I’ll be the first to admit, when news stories surrounding a controversial new immigration law in Arizona started popping up, I didn’t pay any attention to it. As they shifted to stories of the large protests against the apparently Naziesque law, I still didn’t look much into it, but my interest began to spike a bit; clearly if something is evil enough to move thousands into their streets to cry foul, then it’s something worth noticing. So, when a news program on Sunday morning started explaining some of the details, I sat by and listened in relative disbelief about the events surrounding this much-maligned law.

Not, though, the surprise I expected to feel.

I expected to be shocked by the contents of the law. I expected to be repulsed by their racist doctrine, to be bowled over by the insane goings-on in a state not too far from my own. The reality, though? I was shocked — more than shocked, really, but I haven’t got a good word for it — that people are upset about this new law. The body of the law seems to focus on a few points: firstly, the verification of citizenship when arrested for unrelated violations; second, the right to (with “probable cause”) demand proof of citizenship; and last, the seemingly benign edict against hiring from, or out of, any vehicle which impedes the flow of traffic. Now, I’ll be frank — that middle one definitely carries the stink of potential racial abuse, but looking past that …

Federal law mandates that these documents exist, and that citizens should, within reason, have access to them at any given time. A state ID, a Social Security card, driver’s license, and so on. These are already standing laws of our country. Nothing new there. All that the new Arizona law has done in that regard is create a state law which helps to back up and enforce the existing national standard. In short, it makes it illegal to be here illegally; what really surprised me about this uproar is this — I never knew that wasn’t already being done. Why would we have the term “illegal immigrant” if something isn’t actually illegal, and enforced as such? Why haven’t police in every state, every city across the country, been verifying the identity and citizenship of every single arrest? It sounds to me like this offers a safeguard against putting illegal immigrants into the American prison system — an already-stressed system, to be sure — which would, in effect, reduce the amount of tax dollars being thrown at the “problem” (that is, if they’re in our system, we’re paying their food and lodging bill).

The crux of the debate, though, is in the middle section I mentioned above; the “probable cause” statute allowing police to require proof of citizenship / immigrant status from anyone for whatever reason they see fit. The problem with this isn’t so much the idea behind it, but the ambiguity and the parts of the process left up to the individual judgment of the police officer(s) in question. Obviously, this has a strong potential for abuse along racial lines — I don’t think we’re about to see AZ state troopers pulling over cars full of suspected Canadians, for instance, to inquire about the legality of their visit to the good ol’ U.S. of A. That said, the law itself is not (in my ever-so-humble opinion) inherently racist; it’s just ambiguous. To call it racist is, I think, a lack of faith in the men and women serving our justice system which may be wholly justified, but that’s a problem with our countrymen, not with the law.

I believe the first part of the law — verifying citizenship/immigrant status of individuals arrested or suspected in unrelated incidents — should become the national standard if we, as a country, are going to take any kind of stand against the influx of illegal immigrants from any side. The second portion, though, needs some thorough review and some general “common sense” bylines to prevent abuse, but again, I don’t think it’s something comparable to the Nazi regime’s treatment of the Jewish community. There’s a difference between demanding proof of legal status within a country and the mistreatment of citizens of that country, and unless this branches out into shoving legal Mexican immigrants into prefabricated “ghettos” along with their border-jumping former countrymen, I think it’s a ridiculous comparison to make. Are there similarities? Sure, but I can draw a lot of similarities between nearly any piece of legislature and the practices or beliefs of Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini — the list goes on, but you get the idea.

I think that as a nation, we’ve become so accustomed to stories of abuse of the justice system, along with our endemic culture of paranoia, that we jump on the chance to demonize our political enemies by sorting them with the great beasts of the world’s past. The information age has made it easier for everyone to spread their own brand of fear or hate, and for similarly-minded people to band together in organized events nationwide, making the impact seem stronger than it would otherwise. We’ve grown our own brand of self-suspicion, always operating under the assumption that any law passed, any word spoken, any accomplishment in the public eye is simply a mask for some darker purpose, that some agenda (contrary to our own) lies just beneath the surface waiting to be exploited by the evil perpetrators of these wicked acts.

