as a “betrayal” but it does mean we should take that version of events with a grain of salt.

Because Belos is a liar, through and through, and his perception of events is warped by his narcissistic tendencies and his seemingly indestructible bigotry. Rather than try to salvage his relationship with Hunter, Belos wrote him off as a lost cause, contaminated by the truth. How many Grimwalkers were killed for asking a question? For learning something that he didn’t want them to know? For talking out of turn? For failing to live up to the idealized vision of a ghost who they don’t even know about? Belos is an old man knee-deep in denial, and he intentionally perpetuates the cycle of abuse on innocent children for no other reason than because they have Caleb’s face. He wants someone to fulfill his fantasy of Caleb making the “right” choice and helping him wipe out the Witches. He wants to hear Caleb tell him that he was right to do what he did. But it will never happen. 

(Artwork by @pespillo)

Chapter 3 - The Other

Unresolved familial issues aren't all there is to it, though. There are also his values. As we’ve talked about, there are two contributing factors at play. The unresolved issues with Caleb, but that wouldn’t be enough on it’s own to motivate a plan of genocide. Such a thing comes from raw, unfettered hatred of witchkind, from a kind of racism. A fear and intolerance for anyone perceived as "other" and the dehumanization of such people that comes with it. Which feeds into his brother-issues as well. Belos surely blames Evelyn for “corrupting” Caleb. Yet if we want to know where this prejudice began, we need look no further than his upbringing. The man hates Witches, partially because of Evelyn, but partially because he was a Witch Hunter. In Connecticut. During the 1600s. There’s a very simple answer if one does the math. Belos is a Christian man. Specifically, he’s a Puritan. If you know your history, you know the Puritans were a rigid, intolerant society that were so extremist in their faith that it bordered on resembling satire. This is the environment Philip Wittebane grew up in.

Of course, this is never directly spelled out in the dialogue, because doing so on a Disney Channel kid’s show is…never going to happen. But we know it’s true. In Dana’s initial concept, The Boiling Isles was actually supposed to be Hell. Belos is a God-fearing Puritan who believes anything “sinful” is evil and must be purged. Witches were seen as consorts of The Devil, they would be no exception. So there we have it. In the series finale, Dana actually sneaks a more overt reference into the script. After possessing The Titan’s corpse, Belos screams “Finally. I can cleanse this Perdition MYSELF!” The word “Perdition” is defined as “a state of eternal punishment and damnation into which a sinful and impenitent person passes after death.” Philip despises The Boiling Isles, and he always will. Because despite having lived there himself for centuries, it will always be a land of sin occupied by the Devil’s children. That’s all that matters. 

This outlook is no accident. This is an essential cornerstone of Belos’ villainy and his character, but also of the themes being explored, and the greater story being told. I said before that acceptance is the message of The Owl House, and one of the greatest problems with religion is how intolerant it can often be of anything that does not “fall in line” with its perspective. Belos is a physical manifestation of everything that’s wrong with The Bible, or at least how it’s often interpreted in modern day. He is hateful, prejudiced, obsessed with his own vision for how the world ought to be, and completely incapable of entertaining the notion that maybe he’s wrong, that the world is bigger than his perception of it. He will not tolerate anyone or anything that contradicts his point of view.

Without getting too political or topical, there are many real life parallels to be drawn from the conflict of this show. People fighting for their rights and freedoms against oppression that is fueled and supported by religious communities. Belos proclaiming that he will “cleanse this perdition” is him announcing his (second) attempt to commit genocide on the Witches. In that line, we hear absolute rage toward the world he despises. The mask has completely fallen away, and in that moment, we see Belos for who he truly is. Perhaps the scariest part is how people like him are not uncommon in the world. What’s more, since it bears repeating - this was his second attempt to wipe out all life in the Boiling Isles! People who are evil enough to attempt genocide do not stop just because they didn’t succeed. They keep trying. People like Belos are desperate to erase the group they hate. 

If that wasn’t enough, Belos is even more dangerous, conceptually, than some of his contemporaries. His faith and how he exploits the idea of faith, help him stand out against characters like Ozai from ATLA and Horde Prime from SPOP are cruel, sadistic, and mad with power, just like Belos. The difference is, those characters weren’t raised in a Puritan society. You see, despite his racism, despite his overinflated sense of self-importance…Belos does not have a God Complex. He sees himself as the hero of the story, but not as the Creator. Because of how he was raised, he would never see himself as a God. In his mind, there’s another who occupies that role. When Belos rules the Boiling Isles, notice how the mythos he creates for himself places him firmly as the second in command. He establishes himself as a Prophet for The Titan. He becomes the “Jesus Christ” of the story. Even when Belos is lying through his teeth and propping himself up, his comfort zone seems to be telling himself and the world that he is not self-interested, and is merely representing the will of a higher power.

Herein lies the danger of the lies that Belos is selling. The Coven system is terrifying because it doesn’t immediately seem so bad. Ever since Harry Potter, having magical “groups” for your characters to be sorted into has been the trend. Within the Boiling Isles, the Covens are popular and normalized. It is “cool” to graduate and join your Coven. Never mind that doing otherwise is literally illegal. It is not hard to envision an equivalent to the Coven System being established in the real world as a means to control people disguised as the newest meme, convenience, or fad. The power of a cult can be staggering. Again, I won’t point fingers, but I suspect we all have something particular in mind.

But this works extremely well with The Owl House, with its messaging, and with its protagonist.

This frightening, uncompromising bigotry from our villain, as well as the utter devotion to such values, is part of what makes Luz such an effective protagonist for this tale, and why she makes such a perfect foil to Belos. She is the type of person who Belos should realistically loathe with all his heart. She’s a bisexual neurodivergent woman of color. She is everything that Puritan society would recoil from. Yet that’s mostly saved for symbolism, (again, the religious aspects of this show are kept to subtext) as Belos initially appears to accept Luz and attempt to forge solidarity between the two of them as fellow humans. Whether or not he was being truthful, who knows. You never know with Belos. Perhaps he was simply excited to see another human again after so many years, and therefore willing to overlook her “flaws.” But he did indicate that he would show mercy toward another human as, for the purposes of the show, it’s Witches that he hates. This presents Luz with the opportunity to reject his offer and continue to be a fantastic ally to The Boiling Isles, thereby setting a great example for viewers. Yet, Luz also checks herself. She fears becoming like Belos, even though she needn’t, and she feels tremendous guilt for having inadvertently helped him even though she didn’t know any better. We could all learn from Luz’s attitude.

She and Belos are compared and contrasted quite a bit throughout this show, despite how utterly different they are. The Titan is shown to accept Luz immediately, as opposed to Philip, who suspects that The Titan was deliberately impeding his effort to learn magic. Which creates yet another example of him coping with failure by rewriting history, when he invents the story of being The Titan’s prophet. Through Luz, the duality of Belos is explored and later subverted. We meet Philip Wittebane through his diary, and he seems like a decent man at first. Then we see the truth, first that Philip is truthfully a wicked, scheming murderer…and then we see his real identity. This is, itself, a twist on typical tropes. In any other show, Luz might have clung to the image of Philip, insisting that it wasn’t all an act, that he must be in there somewhere. (This idea is even mocked during his death scene, and we’ll cover that too.) But once again, Philip is not some long-forgotten version of Belos. He changed his name for no other reason than because he was getting a reputation and needed to start over. He prefers the name Philip, for he still sees himself as a human among witches, a hero among monsters. As opposed to Luz, who embraces both realms. She is a “child of the human realm, student of the demon realm.” Even as a teenager, Luz is already wiser than a man who has lived for centuries.

Chapter 4 - The End

The death of Philip Wittebane is appropriately pathetic, and once again plays on the expectation of more common tropes. When he is ripped from The Titan, he materializes as his younger self. He thanks Luz for saving him from the curse that ailed him, causing him to act as evil as he did. Yet it is immediately obvious, to the audience and to Luz, that this is just an act. He compares himself to Eda, but Eda’s curse never affected her personality, and it didn’t take her four hundred years to master it. No, Luz and the others have been fooled too many times, they’re not getting fooled this time. Lesser shows might have had this be genuine. Might have let Philip return as a friend or even pass on, absolving him of all responsibility by having him be “under a spell” for the duration of his crimes. But The Owl House doesn’t do this.

Instead, we get one last half-measure, one final attempt from Belos to manipulate the characters and save himself. He’s always been a charlatan, so this is to be expected. What sells this idea is the expression on Luz’s face. We can see just how done she is with Belos and his lies, and in that moment, clouds gather, and boiling rain falls. Luz is unaffected, and this appears to be no accident - but Emperor Belos slowly dissolves, eventually giving up on the facade. The rain figuratively and literally strips away his disguise, revealing him for the monster that he is. While it’s not clear if this is the will of The Titan, or if it’s actually Luz’s doing, it doesn’t particularly matter. Either way, she doesn’t lift a finger to help him. Either way, the irony of this devout Christian succumbing to what seems to be a literal act of God is absolutely priceless.

In his final moments, Belos demonstrates his fundamental flaw, one last time. “You’ll be just as bad…just as conniving…just as evil…and just as unforgivable as THOSE WITCHES!” For a brief moment, the dialogue sets you up one more time, to think that he’s falling back on expected tropes. The audience expects him to say “you’ll be just as bad as I was.” Or something to that effect. That is the implied ending of that thought, to anyone with a shred of self-awareness. But Belos doesn’t have that. As The Titan said, he cares for nothing but being the hero in his own version of reality. To the very end, he blames the Witche for everything. To the very end, he is incapable of seeing the error of his ways or taking responsibility for his actions. His racism shines through his last words, one final plea for Luz, and the world, to see things his way. “We’re human. We’re better than this!” As if Belos is better than anyone. As if Luz hasn’t made it abundantly clear where she stands. As if Belos didn’t surrender what made him “human” for the sake of fighting the Witches. In his last breath, Philip Wittebane clings ferociously to a world that no longer exists. He is a fossil, a remnant of the bygone Puritan era, extinguished in the light of a brighter, more tolerant future. Belos dies with the past, as well he should. 

At the end of the day, the biggest and most consistent problem with Belos is his refusal to change. He cannot or will not learn any kind of lesson from his experiences. Nothing will challenge his worldview. He is a hypocrite who decries witchkind despite having used more magic than most characters to sustain himself. Not because he is afraid of death, there’s no evidence that he is. (Let’s be honest, the man probably expects admission into Heaven.)  No, he simply wishes to “live long enough to see this through.” In other words, he can’t die until he’s finished his plans for genocide. His bigotry inevitably cannibalizes itself to survive, as is often the case in real life. During Thanks To Them, he spent months recovering from a near death experience in the human realm - he saw for himself how drastically things had changed. He saw the twenty-first century, and this did not deter him one bit. How is that possible? Unfortunately, we don’t see much of his reaction to the modern human realm, but when we next see him, he is attempting to return to the Demon Realm. It’s quite possible that he has no desire to exist in the changed, tolerant world Luz comes from, so he has nothing left to live for but slaughtering The Isles. Because no matter how fancy one dresses up their hatred, at the end of the day hatred is singular. Hatred is alone. 

Well this was a whole freaking thesis. Still, I had fun writing it, and I hope you guys had fun reading it. But for now, that's all from me. Byeeee!

[klysanderelias]

I think at some point my criticisms of Rebels as a show have kind of boiled down to either 'i don't like the characters' or 'i don't like what they're doing with the characters' and that's why I think I was much higher on the clone wars overall-

I don't like Rush Clovis as a character, but the episodes he's in are about a broader, more systematic issue, using him as a landing point, and so the things I don't like about Rush Clovis don't make the episodes weaker because they're not ABOUT Rush Clovis. it's also why things like the Younglings arc or D-Squad were so bad - they didn't HAVE deeper themes or topics, they were really just having to be carried on the strength of the characters, and the characters sucked.

And like, for rebels, I LIKE Hera, and Kanan, and Zeb, and even Ezra, but as the seasons go on the supporting cast just gets more and more unpleasant - and that's really the word, unpleasant. I could talk about how 'problematic' hondo and azmorigan are, and there's value in that, but at the end of the day they're characters deployed to be comedy relief, and they're unpleasant to have in an episode, so they don't work for me, and it's entirely because azmorigan is funny because he's fat and gross, and hondo is funny because he's a piece of shit, and it turns out that's actually not funny.

And then there are characters like Kallus and Fen Rau where it's clear that I'm supposed to be sympathetic and rooting for them and I'm not? Like yes I'm glad they decided that being a fascist oppressor wasn't actually a good thing, but they didn't WRITE that part (admittedly Fen Rau actually gets more of an arc in that regard, but his whole beef with the empire boils down to 'they killed my men' and 'I'm a mandalorian first', which isn't really an ideological split from fascists).

And of course Thrawn in Rebels feels like one of those villains that the writers just can't bear to have take an L, they have to figure out some way for him to keep his dignity and his coolness all the way to the end

Oh and spoilers-

The whole thing about Thrawn's story in the Heir to the Empire series is that he eventually loses because no matter how educated or aesthete he is, he still sees other people (and alien races in specific) as lesser beings to be used as tools, and getting killed by Rukh is a competent end to an arc where his comeuppance comes through his disdain and disrespect for the people he controls and treats like tools.

In rebels he loses because... giant space whales?

(I know it's more complicated than that, but the argument is that in Rebels it's not that he makes a mistake, or that his racism or classism dooms him, it's just that sometimes you get bushwhacked by something you couldn't have possibly seen coming, and that's just deeply disappointing as a storyteller to me given how his original run went)

[sapphire-strikes]

♡Some Pokémon Headcanons Part. 6!♡

Back to villian analysis! This will be the last set of baddies I talk about for a while, I know I still have Sun/Moon to do but I'm gonna push any characters Gen 7 and after to the side for now.

Part. 1 Part. 2 Part. 3 Part. 4 Part. 5

N: Quite possibly the most sympathetic antagonist in the series. N's motives are entirely unselfish and based wholly on what he believes to be right; and while it does change depending on which version you pick, inevitably, N represents the belief in one's ideals, with his world view completely reflective of the environment he grew up in and striving to change it in his image. Whereas the player represents truth, acknowledging and adapting to the world around them and pushing forward to do what's right regardless of what's thrown their way.

