Breaking News and Updates
- Abolition Of Work
- Alternative Medicine
- Artificial Intelligence
- Atlas Shrugged
- Ayn Rand
- Basic Income Guarantee
- Conscious Evolution
- Cosmic Heaven
- Designer Babies
- Ethical Egoism
- Fifth Amendment
- Fifth Amendment
- Financial Independence
- First Amendment
- Fiscal Freedom
- Food Supplements
- Fourth Amendment
- Fourth Amendment
- Free Speech
- Freedom of Speech
- Gene Medicine
- Genetic Engineering
- Germ Warfare
- Golden Rule
- Government Oppression
- High Seas
- Hubble Telescope
- Human Genetic Engineering
- Human Genetics
- Human Longevity
- Immortality Medicine
- Intentional Communities
- Life Extension
- Mars Colonization
- Mind Uploading
- Minerva Reefs
- Modern Satanism
- Moon Colonization
- New Utopia
- Personal Empowerment
- Political Correctness
- Politically Incorrect
- Post Human
- Post Humanism
- Private Islands
- Resource Based Economy
- Ron Paul
- Second Amendment
- Second Amendment
- Socio-economic Collapse
- Space Exploration
- Space Station
- Space Travel
- Teilhard De Charden
- The Singularity
- Tor Browser
- Transhuman News
- Victimless Crimes
- Virtual Reality
- Wage Slavery
- War On Drugs
- Zeitgeist Movement
The Evolutionary Perspective
Tag Archives: post
Posted: August 12, 2016 at 2:48 pm
The head of Hispanic Outreach for the Libertarian Party, who is Republican, says he joined up with the third party because he believes GOP presidential nominee Donald Trump is the worst of the worst.
Speaking to The Hill, Juan Hernndez, who took the post with the Libertarian Party last week, said that he is not leaving the Republican Party, but is backing Libertarian Gary Johnsons bid for the White House because he believes the former New Mexico governor “comes with a message that brings both of my worlds together.”
Johnsons message of small government and letting states decide on social issues resonated with Hernndez because it “fits Hispanics so well.”
“We came here, were religious, we dont want to get into the debate over gay marriage,” Hernndez said of Hispanics. “Let states decide.”
As for Trump, Hernndez said there are just so many reasons why he cant support the boisterous billionaire.
While he says that Trumps call to build a massive wall along the United States southern border with Mexico and his proposal to deport the 11 million undocumented immigrants living in the country would be an insult to Hispanics, Hernndez said his opposition to Trump goes even further.
Trump would “not only be a disaster for Hispanics, for Republicans, for Americans, for the world. I really fear a Trump president. The way he speaks of bombing other nations, the Muslims?”
Hernndez, however, said he never had any plans of supporting Democratic presidential nominee Hillary Clinton.
“Its not a matter of Ill go with the lesser of two evils, I think we have to vote on principle,” said Hernndez.
“Since she was first lady of Arkansas, she and her husband were always en la orillita of whats appropriate, Hernndez said, using the Mexican Spanish phrase that roughly translates to in gray space.
Hernndez has previously worked as an advisor for presidential candidates in the U.S., Mexico and Guatemala, including Arizona Sen. John McCains failed bid in 2008 and former Mexican Presidents Vicente Fox and Felipe Caldern.
Besides Hernndez, the Johnson campaign nabbed another high profile Republican boost on Wednesday when Virginia Rep. Scott Rigell said he thinks Johnson can win the presidency.
“This may surprise you to hear, but I’m ready to defend the proposition that Gov. Johnson can win,” Rigell said.
Like us on FacebookFollow us on Twitter & Instagram
Posted: August 10, 2016 at 9:05 pm
A man wakes up one morning to find himself slowly transforming into a living hybrid of meat and scrap metal; he dreams of being sodomised by a woman with a snakelike, strap-on phallus. Clandestine experiments of sensory depravation and mental torture unleash psychic powers in test subjects, prompting them to explode into showers of black pus or tear the flesh off each other’s bodies in a sexual frenzy. Meanwhile, a hysterical cyborg sex-slave runs amok through busy streets whilst electrically charged demi-gods battle for supremacy on the rooftops above. This is cyberpunk, Japanese style: a brief filmmaking movement that erupted from the Japanese underground to garner international attention in the late 1980s.
The world of live-action Japanese cyberpunk is a twisted and strange one indeed; a far cry from the established notions of computer hackers, ubiquitous technologies and domineering conglomerates as found in the pages of William Gibson’s Neuromancer (1984) – a pivotal cyberpunk text during the sub-genre’s formation and recognition in the early eighties. From a cinematic standpoint, it perhaps owes more to the industrial gothic of David Lynch’s Eraserhead (1976) and the psycho-sexual body horror of early David Cronenberg than the rain-soaked metropolis of Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982), although Scott’s neon infused tech-noir has been a major aesthetic touchstone for cyberpunk manga and anime institutions such as Katsuhiro Otomo’s Akira (1982-90) and Masamune Shirow’s Ghost in the Shell (1989- ).
In the Western world, cyberpunk was born out of the new wave science fiction literature of the sixties and seventies; authors such Harlan Ellison, J.G. Ballard and Philip K. Dick – whose novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (1968) was the basis for Blade Runner – were key proponents in its inception, creating worlds that featured artificial life, social decay and technological dependency. The hard-boiled detective novels of Dashiell Hammett also proved influential with regards to the sub-genre’s overall pessimistic stance. What came to be known as cyberpunk by the mid 1980s was thematically characterised by its exploration of the impact of high-technology on low-lives – people living in squalor; stacked on top of one another within an oppressive metropolis dominated by advanced technologies.
Live-action, Japanese cyberpunk on the other hand, is raw and primal by nature, and characterised by attitude rather than high-concept. A collision between flesh and metal, the sub-genre is an explosion of sex, violence, concrete and machinery; a small collection of pocket-sized universes that revel in post-human nightmares and teratological fetishes, powered by a boundaryless sense of invasiveness and violation. Imagery is abject, perverse and unpredictable and, like Cronenberg’s work, bodily mutation through technological intervention is a major theme, as are dehumanisation, repression and sexuality. During the late eighties and early nineties, it was a sub-strain characterised largely by the early work of two directors; Shinya Tsukamoto and Shozin Fukui.
These directors made films that were short, sharp, bludgeoning and centred on corporeal horrors that saw the body invaded, infected and infused with technology. Tsukamoto’s contributions are perhaps the most famous; Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989) and Tetsuo II: The Body Hammer (1992). Both films present the nightmarish situation of their protagonists (played by actor Tomorowo Taguchi in both) undergoing a bizarre metamorphosis that sees a humble salaryman turn from a human into a hybrid of flesh and scrap metal.
Although not as well known to western audiences, Fukui’s work is also important. Stylistically similar to Tsukamoto but sufficiently divergent so as not to be a mere copy, Fukui opened up the sub-genre’s pallet by incorporating Cronenberg like scientific experiments that impact on the body through technological augmentation as evidenced in his contributions Pinocchio v946 (1991) and Rubber’s Lover (1996). These films focus on the venerability of the human mind and how such alteration can cause more than a physical change in appearance, but create a completely new mental state and thought processes that are beyond human.
Tsukamoto and Fukui eschewed many of conventions crystallised by Gibson’s archetypal Neuromancer. There are no mega-conglomerates or incidences of virtual reality and the power struggle between high-technology versus low-quality of life is replaced by low-technology versus low-life. The technology in their vision of cyberpunk consisted of industrial scrap – Tetsuo – and makeshift laboratories built from crude and dated equipment – Rubber’s Lover – lending a DIY aesthetic to their overall ethos. These were, after all, films made with little or no money and as a result, were not set in gargantuan, near-future metropolises but the present-day, real-life cyberpunk city of Tokyo, suggesting that anxieties over rapid modernity are not some far-off venture but something that should be worried about now. Both filmmakers also had a fixation with post-industrial landscapes; using scrap yards, boiler rooms, abandoned warehouses, compounds and factories as decaying playgrounds for their ideas.
However, this new and defiant take on the sub-genre did not come about overnight. There are many precursors to both Tsukamoto and Fukui’s work that also need to be addressed. Some are quite well known to western audiences whilst others have yet to get the recognition that they deserve in helping to create one of the most fascinating and philosophical phases in contemporary Japanese cinema.
Whilst the ideas of cyberpunk in the West were born out of literature, Japanese cyberpunk, it could be argued, was born out of music. During the late seventies and early eighties, Tokyo was enjoying an incredibly vibrant underground punk music scene. An ethos that later branched out into art and cinema thanks largely to one individual: Sogo Ishii.
Born in 1957, Ishii quickly built a reputation of being somewhat of a maverick and grew to be a prominent figure of the Tokyo underground filmmaking scene. Operating within the gathering rubble of a collapsing studio system, Ishii turned out a variety of zero-budget 8mm film projects at a time when former international filmmaking heavyweights such as Akira Kurosawa were struggling to find financial investment.
Early feature film efforts such as Panic High School (1978) and Crazy Thunder Road (1980) encapsulated the rebellion and anarchy associated with punk and went on to become highly influential in underground film circles. Crazy Thunder Road in particular pointed the way forward with its biker-gang punk aesthetic; a style that would be explored later in Otomo’s highly influential Akira. Originally made as a university graduation project, it was picked up for distribution by major studio Toei, making Ishii the first of his generation to move from amateur filmmaking into the professional industry while still a university student [ 1 ].
After Crazy Thunder Road, Ishii made the frenetic short film Shuffle (1981) – interestingly, an unofficial adaptation of a Katsuhiro Otomo comic strip – as well as a slew of music and concert videos for a variety of Japanese punk bands. However, Toei soon returned, offering Ishii studio backing for his next feature film project. This new financial investment resulted in Ishii’s most influential work to date; Burst City (1982), a film that encapsulated and epitomised his favourite subject matter: the punk movement.
No other film captured the intensity, pessimism, delinquency and the do-it-yourself bravado of Japan’s punk movement like Ishii’s Burst City; a bold, brash and anarchic time-capsule of early eighties zeitgeist. However, despite its overwhelming influence – not only did it shape the conventions of Japanese cyberpunk, but the future of contemporary Japanese cinema as a whole – Burst City remains largely unappreciated. It is frequently overshadowed by its higher profile, more internationally renowned followers: Tsukamoto, Takashi Miike and Takeshi Kitano among others, all of whom are indebted to Ishii’s work in some shape or form.
However, Ishii has always played the rebel: attending his filmmaking class at Nihon University only when he needed to borrow more equipment; dropping off the filmmaking radar for long stretches of time; making films of a commercially unviable length such as the 55-minute Electric Dragon 80,000V (2001) and challenging conventional moviegoers with his early punk films only then to defy the fans of that work with calm, hypnotic efforts such as August in the Water (1995) and Labyrinth of Dreams (1997). It is this ethos that drives Burst City; steering it through the deserted Tokyo highways and barren industrial wastelands that make up its initial exposition and into the anarchic meltdown of its closing act.
The visual aesthetic of Burst City is an eclectic mix of punk, industrialisation and post-apocalyptic wasteland imagery reminiscent of the first two Mad Max films (1979 & 1981), with some science fiction trimmings; the futuristic cannons used by the Battle Police to disperse riots for instance. However, Burst City acts beyond the usual genre trappings. It has the immediacy and atmosphere of a documentary, chronicling both the people and the music, whilst using the surrounding dystopian backdrop as a metaphor for the anxiety, haplessness and alienation as experienced by Japan’s youth at the time. This documentary feel is further enhanced by Ishii’s groundbreaking use of camera. His highly dynamic, handheld, almost stream-of-consciousness style shots interwoven with equally aggressive, machinegun editing not only captures the energy and restlessness of the music – which is very prominent here – but would highly influence Tsukamoto and the execution of his work.