Hell, just look at me. I’m ranting against a bunch of people ranting against something that I don’t see nearly as much wrong with. And this rant, in turn, will inspire people to rant against me, to tell me that I’m just being blind to Big Brother’s scheme to kill anyone that’s not a white Christian conservative. Or that I’m buying into the lies sewn by the radical left, radical right, or maybe even the radical middle-of-the-road, if that can exist.

So. Am I reading the law incorrectly? Is everyone else? I’d love to have debate on this one.

I’ll preface this by saying that for the first many years of my life to date, I paid no attention to politics whatsoever. I didn’t try to follow one party or the other, or the attempted progress of any of the flailing third-man-in parties that have tried to drum up support over the years. I never really cared to watch the subtle shifts in power, the changes in the climate of control that operates the vital functions of our country. I didn’t care for the split in the people, or in the houses of congress, or the issues driving these two entities further from one another than where they began; this kind of thing simply wasn’t interesting to my youthful mind. I kind of regret it, now, but that’s not something worth stewing on for the time being. The point is, when I was younger, the political situation, the “who”, “what”, and “how” of our system was explained in simple terms at school, and there was little need to be more involved than being able to regurgitate facts for quizzes during class and the like — and although I say I regret not having been more involved, more informed, there’s an even more terrifying change that I think has been taking place recently: these issues are no longer avoidable by the youth of today.

Now, there are two sides to this, of course — such is the way of things. On the one hand, this increased media blast (both from liberal and conservative leaning news organizations), the indulgence of political proselytism by musicians and actors, the heavy-handed nature of the firm beliefs of our forebears that shoves this down the kids’ throats these days leaves us with a generation that, most probably, will be better “informed” than the previous batch of glassy-eyed youngsters looking in on the process from the safety of their school desks; the other end of the spectrum, though, is that since the issues themselves have been marginalized, with partisanship standing in lieu of debate and toeing the party line overshadowing the premise of thinking things out for oneself, we also get a generation with a strong inborn hatred for the “other guys” who are, of course, vile, despicable creatures constantly grabbing at power in the upper echelons of our society.

Even recently hot issues — gay marriage rights, legalization of medical (or even recreational) marijuana, health care — have become backdrops to the ongoing war between Republican steadfastness and Democratic pseudo-socialism. The meat of the debates is cast aside, and we bear down on the most trivial of details: Which side of the fence does any particular issue fall on? Since I’ve started paying attention to politics, I’ve never seen a debate. I’ve seen on-screen blathering by opposing parties, bandying about whatever hotbutton bullsh*t is the topic du jour, but it’s always been a plaster-scene panorama masking the fact that neither individual is willing to stand up and say, in clear terms, what they believe or why they believe it. “It’s the way that God would want it to be” is just as much an argument as “I foresaw this in my tea leaves” or “An expert panel shows…” — meaningless fluff that seeks to puff up the claims of any given person, party, or other entity, constantly refutable by other interpretations of religious text, studies performed by different panels, or the use of a different type of tea that morning. There’s no substance — only a pandering to the sensibilities of right- or left-leaning Americans who rally behind someone who represents whatever cause they’ve elected to wave their banner for.

National tragedies become political platforms, forestalling public sympathy for those who have lost in favor of shuffling funding to and from the military. The wellbeing of the average American citizen becomes a statistic, broken into categories by degree-holding nitwits at the top of so-called ‘research panel’ firms, who can manipulate everything from statistics to targeted demographics to produce a poll that proves any point they want. The jobless rate is just a number, published to keep half-attentive office pundits employed in the business of reporting just how many are knocking at their doors asking for the cast-offs of monolithic corporations. We compartmentalize, drill down into segments of society so that we can alleviate the pain that comes with facing realistically the dilemmas striking the heart of our country.

