There is No Language Without Deceit

We tend to live all our lives with certain images in our minds, knowing that a chair is a chair, a red light means stop, a boat docks at a harbor and a plane goes through the air. But what if someday we find a place where nothing is what it seems? What if in life or in literature, there are moments where “the eye does not see things but images of things that mean other things…” (Cities & Signs 1). This is precisely where Calvino is getting at with the sections of Cities & Signs: breaking stereotypes and clichés, telling us to look at things with “new eyes.” That’s precisely what the city of Hypatia represents. “’Signs form a language, but not the one you think you know.’ I had realized I had to free myself from the images which in the past had announced to me the things I sought: only then would I succeed in understanding the language of Hypatia.” (Cities & Signs 5). This city, and this short excerpt represent the book and life in general. This book is completely different from anything ever written, it’s unique, and so we cannot start reading it expecting to find what we’ve found in previous readings. We need to have a fresh start with this book, be prepared for anything, because if we start reading Invisible Cities expecting to find what we always do, we’d end up concluding that this book describes the weirdest cities we’ve ever heard about. We would lose in front of our own eyes the true meaning of things, just like Marco in Hypatia when he saw the blue lagoon and expected to find beautiful women and instead found corpses. “True, also in Hypatia the day will come when my only desire will be to leave. I know I must not go down to the harbor then, but climb the citadel’s highest pinnacle and wait for a ship to go by up there. But will it ever go by?” (Cities & Signs 5).  Everything is different everywhere, and we need to understand that when we are in front of something new. The colonizers of the Americas arrived here with those new eyes, they didn’t expect the people here to be drinking tea at 5, they were ready for something different. We always have to be ready for new things, which doesn’t mean letting go of everything, but just being prepared for different things so as to not lose the essence of those things, like what happened to Marco in Hypatia at first. 

Nothing or Everything

Nothing or everything. That’s all I can think about while reading Invisible Cities. Does it represent something or nothing at all? Does it really hold so many messages about life and/or literature as we think it holds? I find it ironic, that even though the book might hold all those messages, they don’t answer anything for certain, but rather leave us with more questions. “Marco Polo imagined answering (or Kublai Khan imagined his answer) that the more one was lost in unfamiliar quarters of distant cities, the more one understood the other cities he had crossed to arrive there…” (Beginning Section 2). This statement is so ambiguous: it could be giving a message about literature, or a message about life itself, or both, or simply no message at all and mocking the reader with the use of the word “imagine.” If there is really a meaning and Italo Calvino isn’t just fooling the reader with these apparently deep statements, I would think it’s a meaning rather close to what he said. If applied to life, it would mean that the more you live new and unfamiliar circumstances, the more you will understand what led you to that circumstances. But if it were applied to literature, it´d be saying that the more you read books like this one itself, the more you will understand the books that led you to this one and the meaning they had like Slaughter-house Five by Vonnegut or Macbeth by Shakespeare. Or even so, it could be talking about the book itself: it doesn't matter if we don't understand a city right away, the further we read, the more citiess we get to know, the more we will understand the cities that led us to where we are. Personally, I’d rather stick with the possibility that it applies to all.

There’s a section that has rather drawn my attention with possible answers, but has left me with more doubts than anything else. But doubts aren’t specific, they aren’t even tangible in our minds. Like the poker saying goes, “put your money where your mouth is” I must stick with the interpretation I see most fit to what I decide to interpret. This sections is Cities & Desire, in particular Cities & Desire 5. The description of the city of Zobeide, which is created from dreams of men themselves is like a city in the movie Inception (2010). The men can do whatever they want to the city because they must mold it according to their individual dreams, and the city ends up being a labyrinth on top of another, creating a trap for everyone. A trap for the woman they’ve all been chasing in their dreams. “After the dream, they set out in search of that city; they never found it. But they found one another; they decided to build a city like the one in the dream. In laying out the streets, each followed the course of his pursuit; at the spot where they had lost the fugitive’s trail, they arranged spaces and walls differently from the dream so she would be unable to escape.” (Cities & Desire 5). Is this city like our minds? And is the woman in the dreams and every man in the city like the things we live? It could be. Just like in our minds we chase an answer, whether it’s in math or music, and when we fail to find it, just like the men failed to get the woman, we rebuild what led us to the point to where we got lost and arrange things so that the mistake will never be made again. Just like men in Zobeide change the place where they lost the woman in the dream as to not lose her again. 