The film’s industrialised environments – the abandoned warehouses and run-down boiler rooms where the biker gangs and punk bands reside – would become a key aspect for the Japanese cyberpunk look as well as depicting Tokyo as little more than a concrete slum. The notion of the metropolis as oppressive entity starts to become apparent here and it’s interesting to note that this film was made in the same year as Blade Runner, which again, displays similar connotations [ 2 ].
Ishii’s prior involvement with the punk movement allowed him to gather an impressive ensemble of real-life Japanese punk bands – The Rockers, The Roosters and The Stalin among others – as part of the cast, as well as 1970s folk singer/songwriter Shigeru Izumiya. Interestingly, Izumiya was also credited as a Planner and the film’s Art Director, suggesting that he had a strong involvement in shaping Burst City’s influential aesthetic. This serves as a vital link as Izumiya would go on to write and direct his own film; a film that would go on to crystallise many of the conventions and ideas of Japanese cyberpunk that would later be explored by Tsukamoto and Fukui.
Shigeru Izumiya’s Death Powder (1986) introduces the unorthodox visuals and abstract delivery that would prove instrumental in future Japanese cyberpunk execution. Like Burst City, sound also plays a vital part here; further laying the foundations for the sensory assault aspect of the movement that would later be championed and refined by Tsukamoto. Izumiya, like Ishii, is from a musical background; a popular folk singer/songwriter as well as a film composer – he wrote the music for Ishii’s breakthrough feature Crazy Thunder Road.
Lost in public domain purgatory for decades, Death Powder barely exists, available on bootleg DVD and only recently as video segments on the internet [ 3 ]. Western understanding of the film has been largely incoherent and underwhelming due to bad and partial translation into English and as a result, Death Powder is frequently overlooked. However, its influence is unmistakably clear and it’s arguably the first film of Japan’s extreme cyberpunk movement, exemplifying the invasive, corporeal surrealism that would follow over the next ten years.
Set in present or near-future Tokyo, the film follows a group of researchers who have in their possession Guernica; a feminine, cybernetic android capable of spewing poisonous dust from its mouth. Karima (played by Izumiya) is left to guard the android but appears to lose his mind, attacking the other two – Noris and Kiyoshi – when they return. Kiyoshi inhales some of Guernica’s powder and starts to mutate as a result. He also starts hallucinating as their subconscious starts to merge. One sequence entitled “Dr. Loo Made Me” – which suggests that the android is trying to communicate with Kiyoshi – sees the Guernica project in its early stages featuring the three researchers as well as the eccentric Dr. Loo, the guitar wielding head of the operation. The hallucinations provide Kiyoshi with further omniscience, detailing Karima’s apparent love for Guernica as well as the research group’s ongoing struggle with the ‘scar people’; men disfigured as their flesh deteriorates uncontrollably.
The subject of flesh, the boundary between life and death and the notion of what it means to be human come into play regularly as the film drifts from one surrealist situation to another. Death Powder poses the question: if you cease to have flesh, do you cease to be human? This is an idea that is routinely explored in cyberpunk but while western examples such as Blade Runner and Neuromancer focus on larger-scale implications, Death Powder – and most of Japan’s subsequent cyberpunk output for that matter – looks at the changes within the individual. With the former; invasive technologies are not only fully realised, but have been successfully integrated into society, thus becoming common practice. The technologies explored in the latter however, are still in their primordial stages; they are works in progress and extremely esoteric, and as a result, extremely volatile and unpredictable.
Death Powder also establishes Japanese cyberpunk’s tendency to place imagery ahead of its narrative, a fundamental aspect of the no-holds barred sensory assault style that they exhibit. As a result, story and purpose are evinced from what is seen as opposed to what is told, allowing subsequent films a tonal and philosophical quality. Like many similar spirited films that would follow, Death Powder highlights the destructive and dehumanising nature of technology. A big clue comes in the form of the android Guernica sharing the same name as Pablo Picasso’s famous 1937 painting that depicts the bombing of Guernica by Nazi warplanes (in support of Franco) during the Spanish Civil War. Picasso’s mural shows an orgy of twisted bodies, animals and buildings, deformed by war, or more broadly, the deviant technologies that power it. The film’s end sees the cast fused and writhing in an ocean of monstrous flesh; the human form consumed and destroyed at the hands of intervening science.
Despite Death Powder’s aesthetic and thematic influence, it went by with little fanfare and was never seen outside of Japan until years later. The subsequent, similar minded Android of Notre Dame (Kuramoto; 1988) fared slightly better, partly due to the infamy that surrounded the film series it was part of, a seven-film collection known as the Guinea Pig Series; short exploitation features that focused on torture, murder and other destructive processes, designed to appear realistic and snuff-like [ 4 ]. Android of Notre Dame failed to strike a chord with wider audiences and has since wallowed in cult obscurity along with its filmic brethren. However, this all changed as Japanese cyberpunk began to creep into the international spotlight with the anime feature film adaptation of Katsuhiro Otomo’s popular manga series, Akira (1988).
Although this writing focuses mainly on live-action cyberpunk output, Akira’s arrival was so important and influential to the sub-genre that it needs to be acknowledged. Akira achieved two things: first; it opened up and, almost single-handedly, popularised anime and manga for global audiences (especially in the UK and US) and second; it perpetuated the cyberpunk ethos on perhaps the largest scale to date – combining the neon-lit, high-technology/low-living metropolis of Blade Runner and Neuromancer with body horror overtones. The film condensed the vast narrative of Otomo’s gargantuan, six-part magnum opus into a streamlined, two-hour feature directed by Otomo himself. It is a milestone within Japanese cyberpunk as it was the first of the sub-genre to not only have commercial success domestically, but also managed to find an audience overseas.
Set within the destitute overcrowding of futuristic Neo Tokyo, the story revolves around juvenile biker thugs and best friends Kaneda and Tetsuo. During a turf spat with a rival gang, Tetsuo crashes but is mysteriously taken away by military and scientific officials. They experiment on him with chemically altering drugs, turning Tetsuo into a psycho-kinetic demigod with uncontrollable power. He goes on a destructive rampage through the city to seek an audience with Akira, a highly powerful entity that destroyed the old Tokyo decades before.
Part of Akira’s success inevitably lies in its attention to detail and vaulting ambition. The budget was astronomical for an anime feature at the time – around 1,100,000,000 [ 5 ] – acquired through the partnership of several major Japanese media companies including Toho and Bandai. It avoided the corner cutting of anime projects in the past, producing hundreds of thousands of animation cells to create fluid motion – particularly in its many action set-pieces – and capture nuances that would’ve otherwise not existed. Otomo also went to the trouble of doing lip-synched sound recording; a first for anime, resulting in extremely high and rich production values. The film set box office records for an anime in Japan during its summer 1988 release, grossing over 6,300,000,000 [ 6 ]. Internationally, it got a limited theatrical run in America and the United Kingdom soon after – sowing the seeds for the immense western cult fanbase that it enjoys to this day – but failed to get home video distribution until the early nineties.
Themes of mutation, modernity and social unrest are rife. Kaneda and Tetsuo’s biker gang are like a revved up version of the delinquents seen in Ishii’s Crazy Thunder Road and Burst City, while Tetsuo’s ESP and subsequent transformation sets the film firmly in Cronenberg’s body horror territory. His eventual fusion with metal – resulting in a horrific man-machine hybrid that sees Tetsuo become the master of a newly formed universe – not only is evocative of the cyberpunk notion of technology corrupting the human form (in this case literally) but also serves as an important visual precursor to the movement’s next breakthrough, live-action work.
Often revered as the definitive example of extreme Japanese cyberpunk and a vital cornerstone in the rebuilding of contemporary Japanese cinema, Tetsuo: The Iron Man was a baffling international success story, prompting many a sceptic on Japan’s future cinematic involvement to turn their attention eastward. Barely over an hour in length, Tetsuo was a breath of fresh air; a no-holds-barred sensory assault that gave Japanese cinema a major image renovation and launched the career of its director, Shinya Tsukamoto, who has gone on to become one of the country’s most respected and treasured auteurs.
During its unprecedented and lengthy tour of international film festivals, Tetsuo not only pointed towards exciting new possibilities for contemporary Japanese cinema but was able to fit ‘snugly into a pantheon of genre works that included Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, James Cameron’s The Terminator, David Lynch’s Eraserhead and the work of David Cronenberg, Sam Raimi and Clive Barker'[ 7 ], which no doubt broadened its appeal. Its use of kinetic cinematography, rapid-fire editing and DIY, zero-budget special effects served as an invitation; a call to arms if you will, for independent filmmakers everywhere to produce unique and challenging cinema.
However, the majority of the film’s innovative style is, for the most part, lifted from elsewhere, promoting the fusion of a variety of influences including the hyperactive camerawork of Ishii’s Burst City; the body horror of Cronenberg’s Videodrome (1983) and The Fly (1986); the biomechanical perversions of artist H.R. Giger; the literature of J.G. Ballard – particularly Crash (1973) – and the stop-motion animation of Jan Svankmayer. There is also a sense of strange nostalgia for the old kaiju (monster) movies and television serials that Tsukamoto watched when growing up in a Tokyo experiencing post-war re-construction as well as major expansion and modernising in preparation for the Japan hosting of the 1964 Olympic Games.
Like Ishii, Tsukamoto’s early development stemmed from making 8mm films as a teenager during the 1970s, using his younger brother and friends as cast and crew members. As he reached adulthood, Tsukamoto abandoned filmmaking and turned his attention increasingly towards the stage, forming a theatre troupe with like minded university students and directing plays [ 8 ]. One of the plays that Tsukamoto wrote would subsequently be adapted into a film; The Adventure of Denchu Kozo (1987) with the assistance of his theatre cohorts – christened ‘Kaiju Theatre’. It was this same group that also made Tetsuo, along with a revolving-door line-up of other helpers, most notably fellow filmmaker Shozin Fukui who would go to make his own cyberpunk features during the nineties.
Tetsuo’s chief concern is the impact of technology on society and subsequently – and more specifically – the human form. Tsukamoto suggests that technology is a disease, bursting forth unannounced and unexplained as evidenced in the salaryman’s transformation – simultaneously reminiscent of Cronenberg’s The Fly and Otomo’s Akira – where a shard of metal lodged in the protagonist’s cheek is the starting point for further mutation. Like Seth Brundle of The Fly, the salaryman is both repulsed yet intrigued by what he is turning into and, coincidently, his evolution shares the namesake of the transforming character of Akira: Tetsuo; meaning ‘iron man’ or ‘clear thinking/philosophical man’. Tsukamoto embraces both interpretations of his film’s title. On one hand is the literal transformation of flesh to iron and on the other, a philosophical enquiry on technology’s consuming nature and the symbiosis between city and citizen.
However, closer inspection reveals further concerns, as evidenced by Steven T. Brown, author of the groundbreaking Tokyo Cyberpunk: Posthumanism in Japanese Visual Culture, in which he says: ‘the mixing of flesh and metal in Tetsuo is not only intensely violent but also darkly erotomechanical and techno-fetishistic, evoking sadomasochistic sexual practices and pleasures, as well as fears of both male and female sexuality out of control'[ 9 ].
In this regard, Tsukamoto gives horror and eroticism equal attention: the salaryman has a nightmare involving his girlfriend (played by Kei Fujiwara) sodomising him with a mechanical, snakelike appendage strapped to her crotch. This gender-reversal is not only representative of one of David Cronenberg’s favourite thematic stomping grounds, but also shares the Canadian director’s Ballardian [ 10 ] allusions, hyper-masculinity and homoerotic undertones. When the film’s antagonist, Yatsu (meaning ‘Guy’) – a metal fetishist (played by Tsukamoto himself) suffering from the same man-machine affliction – arrives at the apartment, he turns up ‘presenting flowers to the salaryman in a parody of courtship'[ 11 ] that ends with physical assimilation.