• When first encountered, N's impression of the player is just as it had been of any other trainer he'd encountered thus far. He believes you to be just as selfish and misguided as all the rest until he sees the bond you share with your pokemon and something begins to change. You may be unsure of yourself, only looking to help, but even as you stood in the way of Team Plasma, he couldn't help but sense right off that something different about you. When he speaks to your Pokémon he's even more surprised. Whether it be the partner you'd been through many adventures with or the starter you'd been gifted just a week ago, they were filled with love for you.

• While he initially wanted to brush this under the rug as naivety or innocence on the pokemon's part. He couldn't deny he had grown curious about you and after your parting, found that he couldn't get you out of his mind, wanting an excuse to talk to you again later and doing so quite untactfully when inviting you to ride the Faris wheel with him.

• While he never considered human connection something he needed, content with the family he'd made among his pokemon, when finally given the opportunity, he opens up and can't help but tell you the truth of his true identity. At this point, you've hardly managed to form much of an opinion on the guy beside the fact that he seemed a little odd, whereas he's already built up an entire complicated relationship based completely on the fact that you, the first real normal pokemon trainer he's had an interaction with, turned out to be even a mildly nice person with respect for their pokemon. It's almost funny how much it inwardly throws him for a loop and it's the first time he begins questioning his plan if only a little bit.

• Regardless of your reaction to N's ideology, whether it be sympathetic and understanding, or rather straightforward as you call him out for being blinded by his ideals, the two of you form a strange connection after that, running into each other time and time again during your journeys. Each time giving you the opportunity to defend your beliefs but being cut off by circumstances before moving forward once again. And while he couldn't bring himself to admit it, N begins to develop something he didn't think possible, an attachment to another human.

• After he awakens Zekrom and returns to his castle, I feel like the way he so passionately challenges you to battle him is his way of trying to push away those feelings. He's spent his whole life full of disdain for the evil that so easily settles itself into human hearts and is full of guilt and confusion at the idea that he would almost consider a trainer a friend. But sealing your connection to each other, you're chosen as the hero of truth and battle him with Reshiram at your side. In the end, your truth, the truth of the relationship between people and pokemon, is stronger than any ideals.

• When Ghetsis shows his true colors, truthfully, N wasn't as hurt by it as one would think. Up until now, N had never put trust into any human, that included the members of Team Plasma even if he was loyal to them. So initially, Ghetsis' reveal only made him feel stupid for having not been more careful and potentially endangering the lives of pokemon by working with him so blindly.

• His first thought is to brush Ghetsis' betrayal under the rug as what was to be expected of human behavior and not let it bother him, but when he looked to you, a pokemon trainer, no, a human, that had fought so hard for the truth and the future of all pokemon, he realized he had so much more to learn about the world and that his old way of thinking was flawed.

"There's no way a person like me, someone who understands only Pokémon— No, actually… I didn't understand them, either. No way could I measure up to you, when you had met so many Pokémon and were surrounded by friends…"The Champion has forgiven me, and… What I should do now is something I'll have to decide for myself."

• It's a rather unsatisfying goodbye at the time, but N bids you farewell and leaves with Zekrom shortly after, deciding he had much to think about, his whereabouts became unknown afterward.

• You and Looker's attention is instead directed to locating the remaining sages before leaving Unova. If you're clearly worried about N, Looker will notice and attempt to launch an investigation into his whereabouts, but the only clue turning up a couple of months later is a reported sighting of the legendary pokemon spotted flying towards the ocean with someone on its back. Looker doesn't think much of it when he reports it to you, hoping to have found something more solid but it's enough to assure you that he's alive so you're thankful.

• Then sometime later while in the middle of another case, you receive a report that Team Plasma has begun activity again in Unova and Looker swears he's never seen you jump on a case so fast.

• Since the first disbandment of Team Plasma, N has been doing some soul searching, returning to the forest he grew up in to be with his friends. And while more time around pokemon might seem like the last thing that he would need, the whole ordeal weighed on him much more heavily than he was prepared to admit so he turned to those he knew he could trust for comfort. This also gave him time to think about his relationship with Ghetsis and the player and how both of their connections to him meant more to him than he initially thought.

• Even if he wasn't yet ready to face the world when N himself heard of the return of Team Plasma, he jumped to investigate as well. Going to Alder, the only other person he could think to turn to, to ask for info. You were already well into the thick of it by the time he made it back to Central Unova and Alder informed him you had gone on your own to stop Ghetsis, prompting N to go after the both of you as well.

• While N was still struggling with his ideals, Ghetsis was his father, living proof of N's own humanity, so while still vulnerable, N attempted to reach out to him. To bad Ghetsis had no humanity left to spare. And instead, N once again found reassurance in your sense of truth, as the two of you worked together to defeat him.

• In some ways, his relationships with both of you were similar. As his father, Ghetsis was living proof that N himself was indeed human. He always knew that was something he couldn't change, the fact that he was born a human that is, but he'd always hoped he could rise above it with his ideals and actions. That was until you came along and proved it wasn't as simple as that. You provided him with something unique that he'd never had before, a human connection.

• It can be said that the connection a human can have with a pokemon can be just as strong, and that would be very true; but there is something different that comes from a friendship between two of the same species. There's a reason most pokemon form packs after all, or why some people prefer to live in populated areas. It's not necessarily better or worse, but there's a reason nonetheless. The idea that he was human had always bothered him, but the idea of being the same as you... that wasn't so bad.

• In the end, seeing you work together with your pokemon, so desperately trying to free Kyurem and the other legendaries, was enough to finally convince him a world shared by humans and pokemon was possible and if he wanted to make right the wrongs he'd almost committed, he'd need to work towards bettering himself. That meant understanding both people and pokemon so he too could be a part of it.

• After Ghetsis is apprehended for the final time, N decides he needs to try his hand at living among human society, quite the daunting task at first but one made much less intimidating when Alder offers to take him under his wing. N even moves in with him after the events of the game. It's an excellent fit too, as there aren't a lot of people with the patience to house all of N's pokemon friends along with him.

• With the threat of world-changing or dominating ideals out of the way, you get to witness a much more playful side to him as well as getting personally introduced to each of his pokemon friends.

• Outside of his usual quirks, N is an extremely curious person, asking a nearly unending amount of questions about any and all things. He's also a bit of a hippy, spending a lot of time meditating with his pokemon and for the most part, doesn't like to eat human food, but Alder is slowly helping him branch out.

• Even as you travel, N remains close friends with you. He acts at peace with your having to leave, but there's a part of him that wishes he had all the time in the world to get to know you better, and while he does a good job of remaining composed, he always gets excited when you come back to visit Unova. Alder even mentions that he brings you up in conversation quite a lot when you're not around; whether it be while talking to other people or when he sees something that reminds him of you. Neither N nor Alder are good with technology, so the two of you write letters back and forth to keep in touch.

• Maybe it's a sense of gratitude for having shown him the light, or for being his very first human friend, but N will never forget what you've done for him. Promising that if you ever feel lost or abandoned by the world of people or even by the world of pokemon, you will always have a place as his friend and should seek him out if ever in need.

Ghetsis: In comparison to other Pokemon Villians, Ghetsis motives come closest in comparison to that of Giovanni. With the exception that if the two ever had the chance to meet, Giovanni would be personally offended at that comparison having been made. Similar to Giovanni, Ghetsis' goals are entirely selfish, with a goal of amassing power and control, but in Ghetsis' case with the added bonus of him being a narcissist and a complete megalomaniac.

• He's incredibly intelligent and charming to a fault, coming off with a priestly and humble demeanor while putting up a front. But despite his natural cunning, his hunger for power and confidence in himself is so far removed from reality that being faced with defeat at the end of the second game was enough to send him into a mental breakdown.

• Throughout N's childhood and the events of both games, Ghetsis had always regarded N, initially inwardly and eventually quite outspokenly as "a freak without a human heart". So blind to his own faults he'd never realize the ironic truth that that description fits him the best out of anyone.

• During the rise of Team Plasma when the player appears and begins to interact with N. Ghetsis is stuck with an immediate hatred of them. Entirely in part because of the way you begin to connect with N, treating him with kindness and as a person. Even if you didn't appear as a threat to Team Plasma, it's an entirely toxic kind of bitterness that came from his own hatred of N, believing his son to be inhuman and undeserving of that kind of human connection. He keeps these feelings hidden well until he reveals his true nature and is all the more satisfied to try to strike you down, even taunting you for wasting kindness on a person incapable of ever truly appreciating it.

• In the events of the second game. Your return fills him with a rage that rivals his disdain for N. Resulting in the moment in the cave when he all too happily orders Kyurem to impale you. That moment acts as a good turning point, when his prudish demeanor begins to slip, revealing the maniac inside and he quickly begins to decline from there, going near mad by the time he's been defeated

• By the end of both games, Ghetsis is apprehended and I can very well see him having to be placed in special containment as he's wildly uncooperative with the authorities, having lost his composure altogether after being consumed by his hatred. Any attempt at trial would leave him in contempt of court as he'd spend the whole time outlandishly claiming it his right to be the ruler of Unova as well as cursing the names of you and N.

• For this reason, both you and N are specifically forbidden to see him after his imprisonment as there is great concern for both your safety and his own while he's in this manic state. After some time has passed N does receive permission from the authorities to visit him under supervision, but N himself needs time to make peace with himself before he's ready to see his father again.

Colress: There's debate among the fandom as to whether or not Colress can be classified as a villain but anyone aware of his character knows it's not quite that black and white. (Pun intended)

• Polite, friendly and genuine, Colress doesn't take any steps to hide his true intention from the MC or even Team Plasma as he was working with them. Colress is a man dedicated to science and one singular goal, to unlock the true potential of pokemon. And during the events of B2/W2 has reached a very critical point in his research, having finally found himself in a position where he could witness their true potential first hand, and with a legendary no doubt. So when he met Ghetsis and was offered a chance to work alongside him, Colress happily accepted.

• While I don't see Colress as being rude or dismissive, he is completely indifferent to all those around him when he has his eyes on a goal. This indifference even led to him disregarding the safety of others as he was more than willing to freeze over Unova if it meant getting to see Kyurem at full strength.

• I don't think Colress even stopped to think about the lives he would be sacrificing in doing so, he was simply carrying out an experiment regardless of the outcome. And while I don't believe this justifies his actions, there were no evil intentions behind his experiments, he just never worried about the consequences.

• However, despite this indifference, I believe it is quite telling of Ghetsis' character that he alone was able to garner the distaste of Colress even though he was helping him with his research. Colress is an excellent judge of character when he gives others the time of day and from the moment they first shook hands, something about Ghetsis rubbed him the wrong way.

• In direct contrast to that, he had the very opposite reaction to the player and was immediately intrigued by you. Your first meeting was met with a friendly handshake and a flurry of questions about your relationship with your team. And with the introduction of another pokemon powered force challenging Ghetsis, he became very intrigued with the idea that perhaps whatever power you held could be stronger than that of a legendary pushed to its limits.

• While it did throw a small wrench into his original plans, he was more than happy to see you win, science is all about new conclusions after all and after meeting you, Colress begins to favor the idea that a trainer's bond with their pokemon is the ultimate way to unlock their true strength, even without the proof to support it yet. When Ghetsis is finally defeated, Colress is one of the first to congratulate you.

• The international police may try to build a case against him, as he did aid Team Plasma, but in the end thanks to the way he kept his involvement with Team Plasma to a minimum, there's not enough evidence to convict him and he's able to walk free.

• It's entirely possible that you'll want nothing to do with him considering he did endanger the lives of an entire nation, but even if you are hostile to him, Colress doesn't react negatively to it at all almost ignoring it as he treats the two of you as if you're good friends. Thanks to you, or at least he considers it thanks to you, he's accepted the bonds between pokemon and trainer as his new course of study. I like to think his moral compass has improved somewhat too, the events in Unova being eye-opening to him and leading him to understand that working with others and forming friendships can be far more useful to his research than he originally thought possible.

• He also leaves Unova afterward to travel and expand his research and routinely pops up during your travels in other regions and inserts himself into whatever you may be doing (sometimes you wonder if it might not just be coincidence as he insists it is). Usually prodding you with friendly questions and even inviting you back to his lab. You've yet to accept but he insists his doors are always open if you change your mind and want to swing by for a chat, but something tells you he has a little more than just chatting in mind.

• Looker doesn't like him and does his best to keep him away from you if he's around when he happens to pop up, even if you yourself are on friendly terms with Colress. For now at least you suppose it's safe to consider him an ally. He always seems more than happy to help when you are involved, offering a variety of high-tech solutions. And who knows, having someone like that on your side may prove quite helpful later on.

Okay, long post, thank you for reading! I'm gonna move on to professor, rivals, champions, literally anyone else next! I'm not quite sure who I wanna start with so if there's anyone in particular you wanna see, go ahead and ask!

[nnoitra-jiruga]

🎯 + There is this collective headcanon that Nnoitra is not really someone sexist. Some argue that Nel's ideology was very different from what he believed: that hollows are only meant to kill and destroy. In addition, there was the fact that she refused to "fight him till the end" and when Tesla asks him why he hates her just says bc she a female, because if Tesla were to know that Nnoitra wanted to die, Tesla would become a nuisance, since he would have started doing small things to stop him

send 🎯 + a headcanon you have of my muse, and i’ll tell you how accurate it is to my portrayal.

☽ Accepting ☾ Anon

Concerning this aspect of Nnoitra, Nnoitra in my portrayal is truly sexist. I go with the canon on that. His point of view may be subject to evolution depending on his interactions with others, on whatever he goes through, but, for example, each time I start a thread, my RP partner has to be aware that Nnoitra is misogynistic.

These kind of behavioral patterns are generally very currently met in people who suffer heavy bad self-esteem, which is his case, so there’s this “defensive” hatred and disdain towards everyone else - to unconsciously try to elevate himself. And especially whoever is different.

Another reason is I don’t want to tone him down. He’s not meant to be sympathetic. He’s not meant to be someone who’d be a role model ; he’s supposed to be a villain. Sure, as anyone with feelings and emotions, he’d show a “different persona” depending on his environment and the people he’s with at a certain moment, so he may seem nice sometimes, but that doesn’t mean he’s always like that and that doesn’t mean he’s fundamentally like that.

As a side note, I’d rather interpret Nel’s refusal as another way to show how “kind” at heart she’d be compared to other espadas, to mark her difference.

In conclusion, this headcanon doesn’t apply to my portrayal. [Any post including sexism will be tagged as “tw sexism”. Putting it here just in case]

[wilwheaton]

So the day is upon us. How do you feel about Tumblr's removal of "adult content"?