Scapegoats

For so long I myself have said that the idea of god and religion is just a way for people to come to terms with things they do not understand. That people believe in that, not because they selflessly subdue themselves to a greater power, but because there's something in it for them. What's in it for them? The answer is the same to Dawkins' question in page 193: "What is it about the idea of god that gives it its stability and penetrance in the cultural environment?" The answer to both my question and his are answered on that same page: "It provides a superficially plausible answer to sep and troubling questions about existence." It made me very happy to read that, and see that I haven't been wrong all along.

Another argument I've had for a long time about god and religion, and the reason I choose not to see god as other people do, or express my spirituality differently than other people, is that people like having god to blame him. Generally, when something bad happens, people tend to blame something, and most of the time they're right: "I couldn't make it because of the weather" "I couldn't make it cause my dad never picked me up" "We broke up cause she messed up" "I failed the class cause I didn't sleep well." But the focus isn't that people sometimes do point the finger at the right thing, the focus is that they like doing it, especially when something bad happens to them. How many times have you heard people around you say "Oh God, why?" or "Oh God, why me?" That's people trying to point the finger to god and requesting an explanation to why something bad happened to them. It does feel good, being able to not blame yourself for something you screwed up at. For example if you had an amazing business opportunity, and you lost it, it's easier to go and say "Oh God, why? Why did you take it from me?" rather than accepting that you messed up somewhere in the way and THAT'S why you lost you business opportunity. But that's just escaping. And to me, that's what many people have god for, an escape.

Personal Satisfaction

Is there really any level of altruism in this world? Is any person or animal capable of helping another individual without his/her benefit in mind? Can anyone be truly selfless while helping others? Or is there always something in it for them when they help others?  These questions haven't stopped popping up into my mind as I have been reading The Selfish Gene. I had never really dedicated time to answering those questions, they have never really been present in my life, because honestly they have never been much of a concern to me. Of course hey puzzle me, but it's not a matter of life or death.

Can anything in this world just help for helping, or is there a true benefit in it for helping?

Dawkins attempts to answer all these questions I have during Chapter 10. He presents the reader with real-life scenarios where animals form some sort of alliance, or help each other in some way. He gives the example of the alarm call between beards, where he discusses two possible scenarios: one he calls the cave (Kay-vee) theory, where a bird in a flock sees a predator before any other and even before the predator sees them and is faced with the dilemma of should he fly away avoiding the predator, although he would be in danger by removing himself from the flock, or alerting the whole flock to stay quite so the predator doesn't see any of them. What would be the best choice? This situation is a bit similar to the game prisoner's dilemma. If both the bird and the flock cooperate, most likely is that all the birds will be safe, as if in prisoner's dilemma both would choose to cooperate. The analogy is broken right there though, because if the bird leaves without saying anything, he is not really deflecting and the flock isn't really cooperating. Although the bird could be more benefited by this choice. Why? Because he gets to hide while the flock is still in potential danger. But the potential danger the bird will experience if he leaves is greater, because most likely he will be noticed by the predator and he will be by himself. So ultimately, helping the flock has a greater benefit for him: "From a purely selfish point of view the best policy for the individual who spots the hawk first is to hiss a quick warning to his companions, and so shut them up and reduce the chance that they will be inadvertently summon the hawk into his own vicinity." Right there my questions are starting to be answered, the bird didn't help the flock because he wanted their benefit. He helped them because his benefit would be greater than if he didn't.  

The other theory that Dawkins presents is what he calls "never break ranks." What's this theory? In fact it is very very similar to the cave theory, but instead of alerting the flock to stay quite and wait for the predator to pass, the predator is already incoming and he is presented with the dilemma of should he fly away for protection or alert the whole flock to fly away. Again, if he leaves by himself he increases his potential danger by being alone, but if he stays and says nothing, expecting to be protected by being in a flock, he is still in danger. So again, his best option is to help the whole flock by alerting them so they all fly away. When they all fly away, he is still escaping, but no longer alone, so he isn't in more danger than if he left alone. And yet again, my questions are answered with a no, no we don't help each other just for helping each other, there must be a benefit.

Does the altruist helo the sick person JUST to make him
feel better, or because the altruist himself feels better by
helping the sick person feel better? 