This mechanical eros continues when, in an early stage of his transformation, the salaryman’s penis turns into a rapidly oscillating drill which he then uses on his girlfriend with graphic results. By the film’s end, he does battle and fuses together with the metal fetishist; the result is a large tank-like monstrosity with the suggested goal of world domination. His newfound unrepressed nature effectively destroys his heterosexual relationship, only to start a new one with someone – another male – experiencing similar changes to their body.
The film’s metaphorical capacity is achieved primarily through its abstract and surrealist execution that bears similarities to Luis Buuel’s Un Chien Andalou (1929) – as noted by Brown in Tokyo Cyberpunk (p.60-64) – and David Lynch’s Eraserhead. The latter is a popular comparison, prompting many to refer to Tetsuo as a “Japanese Eraserhead”. Whilst both films share an allegiance to post-humanism and industrialised iconography, Eraserhead takes a slower burning, atmospheric approach. Tetsuo on the other hand, takes a startlingly aggressive stance from the outset; combining hand-held camerawork, rapid fire editing and a pummelling, industrial music score by composer Chu Ishikawa – who would serve as composer for future Tsukamoto projects – to create a battering and invasive sensory assault. It was an ethos that would carry over into the next decade of underground filmmaking.
After completing his second feature, the manga adaptation Hiruko the Goblin (1990), Tsukamoto returned to the world of mutated scrap with a second Tetsuo film. Tetsuo II: The Body Hammer (1992) serves more as a companion piece than as a straightforward sequel or remake. It is a new interpretation of the same basic premise – man-machine transformation – but played out on a larger scale. Tomorowo Taguchi reprises his role as a (different) salaryman. This time, he lives in a sterile, high-rise apartment with his wife and young son. His metamorphosis is triggered when his son is kidnapped by an underground faction of skinheads who want to harness the salaryman’s cyber-kinetic powers so that they can augment their bodies into organic weaponry in order to bring about mass destruction.
If the ethos of the first Tetsuo was related to The Fly, the second film perhaps bears more of a similarity to Cronenberg’s Scanners (1981) as the salaryman comes to blows against his mutated brother (played by Tsukamoto), the leader of the skinhead group. In doing so, Body Hammer moves away from the surreal macabre horror of its predecessor and more towards an action/science fiction movie template; although plenty of avant-garde trimmings still remain to bridge, connect and embellish ideas. As a result, Tsukamoto operates within a somewhat more conventional and ultimately, more accessible narrative structure, and the inclusion of a larger budget means that he is able to fully realise the end-of-the-world scenario suggested in the closing moments of the first film. As per Tsukamoto’s wish, Tokyo is razed to the ground.
Like the first film, Body Hammer blurs the distinction between form and content. It also re-imagines concepts that were given little attention the first time around; the metal fetishist’s obsession with physical perfection as suggested by the photos of successful athletes that adorn his shack like abode is ‘brought very much to the foreground in the shape of the skinhead cult, which consists of athletes, bodybuilders and boxers who push their training regimen to the extreme’ [ 12 ] – a topic that would dominate Tsukamoto’s subsequent film project. It’s a possible indictment of the obsessive, body culture phenomenon that came about in the 1980s that saw more and more people going to the gym and taking advantage of artificial enhancements such as plastic surgery; a time when there was a strong emphasis on physical perfection and beauty.
The film also hints at the direction Tsukamoto would start to take with future productions: the environmental focus has shifted ever so slightly from the decaying urban sprawl to the sterile functionality of the metropolis centre, and more of an emphasis has been placed on the relationship between the salaryman and his wife; a marriage torn apart by invasive elements. The catalyst for transformation this time is not from infection or a curse as suggested in the original, but from demonstrative rage. The prospect of the salaryman’s son being killed by the skinheads provokes the first instance of transformation, which occurs again when his wife is kidnapped, causing multiple gun-barrels to erupt from his chest and limbs. Rage would go on to transform Tsukamoto’s protagonists in future films Tokyo Fist (1995) and Bullet Ballet (1998), albeit figuratively instead of literally.
In the wake of Tetsuo’s startling domestic and international success, one would think that it would have acted as a catalyst to trigger a wave of similarly styled films. In retrospect, this wasn’t the case as very few filmmakers decided to follow the path forged by Tsukamoto’s breakthrough work. However, former colleague Shozin Fukui was one of the few to accept the challenge.
Like Tsukamoto and Izumiya before him, Fukui is a disciple of Sogo Ishii’s breakthrough independent filmmaking during the late seventies as well as the music that inspired it. Born in 1961, and upon moving to Tokyo in the early eighties, Fukui quickly became infatuated with the burgeoning underground punk music scene and set about forming his own band with friends. These same friends would serve as Fukui’s cast and crew on early forays into filmmaking such as Metal Days (1986) and the short films Gerorisuto (1986) and Caterpillar (1988) [ 13 ].
After serving as assistant director to both Tsukamoto and Ishii – on Tetsuo: The Iron Man and the short film The Master of Shiatsu (Shiatsu Oja, 1989) respectively – Fukui started to write and direct his own feature films. His first was Pinocchio 964 (1991), and while it did not share the same philosophical leanings that Tetsuo did two years before, it was an effective manifesto for Fukui’s thematic preoccupations nonetheless; how technological augmentation impacts on the fragile and potentially volatile nature of the human mind. The story focuses on the titular protagonist, a brainwashed individual who has been scientifically modified to operate as a sex slave. Upon being thrown away by his sexually demanding female owners, Pinocchio wonders the streets of present-day Tokyo where he meets Himiko, a fellow destitute. She takes Pinocchio under her wing whereby he begins to fall in love with her, prompting the return of previously erased memories. When Pinocchio realises what has happened to him and knows who’s responsible, he plans revenge. Meanwhile, the corporation in question organise a search party to reclaim their missing product.
Pinocchio 964 is frequently compared to Tetsuo by cyberpunk enthusiasts and academics alike. Both films represent the feature length debut of Fukui and Tsukamoto respectively and both films exhibit a similarly energetic and manic execution. It can be argued that Fukui’s style is indebted to Tsukamoto due to his serving as assistant director for a period of Tetsuo’s filming. Fukui’s previous short, Caterpillar – made at around the same time as Tetsuo – features similar techniques including hyperactive, hand-held camerawork and stop-motion animation as well as similar imagery: mounds of scrap, ubiquitous urban living and flesh merged with machinery.
However, there are some major differences. The most apparent is inherent in the film’s mise en scene: Pinocchio 964 is in colour (except for its opening sequence) whereas Tetsuo is black and white – though its sequel was in colour. Thematically, unlike Tsukamoto’s notion of technology as an organic, mutating disease, Fukui’s film depicts the body transformed as the direct result of man-made augmentation similar to early Cronenberg – Shivers (1975) and Rabid (1977) for example – as well as Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818). Like the monster in Shelley’s seminal work, Pinocchio is at first oblivious to his condition, but time spent in the real world causes him to realise his artificial existence and he seeks revenge against his creator. However, unlike Frankenstein’s monster, Pinocchio was not constructed from scratch; he is his namesake in reverse – a human turned product through neuro tampering and memory wiping. Fukui seems to suggest that modernity is programming the populous to concern themselves with nothing but sex; a sentiment that’s readily apparent in the media and advertising industries.
It could be argued then, that Pinocchio 964 is the more precise cyberpunk text, offering a speculative stance on potential future technologies i.e. altered living through cybernetic assistance. As suggested in Tetsuo, these technological changes have a perverse impact on sex; Pinocchio is compelled to suckle on Himiko’s breasts in a brain-damaged, baby like stupor – not knowing any better – whereas the salaryman’s girlfriend is enticed and drawn to ride her lover’s newly developed drill-penis.
The conclusion of Pinocchio 964 sees further transformation beyond the esoteric boundaries as previously established. Like the salaryman and metal fetishist, Pinocchio and Himiko – both of whom are victims of the corporation’s scientific dalliances – merge together in a manner and style reminiscent of Peter Jackson’s first lo-fi feature Bad Taste (1987), suggesting the start of a new, technologically altered meta-race in keeping with Cronenberg’s corporeal philosophy of the “New Flesh” [ 14 ].
Thanks to Tetsuo’s worldwide success – along with other newly emerging work like Takashi Kitano’s gritty police caper Violent Cop (1989) – Pinocchio 964 enjoyed a modicum of cult success as international demand for strange and ultra-violent Japanese cinema began to increase. Film companies such as Toho started to cater to this newfound interest by introducing direct-to-video distribution lines that specialised in outputting low-budget, sensationalist material. One such entry was Tomoo Haraguchi’s specifically titled Mikadroid: Robokill Beneath Disco Club Layla (1991), a cyber/steampunk horror about a buried, technologically augmented, super-soldier – built by Japanese scientists during the second world war – being re-activated and going on a murderous rampage. Largely unheard of, the film is perhaps most notable for featuring a (brief) acting turn from a then little-known Kiyoshi Kurosawa, who would later go on to direct internationally renowned works such as Cure (1997), Pulse (2001) and Tokyo Sonata (2008).
Both Pinocchio 964 and Mikadroid would be overshadowed by Tsukamoto’s higher budget and higher profile Tetsuo sequel, which arrived the following year. In the meantime, Fukui was already planning the next project; one that would take almost five years to gestate and execute.
The result was Rubber’s Lover (1996), Fukui’s second and, at present, last feature; a subterranean post-industrial nightmare of human experimentation and bodily destruction. A clandestine group of scientists experiment on human guinea pigs pinched from the street to unlock psychic powers. This is achieved through a combination of computer interfaces, sensory depravation and regular injections of ether, usually resulting in the subject dying a gruesome and explosive death.
Often interpreted as a lose prequel to Pinocchio v946, Rubber’s Lover, despite similarities to its predecessor also represents a distinct contrast. The most readily apparent differences are the film’s use of monochrome photography – a decision made by Fukui when he disliked the look of the S&M flavoured costumes when filmed in colour – and the film’s comparatively subdued pace; favouring atmosphere over propulsion. However, his pre-established tropes still remain: invasive technologies; bizarre sexual practices as a by-product of such technologies; retrograde/outdated equipment; mutation; and a fetish for bodily fluids – pus, blood, vomit etc.
Like Tetsuo, Rubber’s Lover depicts the establishment of a new world order through corporeal and technologically informed symbiosis: the biological co-existence between flesh and metal and the destruction of mental and physical barriers respectively. Rubber’s Lover also takes great pleasure in distorting the boundaries and exploring the grey area between sex and violence; much more so than Pinocchio 964. One scene sees a frenzied character tearing the flesh off another, mid-coitus on a hospital bed whilst a corporate scumbag laughs in the corner of the room. The researcher’s successful test subject, Motomiya – a former member of the team who has since become addicted to ether – is made to wear a strange, rubber S&M bodysuit, further augmented with makeshift technological add-ons of monitors, wires and outdated gizmos. Their nurse’s rotating, ether injector is especially phallic and is used on their subjects rectally for “immediate effect”, suggesting a notion of perversion that transcends sex and violence and into the realms of science and technology.
Rubber’s Lover’s perverted view on science not only echoes some of the imagery and themes from Izumiya’s Death Powder (and to a lesser extent, Haraguchi’s Mikadroid) but the real-life, deranged human experiments carried out by the Japanese military’s infamous Unit 731 on Chinese prisoners of war during the 1930s and 40s [ 15 ]; depicting a doomsday scenario that sees the human race tear itself apart in the pursuit of scientific understanding and technological superiority. Motomiya’s ether addiction is caused by one of his research colleagues. The same colleague later kidnaps and rapes a representative of the project’s benefactor sent in to oversee its shutdown. She is also subjugated to D.D.D (Direct Digital Drive), the apparatus used in the project’s testing.