Here’s a copypaste from another thing I wrote earlier today:

There’s a strong and dangerous Libertarian ideology that runs deep in Silicon Valley that directly and indirectly supports actions that quite tellingly never affect CIS white hetero men, but have profoundly dangerous and harmful consequences for literally every other group of people.

Through actions like Tumblr’s upcoming ban that will (through post flagging) disproportionately affect LGBTQ people, like Jack Dorsey’s refusal to address the hate and white supremacy on Twitter, like Facebook’s decision to use right-wing anti-Semitic dogwhistles to deflect attention from its systemic privacy violations, like Reddit’s embrace of right-wing and white nationalist users, it is impossible to deny that the decision makers in the board rooms at the biggest social media platforms are at the very least sympathetic to the voices and ideas of white supremacists and misogynists, and at worst in total agreement with their positions. Every choice these people make moves what should be fringe voices and ideas further and further into the mainstream, while they marginalize and punish nonviolent voices that call for justice and equality.

Social media is broken and it’s the fault of the failed leaders at the main social media platforms, who will be remembered with disdain and contempt by history.

tl;dr: I hate it.

[juenger-juenger-blog]

Perhaps the most revealing difference between Ernst Jünger and Stefan George is the former’s repudiation of homoeroticism. Unlike the spiritualized homosexuality of George, Jünger’s appeal to friendship remained more clearly a matter of the mind and heart. In a candid 1928 letter, Jünger expressed contempt for the sex-tinged infatuations— nudism, body culture, health clubs—currently seducing the younger generation.

“To be honest, all this ethical babble, this soft-baked complex of problems, this hungover no-one-understands-me feeling, this pubescent moonlit swooning, this gonad culture transplanted into the mind—it all makes me want to vomit… All these people are of course magnificent chaps when one knocks away the stilts beneath their legs and teaches them that a healthy screw is something more decent and natural than this American comradeliness with its Nordic nudist ethos mixed in… This is a company that would like to cobble together a code of ethics out of its sexual and ideological inadequacies. “

Jünger contrasted his own agenda with the “nonsense” of a writer like Walter Flex, whose sentimental memoir The Wanderer Between Two Worlds (1916) was full of erotic praise for a patriotic friend who had sacrificed himself on the Eastern Front. For Jünger, reading Flex or giggling half naked on the beach with friends belonged to the same 19th-century Romantic rot. As someone who saw in youth “an especially splendid and heady manifestation of life,” Jünger hoped to yoke youthful vitality to a more steely and forward-looking vision. Another revealing example of Jünger’s disdain for homoeroticism is his 1929 review of Max René Hesse’s Partenau. All but forgotten today, this novel of life in the post-WWI German Army gained considerable attention at the time. The book tells the story of a Lieutenant Partenau, a military genius who suffocates amidst the tedium of the now demobilized Reichswehr. Another reviewer likened Lt. Partenau to a “painter without hands,” and described the work’s central problem as that of a “military l’art pour l’art”—that of a visionary, in other words, who is denied the war he needs for creative self-realization. Partenau’s only source of appreciation is his friendship with an admiring young officer named Kiebold, for whom he develops erotic feelings. When Kiebold demurs, however, the thwarted Partenau takes his own life. Jünger’s review of the novel dismissed this homoerotic element as just more of the “marzipan, on which certain elements of the youth movement sour their stomachs.” But Jünger found in Partenau himself a figure of tragic greatness. In an “age of shopkeepers and burghers,” he declared, such an “adventurous heart” can only escape into “heroic dreaminess.” Jünger’s reading of the friendship with Kiebold, who has “youth’s rich capacity for enthusiasm and astonishment,” is deeply sympathetic. The “secret understanding” of the two friends appears to Partenau as a “lonely echo,” a foretaste of the fulfillment that will be denied him in the larger world. That Partenau pours his full energy into the doomed friendship, Jünger concludes, is a symptom of the fate awaiting the “best blood among us… so long as a path into bolder, freer, and more manly regions has not been broken.” Ultimately, Jünger’s rejection of homoeroticism is consistent with the fascist urge to preserve a sphere of allegedly masculine values. For Jünger circa 1929, however, homoeroticism represented not the taint of feminine qualities per se, but rather cul-de-sacs of self-absorption and romantic escapism that distracted from the cultivation of a revolutionary, adventurous spirit. At best, homoeroticism was a consolation prize, the place energies were directed in the absence of a more heroic society.

— Eliah Matthew Bures, Fantasies of Friendship: Ernst Jünger and the German Right’s Search for Community in Modernity

[traitor-boyfriend]

why do you think kyman is so popular? (ew)

okay so this has been sitting in my inbox for about a week or so now and i really just need to answer it and get it over with. really i think this is the most i’m ever going to say at length about kyman so here we go. also i’ve been drinking a little so i apologize in advance if my thoughts aren’t as cohesive as they could be lmao

to answer the initial question, i honestly have no idea. i have a few theories, but no real concrete answer as to why kyman as a ship is so popular; i’m speaking as someone who has had an intimate awareness of this fandom from the time i was ten, which is literally half of my life. i can’t recall kyman being a big ship, or even one of the more common rare-pairs 10 years ago – back then the major ships were style, creek, and k2 (almost pretty much in that order). 

kyman, as i know it and have observed it since i’ve re-familiarized myself with the show and its fandom, is more a development that’s largely happened within the past five years and i think the main contributor to this is that, within that same time period, there’s been a noticeable shift with how kyle and cartman’s dynamic has been written; in the beginning seasons, kyle and cartman are shown to equally despise each other. the cartman of seasons 1-4 isn’t exactly the cartman we know now – he started off as kind of a stereotypical fat little neighborhood bully, but he’s always been narcissistic, racist, selfish etc. just not to the same extent he is now. and back then, kyle and cartman interact as enemies would; they argue and fight constantly, openly express their disdain for each other to anyone who will listen, and actively conspire against the other. kyle and cartman were direct foils to each other. 

this has changed in the recent past. cartman and kyle aren’t really considered enemies anymore, but instead as rivals which i think is an important thing to note. now, they’re even occasionally on the same side of a conflict or event (such as tfbw). there has been a lot of focus in the past five or six seasons in the ways kyle and cartman are similar; they’re both temperamental and very angry people, incredibly competitive, both very driven and committed when they set their mind to something. kyle, to a lesser degree, also shares one of cartman’s worst traits; they’re both over-reactive and allow themselves to think the world is out to get them. obviously – and i cannot stress this enough – kyle has in no way the victim complex cartman has, but it is there nonetheless. the running theme with season 21 has been self-victimization, and while i don’t entirely agree with their idea that the potential destructive effects of habitual othering and alienation is, like, a concept of personal responsibility or individual desire to be a victim, other than heidi, kyle is a great example of this. for the last three seasons kyle has been the whipping boy in that no one wants his speeches, no one wants his moral lesson; no one wants his opinion. and kyle indirectly and without meaning to spearheads canada being bombed because he allows his emotions to dictate his action. there’s too many instances of cartman doing this exact thing with obvious malicious intent, but “the list” is another notable episode where kyle does the same thing; he feels slighted and estranged when everyone thinks he’s ugly, and instead of listening to reason from either stan or abraham lincoln, he decides the best choice of action is to burn down the school. my point is, kyle and cartman share quite a few personality traits and their interactions in recent seasons tend to highlight and expand on this rather than to treat them as divisive, opposite characters.

they’ve done a lot more as well to show that kyle, unlike his very early characterization in-series where he couldn’t give less of a shit if cartman died, now cares for him on – at the very least– a humanistic level. whereas kenny and stan are still mostly indifferent to cartman and what happens to him, kyle now often objects to directly conspiring to hurt or let cartman put himself in danger, even if he still despises him as a person. this started around season 8 or so with “up the down steroid” and i think this quote from kyle when he goes to cartman’s house best sums up what i’m talking about:

“I know that I often have serious moral objections to the things that you do, but… this time I think you really need to reconsider. Because if you do this, I believe you will go to hell. So I feel it is my responsibility, as your friend, to tell people what you’re doing, and to put a stop to it.”

kyle’s constant drive to put a stop to cartman’s increasingly deranged and morally depraved antics are largely driven by a dedication to his ethics, yes, but this also shows that kyle does consider cartman a friend and objects to his behavior as such because he cares about what happens to him despite kyle routinely being repulsed and disgusted by who cartman is. he also is the only one to initially object to destroying cartman’s stuff in season 20, even though kyle is cartman’s most vocal and frequent critic, and is also shown to feel an inordinate amount of guilt than the other boys comparatively; this is a combination of kyle’s generally guilty personality as well as remorse for having done something to hurt a friend. there’s also the jewpacabra episode where, even after being pathologically belittled again for the millionth time on the basis of his being jewish by cartman, kyle still goes out in the middle of the night to unchain cartman, take him home, and put him in his bed. i worry this is beginning to sound like rationalization or even evidence on the kyman ship’s behalf that kyle has feelings for cartman in anyway, because it isn’t; it’s just elaboration on kyle’s character. kyle is a very sympathetic person, and that extends even to someone who he doesn’t like. there are plenty of examples of kyle being absolutely thrilled to see cartman be delivered a comeuppance or get the shit kicked out of him or be proven wrong, and more often than not, kyle genuinely hates cartman – there just are not as many recent examples, which is the time-frame i’m trying to stick to while talking about this ship.

there’s a lot to be said of cartman as a character. like, a lot. he’s incredibly complex, and while it makes him interesting as a character study, it makes him insufferable to watch. he’s always been terrible. that’s his appeal, i think, and what makes him so popular. cartman is the complete and utter embodiment of human id; he has no sense of the world outside himself, no remorse, and acts consistently in his own self-interest with little to deter him. and part of it is satisfying sometimes to see just how far cartman is willing to denigrate himself and others in pursuit of what he wants, because it’s that same morbid desire a normal person might occasionally feel but suppresses because of their conscience – something cartman does not have. 

i’d argue, given the inherent chaos and destruction and amorality the universe of south park exists in, that all of the main boys are traumatized to varying degrees. but i don’t think it’s all that controversial to say cartman exhibits the most outward signs of childhood trauma. plenty of people much more observant and intelligent than myself i’m sure have written about this before so i’m going to keep it brief, but a lot of cartman’s behavior can be explained this way. there’s been a few allusions to his having been sexually abused, inappropriate sexual contact with family members, the fact that he wets his bed or cries at night b/c he doesn’t have a dad are all things we learn when he can’t control what he says in “le petit tourette.” his physical and verbal aggression, emotionality, distrust of others, conniving behavior etc. are all common symptoms of adverse childhood experiences. he’s controlling and insecure, and cartman thrives off any and all attention – positive, which he often gets from his mother, or negative, which is usually provided by literally everyone else, especially kyle, which is what i think makes him so infatuated with kyle in that he’s an easy, reliable source to match his own aggression, to feed that desire for attention. unlike what a lot of kyman shippers think, it’s pretty obvious that this is why he goes to such lengths to save kyle in “smug alert”. butters doesn’t fight or push back against cartman the way he does, therefore cartman isn’t receiving the attention or reaction he wants.

there’s also the matter of cartman’s racism and anti-semitism. and to deny that cartman does not possess genuine confidence in his own deluded beliefs, or to excuse it b/c of his age is a major cop-out. he’s had moments where his racial hatred is founded in classic white-supremacist talking points, so he clearly espouses this shit of his own volition. because he’s attracted to power cartman idolizes conservative christian figureheads in pop culture (mel gibson ring a bell to anyone) and authoritarian dictators, of which racism is often a major component of such ideology, and this only emboldens his bigotry. there’s a couple instances in the very early seasons (i’m talking, like, pretty much exclusively 1 and 2) where cartman alludes to his racist tendencies stemming from liane, but i don’t really consider it fair to cling to that as a canonical source b/c one, it’s almost always for shock value as a quick joke, and two, they have since done a complete 180 on liane. they don’t harp on the joke about her being a whore the way they used to, and instead she’s shown to be a single mother who works two jobs and who loves her son unconditionally. but she’s also very lonely, and treats cartman as her friend instead of her son; she has no boundaries set with him and often entertains his schemes or delusions; she’s a classic over-indulging parent. which does a lot of harm without her meaning to. 

honestly, the entire relationship between cartman and his mother mostly just makes me sad, especially after the “tsst” episode; it’s the only time we see liane disciplining cartman in a firm but loving way, acting as a parent and not a hostage, and we see, in my opinion, what was the only instance wherein which cartman was capable of any meaningful or permanent change. and it’s all destroyed when liane realizes cesar and her’s relationship was purely professional and nothing more. even in group of moms, liane isn’t really considered one of them. her only friend is cartman, so she defaults to giving in to his every whim b/c she’s terrified of him resenting and leaving her as well. it’s like.. a really tragic situation. but that episode is important as it exemplifies the fact that, unlike the other boys, cartman incapable of change. his transformation is mostly superficial and incredibly short-lived. there’s a lot to be said of the nature of evil – whether some people are born that way, if it’s entirely nature vs. nurture – but cartman is obviously a combination of both; no one who doesn’t have some kind of genetic pre-dispostion to incalculable levels of cruelty and disregard for the suffering of others could plot to have someone’s parents killed, steal their bodies, grind them into chili and feed it to the child of those parents over sixteen dollars.

and this is what makes the cognitive dissonance that surrounds thinking kyman isn’t an abusive ship is astounding to me, because cartman is an inherently abusive person. he is incapable of the vulnerability or the selflessness or the compromise a relationship requires. i mean, christ, we just got an entire season that highlights how he acts within the confines of a romantic relationship with heidi – an entire season of cartman manipulating, gaslighting, and machinating events to have someone he supposedly loves killed or abducted. there’s an argument made pretty often among kyman fans that this wouldn’t happen to kyle, that kyle is capable of fighting back against cartman and would refuse to make himself vulnerable the way heidi did, but i have no idea how someone could says this after “ginger cow.”

kyle is by far the most frequent recipient of the proverbial short stick (passion of the jew, le petit tourette, tonsil trouble, pee, humancentipad, imaginationland, cartman’s incredible gift, etc b/c the list goes on and fucking on) and though cartman is not always the one directly spearheading the events that lead to kyle being put in those situations, he usually is. but the way he treats kyle in ginger cow differs so greatly from past events – a lot of cartman’s mistreatment of kyle can be viewed as him feeling he’s delivering punishment or retribution to a someone who he feels (wrongly) deserves it, but “ginger cow” just really epitomizes cartman’s complete and utter sociopathy. what he does to kyle in that episode is so far beyond mere humiliation; it’s dehumanization. cartman actively derives joy from breaking kyle down as a person, forcing him to be submissive, causing kyle to lose any sense of self. the kicker comes at the end of the episodes when stan’s misguided attempt to help ends up backfiring, but not really, because the prophecy of the red heifer had actually been true all along! yet cartman refuses to tell the truth; kyle’s suffering means nothing. and cartman, in true cartman fashion, makes a snide joke, farts into his hand, dollops whip cream in his palm and smears it in kyle’s face, walking off very satisfied with himself. even thinking about the episode makes me viscerally ill. 

i think just as troubling for me is the culture that surrounds people shipping the two of them; there is so, so, so much casual anti-semitism – people who think it’s cute when cartman accosts kyle for being jewish, people who use the word “jew” in a flippant, casual way as if it’s a term of endearment while completely ignoring the historical context of disparagement in a non-jewish person calling someone “a jew.” people who excuse cartman’s anti-semitism, who act like he hasn’t repeatedly been shown to adore hitler and emulate him, going as far as to rally the town behind him to lead in the effort to exterminate the jews and shouting nazi rallying cries. not to mention the fact that not only does there exist any one singular kyman fic centered around kyle being a holocaust victim during world war ii, there are a ton! which is so disgusting and disrespectful and so obviously amoral i can’t believe i just had to type that! and in the same line as fiction, it is so upsetting to me a prominent trend that occurs w kyman fics is cartman basically hatefucking kyle through the entire thing, physically and verbally abuses him and gets off on it, and kyle is this submissive, simpering slave to him – not to mention the plethora of straight up rape/non-con kyman fics. it a lot of either that, or kyle is some conduit for a shitty cartman redemption arc, and. ugh.

anyway, this is the most i’m ever going to say about kyman. the tl;dr version of this is that i think kyman is so popular b/c recent seasons have focused more on amplifying the ways in which kyle and cartman are similar as well as quite a few jokes being made about some weird sexual tension between the two of them. and not to harp on this, but i don’t ship kyman, and i don’t support it or even remotely tolerate it, really. the entire concept of those two together makes me quite literally physically ill lmao.