This "do help each other for helping each other" idea takes me back to the prisoner's dilemma game we played in class for experimental points. When I played, the person I wasp playing with (Mateo) and I chose to cooperate in every round. Just like the bird that saw the hawk first would benefit the most by cooperating and alerting the whole flock, Mateo and I benefited the most by always cooperating. Of course, any of us could've decided to deflect in any moment and win 5 points rather than the 3 points for cooperating. The similarity with the birds scenario is striking: if Mateo or I deflected, we were in danger of losing points if the other one also deflected, but also had a greater advantage if the other one cooperated. But instead of risking loosing points, we decided to play it "safe" and we both ended with a relatively high amount of points. We didn't help each other selflessly, we didn't help just because we wanted to help. We cooperated because we saw our "survival" opportunities were higher if we both cooperated than of we betrayed each other.

With Dawkins' examples, and my experience with Mateo, I can actually answer the questions I had in the beginning of the blog with tranquility. We don't help selflessly, there's always some kind of benefit in it: whether it's getting the most money in a business partnership, or the most points in a game, or surviving a hawk attack, or simply personal satisfaction. Or maybe, all of the above options lead to personal satisfaction, and that's why we choose to help other individuals. 

Passive Voice

Level 1: Directions: Change the sentences below to the passive voice. Children cannot open these bottles easily. These bottles cannot be easily opened by children. The government built a road right outside her front door. A road was built by the government right outside her door Mr. Ross broke the antique vase as he walked through the store. The antique vase was broken by Mr. Ross as he walked through the store. When she arrived, the changes amazed her. The changes amazed her when she arrived. The construction workers are making street repairs all month long. Street repairs are being made by construction workers all month long. The party will celebrate his retirement. His retirement will be celebrated in the party. His professors were discussing his oral exam right in front of him His oral exam was being discussed by the doctors in front of him. My son ate all the homemade cookies. All the homemade cookies were eaten by my son. Corrosion had damaged the hull of the ship. The hull of the ship had been damaged by corrosion. Some children were visiting the old homestead while I was there. The old homestead was being visited by some children when I was there.

Write Now: In this short film how do words relate to images?

In this short film, words contribute to the images being shown. For example when the kid says he will "run away," the video turns to show a plane, birds and a fly, which could very easily run/fly away. Those images or objects relate to the words the kid said. If someone wants to run away from where he/she is, that person will be likely to take a plane. Another example is When the priest says "let there be light" and then the video turned to show a small light turning on, then a big light turning off, and then it showed lightning and the stars. The words are somehow foreshadowing the next images that will appear in the film.

Cosimo de' Medici: A Mere Commoner

“‘Who is that mere commoner’ said the five kings ‘who is in a position to give a hundred times more as much as each of us and who actually gives it?’” Well, that mere commoner is no more and no less than Candide himself. This scene is very ironic as you can see with the quote, because who are those kings that cannot afford to give as much money as a “mere commoner” as Candide? They are no more than puppets used in Voltaire’s constant mockery of the nobility and their arrogance in the real world. Kings and other aristocrats lived their life believing that they had the god given right to the power they had, and they rubbed it in everyone’s face. But as it happens in Europe’s murky history it happens in Candide by Voltaire: Kings and noblemen are always loosing their power and their lands and their riches to wars or betrayal within the castle or political reforms. Voltaire does nothing more than laugh at this phenomenon and make fun of them: to him it's only a game of thrones. The fact that those kings still have money to give away and slaves of any sort, but still mourn over their past sheds light upon how arrogant they were, and how attached to their possessions they are, unlike Candide who willingly gives the sixth king a very valuable diamond. Do you think any of those kings would’ve given so much as Candide if they had as much as him?

This scene is a contrast to when Candide is visiting Eldorado, which is Voltaire’s utopia: there is no religion, no one is forced to do anything, and most importantly, the king greets everyone as his equals. That’s how he wishes all noblemen or aristocrats to be, not like these five kings who mourn all they lost but still have more than most people. The valuables Candide acquired in Eldorado only have value in the outside world, obviously, but how much value do they have to Candide? I mean, he just gives away a diamond that is worth more than any of those kings had! 

Cosimo de' Medici

There is yet another interesting point of view for this scene and this quote. I wouldn’t see it as a mockery, but rather Voltaire acknowledging the facts of his era. The fact that Candide, a person who isn’t a nobleman or a king of any sort, has more money than those who are kings depicts the rapid rise of capitalism in Europe. Merchants or other “commoners” rapidly gained immense amounts of riches, even more than kings did, and thus their influence upon society was gradually become less. For example the Medici family (House of Medici) in Florence: they were a banking family who rapidly gained control over the Republic of Florence. 