Fukui’s fascination over the frailty and destructibility of the human mind comes to fruition as Motomiya quickly turns mad; burdened with newly unlocked psychic powers that he can’t control. Like Pinocchio 964, Rubber’s Lover examines the mental transformation that invasive technologies incur on the human condition. This is in stark contrast to Tsukamoto’s Tetsuo films that focus primarily on the physical transformation caused by the same factors, which perhaps serves as the key difference between their otherwise similar films within the sub-genre.
By the mid-to-late 1990s, Japanese cyberpunk cinema was starting to wane; having been overtaken by the blood-stained yakuza films of Kitano and Miike in terms of international prominence, who would in turn be overshadowed by the new wave of supernatural, J-Horror films that emerged at the turn of the century including Hideo Nakata’s The Ring (1998) and Ring 2 (1999).
Fukui’s Rubber’s Lover was the last underground cyberpunk film of the nineties and arguably the last ever. Upon its completion and after getting a limited video release, Fukui put filmmaking on hold to join a video production company; he worked there for the best part of ten years. Tsukamoto had moved on also, continuing his exploration of the symbiosis between city and citizen with a matured pallet. His films Tokyo Fist (1995) and Bullet Ballet (1998) eschew virtually all of the science fiction and horror imagery that had characterised his work previously.
Cyberpunk was kept alive within Japan’s anime and manga industries but it wasn’t until the turn of the millennium when it returned to cinema. The year 2001 saw the release of two films that would give the genre a new lease of life. Mamoru Oshii made Avalon, a live-action Japanese/Polish co-production about an addictive virtual simulation game. It was Oshii’s first film since his internationally successful anime feature film adaptation of Ghost in the Shell (1995) – he would go on to direct the sequel; Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence (2004).
Shot in Poland with Polish actors and a Japanese crew, Avalon’s themes of virtual reality places it in the same territory as a lot of American produced cyberpunk that surfaced during the nineties: The Lawnmower Man (1992), Strange Days (1995), The Thirteenth Floor (1999), The Matrix (1999) and Cronenberg’s similarly concerned eXistenZ (1999) for example. It was also redolent of many similarly themed anime releases – both theatrical and televised – that emerged during the same decade as the real-life phenomenon of the internet started to make the world seem even smaller; Oshii’s own adaptation of Ghost in the Shell and Ryutaro Nakamura’s Serial Experiments: Lain (1998) series were particularly indicative of these technological and cultural changes. Another notable example and precursor to much of the VR-centric work that would appear in the 1990s is the four-part anime series Megazone 23 (1985-1989), which explores the idea of a post-apocalyptic Tokyo existing as a futuristic virtual simulation.
The second film from 2001 was Sogo Ishii’s Electric Dragon 80,000V, which not only served as Ishii’s return to punk cinema after a decade of more meditative output but, like Burst City, spearheaded a new generation of like minded filmmaking that has evolved Japanese cyberpunk into a new and strange beast. As with the sensory assault cinema favoured by Tsukamoto and Fukui, Electric Dragon is a film that is experienced rather than watched, stimulating the most primitive parts of the brain in a tsunami of sound and image.
The premise is simple enough; a young boy contracts the ability to channel and wield electricity, acquired from a childhood accident whilst climbing some power lines – an ability further enhanced by receiving multiple jolts of electro-shock therapy for violent behaviour. Now an adult with megawatts of power coursing through him, Dragon Eye Morrison is a professional reptile investigator, searching alleyways for lost lizards. Equilibrium is disturbed by the arrival of Thunderbolt Buddha, a TV repair man turned vigilante whose electro-conductive talents are the result of mechanical wizardry. The two meet and battle for supremacy on Tokyo’s rooftops.
As was the case with Burst City, Electric Dragon leans less towards the cyber and more towards the punk aspect of the sub-genre, with Ishii following the train of thought he employed with his music videos and concert films during the 1980s. The film’s title also makes reference to the old days, partly derived from ‘Live Spot 20,000V’, the concert venue that plays a pivotal role in Burst City and one of Ishii’s early shorts, The Solitude of One Divided by 880,000 (1978). Electric Dragon is less about the nightmare and more about anarchic expression at odds with the post-modern universe.
However, some cyber signifiers do remain; the oppressive Tokyo setting realised in stark monochrome; the fetishist attitude towards power lines, aerials, ventilation ducts and other ubiquitous technological appliances; the hyperactive and frequently expressionist delivery; its low-budget, guerrilla-like execution and, like Tetsuo, the concept of two characters augmented through technology, giving them powers that they can’t fully control, coming to blows. Dragon Eye Morrison has to clamp himself to a metal bed frame at night whilst Thunderbolt Buddha’s penchants for electronic devices to assist in his nocturnal excursions sometimes get the better of him as he fights for control of his own body.
The psycho-sexual themes that dominated past Japanese cyberpunk have been replaced with an equally primal notion of animal magnetism. Morrison’s electric power is derived from the ‘Dragon’ that’s embedded in all living things. His rage unlocks the strength of the dragon, meaning that he can harness more energy by sucking it out of household appliances or by creating a non-melodic racket on his electric guitar; a high-voltage cacophony of noise and expression announcing that Ishii’s punk spirit is still alive and well. Indeed, lead actor Tadanobu Asano occasionally guests in Ishii’s industrial noise-punk ensemble Mach 1.67, which provided the film’s propulsive soundtrack. The film would later be used to accompany the group’s live shows, a strategy Ishii pioneered back in 1983 when he made the short film Asia Strikes Back – a little-known cyberpunk piece that provided the template for Shozin Fukui’s preferred set-up of underground experiments gone haywire – to back up the album and tour of the short-lived punk supergroup The Bacillus Army.
Similar to Tsukamoto’s Tetsuo, dialogue in Electric Dragon 80,000V is minimal thus the narrative is powered mainly by image and follows a similar template; the protagonist is seen acquiring his power; the antagonist then challenges the protagonist to combat and the final act sees them clash. All of this is wrapped up in a high energy, fatless sixty-minute package. Ishii’s film is not only is a throwback to the eighties cyberpunk manifesto but reminds us that rather than being characterised by heavy, science fiction concepts, as was the case in the West, it was defined by its independence, attitude and the will to create something out of nothing.
In the years following Electric Dragon 80,000V, a new wave of low-budget horror/science fiction began to surface largely thanks to increased DVD distribution channels, cheaper production techniques and the ever increasing reach of the internet. Films like Hellevator: The Bottled Fools (Hiroki Yamaguchi, 2004), Meatball Machine (Yudai Yamaguchi & Junichi Yamamoto, 2005), The Machine Girl (Noboru Iguchi, 2008) and Tokyo Gore Police (Yoshihiro Nishimura, 2008) have ushered in a new era of cyberpunk informed, gore-centric movies that have since been termed ‘splatter-punk’.
These splatter-punk movies share the same independent spirit of their precursors, substituting 8mm and 16mm film methods for cheap DV technology, retaining as much budget as possible for make-up, costume and practical effects. Many of the effects in these films depict mutation and body alteration; splatter re-imaginings of the flesh-metal fusions of Tetsuo, and the perverse, organic weaponry of Tetsuo II. Similar to the “splatstick” horror of early Sam Raimi and Peter Jackson, the effects and transformations lean towards the ridiculous for comedic effect. One mutated character in Tokyo Gore Police wields an oversized cannon made of contorted flesh, protruding from his crotch much like an erect penis, suggesting – in a very tongue-in-cheek manner – the blur between sex and violence that was posited by Tsukamoto and Fukui. Yamaguchi and Yamamoto’s Meatball Machine is perhaps the closest to the Japanese cyberpunk of old; parasitic aliens infect unsuspecting people, which promptly turns them into macabre man-machine teratoids that fight it out.
In many ways, this ‘splatter-punk’ phase is also reminiscent of the special-effects race that occurred with American horror movies during the 1980s; Cronenberg included. As practical effects became more advanced, a seemingly never-ending slew of films were produced, trying to out-shock one another with advancing exercises in gore. The same can be said here; the ante seems to be continually raised as each new release contorts and morphs the body in increasingly elaborate and grotesque ways.
A reason for this is that many of these film’s directors initially came from special effects backgrounds: Tokyo Gore Police director Yoshihiro Nishimura for instance, has supervised the special effects for many modern gore productions including Noboru Iguchi’s The Machine Girl and Robo-Geisha (2009). In fact, many of these films are made through Fundoshi Corps, a production company founded by Nishimura, Iguchi and film producer Yukihiko Yamaguchi, that specialise in cheaply produced, over-the-top movies of this ilk. It has proven to be a successful business model as their output is continually building a strong international fanbase, looking for perverse and outlandish content.
The recurring touchstones of combining eroticism and perversion are also present. However, they for the most part forego subverted techno-fetishism in favour of contemporary V-Cinema and Pink Film preoccupations. The Machine Girl for instance, uses typical imagery such as the Japanese schoolgirl – a popular conceit in a lot of the nation’s anime, manga and pornography industries – and takes it to new abject levels, connecting bullet spewing hardware to her severed limbs and even granting her the ability to grow weaponry from out of the small of her spine; skirt raised of course.
Unfortunately, it would appear that live-action Japanese cyberpunk cinema has moved on from the daring, experimental underground from whence it came. The remnants of its ideas are now utilised in violent gore shockers that are bereft of the immediacy and philosophical potential of their progenitors. The movement, once an expression of attitude, concerns and frustration with the world, the way it’s structured and the technology used – not just an exploration of the grey area between science fiction and horror – seems to have disappeared.
However in 2009, Shinya Tsukamoto announced his return to the world of cyberpunk with a third Tetsuo project. Tetsuo: The Bullet Man is not only a return, but a new beginning for Tsukamoto as it is his first English language film; an attempt to expose the demented world of Tetsuo to a wider audience. It premiered at the 2009 Venice Film Festival to mixed fanfare, prompting Tsukamoto to continue working on it. Subsequent showings – the 2010 Tribeca Festival for instance – have found greater critical favour, but a vital caveat still remains
Like the punk scene that it emulated, Japanese cyberpunk was pertinent and inextricably linked to a specific time and place. More than a sub-genre, it tackled the anxieties of the period in ways that conventional expression would fall short. But now that we’re in the technologically dependent twenty-first century – the post-human nightmare now a grim reality – can it still be relevant?
Midnight Eye feature: Post-Human Nightmares The World of …
Posted: at 3:47 pm
“The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heaven” Satan, in Milton’s Paradise Lost
Far-fetched? Right now, the abolitionist project sounds fanciful. The task of redesigning our legacy-wetware still seems daunting. Rewriting the vertebrate genome, and re-engineering the global ecosystem, certainly pose immense scientific challenges even to a technologically advanced civilisation.
The ideological obstacles to a happy world, however, are more formidable still. For we’ve learned how to rationalise the need for mental pain – even though its nastier varieties blight innumerable lives, and even though its very existence will soon become optional.
Today, any scientific blueprint for getting rid of suffering via biotechnology is likely to be reduced to one of two negative stereotypes. Both stereotypes are disturbing, pervasive, and profoundly ill-conceived. Together, they impoverish our notion of what a Post-Darwinian regime of life-long happiness might be like; and delay its prospect.
Rats, of course, have a very poor image in our culture. Our mammalian cousins are still widely perceived as “vermin”. Thus the sight of a blissed-out, manically self-stimulating rat does not inspire a sense of vicarious happiness in the rest of us. On the contrary, if achieving invincible well-being entails launching a program of world-wide wireheading – or its pharmacological and/or genetic counterparts – then most of us will recoil in distaste.