[xtruss]

Opinion New York Times

Yes, Social Media Can Be Asinine – But ‘CANCELLED’ Pundits like Bari Weiss Aren’t the Victims

Weiss and her compatriots believe that public discourse has become less decorous because it has moved to the left – but it’s because it has moved online

— Moira Donegan | The Guardian USA | Wednesday July 15, 2020

If we want these people to be less powerful, then we have to stop giving them what they want: our attention.’ Photograph: Angela Weiss/AFP/Getty Images

If you’re familiar with the navel-gazing internecine squabbles of the US national media, you probably know that Bari Weiss, the millennial conservative writer who for years attracted controversy and online consternation for her opinion columns, recently quit the New York Times, saying that the newspaper was insufficiently supportive of her because of her political views.

Weiss’s departure comes on the heels of an open letter, signed by more than 150 pundits, commentators and public intellectuals, Weiss included, that decried the censoriousness of internet “cancel culture”. And that letter itself came soon after the firing of Weiss’s mentor, James Bennet, as the New York Times’ opinion editor, in response to the publication of an op-ed calling for the use of state violence against protesters, which Bennet claimed not to have read.

After announcing her resignation, Weiss published a letter to the paper’s publisher, AG Sulzberger, citing her reasons for departing the paper. “My own forays into Wrongthink have made me the subject of constant bullying by colleagues who disagree with my views,” Weiss wrote. “My work and my character are openly demeaned in company-wide Slack channels.”

The assertion of much of Weiss’s future work is likely to be that a culture of illiberal liberalism at the New York Times and other media outlets has victimized her personally, and is also gravely dangerous for the republic. Weiss has already moved to enhance her own career by positioning herself as a martyr for free speech and a brave defender of unpopular truths. With this claim, Weiss will have many of her fellow elites nodding along sympathetically: the open letter, combined with a pearl-clutchingly offended response to Bennet’s ouster, has made it clear that there is a section of the professional intellectual class – pundits, thinktank operatives and tenured professors – who feel shocked and affronted by the online rudeness of those who disagree with them. This clique has ushered in a creature unique to the era of internet media, whose ascent ironically threatens to plunge our public discourse even further into the realm of bad faith: the professionally cancelled pundit.

The professionally cancelled pundit is a genre of primarily center-right contrarian who makes their living by deliberately provoking outrage online, and then claiming that the outrage directed at them is evidence of an intolerant left run amok. Usually but not exclusively white millennials or Gen X writers, the cancelled pundit has a sheen of faded patrician prestige, like a stack of unread New Yorkers in a basket beside a toilet. They believe themselves deserving of deference and they think themselves brave for complaining when they don’t get it. They’re beloved by white boomers, Romney Republicans and those who use the word “woke” derisively. Their work is meant to appeal to people uncomfortable with social forces that challenge the established hierarchy of power.

“Their work is meant to appeal to people uncomfortable with social forces that challenge the established hierarchy of power.”

In the open letter, a number of the professionally cancelled outlined the primary assertion of their genre: that the left in particular is unduly censorious and mean-spirited in ways that challenge the free exchange of thought, and rightwing ideas, or at least their own rightwing ideas, should be given a dignified and respectful hearing.

But the letter, and the assertions by the cancelled pundits that they are defenders of free speech, is misguided on a number of fronts.

First, in framing sometimes rude online reaction to their opinions as a first amendment issue, they confuse for a violation of their civic right to free speech a personal discomfort with the tone of those who talk back. And second, while they are correct in noting that platforms such as Twitter, where many of these aggrieved public figures seem to spend a great deal of their time, can be rancorous, they are wrong in assigning the cause of this indecorousness in the public conversation to a censorious nature in the left ideologies they oppose. Weiss and her compatriots believe that public discourse has become less decorous because it has moved to the left. But really, it’s because it has moved online.

The fact is that rudeness is incentivized by social media platforms; the slow, dispassionate “argument” that the professionally cancelled pundit claim to be advocating for is not. “Social media as a ‘public square’ where ‘good faith debate’ happens is a thing of the past,” the Slate writer Lili Loofbourow explained in her own Twitter thread. “Disagreement here [online] happens through trolling, sea-lioning, ratios, and dunks. Bad faith is the condition of the modern internet.” This is in large part because online platforms are designed that way: to maximize engagement, they promote the most incendiary content and reward outrage, shock and performative disdain.

Are the professionally cancelled pundits naive about the way social media platforms incentivize crudeness, or are they merely playing dumb? I suspect the latter. The cancelled pundits are right that social media can be asinine. But they are not victims of this dynamic: they seem to be savvy manipulators of it. Signatories of the open letter, including Weiss but also many others, have built careers and their own notoriety by seeming to solicit and revel in online anger. They direct deliberately offensive screeds at the sections of social media that are most likely to be incensed by them; they pick fights with people with large Twitter followings so that those people will publicly retort.

Watching the behavior of the professionally cancelled makes the outraged attention they receive seem less like an unfortunate or unfair byproduct of good faith engagement than like a deliberately solicited result, leading me to believe that many these pundits manufacture controversy so as to drive attention to themselves – and, crucially, so as to drive web traffic to their pieces. They want to be cancelled, too, so that they can depict themselves as rebels; the outraged attention they solicit has the added bonus of giving transgressive glamour to their otherwise repetitious, poorly researched and incurious writing.

As far as making money goes, this might not be such a bad strategy. In the digital media sphere, where clicks are revenue and outrage drives clicks, attention is itself a currency, and it holds the same value whether it is laudatory or vexed. Of all people, Weiss should have known this: the New York Times opinion section, where she worked, was such a huge driver of traffic that it became integral to the paper’s revenue model, in no small part because of the outraged online attention that her own articles generated. When we consider this reality, the claims that she and the rest of the professionally cancelled make to being defenders of free speech seem like flimsy pretenses of civic mindedness, meant to justify their own careers as glorified shock jocks.

But for all their cynicism and sense of their own victimhood, the professionally cancelled are not solely to blame for their manipulation of social media. So are those of us who reward them with our notice. The outraged are complicit in the actions of the outrage-mongers. If liberals and progressives stopped giving these people our eyes, our clicks, and hours of our lives, then their power to rake in money, to shore up their own fame, and to determine the parameters of the public conversation would be diminished. If we want these people to be less powerful, then we have to stop giving them what they want: our attention.

Weiss’s resignation letter reads less like an internal HR document and more like a pitch for a new venture, and it’s likely that Weiss will soon be outfitted with a book deal or a cushy new perch from which to continue her opining. Hours after Weiss announced her departure from the Times, another professional contrarian, Andrew Sullivan, who has provoked outrage for his repeated endorsements of race science, announced that he would be leaving his longtime role at New York magazine. The conservative talking head Ben Shapiro also left his role as editor-in-chief at the rightwing clickbait outlet the Daily Wire.

The simultaneous moves from three professional rightwing attention seekers prompted speculation that they are planning to launch a new venture together. If they do, it is sure to produce a lot of outrage bait, snappy headlines and unkind missives meant to move readers from shock to anger, and from anger to clicks. This time, let’s not fall for it.

— Moira Donegan is a Guardian US columnist

[moviesihaveseenbeforeiamdea-blog]

#810 The Thin Blue Line

Source

Released: August 25, 1988

Directed by: Errol Morris

Written by: Errol Morris

Starring: Randall Adams, David Harris

Had I Seen it Before? No

A Fun Anecdote Before We Fall Into Despair: Morris met Werner Herzog while he (Morris) was planning a movie about serial killer Ed Gein. Morris asked Herzog for his help in digging up the grave of Gein’s mother. Herzog showed up at the designated time of the plan, but Morris flaked. This led to a long series of events with Herzog questioning whether Morris could follow through anything, and led to a bet that if Morris finished his debut film, Gates of Heaven, Herzog would eat his own shoe. Morris finished the film, and the subsequent result was that we now have a documentary called Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe. 

There is a lot of unique power in a documentary, and they are probably my favorite genre of film. I’ve talked about in the past few entries to some degree about my belief in how a work of art creates an emotional truth using a false construction and argues emotionally throughout. Documentaries still very much fall in line with this, but they are grounded in a more intellectual structure by nature and present their case often in more formal, distant terms. Their arguments are often logical in a way that fictional films would be ill-suited to convey. Documentaries like Herzog’s Into the Abyss single-handedly reversed my opinion on the death penalty, turning me from a tepid supporter to a full-throated critic with its depiction of the process as a complete loss of time and humanity from everyone involved, from the victim of the condemned to the condemned himself to the executioner. Documentaries have a power, and it’s one that when used effectively, is unrivaled. 

Although Morris himself disputed the label of documentary for his breakout effort The Thin Blue Line, it’s not unreasonable to understand the massive impact on documentaries and documentarians that this film would have. Maybe Morris shirked the label of a documentary because of its connotations with a static, disinterested viewpoint which tend to make up a good bulk of the genre up to the making of this movie, with few exceptions. 

Among Morris’s innovations to the field he desperately wants to avoid being identified with is the hyperfocus on one criminal case of a man of no importance, the recreated scenes from the crime based on witness testimonies and court documents, and the dramatic flair brought by Phillip Glass’s intimidating score. Few if any introductions are made to the subjects in the speaker that aren’t said by the speakers themselves. There are no name cards or cutesy set-ups. Voices simply start speaking into the void of the camera, doing their best to present themselves as they want to be seen. 

All of these characteristics of The Thin Blue Line can be found in productions like Sara Koenig’s Serial podcast, Netflix’s Making a Murderer, or HBO’s The Jinx. There is a mutual exchange with one of Morris’s influencers, Werner Herzog, whose monomaniacal impulses are present but subdued in Morris’s own work. There is a legacy that this film has, and with good reason. 

Randall Adams, the wrongfully convicted (Source)

Morris does an excellent job of maintaining the structure of the narrative, pushing the story through its ins and outs and never overtly giving way to one definitive interpretation of an event until the moment when you’ve been made most impressionable. It’s then that Morris strikes in with what feels like an objective realization but is, on closer inspection, editorial speculation channeled through his subjects. It’s a myopic view to assume that documentaries are free of any subjective bias simply because they rely on what should “objective” facts like testimony, paperwork, and educated guesses. To paraphrase Hunter S. Thompson, there is no such thing as Objective Journalism. And Morris knows it. 

Randall Adams is a man entirely sympathetic to Morris and, by extension, the viewer. As he narrates his version of the events, he does not hedge, waiver, or contradict himself. His body language is constrained, respectful, and his eyes plead with Morris and the camera to believe him. At one point, Adams recalls watching an episode of the Carol Burnett show in his motel room at a time which would preclude him from the possibility of the murder of Officer Woods, and a later image Morris includes in the movie confirms that the Carol Burnett show was indeed airing at the time Adams claimed he was watching it. It’s a small detail, but in a case who penalty is death, it’s the small details that Adams’s story will live or die by. 

And just as interesting is the way in which Morris portrays Dallas. A place long known colloquially as “The City of Hate,” Morris paints Dallas through his interviews with the people who live about it as a city of barely-restrained contempt and rage, all too willing to devour the innocent like Adams. Adams himself recalls a member of his family remarking that if there ever was a Hell on earth, it’s Dallas, Texas. I’m not sure if that descriptor is still apt today. It’s been nearly thirty years since The Thin Blue Line was released, but it’s only been about a year since the city was the center of a series of police killings that happened in any already fraught racial and political climate. Morris prominently features Vidor, a small town outside Dallas where Davis Harris hailed from, and a regional center for the Ku Klux Klan, the kind of town that isn’t simply tolerating the Klan but is made up of it. 

Adams is positioned as someone swallowed up the inevitability of tragedy that occurs from a place as hateful and entrenched as Dallas. Adams may have been dumb in hanging out with a clearly-dangerous sixteen-year-old, but you can’t fault the man for wanting any kind of trouble. He didn’t. It found him anyway. 

Officer Mark Woods, the victim (Source)

There is a certain amount of pointlessness that seems to be recognized by Morris in which subjects he chooses to include in the movie. The prosecutor who brought the case against Adams declined to participate in the movie, but many of the law enforcement officers and the presiding judge both chime in and reveal a sentiment that they were always pushing for how they should resolve the murder of a police officer so that it would carry through to a cathartic conclusion. At no point does there seem to be any genuine doubt from the people responsible for condemning an innocent man to death. Adams himself notes that it seemed to him throughout some of the judicial processes it felt obvious that the question of his innocence was entirely irrelevant, the only thing that mattered is how and when they could kill him. 