For once, I’ll say this: I hope we hurt. I wish that every American, every single one, would feel the pain of what’s going on, and take that chance to actually think about things. Use the clarity that only an acute injury can bring to see past the smoke and mirrors act, and really consider the issues that are plaguing this nation. To not gloss things over, to not pretty them up with shiny news-agency animations or statistically-”relevant” graphs and charts — to approach the future with honesty about our weaknesses, pride in our strengths, and the famous ingenuity and endurance of the blue-collar American working man. To share the agony of our countrymen, and give of our own sweet success to ease their burden. To live and breathe; to succeed and fail; to rise and fall, as one nation (whether under God or not), indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Scientists today have pushed back the hands on the Doomsday Clock by one minute, bringing us back to the six-minute mark; this marks the nineteenth time since the clock’s inception in 1947 that the hands have been moved. For those not in the know, the Doomsday Clock is a device maintained by a group of scientists and other such bigwigs, meant to indicate how close they feel we are to complete self-annihilation of the human race (represented by midnight). During the course of its existence, the clock has ranged from 17 minutes out (on the signing of the START I between the US and USSR) to a narrow 2 minutes (when the same two countries tested nuclear devices within months of one another in 1953). This is a pretty noteworthy occasion, since the clock has moved so few times in its 63-year history — the hands are only adjusted when the global political climate changes significantly — it was pushed back four minutes when the Berlin Wall fell, for instance; this move comes on the heels of recent global talks about reducing both nuclear stockpiles and self-harming gaseous emissions around the world.

Since I first heard of it, I’ve thought the clock was a very interesting thing. It’s a somewhat arbitrary measure, sure, but there are some serious brains behind the ups and downs, the ins and outs of it, so it’s certainly not entirely random or baseless, but at the same time, I can’t help but ponder what it truly represents. To be clear, it’s not meant to measure when the world might end or when things are going to be so bad that the planet starts to melt away — it’s a measuring stick of how likely humanity is to wipe itself out; nothing more. It makes me think of a sweeping, Hollywood-style pan over a barren, wind-swept landscape, the empty remains of what was human civilization still smoldering in the white-hot breeze, showcasing the near-complete destruction of everything we’ve built, slowly focusing in on a lone bunker amongst the rubble, where deep underground a solitary nuclear physicist (in full laboratory regalia, of course) adjusts his glasses with grimy, dirt-caked fingers and wistfully pushes the minute hand of a large wall clock to the 12:01 position. Heh.

But, what does this really mean? A group of people who devote their studies to such things believes that we’re now further from erasing our existence from the memory of the universe than we were the last time the clock was adjusted (2007, largely due to North Korean nuclear testing and continued strife in the Middle East) — that is, that we’re making progress towards a more peaceful unification of mankind on our shared planet. It’s a move of optimism, of hope for a future made brighter by something other than nuclear fire. It’s an affirmation of the global community’s confidence in our current leaders to think before pulling the trigger, and to weigh the outcome of their actions rather than to push their own agenda violently. It’s a measure of hope, much like I espoused in my latest post, that somehow, some way, we might just make it through our differences as nations, and survive into new days as humans.

In short, it’s everything that I hope for in the world, wrapped up in a symbolic gesture from a scientific community that too often otherwise demands hard data and results rather than affording themselves the luxury of having hope.

For just under two weeks now, I’ve been telling myself on a daily basis that it’s time to post something. To cash in on the benefits of a new year, and all the optimistic future-hashing that it brings; after all, each new year does bring with it an essence of change, renewal, a new chance to leave the sins of the past in our trail and move towards a brighter tomorrow, one where all of our dreams are possible and we’re going to lose weight, eat healthy, stop smoking, reconnect with old friends — all of the doors are opened at that magical moment as we transition from the cold disquiet of post-Christmas reality and into the vast new horizons of January and a year yet unmarred by our transgressions and shortcomings.

I’m not the sentimental type, really. Left to my own devices, I’d scarce notice the passage of particular days, months, or years; I can’t tell a late December morning from a mid-January one, and my schedule, for the most part, remains constant throughout the year. I know that there’s no realistic value to the sense of glassy-eyed hopefulness that sweeps over people as differences are set aside and people celebrate, together, this milestone in our Gregorian march forward. Somehow, though, I still cannot help but be caught in it. It’s infectious to see so many people joining together to commemorate an event together and forget, if only for a few moments, the fears and trepidations and trespasses of the last 365.242199 days and allow ourselves to believe that we can accomplish goals that seemed insurmountable just days prior.