Yet the Olds’ rat, and the image of electronically-triggered bliss, embody a morally catastrophic misconception of the landscape of options for paradise-engineering in the aeons ahead. For the varieties of genetically-coded well-being on offer to our successors needn’t be squalid or self-centred. Nor need they be insipid, empty and amoral la Huxley’s Brave New World. Our future modes of well-being can be sublime, cerebral and empathetic – or take forms hitherto unknown.
Instead of being toxic, such exotically enriched states of consciousness can be transformed into the everyday norm of mental health. When it’s precision-engineered, hedonic enrichment needn’t lead to unbridled orgasmic frenzy. Nor need hedonic enrichment entail getting stuck in a wirehead rut. This is partly because in a naturalistic setting, even the crudest dopaminergic drugs tend to increase exploratory behaviour, will-power and the range of stimuli an organism finds rewarding. Novelty-seeking is normally heightened. Dopaminergics aren’t just euphoriants: they also enhance “incentive-motivation”. On this basis, our future is likely to be more diverse, not less.
Perhaps surprisingly too, controlled euphoria needn’t be inherently “selfish” – i.e. hedonistic in the baser, egoistic sense. Non-neurotoxic and sustainable analogues of empathogen hug-drugs like MDMA (“Ecstasy”) – which releases a lot of extra serotonin, dopamine and pro-social oxytocin – may potentially induce extraordinary serenity, empathy and love for others. An arsenal of cognitive enhancers will allow us be smarter too. For feeling blissful isn’t the same as being “blissed-out”.
Ultimately, however, using drugs or electrodes for psychological superhealth is arguably no better than taking medicines to promote physical superhealth. Such interventions can serve only as dirty and inelegant stopgaps. In an ideal world, our emotional, intellectual and physical well-being would be genetically predestined. A capacity for sustained bliss may be a design-feature of any Post-Darwinian mind. Indeed some futurists predict we will one day live in a paradise where suffering is physiologically inconceivable – a world where we can no more imagine what it is like to suffer than we can presently imagine what it is like to be a bat.
Technofantasy? Quite possibly. Today it is sublime bliss that is effectively inconceivable to most of us.
Olds mapped the whole brain. Stimulation of some areas – the periaqueductal grey matter, for instance – proved aversive: an animal will work hard to avoid it. “Aversive” is probably a euphemism: electrical pulses to certain neural pathways may be terrifying or excruciating. Euphemisms aside, our victims are being tortured.
Happily, more regions in the brain are rewarding to stimulate than are unpleasant. Yet electrical stimulation of most areas, including the great bulk of the neocortex, is motivationally neutral.
One brain region in particular does seem especially enjoyable to stimulate: the medial forebrain bundle. The key neurons in this bundle originate in the ventral tegmental area (VTA) of the basal ganglia. VTA neurons manufacture the catecholamine neurotransmitter dopamine. Dopamine is transported down the length of the neuron, packaged in synaptic vesicles, and released into the synapse. Crucially, VTA neuronal pathways project to the nucleus accumbens. VTA dopaminergic neurons are under continuous inhibition by the gamma-aminobutyric acid (GABA) system.
In recent years, a convergence of neuropharmacological evidence, clinical research, and electrical stimulation experiments has led many researchers to endorse some version of the “final common pathway” hypothesis of reward. There are anomalies and complications which the final-common-pathway hypothesis still has to account for. Any story which omits the role and complex interplay of, say, “the love hormone”, oxytocin; the “chocolate amphetamine”, phenylethylamine; the glutamate system; the multiple receptor sub-types of serotonin, noradrenaline and the opioid families; and most crucially of all, the intra-cellular post-synaptic cascade within individual neurons, is going to be simplistic. Yet there is accumulating evidence that recreational euphoriants, clinically useful mood-brighteners, and perhaps all rewarding experiences critically depend on the mesolimbic dopamine pathway.
One complication is that pleasure and desire circuitry have intimately connected but distinguishable neural substrates. Some investigators believe that the role of the mesolimbic dopamine system is not primarily to encode pleasure, but “wanting” i.e. incentive-motivation. On this analysis, endomorphins and enkephalins – which activate mu and delta opioid receptors most especially in the ventral pallidum – are most directly implicated in pleasure itself. Mesolimbic dopamine, signalling to the ventral pallidum, mediates desire. Thus “dopamine overdrive”, whether natural or drug-induced, promotes a sense of urgency and a motivation to engage with the world, whereas direct activation of mu opioid receptors in the ventral pallidum induces emotionally self-sufficient bliss.
Certainly, the dopamine neurotransmitter is not itself the brain’s magic pleasure chemical. Only the intra-cellular cascades triggered by neurotransmitter binding to the post-synaptic receptor presumably hold the elusive, tantalising key to everlasting happiness; and they are not yet fully understood. But it’s notable that dopamine D2 receptor-blocking phenothiazines, for example, and other aversive drugs such as kappa opioid agonists, tend to inhibit activity, or increase the threshold of stimulation, in the mesolimbic dopamine system. Conversely, heroin and cocaine both mimic the effects of direct electrical stimulation of the reward-pathways.
Comparing the respective behavioural effects of heroin and cocaine is instructive.If rats or monkeys are hooked up to an intravenous source of heroin (or other potent mu opioid agonist such as fentanyl), the animals will happily self-administer the drug indefinitely; but they still find time to sleep and eat. If rats or monkeys have the opportunity to self-administer cocaine without limit, however, they will do virtually nothing else. They continue to push a drug-delivery lever for as long as they are physically capable of doing so. Within weeks, if not days, they will lose a substantial portion of their body weight – up to 40%. Within a month, they will be dead.
Humans don’t have this problem. So what keeps our mesolimbic dopamine and opioidergic systems so indolent? Why does a “hedonic treadmill” stop us escaping from a genetically-predisposed “set-point” of emotional ill-being? Why can’t social engineering, politico-economic reform or psychotherapy – as distinct from germ-line genetic re-writes – make us durably happy?
Evolutionary biology provides some plausible answers. A capacity to experience many different flavours of unhappiness – and short-lived joys too – was adaptive in the ancestral environment. Anger, fear, disgust, sadness, anxiety and other core emotions each played a distinctive information-theoretic role, enhancing the reproductive success of our forebears. Thus at least a partial explanation of endemic human misery today lies in ancient selection pressure and the state of the unreconstructed vertebrate genome. Selfish DNA makes its throwaway survival-machines feel discontented a lot of the time. A restless discontent is typically good for promoting its “inclusive fitness”, even if it’s bad news for us. Nature simply doesn’t care; and God has gone missing, presumed dead.
On the African savannah, naturally happy and un-anxious creatures typically got outbred or eaten or both. Rank theory suggests that the far greater incidence of the internalised correlate of the yielding sub-routine, depression, reflects how low spirits were frequently more adaptive among group-living organisms than manic self-assertion. Group living can be genetically adaptive for the individual members of the tribe in a predator-infested environment, but we’ve paid a very high psychological price.
Whatever the origins of malaise, a web of negative feedback mechanisms in the CNS conspires to prevent well-being – and (usually) extreme ill-being – from persisting for very long.
Life-enriching emotional superhealth will depend on subverting these homeostatic mechanisms. The hedonic set-point around which our lives fluctuate can be genetically switched to a far higher altitude plateau of well-being.
At the most immediate level, firing in the neurons of the ventral tegmental area is held in check mainly by gamma-aminobutyric acid (GABA), the major inhibitory neurotransmitter in the vertebrate central nervous system. Opioids act to diminish the braking action of GABA on the dopaminergic neurons of the VTA. In consequence, VTA neurons release more dopamine in the nucleus accumbens. The reuptake of dopamine in the nucleus accumbens is performed by the dopamine transporter. The transporter is blocked by cocaine. Dopamine reuptake inhibition induces euphoria, augmented by activation of the sigma1 receptors. [Why? We don’t know. Science has no understanding of why sentience – or insentience for that matter – exists at all.] Amphetamines block the dopamine transporter too; but they also act directly on the dopaminergic neurons and promote neurotransmitter release.
The mesolimbic dopamine pathway passes from the VTA to the nucleus accumbens and ascends to the frontal cortex where it innervates the higher brain. This architecture is explicable in the light of evolution. Raw limbic emotional highs and lows – in the absence of represented objects, events or properties to be (dis)satisfied about – would be genetically useless to the organism. To help self-replicating DNA differentially leave more copies of itself, the textures of subjective niceness and nastiness must infuse our representations of the world, and – by our lights – the world itself. Hedonic tone must be functionally coupled to motor-responses initiated on the basis of the perceived significance of the stimulus to the organism, and of the anticipated consequences – adaptively nice or nasty – of simulations of alternative courses of action that the agent can perform. Natural selection has engineered the “encephalisation of emotion”. We often get happy, sad or worried “about” the most obscure notions. One form this encephalisation takes is our revulsion at the prospect of turning ourselves into undignified wirehead rats – or soma-pacified dupes of a ruling elite. Both scenarios strike us as too distasteful to contemplate.
In any case, wouldn’t we get bored of life-long bliss?
Apparently not. That’s what’s so revealing about wireheading. Unlike food, drink or sex, the experience of pleasure itself exhibits no tolerance, even though our innumerable objects of desire certainly do so. Thus we can eventually get bored of anything – with a single exception. Stimulation of the pleasure-centres of the brain never palls. Fire them in the right way, and boredom is neurochemically impossible. Its substrates are missing. Electrical stimulation of the mesolimbic dopamine system is more intensely rewarding than eating, drinking, and love-making; and it never gets in the slightest a bit tedious. It stays exhilarating. The unlimited raw pleasure conjured up by wirehead bliss certainly inspires images of monotony in the electrode-naïve outsider; but that’s a different story altogether.
Yet are wireheading or supersoma really the only ways to ubiquitous ecstasy? Or does posing the very question reflect our stunted conception of the diverse family of paradise-engineering options in prospect?
This question isn’t an exercise in idle philosophising. As molecular neuroscience advances, not just boredom, but pain, terror, disgust, jealousy, anxiety, depression, malaise and any form of unpleasantness are destined to become truly optional. Their shifting gradients played a distinct information-theoretic role in the lives of our ancestors in the ancestral environment of adaptation. But their individual textures (i.e. “what it feels like”, “qualia”) can shortly be either abolished or genetically shifted to a more exalted plane of well-being instead. Our complicity in their awful persistence, and ultimately our responsibility for sustaining and creating them in the living world, is destined to increase as the new reproductive technologies mature and the revolution in post-genomic medicine unfolds. The biggest obstacles to a cruelty-free world – a world cured of any obligate suffering – are ideological, not technical. Yet whatever the exact time-scale of its replacement, in evolutionary terms we are on the brink of a Post-Darwinian Transition.
Natural selection has previously been “blind”. Complications aside, genetic mutations and meiotic shufflings are quasi-random i.e. random with respect to what is favoured by natural selection. Nature has no capacity for foresight or contingency-planning. During the primordial Darwinian Era of life on Earth, selfishness in the technical genetic sense has closely overlapped with selfishness in the popular sense: they are easily confused, and indeed selfishness in the technical sense is unavoidable. But in the new reproductive era – where (suites of) alleles will be societally chosen and actively designed by quasi-rational agents in anticipation of their likely behavioural effects – the character of fitness-enhancing traits will be radically different.