One of the people responsible for Adams receiving the death sentence is a psychiatrist named Dr. Grigson, who is notable in that this whole movie originally started out as an investigation into his career. Known as “Doctor Death,” Dr. Grigson was a psychiatrist frequently used in cases where the possible sentence could include death to perform evaluations on the defendants. Encouraged by the prosecution, Doctor Death would invariably claim that if the defendant were to be released, he would murder again. It was only when Morris met Adams as a result of this initial investigation did he realize that Adams was not a danger and that his trial was likely a miscarriage of justice. 

There are stories like this throughout. Witnesses with something to gain, inconsistent testimony used like a bludgeon against Adams’s consistent defense, Officer Woods’s partner being near-useless in her description of what happened, and David Ray Harris’s knowing demeanor about what really happened that night all show a judicial system that got the result it wanted and not the result it should’ve worked for. 

It’s unnerving to think how quickly your life can be seized from you in the name of justice. We know this. I know this. The trade-off we make is to give a privileged few the ability to take from us what we most privilege in our own lives. This is one of the cornerstones of a civil society. We do this in the hopes that the system will be near-infallible, but we all know that it isn’t. Even if there is no injustice committed against us by the state, we are all at aware of at least one instance in our lives when someone we knew or someone we saw was denigrated and humiliated by a system we all tacitly endorse, and whose misapplication is never taken as seriously by us as it should. 

David Ray Harris, the likely murderer (Source)

This movie is often remarked on for its sense of activism, which is maybe more explanatory for why Morris recoiled at the idea of marketing it as a documentary. There’s an inherent bias towards structure and anticipation of a particular kind of argument once you label a film with a well-recognized genre, and something affixed with a generic label can live and die by how well the movie fits in with audiences’ expectations (see: The Cabin in the Woods and the misplaced disdain that movie gets from people claiming it isn’t “scary” enough for a horror film). It’s the same logic that led Jon Stewart to repeatedly denounce The Daily Show as a news program. 

I believe Morris’s aversion the documentary label is to shed the responsibility that might come with claiming to be a documentary. Purists might take issue with The Thin Blue Line for its artistic ambitions and the creative liberties it takes with the story, and for Morris, the point isn’t even to be a part of cinematic movement tied to a form, he wants to send a message. Morris, sight unseen, ignores the conventions of the documentary and positions his film as a deeply-researched, deeply political work that carries a chip on its shoulder and an ideology in its heart. 

But I think it would be a misunderstanding of Morris’s intent and the movie’s construction to claim that The Thin Blue Line is interested in heroes and villains Morris makes no particular point to paint Harris as evil, only as the likely murderer. It never lionizes Adams, either, instead of showing him for what he was: an aimless guy going nowhere fast, who got caught up in a sequence of events he never had any influence over. 

Morris is steadfast in an unsentimental pursuit of the truth, something which inadvertently positions him as a sort of antiparallel to the sins of the state actors who simply wanted a result in condemning and executing Adams. While Morris’s aim is undoubtedly nobler in his desire to find the truth of the matter, both Morris and the men who botched a case so badly that Morris had to become involved were both interested in a sort of rational explanation for the world that is outside their control. Morris might have been right about Adams’s innocence, but his intuition and judgment came from a place of the same futility he supposedly condemns: that of a man trying to impose how he’d like the world to be in place of how it is. If only that mentality more often led to the Randall Adamses of the world being exonerated rather than convicted in the first place. 

Final thoughts:

Randall Adams had his case reviewed as a result of this movie, and eventually had his verdict overturned and was released when the prosecution declined to press for a re-trial. Adams received no financial compensation from the State of Texas, sued Morris for the rights to his life back, and became an anti-death penalty activist. According to the internet, he lived in such obscurity that his death was only discovered a year after the fact. There’s no shame in any of that, except for his not having received any compensation from the state. 

David Ray Harris was convicted of a separate murder which happened during an attempted kidnapping. He was sentenced to death and finally executed in 2004. His final words were “Sir, in honor of a true American hero: Let's roll. Lord Jesus, receive my spirit. I’m done.” The reference to the American hero was reportedly words said by Todd Beamer on the United 93 flight before fighting the hijackers attempting to crash the plane into the Capitol Building during the September 11 attacks. 

I don’t know if it was FilmStruck, the film itself, or my lackluster TV, but the visual quality of this film was abhorrent. This movie might be in dire need of a remastering, the noise was insane and every 40-60 frames the film seemed to flash a single frame that was more exposed than the rest, making the picture look like it was lighting up. 

Recommended: Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe, and Into the Abyss, Herzog’s own 2011 documentary on a capital murder case. Like Morris’s film, Herzog examines the questionable verdict of the case. Unlike Morris’s film, Herzog uses the case as a more explicit condemnation of the death penalty. 

[virgilioastram]

Thoughts on the University of Puerto Rico’s student protests and Strike

I hope this isn’t misconstrued by any readers as to think I oppose the sector I am a part of. I support the decisions made by the student body as they are democratically elected. With the variety of problems facing the island, the fact that the student body is the first to stand up against all of the numerous injustices is an honorable thing. 

Now, I do have my criticisms against them. For one, I was opposed to the idea of closing down the University via riots. Mostly out of sympathy to those students that had internships and were candidates to graduate this May, as the riot put a bit of those professional plans in danger. Systematic protesting in the capital in combination with the allowing the University system to remain open would have been the optimal method. I mention this not out of disdain, but a matter of ‘tactical approach’. As any neoliberal country were ‘individual hard work and study’ are valued over collective reach, the student body and the the university’s employees should have banded together to structure protests in a way that were sympathetic to the people. 

Continuing from the last point, a large sector of the populace does not see the UPR system as a legitimate political entity. They do not sympathize with the totality of qualms that the students and the professors bring up, or if they do, they argue that protesting is ultimately ineffective and useless, under the pretense that the government was the one that holds the true power to make decisions and that voting is the sole way of being political. In addition, while the UPR system gives back to the community in various ways, certain political groups within the system only operate within the confines of protests and strikes. These political groups, leftist groups in practice and ideology, are seen as hypocritical, opportunistic, and violent. (Note, this is also due to historical stigmatizing, but that’s for another piece). The groups are also reported to boycott each other’s attempts at protesting, considered rather disorganized, and aim to find a way of securing political power by using the student body as what can be best described as a ‘meat shield’. How true or false these claims are can be attributed to the parties in power ridiculing the left, but even sources from within have been incredibly unsatisfied with the way the more ‘political protesters’ function. 

I would like to note that even with these criticisms, the students do have legitimate right to protest as they see fit. Even if at times i feel the necessity to claim that some of their actions are misguided, their rancor is valid. Hell, I can’t claim that I am a pacifist. A coward, yes, but not a pacifist, and inferring that violence would be an eventuality thanks to the provocation of stagnant corruption. Thus, I feel the need to comment on the opposition. Mainly, the vast majority of government officials. 

“They can eat my dick” is probably the best, constructive and academic comment I can muster. I loathe how the politicians have continued to ridicule the efforts of students, especially when they continue to support corruption in broad daylight with impunity. In a debt crisis, they have actively given positions of power and statures to numerous past officials that have been the cause of this despotic mess. It took the courts a month to finally begin processing and criminalizing a sexual assault case, where the accused was Hector O’Neil, mayor of Guaynabo. 

The press has also been unsympathetic and unhelpful. But that’s to be expected. 

Some of the worst offenders were a group of republican students that demanded that the courts teared open the gates to the main campus. The order was approved and on May 11, they will be sending a police squadron to do so. They willingly jeopardized the lives of students and they celebrated that fact, as if not knowing the sick repercussions that would have. Even as I write this, the Rio Piedras area has been a hotbed of problems and police provocations even after the main protests were done. And these students did not feel an iota of sympathy for their peers. “They can also eat my dick”, is an appropriate and academic response. 

If anything, my thoughts go to fellow students and protesters. Even with the odds them, they are choosing to sacrifice their very lives for a better world. I believe in tactics, but I believe in them a bit more. But this is a precarious situation. I hope May 11th doesn’t bring chaos. 

[focsle]

Bloob oc meme

Tagged by @thesaint-jimmy to do @princeofmorley‘s lovely bloobloo meme. I’m copy and pasting some things from the brief thing I already wrote about him but HEYY.

Name: Obediah Mercy Nickname(s): I call him Obi. No one else would call him Obi. Age: 62 Gender: Male Sexuality: Straight but...the coldest of fish.  Height/Build: 6 ft stickbug

Personality description: He has an air of arrogance about him because of his thread-like associations to aristocracy, but ultimately is a subservient person. If he respects someone, he’s an incredibly stalwart ally. To those he thinks are beneath him however (of which there are many), he has a talent for being both polite and vaguely disdainful at the same time. He can be vain when it comes to his abilities and background, but there’s a bit of weariness to him too. He’s fairly taciturn. He rarely shows any outward displays of strong emotion, but has a tendency to hold lifelong grudges. He’s a stickler for propriety and ritual. While he’s usually a very dry fellow, he does appreciate irony and has a bit of a gallows humor on the rare occasions when it strikes him.

Physical description: He’s tall and slight, though his movements are very graceful and nimble in a way that belies his age. He dresses in the unnecessarily extravagant livery of a cainhurst servant, but is a bit ratty as far as personal grooming is concerned. His hair is relatively long and lank, and though he tries to be clean shaven he usually has a couple days of beard growth due to having other things to be concerned about. He tends to have a drawn, disinterested expression, and his facial expressions are very reserved in general so it’s hard to sense what he’s feeling. Bit haggard and hollow looking. Vocally, he’s got this Brummie-esque drone, and like his facial expressions, his inflection rarely betrays any kind of strong emotion.

BACKSTORY

Introduce your hunter and their backstory. Obediah was a servant at Castle Cainhurst, operating as, essentially, a footman for a noble family. A flashy murder-butler. He dealt largely in a pest control capacity, quietly dispatching beasts (and cainhurst’s strange fauna) for the benefit of his masters. It was an occupation passed down his family line, held by his father, his father’s father, stretching all the way back. It wasn’t a job of high rank in any respect, but he carried himself as though it was. I technically have him pulled into an EARLIER iteration of the dream before Cainhurst falls...and its when he wakes up that he finds the place in ruin...so I’m gonna be…FUDGIN WITH QUESTIONS HERE. It’s not like time has ANY meaning whatsoever in bloodborne ahaha.

Which class/origin did you choose for your hunter? Does this tie into their backstory? I chose the Professional just cos I wanted to start my skill build off easy. I suppose it does tie a bit into that backstory in that he has training and experience.

Where is your hunter from? What brought them to Yharnam?Cainhurst. He was quite ill, fatally so, and came to Yharnam for a blood ministration to hopefully cure him. IT WORKED in the sense that he got dragged into the weird-dream-horrid-immortality-until-further-notice instead.

Did your hunter know any of the characters from the game before they entered the Hunter’s Dream? He knew of Annalise but never personally met her prior to becoming a vileblood after the fall of Cainhurst. The family he served was on speaking terms with her though...which gave him an ego by-proxy.

Had they fought beasts before entering the Dream, or is this their first experience as a hunter? Yep, he’d fought them before. That was his job. Pest control.

CHARACTER DETAILS

How do they react to first waking up in the Hunter’s Dream? Do they remember anything about their life before the Dream? He doesn’t remember anything about his life before the dream. He’s disoriented and frustrated at his circumstances but he takes to it quickly. Even if he doesn’t recall his background for quite some time, the skilled murdering thing is all muscle memory.

Do they align themselves with any Covenants or other factions (the Healing Church, the Choir, the Old Hunters, the Unseen Village, etc) Vilebloods.

Do they befriend any NPCs in particular? Make enemies of any NPCs? I think he’d be quite fond of Arianna. He’d probably get along decently with Eileen too. Strongly dislikes Adella. He’d WANT TO WRECK ALFRED but I think Alfred would probably wreck him. 

Are they in a relationship? If so, with whom? No lol. HE’S A BRICK WALL.

How does your hunter feel about the Healing Church? About blood ministration? He thinks blood ministration is practical, and he’s familiar enough with it since Cainhurst had their own blood shit going on. He is, predictably, very venomous about the Church though.

Do they fear the scourge? Are they afraid of turning into a beast? Afraid of becoming blood-addled? Of the unknown Cosmos? What are they afraid of? He doesn’t fear the scourge, and doesn’t think about the possibility of becoming blood-addled, though that’s what happens to him eventually once he’s out of the dream. He’d be very afraid of kin though. Great ones. All that. He doesn’t have a strong fortitude when it comes to the unknown.

Does your hunter relish in the Hunt or revile their bloody work? He enjoys the hunt. Gives him a sense of purpose. And it’s familiar to him.

What is your hunter’s attitude towards Gehrman? Do they resent being trapped in the Hunter’s Dream? He finds him irritatingly cryptic at first, but comes to respect him well enough. Mostly because Obediah does best when he’s in service to someone, and Gehrman is the only someone around.

Does your hunter sympathize and associate with fellow hunters, or are they more of a loner who avoids other hunters? Do they leave notes for other hunters? He’s a loner, and also very opportunistic. He hunts other hunters. Not very sociable. He wouldn’t leave notes. Though if he met a hunter presently in the dream he would be sympathetic to them and not fight them--partly because he doesn’t want to possibly add another death to the list, but more practically, he could never outpace someone immortal.

Does your hunter worship the Great Ones? Do they worship blood? Or do they have a different belief system? If they’re not devout, what do they value or prioritize in life? Obediah is loyal to both the people he respects and the ideologies they hold. He’s very comfortable being in service to someone and in fact, absolutely needs to be for his own validation. His sense of worth comes from what he does for other people. And if he is serving someone, his viewpoints are quite malleable under the influence of that person.

Do they have a special place where they feel safe or “at home”? Is there a place they’re afraid of or that they avoid? I don’t think he feels at home anywhere. Cainhurst definitely doesn’t feel like a home anymore, given the state that it’s in, but he does have a small part of the castle he holes up in. Still spends time in its intensely drafty library from time to time. If he knew about the shit that went down in Upper Cathedral Ward he’d definitely avoid it, but he doesn’t know.

Are there any particular items your hunter holds onto for sentimental reasons, or items that serve to comfort them? He gets some comfort from a hand lantern. It just makes him feel more grounded. Also just...his weapon and occupational garb since, again, it’s something normal and familiar in the face of the life that he knew being uprooted and destroyed by the Executioners.