"I grew up more handsome still, and the reverend father Croust … took a fancy to me"

"You know, my dear Candide, what a good-looking I was; well I grew up mor handsome still, and the reverend father Croust, the father superior of the house, took a fancy to me. He made me a novice; and shortly after, I was sent to Rome because the Father General of the Society needed some young German Jesuit recruits." (Candide by Voltaire. Pg 66). C'mon hahahaha, this is just hilarious. It's a nonstop chain of "insults" against the church. It is widely known that Jesuits (like the Catholic church) have always condemned homosexuality (and pedophiles even more), so the irony could not be bigger, when the reverend is sexually attracted to the Colonel as a small boy. And I cannot help but connect, that statement of the reverend's sexuality, with the fact that he got sent to Rome. Why did the Father General of the Society need young German Jesuit recruits? Was it for the same reason the reverend father took interest in the colonel in the first place?

There's something that I've been wanting to mention since Cunégonde's story, but I always get immersed in writing about other things. Anyway, now that I remember, I can't help but think it's very ironic how the main characters are the only ones who survive in their tragic stories. In Candide's story, every single person dies except him; in Cunégonde's story, everyone dies (although her brother survived until Candide kills him) except her; and in the old lady's story everyone dies except her.

I just caught on to another criticism that Voltaire has been going on since the beginning of the book: a criticism on aristocracy and the marked difference of social classes. "An excellent dinner was served on gold plates, and while the Paraguayans ate their maze on wooden dishes in the open field in the full blaze of the sun, his reverence the Colonel retired to the shade of his arbour." (Candide by Voltaire. Pg 63). Even before this quote (right before) Voltaire mocks the Colonel's arbour with an absurd description of how it was. This theme actually appeared in the first part of the book, when Candide is kicked out of the mansion because he was kissing Cunégonde, and she was of a higher class than him. This criticism isn't as funny as that one of the church, but I do like it very much, plus, this quote specifically criticizes how the Europeans treated the native people: as of they were scum. And I agree very much with Voltaire right there, even today I feel anger towards the way the Europeans treated the natives and plundered their treasures.

Do You Love Life?

I remember mentioning in past blogs that Pangloss apparently was right and everything was for the best. But now that I have read the old woman's story I realize that I might've been wrong. I used to agree with Pangloss based on the fact that Cunégonde and Candide had been reunited, and yes, that is certainly very good. But now, I kinda have a different view: I think Voltaire created Pangloss's character as a mockery, he created him to mock him, to make the book even more sarcastic. Every event, every story does nothing but contradict Pangloss's philosophy of "everything is for the best in the best of -all possible worlds," it's a mockery of that view. Why did he introduce that element into his book? To make fun of the philosophers that had that view? Or to criticize that view and say it's nothing but a lie? I don't really know, but it does make the book very ironic, because at the beginning the story starts with that amazing optimism, and then everything goes down. What happened to Candide, what happened to Cunégonde, what the lady went through simply shed light upon an immense quantity of evil things in our human society.

The mockery of religion, nobles, and people who apparently want to do good keeps going as strong as ever, in fact, that is one of my favorite parts of the book. I had previously talked about the Franciscan friar who stole Cunégonde's jewels, but I'd like to look at other examples. The strongest criticism to religion comes in the old lady's story when she says she's the daughter of Pope Urban X. This was actually pretty funny to me (because I don't really agree with the Catholic church) seeing how Voltaire says that not even the head of the Catholic Church can keep his vow of celibacy. It's practically saying that the whole institution is a lie, that no one can really be honest, or no one can resist the earthly pleasures that get Candide kicked out of the mansion and give syphilis to Pangloss.

Finally, by far my favorite criticism to the Catholic Church comes here: "I have wanted to kill myself a hundred times, but somehow I am still in love with life. …for is there anything more stupid than to be eager to go on carrying a burden which one would gladly throw away…." (Candide, by Voltaire. Pg 57). The old woman says these words at the end of her woeful story, saying that although she more than once wanted to kill herself, she never did it, and expressing her confusion on why do people with awful lives want to keep living. We have to take into account that the church in that time, said that anyone who committed suicide would burn in hell for all eternity. So we could easily imply that people didn't take their lives for fear of hell. But I think that the old lady (and hence Voltaire) disagree with that. In a way, I think that when she says "…somehow I am still in love with life." she is implying that not only her, but anyone with such awful lives don't kill themselves not because they are scared of hell, but because despite their misfortunes, life is still beautiful. Despite everything, they are still in love with life, because something attracts them to it. In the entirety of her story, that small phrase (although kind of ironic, seeing as how someone with the old woman's life would hate their life) gives me a sense of hope, and I cannot help but think: "if she loves her life after everything, I should be the most grateful person in the world."