For a start, the elimination of such evolutionary relics as the ageing process will make any form of (post-)human reproduction on earth – whether sexual or clonal – a relatively rare and momentous event. It’s likely that designer post-human babies will be meticulously pre-planned. The notion that all reproductive decisions will be socially regulated in a post-ageing world is abhorrent to one’s libertarian instincts; but if they weren’t regulated, then the Earth would soon simply exceed its carrying capacity – whether it is 15 billion people or even 150 billion. If reproduction on earth does cease to be a personal affair and becomes a (democratically accountable?) state-sanctioned choice, then a major shift in the character of typically adaptive behavioural traits will inevitably occur. Taking a crude genes’ eye-view, a variant allele coding for, say, enhanced oxytocin expression, or a sub-type of serotonin receptor predisposing to unselfishness in the popular sense, will actually carry a higher payoff in the technical selfish sense – hugely increasing the likelihood that such alleles and their customised successors will be differentially pre-selected in preference to alleles promoting, say, anti-social behaviour.
Told like this, of course, the neurochemical story is a simplistic parody. It barely even hints at the complex biological, socio-economic and political issues at stake. Just who will take the decisions, and how? What will be the role in shaping post-human value systems, not just of exotic new technologies, but of alien forms of emotion whose metabolic pathways and substrates haven’t yet been disclosed to us? What kinds, if any, of inorganic organisms or non-DNA-driven states of consciousness will we want to design and implement? What will be the nature of the transitional era – when our genetic mastery of emotional mind-making is still incomplete? How can we be sure that unknown unknowns won’t make things go wrong? True, Darwinian life may often be dreadful, but couldn’t botched paradise-engineering make it even worse? And even if it couldn’t, might not there be some metaphysical sense in which life in a blissful biosphere could still be morally “wrong” – even if it strikes its inhabitants as self-evidently right?
Unfortunately, we will only begin to glimpse the implications of Post-Darwinism when paradise-engineering becomes a mature scientific discipline and mainstream research tradition. Yet as the vertebrate genome is rewritten, the two senses of “selfish” will foreseeably diverge. Today they are easily conflated. A tendency to quasi-psychopathic callousness to other sentient beings did indeed enhance the inclusive fitness of our DNA in the evolutionary past. In the new reproductive era, such traits are potentially maladaptive. They may even disappear as the Reproductive Revolution matures.
The possibility that we will become not just exceedingly happier, but nicer, may sound too good to be true. Perhaps we’ll just become happier egotists – in every sense. But if a genetic predisposition to niceness becomes systematically fitness-enhancing, then genetic selfishness – in the technical sense of “selfish” – ensures that benevolence will not just triumph; it will also be evolutionarily stable, in the games-theory sense, against “defectors”.
Needless to say, subtleties and technical complexities abound here. The very meaning of being “nice” to anyone or anything, for instance, is changed if well-being becomes a generic property of mental life. Either way, once suffering becomes biologically optional, then only sustained and systematic malice towards others could allow us to perpetuate it for ever. And although today we may sometimes be spiteful, there is no evidence that institutionalised malevolence will prevail.
From an ethical perspective, the task of hastening the Post-Darwinian Transition has a desperate moral urgency – brought home by studying just how nasty “natural” pain can be. Those who would resist the demise of unpleasantness may be asked: is it really permissible to compel others to suffer when any form of distress becomes purely optional? Should the metabolic pathways of our evolutionary past be forced on anyone who prefers an odyssey of life-long happiness instead? If so, what means of coercion should be employed, and by whom?
Or is paradise-engineering the only morally serious option? And much more fun.
Refs and further reading
Roborats James Olds Homeostasis Robert Heath Orgasmatrons Future Opioids BLTC Research Hypermotivation Superhappiness? Empathogens.com The Orgasmic Brain Social Media (2016) The Good Drug Guide The Abolitionist Project Utilitarianism On The Net The Hedonistic Imperative The Reproductive Revolution Critique of Brave New World MDMA: Utopian Pharmacology? When Is It Best To Take Crack Cocaine? Wireheads and Wireheading in Science Fiction Pleasure Evoked by Electrical Stimulation of the Brain Wireheads and wireheading: Definitions from Science Fiction
Continue reading here:
Posted: July 21, 2016 at 2:17 am
July 18, 2013 | By Louis Sahagun
More than a hundred explorers, scientists and government officials will gather at Long Beach’s Aquarium of the Pacific on Friday to draft a blueprint to solve a deep blue problem: About 95% of the world’s oceans remains unexplored. The invitation-only forum , hosted by the aquarium and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, aims to identify priorities, technologies and collaborative strategies that could advance understanding of the uncharted mega-wilderness that humans rely on for oxygen, food, medicines, commerce and recreation.
June 12, 2013 | By Brad Balukjian
Dancer , rapper , and, oh yeah, Man on the Moon Buzz Aldrin is talking, but are the right people listening? One of the original moonwalkers (Michael Jackson always did it backwards! Aldrin complained) challenged the United States to pick up the space slack Tuesday evening, mere hours after China sent three astronauts into orbit. Speaking in front of a friendly crowd of 880 at the Richard Nixon Presidential Library and Museum in Yorba Linda, Aldrin criticized the U.S. for not adequately leading the international community in space exploration, and suggested that we bump up our federal investment in space while still encouraging the private sector’s efforts.
February 2, 2013 | By Holly Myers
It will come as news to many, no doubt, that there is a Warhol on the moon. And a Rauschenberg and an Oldenburg – a whole “Moon Museum,” in fact, containing the work of six artists in all, in the form of drawings inscribed on the surface of a ceramic chip roughly the size of a thumbprint. Conceived by the artist Forrest Myers in 1969, the chip was fabricated in collaboration with scientists at Bell Laboratories and illicitly slipped by a willing engineer between some sheets of insulation on the Apollo 12 lander module.
January 29, 2013 | By Patrick J. McDonnell and Ramin Mostaghim, This post has been updated. See the note below for details.
BEIRUT – U.S. officials are not exactly welcoming Iran’s revelation this week that the Islamic Republic has sent a monkey into space and brought the creature back to Earth safely. The report by Iranian media recalled for many the early days of space flight, when both the United States and the Soviet Union launched animal-bearing spacecraft as a prelude to human space travel. But State Department spokeswoman Victoria Nuland told reporters in Washington on Monday that the reported mission raises concerns about possible Iranian violations of a United Nations ban on development of ballistic missiles capable of delivering nuclear weapons.
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
December 22, 2012 | By Scott Gold, Los Angeles Times
WATERTON CANYON, Colo. – The concrete-floored room looks, at first glance, like little more than a garage. There is a red tool chest, its drawers labeled: “Hacksaws. ” “Allen wrenches. ” There are stepladders and vise grips. There is also, at one end of the room, a half-built spaceship, and everyone is wearing toe-to-fingertip protective suits. “Don’t. Touch. Anything. ” Bruce Jakosky says the words politely but tautly, like a protective father – which, effectively, he is. Jakosky is the principal investigator behind NASA’s next mission to Mars, putting him in the vanguard of an arcane niche of science: planetary protection – the science of exploring space without messing it up. PHOTOS: Stunning images of Earth at night As NASA pursues the search for life in the solar system, the cleanliness of robotic explorers is crucial to avoid contaminating other worlds.
December 6, 2012 | By Amina Khan and Rosie Mestel, Los Angeles Times
Years of trying to do too many things with too little money have put NASA at risk of ceding leadership in space exploration to other nations, according to a new report that calls on the space agency to make wrenching decisions about its long-term strategy and future scope. As other countries – including some potential adversaries – are investing heavily in space, federal funding for NASA is essentially flat and under constant threat of being cut. Without a clear vision, that fiscal uncertainty makes it all the more difficult for the agency to make progress on ambitious goals like sending astronauts to an asteroid or Mars while executing big-ticket science missions, such as the $8.8-billion James Webb Space Telescope, says the analysis released Wednesday by the National Research Council.
Posted: July 18, 2016 at 3:37 pm
There is not the slightest reason to believe in a coming singularity. The fact that you can visualize a future in your imagination is not evidence that it is likely or even possible. Look at domed cities, jet-pack commuting, underwater cities, mile-high buildings, and nuclear-powered automobiles–all staples of futuristic fantasies when I was a child that have never arrived. Sheer processing power is not a pixie dust that magically solves all your problems.
A singularity is a sign that your model doesn’t apply past a certain point, not infinity arriving in real life
A singularity, as most commonly used, is a point at which expected rules break down. The term comes from mathematics, where a point on a curve that has a sudden break in slope is considered to have a slope of undefined or infinite value; such a point is known as a singularity.
The term has extended into other fields; the most notable use is in astrophysics, where a singularity is a point (usually, but perhaps not exclusively, at the center a of black hole) where curvature of spacetime approaches infinity.
This article, however, is not about the mathematical or physics uses of the term, but rather the borrowing of it by various futurists. They define a technological singularity as the point beyond which we can know nothing about the world. So, of course, they then write at length on the world after that time.
It’s intelligent design for the IQ 140 people. This proposition that we’re heading to this point at which everything is going to be just unimaginably different – it’s fundamentally, in my view, driven by a religious impulse. And all of the frantic arm-waving can’t obscure that fact for me, no matter what numbers he marshals in favor of it. He’s very good at having a lot of curves that point up to the right.
In transhumanist belief, the “technological singularity” refers to a hypothetical point beyond which human technology and civilization is no longer comprehensible to the current human mind. The theory of technological singularity states that at some point in time humans will invent a machine that through the use of artificial intelligence will be smarter than any human could ever be. This machine in turn will be capable of inventing new technologies that are even smarter. This event will trigger an exponential explosion of technological advances of which the outcome and effect on humankind is heavily debated by transhumanists and singularists.
Many proponents of the theory believe that the machines eventually will see no use for humans on Earth and simply wipe us out their intelligence being far superior to humans, there would be probably nothing we could do about it. They also fear that the use of extremely intelligent machines to solve complex mathematical problems may lead to our extinction. The machine may theoretically respond to our question by turning all matter in our solar system or our galaxy into a giant calculator, thus destroying all of humankind.
Critics, however, believe that humans will never be able to invent a machine that will match human intelligence, let alone exceed it. They also attack the methodology that is used to “prove” the theory by suggesting that Moore’s Law may be subject to the law of diminishing returns, or that other metrics used by proponents to measure progress are totally subjective and meaningless. Theorists like Theodore Modis argue that progress measured in metrics such as CPU clock speeds is decreasing, refuting Moore’s Law. (As of 2015, not only Moore’s Law is beginning to stall, Dennard scaling is also long dead, returns in raw compute power from transistors is subjected to diminishing returns as we use more and more of them, there is also Amdahl’s Law and Wirth’s law to take into account, and also that raw computing power simply doesn’t scale up linearly at providing real marginal utility. Then even after all those things, we still haven’t taken into account of the fundamental limitations of conventional computing architecture. Moore’s law suddenly doesn’t look to be the panacea to our problems now, does it?)
Transhumanist thinkers see a chance of the technological singularity arriving on Earth within the twenty first century, a concept that most[Who?]rationalists either consider a little too messianic in nature or ignore outright. Some of the wishful thinking may simply be the expression of a desire to avoid death, since the singularity is supposed to bring the technology to reverse human aging, or to upload human minds into computers. However, recent research, supported by singularitarian organizations including MIRI and the Future of Humanity Institute, does not support the hypothesis that near-term predictions of the singularity are motivated by a desire to avoid death, but instead provides some evidence that many optimistic predications about the timing of a singularity are motivated by a desire to “gain credit for working on something that will be of relevance, but without any possibility that their prediction could be shown to be false within their current career”.
Don’t bother quoting Ray Kurzweil to anyone who knows a damn thing about human cognition or, indeed, biology. He’s a computer science genius who has difficulty in perceiving when he’s well out of his area of expertise.
Eliezer Yudkowsky identifies three major schools of thinking when it comes to the singularity. While all share common ground in advancing intelligence and rapidly developing technology, they differ in how the singularity will occur and the evidence to support the position.