Do any of the discoveries in the game (about the old blood, the Healing Church, the Great Ones, etc) shock them? How do they react to these revelations? He’d…almost come undone when it comes to great ones. Yahargul would fuck him up. He’d feel like he was treading incredibly dangerous ground concerning the mensis ritual, and also the church’s activities in upper cathedral ward. But I don’t think, when he’s in the dream, he comes to that understanding about Great Ones.

Does your hunter want to discover the secrets of the Healing Church and the origins of the scourge, or do they just want to kill some beasts and escape the Dream? What motivates them? I think when he’s in the Hunter’s Dream he DOES want to find meaning in it. He wants to know why he’s there, and what his tasks are leading him to.

How does your hunter feel about being effectively immortal? How do the unending deaths affect them over the course of their time in the Dream? So tired. He’s so tired. Every time he dies he hopes it’s the last time. The dream ages him significantly.

COMBAT AND STATS

Which primary stat does your hunter most rely on (Strength, Skill, Bloodtinge, Arcane)? Do they prioritize Vitality or Endurance? Skill, and he prioritizes endurance. Can’t hit him if he keeps moving.

What are your hunter’s trick weapon and firearm of choice? Why? In the dream he initially uses the threaded cane, but once he reconnects with cainhurst and becomes a vileblood, he uses reiterpallasch. It’s a familiar weapon he’s at ease with. (tho I personally love rakuyo so that’s what I use with him)

Do they make use of any hunter tools? Old Hunter Bone. He’d use numbing mist too. He fights dirty.

What type of armor do they wear? Why? In the dream he wore decorative old hunter’s garb, because the dream ends up making him quite superstitious. Again, once he reconnects with Cainhurst he wears the knight’s garb because he remembers that’s what he used to be. It’s only PROPER AND FITTING.

Describe their fighting style. Obediah’s fighting style is brutal, but efficient, though in his age he’s not as adept as he used to be. He prefers to fight with finesse, and favors swift and lighter hitting weapons over slow, harder hitting ones.  While he’s still quite nimble, his balance is easily thrown. His aim is to not let a foe touch him, because it’s not hard to knock him down. He tends to rely on sneaky visceral attacks instead, because his aim is to deal as much damage as quickly as possible so the opponent doesn’t have the opportunity to get the upper hand of him.

Which Caryll runes does your hunter keep equipped? Anti-clockwise metamorphosis because he needs his stamina, and blood rapture and clawmark because he tends to eviscerate things and likes to get REWARDED for it.

How much Insight does your hunter have? How does this affect them? Mercifully, Obediah would not have much of it. If he was seeing amygdalas everywhere he’d like…lose it.

Does your hunter take advantage of Beasthood to fuel their attacks? How does it affect them? Nope, not at all.

Is there a beast or type of enemy your hunter likes to fight? An enemy they avoid? He likes fighting other hunters because it’s a challenge to his skill but also quite satisfying to his ego when he defeats them. Kin terrify him. Especially winter lanterns and brain suckers.

Do they often summon the Old Hunters or hunters from other worlds to aid them? I DO SOMETIMES but Obediah wouldn’t, again, loner factor. He will handle things on his OWN.

PLOT DECISIONS

Does your hunter’s story deviate from the central plot of Bloodborne? In what ways? Yes, in that I imagine he was in the dream prior, and in the events of bloodborne he’s just a mortal vileblood. Does your hunter try to rescue any of the civilians of Yharnam? Are they successful? This would not be his concern at all.

Does your hunter kill the Impostor Iosefka or let her continue her work? He would kill Imposter Iosefka due to her link to the church.

Do they fight Djura or befriend him? What about Eileen the Crow? He thinks Djura is a FOOLISH BLEEDING HEART of course he would fight him. He likes Eileen, but he’d take issue with fighting the Crow of Cainhurst. Though when he realized he was blood addled, he’d be less bothered by it.

Do they choose to side with Alfred or Queen Annalise? Annalise. Naturally. 

Does your hunter enter the Chalice Dungeons? Yes, again in trying to understand what would be going on in the dream.

Does your hunter enter the Hunter’s Nightmare? Do they defeat the Orphan of Kos? If he goes to the Hunter’s Nightmare, it would probably be because he’s blood addled himself, and would be in no state to even reach the Orphan of Kos.

What is your hunter’s final choice at the end of the game? He lets Gehrman chop his head off. Doesn’t even matter if he wakes up or not. He just wants to be DONE.

If they accept Gehrman’s offer, what does your hunter do once they’re free of the Hunter’s Dream? After he wakes up he has a bit of amnesia to work through. But he ultimately goes back to Cainhurst despite its ruin and serves Annalise. He’s inwardly unenthusiastic about her motivations, and wishes the castle and its population could be revitalized again but that is NOT ON THE AGENDA.

If applicable, how does your hunter die? He ends up becoming blood-addled and is killed by a fellow hunter.

[bountyofbeads]

"Those caught in the web of Trumpism do not see the deception that surrounds them."

"The very things responsible for the success of democratic transition are under near constant assault from Trump and his Republican abettors."

"And if scandals too numerous to list have not dented faith in Trump, those holding out for an apocalyptic moment of reckoning that suddenly drops the curtain—the Russia investigation, or his taxes—will only be disappointed. In all likelihood, the idea that Trump is a crook has been “priced in.”

Millions of Americans are blindly devoted to their Dear Leader. What will it take for them to snap out of it?

By ALEXANDER Hurst | Published December 13, 2018 | New Republic | Posted September 27, 2019 10:15 AM |

ILLUSTRATION BY ZACH MEYER

On December 20, 1954, some 62 years before Donald Trump would be sworn in as president of the United States, Dorothy Martin and dozens of her followers crowded into her home in Chicago to await the apocalypse. The group believed that Martin, a housewife, had received a message from a planet named Clarion that the world would end in a great flood beginning at midnight, and that they, the faithful, would be rescued by an alien spacecraft.

Unbeknownst to the other “Seekers,” three of their group—Leon Festinger, Henry Riecken, and Stanley Schachter—were not there to be saved, but to observe. Psychologists from elite institutions, they had infiltrated the pseudo-cult to study Festinger’s recently elaborated theory of “cognitive dissonance.” The theory predicted that when people with strongly held beliefs were presented with contrary evidence, rather than change their minds they would seek comfort and “cognitive consonance” by convincing others to support their erroneous views.

Festinger’s prediction was right. When neither the apocalypse nor the UFO arrived, the group began proselytizing about how God had rewarded the Earth with salvation because of their vigil. His subsequent book, When Prophecy Fails, became a standard sociology reference for examining cognitive dissonance, religious prophecy, and cult-like behavior. What the three researchers probably never predicted, though, was that over half a century later Festinger’s theory would be applicable to roughly  25 percent of the population of the United States and one of its two major political parties. Nor could they have foreseen that the country’s salvation might well depend on its ability to deprogram the Trump cult’s acolytes—an effort that would require a level of sympathetic engagement on the part of nonbelievers that they have yet to display.

Personality cults are a hallmark of populist-autocratic politics. The names of the various leaders are practically synonymous with their movements: Le Pen, Farage, Duterte, Orbán, Erdogan,  Chávez, Bolsonaro, Putin. Or if we were to dip farther back into history: Castro, Franco, Mussolini, Hitler, Stalin. Like religious cult leaders, demagogues understand the importance of setting up an in-group/out-group dynamic as a means of establishing their followers’ identity as members of a besieged collective.

Trump, like the populist authoritarians before and around him, has also understood (or, at least, instinctually grasped) how indispensable his own individual persona is to his ultimate goal of grasping and maintaining power. Amidst his string of business failures, Trump’s singular talent has been that of any con man: the incredible ability to cultivate a public image. Of course, Trump did not build his cult of followers—his in-group—ex nihilo; in many ways, the stage was set for his entrance. America had already split into two political identities by the time he announced his campaign for president in 2015, not just in terms of the information we consume, but down to the brands we prefer and the stores we frequent. And so with particularly American bombast and a reality TV star’s penchant for manipulating the media, Trump tore pages from the us-against-them playbook of the European far right and presented them to a segment of the American public already primed to receive it with religious fervor.

In an interview with Pacific Standard, Janja Lalich, a sociologist who specializes in cults, identified four characteristics of a totalistic cult and applied them to Trumpism: an all-encompassing belief system, extreme devotion to the leader, reluctance to acknowledge criticism of the group or its leader, and a disdain for nonmembers. Eileen Barker, another sociologist of cults, has written that, together, cult leaders and followers create and maintain their movement by proclaiming shared beliefs and identifying themselves as a distinguishable unit; behaving in ways that reinforce the group as a social entity, like closing themselves off to conflicting information; and stoking division and fear of enemies, real or perceived.

Does Trump tick off the boxes? The hatchet job he has made of Republican ideology and the sway he holds over what is now his party suggest he does not lack for devotion. His nearly 90 percent approval rating among Republicans is the more remarkable for his having shifted Republican views on a range of issues, from trade, to NATO, to Putin, to even the NFL. Then there are the endless rallies that smack of a noxious sort of revivalism, complete with a loyalty “pledge” during the 2016 campaign; a steady stream of sycophantic fealty (at least in public) from aides in the administration and its congressional Republican allies; and an almost universal unwillingness by Republican congressional leadership to check or thwart Trump’s worst instincts in any substantive way.

As for disdain, or disgust even, for nonmembers, who include “globalists,” immigrants, urbanites, Muslims, Jews, and people of color? “I suppose that Old Man Trump knows just how much racial hate / He stirred up that bloodroot of human hearts,” Woody Guthrie sang in 1950 about Fred Trump’s discriminatory housing practices. Those words could just as easily apply to Fred’s son Donald, as The New York Times details, about his birtherism, his view that dark-skinned immigrants come from “shithole countries,” his frequent classification of black people as uppity and ungrateful, his denigration of Native Americans, his incorporation of white nationalist thought into his administration, his equivocation over neo-Nazis. The “lock her up!” chants of his rallies are less about Hillary Clinton individually, and more about who belongs and who doesn’t, and what place exists for those who don’t. In perhaps the pettiest form of their disdain, Trump’s supporters engage in “rolling coal”—the practice of tricking out diesel engines to send huge plumes of smoke into the atmosphere—to “own the libs.”

Trump sold his believers an engrossing tale of “American carnage” that he alone could fix, then isolated them in a media universe where reality exists only through Trump-tinted glasses, attacking all other sources of information as “fake news.” In the most polarized media landscape in the wealthy world, Republicans place their trust almost solely in Fox News, seeing nearly all other outlets as biased. In that context, the effect of a president who lies an average of ten times a day is the total blurring of fact and fiction, reality and myth, trust and cynicism. It is a world where, in the words of Rudy Giuliani, truth is no longer truth. “Who could really know?” Trump said of claims that Saudi prince Mohammed bin Salman had ordered the murder of the journalist Jamal Khashoggi. “It is what it is.”

Reason rarely defeats emotion—or, as Catherine Fieschi, an expert on political extremism, told me, gut instinct. If it did, right-wing populist movements from Brexit to Bolsonaro would be on the retreat, not in the advance. Those caught in the web of Trumpism do not see the deception that surrounds them. And if scandals too numerous to list have not dented faith in Trump, those holding out for an apocalyptic moment of reckoning that suddenly drops the curtain—the Russia investigation, or his taxes—will only be disappointed. In all likelihood, the idea that Trump is a crook has been “priced in.”

When presented with his actual record, which has often fallen short of what he promised on the campaign trail, Trump supporters time and again have displayed either disbelief or indifference. As a Trump supporter  explicitly stated in reference to the president’s many, many lies, “I don’t care if he sprouts a third dick up there.” What actually is doesn’t matter; what does is that Trump reflects back to his supporters a general feeling of what ought to be, a general truthiness in their guts.

Amidst the frenetic pace of disgrace and outrage, Trump’s support remains stable among too large a chunk of the American public to just ignore. Trump, who insisted on the presence of voter fraud by the millions in an election he ultimately won, and a coterie of prominent Republicans spent the week after the 2018 midterms delegitimizing the very notion of counting all the votes in key races in Florida, Georgia, and Arizona. Trump’s claim that he could shoot someone in the middle of Fifth Avenue and still retain the loyalty of his followers is jokingly referred to as the truest thing he’s ever said, but it’s less funny that 52 percent of them would hypothetically support postponing the 2020 election if he proposed it. What happens when a man who has already  promoted political violence, and whose most hardcore supporters have shown their willingness for such violence, finds on election night two years from now that he has just narrowly lost? Do any of us truly believe that Donald J. Trump and his followers will simply slink away quietly into the night?

So, how do we get those caught up in the cult of Trump to leave it?

Daryl Davis has played the blues for over 30 years, including with the likes of Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis. He’s also spent 30 years talking to Klansmen, over 200 of whom have quit the KKK as a result of their conversations, handing over their robes to Davis—who is black. “When two enemies are talking, they’re not fighting,” Davis told NPR in 2017. “I didn’t convert anybody,” he explained. “They saw the light and converted themselves.”

Davis’s success is more than a cute, feel-good story. It involved the real-world application of techniques that scholars advocate employing to help individuals leave cults. A 2011 study by the RAND Corporation concluded that, “Factors associated with leaving street gangs, religious cults, right-wing extremist groups, and organized crime groups” included positive social ties and an organic disillusionment with the group’s beliefs or ideology. As psychologists Rod and Linda Dubrow-Marshall write in The Conversation, it’s extremely difficult for people to admit they are wrong, and it’s crucial for them to arrive at that realization on their own.

The debate over how to deal with Trump’s anti-democratic following has largely avoided the question of engaging it directly. These days there is no shortage of articles and books dealing with radical-right populism, despots, democratic backsliding, and the tactics that authoritarian leaders deploy. Dozens of experts have pointed out that liberal democratic institutions need constant attention and reinforcement in order to be effective bulwarks. But most of the solutions on offer are institutional in nature: maintaining the independence of the judiciary, thwarting a would-be autocrat’s attempts to grab hold of the levers of justice, maintaining a legislative check on executive authority, enshrining political norms more clearly into constitutions.

In their 2011 book, Defeating Authoritarian Leaders in Post-Communist Countries, Valerie Bunce and Sharon Wolchik conclude that democratization in Eastern European nations like Croatia owed much to assistance from transnational pro-democracy networks, civil society, and energetic election campaigns run by a united opposition. In some ways this analysis offers us a modicum of hope: Trump, despite his desires, commands far less power over the political system than did any of the autocrats that Bunce and Wolchik studied, and the United States enjoys many of the elements they cite as critical, like robust civil society, energetic elections, and a mostly unified opposition. But at the same time, the very things responsible for the success of democratic transition are under near constant assault from Trump and his Republican abettors.

Democracy, especially liberal democracy, has always been dependent on the trust and belief of the self-governed. It is one thing to implement tangible measures to prevent the decay of bedrock institutions, and when it comes to voting rights, elections, the courts, and restraints on executive power, we know what these measures should look like. It’s another, far tougher thing to figure out how to maintain the legitimacy of these same institutions—and how to restore it once lost.

Javier Corrales, a political science professor at Amherst College and expert on the Chavez regime, has written that one lesson from Venezuela’s experience is for the opposition to avoid fragmentation within the broader electorate and, when possible, polarization. When it comes to Trump, he told me that rather than pursuing impeachment, which could backfire by polarizing institutions and the general environment even more, “the opposition needs to focus on strengthening institutions of checks and balances, and embracing and defending policies that produce majoritarian consensus rather than just cater to the base. The more defections they can get from voters that would otherwise side with the illiberal president, the better. If the opposition can get the other side to split, they win.”

When it comes to helping individuals leave cult-like groups, many sociologists agree: Positive social factors are more effective than negative sanctions. Lalich counsels  using dialogue to ask questions and reinforce doubts, rather than “to harp” or criticize. Testimonials from former cult members can be particularly helpful in fueling disillusionment, she says.

On a nationwide scale, this would probably look a lot like a field called “conflict transformation.” John Paul Lederach, professor emeritus at Notre Dame’s Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies, laid out the basics of conflict transformation in his 1998 book, Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided Societies. He argued that outsiders should work with mid-level members of the community who could simultaneously engage ordinary people and their leaders. He also called for an “elicitive approach” whereby solutions were developed by people themselves, in accordance with their own specific cultural contexts.

Of the places in the world where conflict transformation has worked, Northern Ireland probably most approximates the United States, in the sense that it was part of a wealthy nation with a democratic tradition (though in the 1980s, Northern Ireland was in a far worse situation of political division and communitarian violence).

Maria Power, a researcher in conflict transformation studies at Oxford, sees strategies from Northern Ireland that could be deployed on the other side of the Atlantic. She cited the example of dialogue-building between Unionist and Republican women, who faced much tougher obstacles to reconciliation since they were “risking their lives” every time they met in East Belfast during The Troubles. She said that the peace effort in Northern Ireland hinged on incredibly tough, person-to-person groundwork carried out by dozens of organizations and ecumenical groups. She emphasized above all the importance of investing effort and time into building trust, first within, and then later between, identity groups.

Power said that conflict transformation in the United States would likely involve local, grassroots community development in the areas that Trump likes to hold rallies. “I don’t mean that progressives should go to these communities and start knocking on doors,” she explained, “that would be the worst thing that could happen to exacerbate tensions. I mean that there should be a focus on real community development in these areas.”

Individuals would be led through a “single identity dialogue,” a safe-space where someone who has gained the community’s trust can guide them through discussion of their identity, why they feel threatened, and why they feel the need to otherize those they see as different. This does presume some legitimacy to their fears; as The Atlantic’s Adam Serwer, among others, has written convincingly, Trumpism is not primarily a story of globalism’s dispossessed, but rather one of identity politics. But there is reality, and there is perception, and the truth is that Trump voters perceive themselves as victims who have been culturally dislocated, disdained, and in danger of being left behind.

Power said that, in the mid-1980s, Northern Ireland had some 300 of these single-identity groups. She added that there was a tough balance to strike between allowing people “to become comfortable enough with their own place in society that other people don’t seem to be a threat,” and “dripping” in truth in such a way that avoided a reinforcement of their existing beliefs.

Only once that step had been undertaken on a local level were people able to have cross-community conversation, and eventually to engage with each other through social action projects—schemes to bring people together, not over political discussion, but in tasks beneficial to their communities. Power lamented that overall this is quite a long-term process, perhaps even a generational one.

That sentiment was echoed by Emma Elfversson, who researches peace and conflict at Sweden’s Uppsala University. Elfversson told me that because trust in the state and institutions is often crucial to reconciliation, democratic backsliding in the U.S. is worrying. “Important work to overcome divides is done at the grassroots level—through NGOs, religious initiatives, social service programs, schools, at the workplace, etc.,” she said, adding, “Civil society organizations that cut across identity borders can promote reconciliation and reduce conflict.”

Such an approach might seem fuzzy to those who seek to buttress qualitative observations with hard data, but there are concrete examples of places where community-based peace building has been effective. Fieschi thinks that the way to short-circuit populism is to create an environment where people can think. “Populism encourages every fiber of your being not to think,” she told me. “In fact, it pretty much posits that if you have to think you’re not to be trusted. We need to create those spaces and times that offer the opportunity to exercise agency, to think things through.”

The problem for the modern left is that none of this is emotionally satisfying. It’s just hard, hard work. Push too hard, and you risk fostering even greater resentment and reaction. But let people off the hook, and the myths they perpetuate about race and national identity might never get punctured.

Above all, it also rings as profoundly unfair. Why should a group that still enjoys the momentum of historic privilege, and is still afforded outsize political weight, be handheld through an era of demographic change? And why should minority groups, who continue to suffer from oppression, be the ones to extend that hand?

American politics, as Alexis de Tocqueville once observed, has often had a religious character to it, with the nation itself exalted in a messianic way. After the end of the Vietnam War, Thomas Robbins and Dick Anthony, two researchers of cults, wrote, “There is a recurrent sequence in American history in which sectarian (and sometimes rather authoritarian) religions emerge and elicit tremendous hostility.” The decline of Cold War orthodoxy after Vietnam, the two noted, had produced a crisis in American civil religion, resulting in “the proliferation of cults as well as the growth of anticult demonology.”

We can understand Donald Trump’s rise as a civil religion giving way to its cultic expression. Con man, cult leader, populist politician: Trump is all of these, rolled into one. He has become all-encompassing, even to nonbelievers. We all feel the fatigue of merely existing in the Trump era, the rapid-fire assault on all of our political and social senses. We want immediate solutions to the Trump problem. We want to beat reason into his followers, until they recognize how wrong they are, or at the very least, submit. We want to blame them—justifiably—for perpetuating his sham.

I want these things. I want them in my gut. But I also know that the cult’s pull is so powerful that it risks destroying its opponents, by eliciting a counterproductive reaction to it. If we want to bring members of the Trump cult back into the mainstream of American life—and there will be plenty of those who say we should move on without them—resistance means not only resisting the lure of the cult and exposing its lies, but also resisting the temptation to punish its followers.

“When the cultic behavior is on a national scale, [breaking it up] is going to take a national movement,” Lalich says. Such an approach promises no immediate gratification. But it also might be the only way to move forward, rather than continue a dangerous downward spiral. Andrés Miguel Rondón, a Venezuelan economist who fled to Spain, wrote this of his own country’s experience of being caught up in an authoritarian’s fraudulent promises: “[W]hat can really win them over is not to prove that you are right. It is to show that you care. Only then will they believe what you say.”

[recentanimenews]

My Villain Academia: The Vanguard Squad Steals the Spotlight

Of all of My Hero Academia’s strengths, the colorful and diverse cast of Class 1-A has always been its greatest. The newest arc doubles down on that power with the attack of the Vanguard Action Squad, introducing a group of antagonists to rival the UA students not only in power, but also personality. Not content to make a rogue’s gallery of one dimensional villains, Horikoshi constructed a cast of enemies who are the dark reflection of his hopeful heroes, talented young rookies with idols, enemies, and big goals. A new group so compelling that taking sides in the upcoming conflict might become a harder decision than you thought.

    While a few of the members like Muscular and Moonfish are definitely just in it for the violence, you get the distinct impression that may of those heading off the forest attack have come together for a greater purpose. Inspired by Stain, they rallied to Shigarakis call for a coalition of villains. Each definitely leaves an impression with Horikoshi’s trademark charming character designs and eccentric personalities, but there’s something even more insidious that makes these no villains so fascinating and sets them up as true adversaries to the heroes. They believe they’re in the right.

    Many of the Vanguard see themselves as victims, unfairly constrained by societal rules they never agreed to. Although complaints like wanting to taste other peoples blood or commit acts of violence are less than sympathetic, they perceive that they have been treated unfairly and, in a world we’ve already discovered has its considerable imperfections, it’s hard to imagine all of them have arrived at villainy without some legitimate complaints. No matter their circumstances, they’ve united under a single banner in what they see as a righteous revolution against authoritarian rule.

    To them, the true villains are the so-called heroes and, depending upon who you ask, All Might may either be public enemy number one and a symbol for tyranny or the only hero truly worthy of that mantle. Regardless of where they land on that subject these villains hate heroes and not without reason. The pro heroes have their share of corruption, from everything about Endeavor to heroes that leverage their fame to amass their own personal wealth. With some heroes abusing their positions of responsibility and the rest turning a blind eye, it’s no surprise they some have trouble looking upon the heroes entrusted with protecting the world with anything but disdain.

    As with the UA students, the Vanguard also have their inspirational figures. The group was almost universally drawn together by Stain’s speech and Shigaraki’s call to arms. Himiko, Dabi, and Spinner all unabashedly idolize Stain just as the UA class idolize All Might, as more than an individual but a larger-than-life ideal. Rather than villainous goals, they were rallied by the same idea, that there is something fundamentally wrong with the world and it cannot be fixed until the heroes who uphold the current order are defeated. Even Shigaraki, the least ideological of the group, hates what All Might Represents and has found a role model in his benefactor

    They also care for their own. The villains are few and any like-minded individuals represent potential allies. Even if Shigaraki is using them all as pawns, the Vanguard themselves seem to genuinely value each other. They have made a concerted efforts to go back for their fallen and, if Mr. Compress is to be believed, want to capture Bakugo specifically because they think he’s underserved and unfulfilled being a hero. Considering his temperment, it’s hard to fault them for believing he might deserve the chance to switch sides. While they disagree and have all arrived on together under different circumstances, you can see an organized team forming among their ranks.

    It’s all a little crazy, but it makes a strange kind of sense. We’ve already seen how the world might push someone to villainy despite their best intentions. Stain himself aspired to become a hero before finding he couldn’t abide the corruption of his peers. Shinso was introduced as a character with similar tragic misgivings. His Quirk is one most people would associate with villainy, so he was pushed away and even feared by his classmates. Although he truly wants to become a hero like All Might, it’s easy to see how Shinso’s aspirations might transform into resentment if his deeds can’t overcome those preconceptions. Many of the Vanguard feel like they shared his story and met with a bad ending.

    Perhaps most importantly, they’re all quirky. This may seem like a strange addition, but the amount of thought put into each of the villains narrative weight. With a great character design, a outlandish personality, and a set of goals that makes them port of a living, breathing world, it’s hard to see them dropping out of the story any time soon. That alone makes them feel dangerous. Dabi and Himiko aren’t Nomu to add some muscle to a single attack. They’re going to be back again and again, and it’s hard to believe they won't be getting stronger right alongside the UA students.

    They’re most definitely in the wrong, but their personalities and dedication to their cause make the Vanguard team a fantastic addition to My Hero Academia’s cast. Horikoshi has built them up as counterpoints to the UA students, in doing so, made a group of villains that feel like a genuine threat. Just as Deku and his friends want to protect the world, the villains want to free it, and have as much fun as they can along the way. They have inspirations to chase, enemies to defeat, and they’re so likeable that you might even find yourself rooting for them.

---

Peter Fobian is an Associate Features Editor for Crunchyroll, author of Monthly Mangaka Spotlight, writer for Anime Academy, and contributor at Anime Feminist. You can follow him on Twitter @PeterFobian.

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[bountyofbeads]

https://newrepublic.com/article/152638/escape-trump-cult

tRump is a cult. If you or someone you know is brainwashed by the tRump cult, seek help from a clinician trained in deprogramming. Key features include irrational subservience to tRump and morbid investment of one's personal identity in tRump. https://t.co/Sybnk5Q4QN #MAGA-cult

Millions of Americans are blindly devoted to their Dear Leader. What will it take for them to snap out of it?

By ALEXANDER Hurst | Published December 13, 2018 | New Republic | Posted June 18, 2019 |

ILLUSTRATION BY ZACH MEYER

On December 20, 1954, some 62 years before Donald Trump would be sworn in as president of the United States, Dorothy Martin and dozens of her followers crowded into her home in Chicago to await the apocalypse. The group believed that Martin, a housewife, had received a message from a planet named Clarion that the world would end in a great flood beginning at midnight, and that they, the faithful, would be rescued by an alien spacecraft.

Unbeknownst to the other “Seekers,” three of their group—Leon Festinger, Henry Riecken, and Stanley Schachter—were not there to be saved, but to observe. Psychologists from elite institutions, they had infiltrated the pseudo-cult to study Festinger’s recently elaborated theory of “cognitive dissonance.” The theory predicted that when people with strongly held beliefs were presented with contrary evidence, rather than change their minds they would seek comfort and “cognitive consonance” by convincing others to support their erroneous views.

Festinger’s prediction was right. When neither the apocalypse nor the UFO arrived, the group began proselytizing about how God had rewarded the Earth with salvation because of their vigil. His subsequent book, When Prophecy Fails, became a standard sociology reference for examining cognitive dissonance, religious prophecy, and cult-like behavior. What the three researchers probably never predicted, though, was that over half a century later Festinger’s theory would be applicable to roughly 25 percent of the population of the United States and one of its two major political parties. Nor could they have foreseen that the country’s salvation might well depend on its ability to deprogram the Trump cult’s acolytes—an effort that would require a level of sympathetic engagement on the part of nonbelievers that they have yet to display.

Personality cults are a hallmark of populist-autocratic politics. The names of the various leaders are practically synonymous with their movements: Le Pen, Farage, Duterte, Orbán, Erdogan, Chávez, Bolsonaro, Putin. Or if we were to dip farther back into history: Castro, Franco, Mussolini, Hitler, Stalin. Like religious cult leaders, demagogues understand the importance of setting up an in-group/out-group dynamic as a means of establishing their followers’ identity as members of a besieged collective.