I don’t generally believe in making resolutions for the new year, because I don’t believe in breaking promises, and the change of calendars isn’t going to be enough to motivate me to do some dreadful thing that I know I should do but simply haven’t yet. As much as I’d like to say here that I’m resolved to post more, to be more insightful, to be more active — I can’t say it, because I have no idea what 2010 has in store for me. I’m hopeful that all of those things will come to pass, but until I can look back and say with certainty that they have, I’m not interested in pledging something which may be circumstantially impossible. So instead, I’ll leave you with this; as we dive headlong into the unknowable potential that is 2010, be hopeful, be cautious, and be proud; do not hesitate for any regrets that linger, but shed the skin of scars earned and lessons learned and shine through all that which you have suffered; do not let the saccharine ambrosia of past successes slake your thirst, but burn with desire for a new achievement, towering over all that you have done; be enduring through your new trials, and never forget, all things will pass, and soon we will fade into yet another year, the potential for which is unimaginable and limitless.

Happy 2010, readers.

An associate of mine posed an open question recently, inquiring on the nature of free will relative to the probabilistic nature of the behaviour of atoms and particles; specifically, questioning if such could actually exist, given that the makeup of our own mental faculties — the neural pathways by which we reason and consider things — are made up of these objects which behave in accordance to probability and scientifically predictable potentials. While I’m certainly not qualified to evaluate the validity of the question from a scientific perspective (aside from, perhaps, a quick reference to the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle), I’m more than willing to address the question from the more philosophical side. Which, of course, means without any qualification or regard to conventional wisdom.

The question of ‘free will’ is, of course, a rather hotly debated one. From the religious “God-given free will” to the deterministic view of early scientific endeavours, it’s been on the minds of great thinkers and the average man throughout the course of history. The most debated point, I think, exists on the crux of a difference between perceived free will and actual free will; that is, that perhaps the universe is, as some science claims, entirely deterministic, that our ability to decide, rationalize, and draw our own conclusions is a grand self-deception by which we believe ourselves to be making these decisions through a complex neural system which tricks us into thinking that we’re actually thinking — a rather dubious problem to attempt to tackle, as it’s one which cannot, by its own definition, be examined without prejudice in the normal fashion. After all, if we’re tricked into believing that we are considering things, then how can we consider whether we’re being tricked? Thus, until empirical evidence can be supplied by which this can be analyzed, this camp defends itself by what essentially becomes a logical fallacy.

More interesting, though, than the scientific examination of this quandary is the religious take on the same problem; my own religious background, as I’ve discussed, being Christian, I examine this from that perspective. Christians are taught two important things relating to this enigmatic situation; the religion hinges on the idea that God-given free will was the fulcrum point for Original Sin — when Man defied the will of God by choosing to partake of the Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Seemingly contradictory, though, is the prevalent and highly repeated mantra that God has planned all things; that every event, instance, and occurrence in our lives is God’s will manifest. Without delving into the “Did God plan Original Sin?” debate, this dualistic approach to the basic question seems to be self-negating and, frankly, rather flat.

There have been some interesting experiments in the field of neuroscience attempting to gauge the existence of this “conscious free will” and the way that we perceive it. Subjects asked to flick their wrist at a random (self-determined) interval and to record the time at which they felt they had made the decision to do so were found to have unconscious activity towards the action before they felt they had reached a conscious decision — that is, that the unconscious mind had already determined what it was going to do, and relayed that to the subject as a “conscious” decision on their part shortly after; even the conductor of this study (Benjamin Libet), however, acknowledged that despite the seeming evidence against free will, the conscious mind was still capable of ceasing the action taken milliseconds before it occurred; that is, that even though it appeared that the subconscious mind was relaying a “false free will”, the conscious mind retained the final say-so in whether the subconscious’ decision was carried out.

Personally, I hold to a belief that free will must exist, if the world is to be anything near interesting to live in. Probabilistic particles or not, the ability of humans to rationalize, identify a well-reasoned course of action, and then to deviate from that course is the most interesting thing that I have experienced. As much as science may seem to indicate that the idea of free will is merely one of perception, I say that the perception of a thing such as free will is equal to the existence of such. Much of logic and reason, after all, is founded on the principles of Aristotelian Realism, the core concept of which states that that which we perceive to be real is, in fact, real.

So, wouldn’t having the perception of free will, by that definition, be the same as having “actual” free will?