Under this school of thought, it is assumed that change and development of technology and human (or AI assisted) intelligence will accelerate at an exponential rate. So change a decade ago was much faster than change a century ago, which was faster than a millennium ago. While thinking in exponential terms can lead to predictions about the future and the developments that will occur, it does mean that past events are an unreliable source of evidence for making these predictions.
The “event horizon” school posits that the post-singularity world would be unpredictable. Here, the creation of a super-human artificial intelligence will change the world so dramatically that it would bear no resemblance to the current world, or even the wildest science fiction. This school of thought sees the singularity most like a single point event rather than a process indeed, it is this thesis that spawned the term “singularity.” However, this view of the singularity does treat transhuman intelligence as some kind of magic.
This posits that the singularity is driven by a feedback cycle between intelligence enhancing technology and intelligence itself. As Yudkowsky (who endorses this view) “What would humans with brain-computer interfaces do with their augmented intelligence? One good bet is that theyd design the next generation of brain-computer interfaces.” When this feedback loop of technology and intelligence begins to increase rapidly, the singularity is upon us.
There is also a fourth singularity school which is much more popular than the other three: It’s all a load of baloney! This position is not popular with high-tech billionaires.
This is largely dependent on your definition of “singularity”.
The intelligence explosion singularity is by far the most unlikely. According to present calculations, a hypothetical future supercomputer may well not be able to replicate a human brain in real time. We presently don’t even understand how intelligence works, and there is no evidence that intelligence is self-iterative in this manner – indeed, it is not unlikely that improvements on intelligence are actually more difficult the smarter you become, meaning that each improvement on intelligence is increasingly difficult to execute. Indeed, how much smarter it is possible for something to even be than a human being is an open question. Energy requirements are another issue; humans can run off of Doritos and Mountain Dew Dr. Pepper, while supercomputers require vast amounts of energy to function. Unless such an intelligence can solve problems better than groups of humans, its greater intelligence may well not matter, as it may not be as efficient as groups of humans working together to solve problems.
Another major issue arises from the nature of intellectual development; if an artificial intelligence needs to be raised and trained, it may well take twenty years or more between generations of artificial intelligences to get further improvements. More intelligent animals seem to generally require longer to mature, which may put another limitation on any such “explosion”.
Accelerating change is questionable; in real life, the rate of patents per capita actually peaked in the 20th century, with a minor decline since then, despite the fact that human beings have gotten more intelligent and gotten superior tools. As noted above, Moore’s Law has been in decline, and outside of the realm of computers, the rate of increase in other things has not been exponential – airplanes and cars continue to improve, but they do not improve at the ridiculous rate of computers. It is likely that once computers hit physical limits of transistor density, their rate of improvement will fall off dramatically, and already even today, computers which are “good enough” continue to operate for many years, something which was unheard of in the 1990s, where old computers were rapidly and obviously obsoleted by new ones.
According to this point of view, the Singularity is a past event, and we live in a post-Singularity world.
The rate of advancement has actually been in decline in recent times, as patents per-capita has gone down, and the rate of increase of technology has declined rather than risen, though the basal rate is higher than it was in centuries past. According to this point of view, the intelligence explosion and increasing rate of change already happened with computers, and now that everyone has handheld computing devices, the rate of increase is going to decline as we hit natural barriers in how much additional benefit we gain out of additional computing power. The densification of transistors on microchips has slowed by about a third, and the absolute limit to transistors is approaching – a true, physical barrier which cannot be bypassed or broken, and which would require an entirely different means of computing to create a denser still microchip.
From the point of view of travel, humans have gone from walking to sailing to railroads to highways to airplanes, but communication has now reached the point where a lot of travel is obsolete – the Internet is omnipresent and allows us to effectively communicate with people on any corner of the planet without travelling at all. From this point of view, there is no further point of advancement, because we’re already at the point where we can be anywhere on the planet instantly for many purposes, and with improvements in automation, the amount of physical travel necessary for the average human being has declined over recent years. Instant global communication and the ability to communicate and do calculations from anywhere are a natural physical barrier, beyond which further advancement is less meaningful, as it is mostly just making things more convenient – the cost is already extremely low.
The prevalence of computers and communications devices has completely changed the world, as has the presence of cheap, high-speed transportation technology. The world of the 21st century is almost unrecognizable to people from the founding of the United States in the latter half of the 18th century, or even to people from the height of the industrial era at the turn of the 20th century.
Extraterrestrial technological singularities might become evident from acts of stellar/cosmic engineering. One such possibility for example would be the construction of Dyson Spheres that would result in the altering of a star’s electromagnetic spectrum in a way detectable from Earth. Both SETI and Fermilab have incorporated that possibility into their searches for alien life. 
A different view of the concept of singularity is explored in the science fiction book Dragon’s Egg by Robert Lull Forward, in which an alien civilization on the surface of a neutron star, being observed by human space explorers, goes from Stone Age to technological singularity in the space of about an hour in human time, leaving behind a large quantity of encrypted data for the human explorers that are expected to take over a million years (for humanity) to even develop the technology to decrypt.
No signs of extraterrestrial civilizations have been found as of 2016.
Read the rest here:
Posted: July 12, 2016 at 6:19 am
President Obama responded to the recent police shootings in Louisiana and Minnesota by recognizing the need to root out bias in law enforcement and encouraging communities to trust their local police department.
A memorial left for Philando Castile following the police shooting death of the black man on July 7, 2016, in St. Paul, Minn. 8(Photo: Stephen Maturen, Getty Images)
A black Minnesota man fatally shot by police Wednesday during a stop for a broken tail light was a licensed gun owner, prompting some observers to suggest that the debate over gun control and the Second Amendment has racial undertones.
When police in Falcon Heights, Minn.,stopped the car in which Philando Castile, 37, was riding on Wednesday night, Castile attempted to give them his license and registration, as requested. He also told them he was a licensed weapon owner, according to the Facebook Live video posted by Diamond “Lavish” Reynolds, who identified herself as Castile’s fiance.
As Castile put his hands up, police fired into his arm four times, according to the video. He was pronounced dead later at a hospital.
“I’m waiting to hear the human outcry from Second Amendment defenders over (this incident),” NAACP president and CEO Cornell William Brooks told USA TODAY Thursday.
Brookswas preparing to travel to Minnesota to get up to speed on the Castile case after a trip to Baton Rouge, La., to get details on the police-involved shooting of another black man earlier this week.
“When it comes to an African American with a license to carry a firearm, it appears that his pigmentation, his degree of pigmentation, is more important than the permit or license to carry a firearm,” Brooks said. “One would hope and pray that’s not true.”
Tweeted author and TV commentator Keith Boykin: “Does the Second Amendment only apply to White People?”
Amanda Zantal-Wiener, tweeted aboutthe National Rifle Association, perhaps the most powerful of the national organizations supporting the Second Amendment, saying: “Hey, NRA, I’m sure you’re just moments away from defending Philando Castile’s second amendment rights. Right? Any minute now, right?”
The NRA did not immediatelyrespond to a request for an interview. The organization has been publicly silent regarding the Minnesota shooting.
But at least two organizations, the Second Amendment Foundation and the Citizens Committee for the Right to Keep and Bear Arms, both based in Bellevue, Wash., expressed concern over the case and called for an investigation by state-level entities, perhaps even from a state outside of Minnesota.
“Wednesday nights shooting of Philando Castile is very troubling, especially to the firearms community, because he was a legally-armed private citizen who may have done nothing more than reach for his identification and carry permit,” Allan Gottleib, founder and executive vice president of the foundation, and chair of the Citizens Committee, said in a statement Thursday.
“We are cognizant of the racial overtones arising from Mr. Castiles death,”Gottlieb said. “The concerns of our members, and honest gun owners everywhere, go even deeper. Exercising our right to bear arms should not translate to a death sentence over something so trivial as a traffic stop for a broken tail light, and we are going to watch this case with a magnifying glass.”
Survey data show that white Americans and black Americans appear to have two different and distinct relationships with firearms.
Data released in 2014 by the Pew Research Center showed that blacks are less likely than whites to have a firearm at home.According to the study, 41% of whites said they had a gun at home compared to 19% of blacks.
But there has been much research to show that black Americans are more likely than white Americans to be gun homicide victims.
In 2010, blacks were 55% of shooting homicide victims but 13% of the U.S. population, according to a Pew review of data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. By contrast, in the same year, whites were 25% of gun homicide victims but 65% of the population, according to the same data.
In the early days of the Second Amendment, blacks were prohibited from possessing firearms, according to the National Constitution Center, a nonprofit organization in Philadelphia. The measure was intended to protect Americans’ right to bear arms, and designated states as the entities who would manage this.
Gerald Horne, an historian at the University of Houston, said during a recent interview with the Real News Network that there was a race and class bias inherent in the amendment’s provisions.
“The Second Amendment certainly did not apply to enslaved Africans,” Horne said. “All measures were taken to keep arms out of their hands. The Second Amendment did not apply to indigenous people because the European settlers were at war with the indigenous people to take their land. And providing arms to them was considered somewhat akin to a capital offense. So the Second Amendment was mostly applicable to the settler class.”
Horne says that many of the battles during reconstruction were about keeping arms out of the hands of black Americans hesays one of the key reasons the Ku Klux Klan was formed in the post-Civil War era was to keep arms out of the hands of blacks.
Said Brooks, “I would just simply note that in a state like Texas, where we have thousands upon thousands of people with concealed weapons permits, a permit is sufficient proof to vote while a college ID is not. Think about that.”
Follow Melanie Eversley on Twitter:@MelanieEversley
Obama, angered by police shootings, calls for elimination of racial bias
Minn. governor: Castile would be alive if he had been white
Read or Share this story: http://usat.ly/29maUsC
Posted: July 3, 2016 at 6:45 pm
Early settler S. S. Rogers built the first house in what would become Liberal in 1872. Rogers became famous in the region for giving water to weary travelers. Reportedly, Liberal gained its name from the common response to his acts of kindness, “That’s very liberal of you.” In 1885 Rogers built a general store, and with it came an official U.S. Post Office. Rogers named the post office ‘Liberal’. After the railroad was built close by, a plan for the town site was created in 1888. A year later the population was around 800.
Drought caused some farmers to give up and look for more fertile territory; however, when the nearby Indian Territory was opened, more settlers headed to the cheap land that would become Oklahoma.
Natural gas was discovered west of town, in what would become part of the massive Panhandle-Hugoton Gas Field, in 1920. Oil was discovered southwest of town in 1951. In 1963 the largest helium plant in the world, National Helium, was opened.
Liberal is located at 37236N 1005541W / 37.04333N 100.92806W / 37.04333; -100.92806 (37.043418, 100.928133) at an elevation of 2,835 feet (864 m). Located in southwestern Kansas at the intersection of U.S. Route 83 and U.S. Route 54, Liberal is 140 miles (225km) north-northeast of Amarillo, Texas, 202mi (325km) west-southwest of Wichita, and 288mi (463km) southeast of Denver, Colorado.
The city lies approximately 10 miles (16km) southwest of the Cimarron River in the High Plains region of the Great Plains.
According to the United States Census Bureau, the city has a total area of 11.75 square miles (30.43km2), of which 11.61 square miles (30.07km2) is land and 0.14 square miles (0.36km2) is water.
Liberal has a semi-arid steppe climate (Kppen BSk) characterized by hot, dry summers, cool, dry winters, and large diurnal temperature variation year-round; relative humidity averages 63%. On average, January is the coldest month, July is the hottest month, and June is the wettest month.
The monthly daily average temperature ranges from 34.1F (1.2C) in January to 79.3F (26.3C) in July. The high temperature reaches or exceeds 90F (32C) an average of 80 days a year and 100F (38C) an average of 18 days. The minimum temperature falls to or below 0F (18C) on an average 5.3 days a year. The highest temperature recorded in Liberal was 114F (46C) as recently as June 10, 1981; the coldest temperature recorded was 20F (29C) on February 27, 1930.