Trump, like the populist authoritarians before and around him, has also understood (or, at least, instinctually grasped) how indispensable his own individual persona is to his ultimate goal of grasping and maintaining power. Amidst his string of business failures, Trump’s singular talent has been that of any con man: the incredible ability to cultivate a public image. Of course, Trump did not build his cult of followers—his in-group—ex nihilo; in many ways, the stage was set for his entrance. America had already split into two political identities by the time he announced his campaign for president in 2015, not just in terms of the information we consume, but down to the brands we prefer and the stores we frequent. And so with particularly American bombast and a reality TV star’s penchant for manipulating the media, Trump tore pages from the us-against-them playbook of the European far right and presented them to a segment of the American public already primed to receive it with religious fervor.

Amidst his string of business failures, Trump’s singular talent has been that of any con man: the incredible ability to cultivate a public image.

In an interview with Pacific Standard, Janja Lalich, a sociologist who specializes in cults, identified four characteristics of a totalistic cult and applied them to Trumpism: an all-encompassing belief system, extreme devotion to the leader, reluctance to acknowledge criticism of the group or its leader, and a disdain for nonmembers. Eileen Barker, another sociologist of cults, has written that, together, cult leaders and followers create and maintain their movement by proclaiming shared beliefs and identifying themselves as a distinguishable unit; behaving in ways that reinforce the group as a social entity, like closing themselves off to conflicting information; and stoking division and fear of enemies, real or perceived.

Does Trump tick off the boxes? The hatchet job he has made of Republican ideology and the sway he holds over what is now his party suggest he does not lack for devotion. His nearly 90 percent approval rating among Republicans is the more remarkable for his having shifted Republican views on a range of issues, from trade, to NATO, to Putin, to even the NFL. Then there are the endless rallies that smack of a noxious sort of revivalism, complete with a loyalty “pledge”during the 2016 campaign; a steady stream of sycophantic fealty (at least in public) from aides in the administration and its congressional Republican allies; and an almost universal unwillingness by Republican congressional leadership to check or thwart Trump’s worst instincts in any substantive way.

As for disdain, or disgust even, for nonmembers, who include “globalists,” immigrants, urbanites, Muslims, Jews, and people of color? “I suppose that Old Man Trump knows just how much racial hate / He stirred up that bloodroot of human hearts,” Woody Guthrie sang in 1950 about Fred Trump’s discriminatory housing practices. Those words could just as easily apply to Fred’s son Donald, as The New York Times details, about his birtherism, his view that dark-skinned immigrants come from “shithole countries,” his frequent classification of black people as uppity and ungrateful, his denigration of Native Americans, his incorporation of white nationalist thought into his administration, his equivocation over neo-Nazis. The “lock her up!” chants of his rallies are less about Hillary Clinton individually, and more about who belongs and who doesn’t, and what place exists for those who don’t. In perhaps the pettiest form of their disdain, Trump’s supporters engage in “rolling coal”—the practice of tricking out diesel engines to send huge plumes of smoke into the atmosphere—to “own the libs.”

Trump sold his believers an engrossing tale of “American carnage” that he alone could fix, then isolated them in a media universe where reality exists only through Trump-tinted glasses, attacking all other sources of information as “fake news.” In the most polarized media landscape in the wealthy world, Republicans place their trust almost solely in Fox News, seeing nearly all other outlets as biased. In that context, the effect of a president who lies an average of ten times a day is the total blurring of fact and fiction, reality and myth, trust and cynicism. It is a world where, in the words of Rudy Giuliani, truth is no longer truth. “Who could really know?” Trump said of claims that Saudi prince Mohammed bin Salman had ordered the murder of the journalist Jamal Khashoggi. “It is what it is.”

Reason rarely defeats emotion—or, as Catherine Fieschi, an expert on political extremism, told me, gut instinct. If it did, right-wing populist movements from Brexit to Bolsonaro would be on the retreat, not in the advance. Those caught in the web of Trumpism do not see the deception that surrounds them. And if scandals too numerous to list have not dented faith in Trump, those holding out for an apocalyptic moment of reckoning that suddenly drops the curtain—the Russia investigation, or his taxes—will only be disappointed. In all likelihood, the idea that Trump is a crook has been “priced in.”

When presented with his actual record, which has often fallen short of what he promised on the campaign trail, Trump supporters time and again have displayed either disbelief or indifference. As a Trump supporter explicitly stated in reference to the president’s many, many lies, “I don’t care if he sprouts a third dick up there.” What actually is doesn’t matter; what does is that Trump reflects back to his supporters a general feeling of what ought to be, a general truthiness in their guts.

Those caught in the web of Trumpism do not see the deception that surrounds them.

Amidst the frenetic pace of disgrace and outrage, Trump’s support remains stable among too large a chunk of the American public to just ignore. Trump, who insisted on the presence of voter fraud by the millions in an election he ultimately won, and a coterie of prominent Republicans spent the week after the 2018 midterms delegitimizing the very notion of counting all the votes in key races in Florida, Georgia, and Arizona. Trump’s claim that he could shoot someone in the middle of Fifth Avenue and still retain the loyalty of his followers is jokingly referred to as the truest thing he’s ever said, but it’s less funny that 52 percent of them would hypothetically support postponing the 2020 election if he proposed it. What happens when a man who has already promoted political violence, and whose most hardcore supporters have shown their willingness for such violence, finds on election night two years from now that he has just narrowly lost? Do any of us truly believe that Donald J. Trump and his followers will simply slink away quietly into the night?

So, how do we get those caught up in the cult of Trump to leave it?

Daryl Davis has played the blues for over 30 years, including with the likes of Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis. He’s also spent 30 years talking to Klansmen, over 200 of whom have quit the KKK as a result of their conversations, handing over their robes to Davis—who is black. “When two enemies are talking, they’re not fighting,” Davis told NPR in 2017. “I didn’t convert anybody,” he explained. “They saw the light and converted themselves.”

Davis’s success is more than a cute, feel-good story. It involved the real-world application of techniques that scholars advocate employing to help individuals leave cults. A 2011 study by the RAND Corporation concluded that, “Factors associated with leaving street gangs, religious cults, right-wing extremist groups, and organized crime groups” included positive social ties and an organic disillusionment with the group’s beliefs or ideology. As psychologists Rod and Linda Dubrow-Marshall write in The Conversation, it’s extremely difficult for people to admit they are wrong, and it’s crucial for them to arrive at that realization on their own.

The debate over how to deal with Trump’s anti-democratic following has largely avoided the question of engaging it directly. These days there is no shortage of articles and books dealing with radical-right populism, despots, democratic backsliding, and the tactics that authoritarian leaders deploy. Dozens of experts have pointed out that liberal democratic institutions need constant attention and reinforcement in order to be effective bulwarks. But most of the solutions on offer are institutional in nature: maintaining the independence of the judiciary, thwarting a would-be autocrat’s attempts to grab hold of the levers of justice, maintaining a legislative check on executive authority, enshrining political norms more clearly into constitutions.

In their 2011 book, Defeating Authoritarian Leaders in Post-Communist Countries, Valerie Bunce and Sharon Wolchik conclude that democratization in Eastern European nations like Croatia owed much to assistance from transnational pro-democracy networks, civil society, and energetic election campaigns run by a united opposition. In some ways this analysis offers us a modicum of hope: Trump, despite his desires, commands far less power over the political system than did any of the autocrats that Bunce and Wolchik studied, and the United States enjoys many of the elements they cite as critical, like robust civil society, energetic elections, and a mostly unified opposition. But at the same time, the very things responsible for the success of democratic transition are under near constant assault from Trump and his Republican abettors.

The very things responsible for the success of democratic transition are under near constant assault from Trump and his Republican abettors.

Democracy, especially liberal democracy, has always been dependent on the trust and belief of the self-governed. It is one thing to implement tangible measures to prevent the decay of bedrock institutions, and when it comes to voting rights, elections, the courts, and restraints on executive power, we know what these measures should look like. It’s another, far tougher thing to figure out how to maintain the legitimacy of these same institutions—and how to restore it once lost.

Javier Corrales, a political science professor at Amherst College and expert on the Chavez regime, has written that one lesson from Venezuela’s experience is for the opposition to avoid fragmentation within the broader electorate and, when possible, polarization. When it comes to Trump, he told me that rather than pursuing impeachment, which could backfire by polarizing institutions and the general environment even more, “the opposition needs to focus on strengthening institutions of checks and balances, and embracing and defending policies that produce majoritarian consensus rather than just cater to the base. The more defections they can get from voters that would otherwise side with the illiberal president, the better. If the opposition can get the other side to split, they win.”

When it comes to helping individuals leave cult-like groups, many sociologists agree: Positive social factors are more effective than negative sanctions. Lalich counsel's using dialogue to ask questions and reinforce doubts, rather than “to harp” or criticize. Testimonials from former cult members can be particularly helpful in fueling disillusionment, she says.

On a nationwide scale, this would probably look a lot like a field called “conflict transformation.” John Paul Lederach, professor emeritus at Notre Dame’s Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies, laid out the basics of conflict transformation in his 1998 book, Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided Societies. He argued that outsiders should work with mid-level members of the community who could simultaneously engage ordinary people and their leaders. He also called for an “elicitive approach” whereby solutions were developed by people themselves, in accordance with their own specific cultural contexts.

Of the places in the world where conflict transformation has worked, Northern Ireland probably most approximates the United States, in the sense that it was part of a wealthy nation with a democratic tradition (though in the 1980s, Northern Ireland was in a far worse situation of political division and communitarian violence).

Maria Power, a researcher in conflict transformation studies at Oxford, sees strategies from Northern Ireland that could be deployed on the other side of the Atlantic. She cited the example of dialogue-building between Unionist and Republican women, who faced much tougher obstacles to reconciliation since they were “risking their lives” every time they met in East Belfast during The Troubles. She said that the peace effort in Northern Ireland hinged on incredibly tough, person-to-person groundwork carried out by dozens of organizations and ecumenical groups. She emphasized above all the importance of investing effort and time into building trust, first within, and then later between, identity groups.

Power said that conflict transformation in the United States would likely involve local, grassroots community development in the areas that Trump likes to hold rallies. “I don’t mean that progressives should go to these communities and start knocking on doors,” she explained, “that would be the worst thing that could happen to exacerbate tensions. I mean that there should be a focus on real community development in these areas.”

Individuals would be led through a “single identity dialogue,” a safe-space where someone who has gained the community’s trust can guide them through discussion of their identity, why they feel threatened, and why they feel the need to otherize those they see as different. This does presume some legitimacy to their fears; as The Atlantic’s Adam Serwer, among others, has written convincingly, Trumpism is not primarily a story of globalism’s dispossessed, but rather one of identity politics. But there is reality, and there is perception, and the truth is that Trump voters perceive themselves as victims who have been culturally dislocated, disdained, and in danger of being left behind.

Power said that, in the mid-1980s, Northern Ireland had some 300 of these single-identity groups. She added that there was a tough balance to strike between allowing people “to become comfortable enough with their own place in society that other people don’t seem to be a threat,” and “dripping” in truth in such a way that avoided a reinforcement of their existing beliefs.

Only once that step had been undertaken on a local level were people able to have cross-community conversation, and eventually to engage with each other through social action projects—schemes to bring people together, not over political discussion, but in tasks beneficial to their communities. Power lamented that overall this is quite a long-term process, perhaps even a generational one.

That sentiment was echoed by Emma Elfversson, who researches peace and conflict at Sweden’s Uppsala University. Elfversson told me that because trust in the state and institutions is often crucial to reconciliation, democratic backsliding in the U.S. is worrying. “Important work to overcome divides is done at the grassroots level—through NGOs, religious initiatives, social service programs, schools, at the workplace, etc.,” she said, adding, “Civil society organizations that cut across identity borders can promote reconciliation and reduce conflict.”

The problem for the modern left is that none of this is emotionally satisfying. It’s just hard, hard work.

Such an approach might seem fuzzy to those who seek to buttress qualitative observations with hard data, but there are concrete examples of places where community-based peace building has been effective. Fieschi thinks that the way to short-circuit populism is to create an environment where people can think. “Populism encourages every fiber of your being not to think,” she told me. “In fact, it pretty much posits that if you have to think you’re not to be trusted. We need to create those spaces and times that offer the opportunity to exercise agency, to think things through.”

The problem for the modern left is that none of this is emotionally satisfying. It’s just hard, hard work. Push too hard, and you risk fostering even greater resentment and reaction. But let people off the hook, and the myths they perpetuate about race and national identity might never get punctured.

Above all, it also rings as profoundly unfair. Why should a group that still enjoys the momentum of historic privilege, and is still afforded outsize political weight, be handheld through an era of demographic change? And why should minority groups, who continue to suffer from oppression, be the ones to extend that hand?

American politics, as Alexis de Tocqueville once observed, has often had a religious character to it, with the nation itself exalted in a messianic way. After the end of the Vietnam War, Thomas Robbins and Dick Anthony, two researchers of cults, wrote, “There is a recurrent sequence in American history in which sectarian (and sometimes rather authoritarian) religions emerge and elicit tremendous hostility.” The decline of Cold War orthodoxy after Vietnam, the two noted, had produced a crisis in American civil religion, resulting in “the proliferation of cults as well as the growth of anticult demonology.”

We can understand Donald Trump’s rise as a civil religion giving way to its cultic expression. Con man, cult leader, populist politician: Trump is all of these, rolled into one. He has become all-encompassing, even to nonbelievers. We all feel the fatigue of merely existing in the Trump era, the rapid-fire assault on all of our political and social senses. We want immediate solutions to the Trump problem. We want to beat reason into his followers, until they recognize how wrong they are, or at the very least, submit. We want to blame them—justifiably—for perpetuating his sham.

I want these things. I want them in my gut. But I also know that the cult’s pull is so powerful that it risks destroying its opponents, by eliciting a counterproductive reaction to it. If we want to bring members of the Trump cult back into the mainstream of American life—and there will be plenty of those who say we should move on without them—resistance means not only resisting the lure of the cult and exposing its lies, but also resisting the temptation to punish its followers.

“When the cultic behavior is on a national scale, [breaking it up] is going to take a national movement,” Lalich says. Such an approach promises no immediate gratification. But it also might be the only way to move forward, rather than continue a dangerous downward spiral. Andrés Miguel Rondón, a Venezuelan economist who fled to Spain, wrote this of his own country’s experience of being caught up in an authoritarian’s fraudulent promises: “[W]hat can really win them over is not to prove that you are right. It is to show that you care. Only then will they believe what you say.”