On average, Liberal receives 20.15 inches (512mm) of precipitation annually, a majority of which occurs from May to August, and records 58 days of measurable precipitation. Measurable snowfall occurs an average of 8.9 days per year with 6.1 days receiving at least 1.0 inch (2.5cm). Snow depth of at least one inch occurs an average of 9.5 days a year. Typically, the average window for freezing temperatures is October 21 through April 14. Liberal is located in USDA Plant Hardiness Zone 7.
As of the 2010 census, there were 20,525 people, 6,623 households, and 4,838 families residing in the city. The population density was 1,832.6 people per square mile (707.6/km). There were 7,118 housing units at an average density of 641.3 per square mile (248.9/km). The racial makeup of the city was 68.6% White, 3.7% African American, 2.9% Asian, 0.8% American Indian, 0.2% Pacific Islander, 20.6% from other races, and 3.2% from two or more races. Hispanics and Latinos of any race made up 58.7% of the population.
There were 6,623 households of which 42.3% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 52.7% were married couples living together, 7.1% had a male householder with no wife present, 13.2% had a female householder with no husband present, and 27.0% were non-families. 21.7% of all households were made up of individuals, and 7.5% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 3.03, and the average family size was 3.54.
The median age was 28.4 years. 32.1% of residents were under the age of 18; 12.4% were between the ages of 18 and 24; 27.8% were from 25 to 44; 19.4% were from 45 to 64; and 8.3% were 65 years of age or older. The gender makeup of the city population was 51.4% male and 48.6% female.
The median income for a household in the city was $40,247, and the median income for a family was $44,167. Males had a median income of $31,435 versus $25,208 for females. The per capita income for the city was $17,668. About 15.3% of families and 17.8% of the population were below the poverty line, including 23.6% of those under age 18 and 8.2% of those age 65 or over.
As of the census of 2000, there were 19,666 people, 6,498 households, and 4,756 families residing in the city. The population density was 1,778.4 people per square mile (686.5/km). There were 7,014 housing units at an average density of 634.3 per square mile (244.9/km). The racial makeup of the city was 63.56% White, 4.21% African American, 0.72% Native American, 3.25% Asian, 0.06% Pacific Islander, 23.93% from other races, and 3.27% from two or more races. 43.30% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race.
There were 6,498 households out of which 42.8% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 58.0% were married couples living together, 10.4% had a female householder with no husband present, and 26.8% were non-families. 21.3% of all households were made up of individuals and 8.1% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.96 and the average family size was 3.46.
In the city the population was spread out with 31.7% under the age of 18, 12.1% from 18 to 24, 30.5% from 25 to 44, 16.7% from 45 to 64, and 9.1% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 29 years. For every 100 females there were 104.6 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 103.3 males.
The median income for a household in the city was $36,482, and the median income for a family was $41,134. Males had a median income of $29,315 versus $22,017 for females. The per capita income for the city was $15,108. About 14.3% of families and 17.7% of the population were below the poverty line, including 21.8% of those under age 18 and 7.6% of those age 65 or over.
Energy and agriculture are the main economic drivers of the area. Natural resources include oil, natural gas, water, gravel and sand. The beef industry (ranches, feed lots and packing plants) is Liberal’s largest source of employment. Hard winter wheat, corn, milo, alfalfa and cotton are common crops. Trucking is a major industry. Dairies and pork processors are a growing business.
As of 2012[update], 70.2% of the population over the age of 16 was in the labor force. 0.0% was in the armed forces, and 70.2% was in the civilian labor force with 63.4% being employed and 6.9% unemployed. The composition, by occupation, of the employed civilian labor force was: 28.5% in production, transportation, and material moving; 20.0% in natural resources, construction, and maintenance; 19.9% in sales and office occupations; 18.9% in management, business, science, and arts; and 12.6% in service occupations. The three indus
tries employing the largest percentages of the working civilian labor force were: manufacturing (24.4%); educational services, health care, and social assistance (19.4%); and retail trade (10.5%).
The cost of living in Liberal is relatively low; compared to a U.S. average of 100, the cost of living index for the city is 80.8. As of 2012[update], the median home value in the city was $85,600, the median selected monthly owner cost was $961 for housing units with a mortgage and $383 for those without, and the median gross rent was $648.
Liberal has a commission-manager government with a city commission consisting of five members elected at-large. Elections occur every two years in the odd numbered year, and commissioners serve two-year or four-year terms depending on the number of votes they receive. Each year, the commission appoints a member to serve as mayor and another to serve as vice-mayor. The city manager heads the city administration.
Liberal Public Schools (Unified School District 480) operates twelve public schools in the city:
There is also a Christian school in Liberal: Fellowship Baptist School (K-12).
Four newspapers are published in Liberal. The Leader & Times is the city’s main daily newspaper, published six days a week. It is the result of the merger between the city’s two previous dailies, the High Plains Daily Leader and the Southwest Daily Times. The publisher of the Leader & Times also prints a weekly Spanish language paper, El Lider.Seward County Community College publishes a bi-weekly student newspaper, the Crusader. The fourth paper is the Liberal Light, published weekly.
Liberal is a center of broadcast media for southwest Kansas and the Oklahoma Panhandle. Two AM and seven FM radio stations are licensed to and broadcast from the city. Liberal is in the Wichita-Hutchinson, Kansas television market, and one television station broadcasts from the city: KSWE-LD, a sister station of KDGL-LD in Sublette, Kansas.
On cable, viewers can receive stations from the Wichita/Hutchinson market (via semi-satellite stations in Garden City/Ensign), PBS’ Tulsa affiliate, KOED, as well as Amarillo, Texas’s CBS affiliate, KFDA-TV.
Liberal is famous for its annual Pancake Day race that is held in competition with the town of Olney, England for the fastest time between both cities.
Liberal has a water park known as Adventure Bay.
The fifth largest collection of civilian and military aircraft in the United States is located at the Mid-America Air Museum. Started with a gift of fifty planes by General Tom (Thomas) Welch, Jr., the museum has more than one hundred aircraft.
The Coronado Museum has items from the Native Americans that lived in the area, as well as items from Francisco Vsquez de Coronado’s expedition to the area in 1541, and the history of farming and ranching in the county in more recent times.
Liberal is home to “The Land of Oz” exhibit from The Wizard of Oz, a recreation of Dorothy Gale’s house and the famed Yellow Brick Road, featuring donated bricks bearing the names of such luminaries as former U.S. Senator Bob Dole, Ronald and Nancy Reagan, and Liza Minnelli (Judy Garland’s daughter). This exhibit was originally designed and displayed for Topeka in 1981, but relocated here eleven years later by its creator Linda Windler.
Liberal Memorial Library is located on North Kansas Avenue between Fifth and Sixth Streets in Cooper Park. The Book Front entrance was completed in April 1955 and designed by the building’s architect George L. Pitcher. Wheeler Williams, a sculptor from New York, signed an agreement in October 1960 to mold the “Pioneer Mother of Kansas.” This six foot statue, sponsored by Mr. and Mrs. D. K. Baty, was to be erected in Cooper Park on Memorial Day, May 30, 1961. It was placed opposite of the “Statue of Liberty,” which was donated and placed in Cooper Park by the Boy Scouts of America.
The Liberal Bee Jays, a semi-professional baseball team, have won five national championships and 13 state championships. The Bee Jays have been coached by three major league managers and have sent 165 players to the major leagues.
Composer Mark So wrote his LIBERAL PLAIN SONG (for Joseph Kudirka) while stopped at a gas station in Liberal in 2005. 
In the movie National Lampoon’s Vacation, Clark W. Griswold mentions departing the route of travel to Liberal to see the world’s largest house of mud. The idea is rejected by his wife, Ellen, in favor of getting to her cousin Eddie’s home.
Notable individuals who were born in and/or have lived in Liberal include:
The Pioneer Mother of Kansas statue (2010)
First Baptist Church of Liberal (2010)
Seward County Courthouse (2010)
Read the original here:
Posted: June 29, 2016 at 6:26 pm
Author: Edward L Winston Added: June 13, 2010 Discuss: Discuss this article.
Over the last couple of months, mainly since Zeitgeist Movement (TZM) members began trekking to our forums, I’ve gotten a lot of emails from TZM members asking me various questions. This post is to outline the topics covered in my correspondence with said members.
I’ll likely update this page as I get feedback from people.
Primarily the issues discussed are why I believe TZM will fail and why I think it’s impossible to find common ground with TZM. I want to be clear that, given a different set of circumstances which I will discuss, maybe TZM could be successful and we could find common ground, but if things don’t change, neither will my stance.
The leader of TZM, Peter Joseph, is far more damaging to his own movement than I imagine many of the hardcore members want to believe:
More could be said about Peter Joseph, and is said in later sections, but our forums are full of former TZM members who shed even more light on the emerging cult of personality around him.
The most important issue here is that Peter Joseph is the leader of TZM and his word is law, despite claiming that he doesn’t consider himself the leader, he acts unilaterally to forbid members for talking to outsiders, for example banning members who post on our forums that aren’t glorifying him.
Something that I never stop hearing is the phrase the movies aren’t the movement. This referring to the fact that the movies promote conspiracy theories, but TZM is something else entirely, and exists separately from the movement. I would believe that if not for the following issues:
A lot of people don’t like that I use foul language, but I needed to display the utter lack of compassion for other human beings TZM leadership seems to have, as well as some hardcore members. The situation in Haiti, again, is a great example of this — reading many posts on the forums from members, it’s quite clear that unless The Venus Project (TVP) is going to be the solution to the problems in Haiti, there’s no use in helping them after the earthquake there.
I get asked “well, what are YOU doing to improve the world?” by TZM members a lot. I constantly bring up that I volunteer pretty much every weekend and I donate 10% of my income to charity, and a lot of time I will donate more than that. Most come back with the fact “charity doesn’t fix the problem.” While they’re right that charity doesn’t fix the problem permanently, sitting on a forum doesn’t either — though some members have the audacity to claim that TZM is a charity, despite never lifting a finger for anyone else.
The example I use when talking to TZM members about this is:
If you saw a starving/dying man in the street, would you do something to help him, or would you say “once our movement gets to 50 million members, I’ll be able to help you, but until then, see you later!”?
That’s essentially the logic behind the leadership of TZM and what many members parrot to me, just in a much nicer way. They love talking about how many children are starving to death today, but they refuse to help them today, and instead speak of some far off future that they can’t figure out how to get to.
I know and understand that not all TZM members are like this. I’ve seen some wonderful generosity and so forth coming from members, but more often than not, these members also don’t follow Peter Joseph blindly, because the ones that do refuse to help anyone else.
Here’s a list of problems that I believe TZM has:
There could be more added here later.
I don’t really see a future for TZM outside of degrading to hardcore members. Peter Joseph talks about a new movie coming out in October of 2010 that’s going to get “millions” of new members, so essentially nearly 2 years of doing nothing but waiting for yet another film are what TZM has to show for.
I think it’s all a shame, however, because getting all of those people together could have done something, could have lead to actual success in some way, but it’s not even close to that. This hasn’t stopped members from discussing the transition to the Resource Based Economy, despite the fact they’re discussing step 10,000 when they haven’t even reached step 1 and don’t seem to want to.
At this point is essentially a way to stroke Peter Joseph’s ego rather than accomplish any goals.
Sometimes I’m asked what I’d change about TZM, in order to make it more acceptable. Well, while I don’t think most of these changes are possible due to the way TZM is run, I usually humor those who ask:
So, essentially my “5 point plan” is completely incompatible with a movement where Peter Joseph is the overlord.
Would you like to know more?
See the original post here: