All posts by Octagon Sun

sayaka miki is good and deserves the world and her story is very sad and ppl often kinda miss what’s going on so im gonna talk about how much was hurting her :(

[MADOKA SPOILERS]

ppl sometimes miss all of what sayaka miki was goin through that turned her into a witch and it’s not just boy stuff so here’s a list cuz she’s brilliant:

the train scene:

it’s a way bigger deal than it might seem; there’s a reason she becomes a witch right after

  • predation on innocence; the scene is about predation on people like her (sincere, good-willed, loyal, etc)
  • loss of innocence
  • violent disruption of her justice-oriented worldview
  • moral distress b/c she can’t fix the situation (neither force nor appeal to morality)
  • even getting rid of the dudes doesn’t heal the victims or mean they weren’t taken advantage of
  • sexual exploitation/womanizing is genuinely horrible and shocking
  • the callousness
  • ppl using peace+safety to hurt others when she’s fighting hard to create that peace+safety
  • ideological dysphoria: the shock to your own identity when you suddenly arent motivated by or faithful to your core values, often due to feeling dead inside/intense pain.

[aside: i had a “train scene” of my own. it remains one of the most painful experiences ive ever had.see my essay on moral distress: http://octagonsun.com/moral-distress-a-systemic-issue-in-l2-teaching/… moral distress is serious: trauma symptoms arising when a person cant act according to their moral beliefs, esp when they witness profound hurt and cant help. really common in helper jobs like teaching&nursing. ruins lives]

other big events:

  • ptsd from witnessing mami’s murder
  • being intentionally misled to believe she could be strong enough to make the world better and then being particularly weak as a meguca – body dysphoria due to “zombification” (separation of soul from body)
  • kyubey intentionally manipulating her emotions & exposing her to toxic experiences b/c that’s its intent from the beginning – traumatic physical pain&injury, including kyoko fights and witch fights (even if it physically heals, the memory of intense pain doesnt just disappear)
  • and of course, the boy problems. she doesn’t feel worthy to stand up for herself b/c of zombification, doesn’t believe she’s capable of love (deeply disturbing), tension between wanting to let hitomi pursue happiness at her expense & stand up for herself (honestly hitomi isn’t a v good friend here, but it’d be normal middle school drama if not for the rest)
  • kyubey tries to separate her from emotional support

all this happens over a short period. every one of these is hard to absorb emotionally+possibly shattering. but we don’t have an adult here; it’s a kid dealing with all this, with little guidance or nurture. sayaka miki is full of strength and good. she’s a wonderful child. but that breaks under intense, intentional duress and it’s totally unfair to hold that against her.

[Originally written for twitter]

Maximal limits of civilizations

Any civilization has an amount of goodness/kindness and evil/malice. They are not quite opposite quantities in that a single society can have an abundance of both-they don’t negate each other, but an absence of kindness can have much the same effect as an abundance of malice. Goodness is best thought of as a positive quantity

There is an upper limit on goodness in a society which, if exceeded, the people of the civilization will reorder their civilization into a new civil structure. I think a good name for this process would be regeneration. There is also a limit on malice, below which a civilization will degenerate. While passing the limit of goodness is a deliberate process of reorganizing and people deciding (even intuitively) to make the lives of others better, degeneration is much less likely to be deliberate overall and is better characterized as implosion or self-cannibalism as the society consumes itself.

A regenerated society will have higher limits in terms of malice and and kindness. The actual changes will be influenced by the cleverness of its people: they might focus on building a society that enables incredible levels of kindness but is vulnerable to malice, or they might focus on preventing malice and degeneration. Greater cleverness will see those goals better met. A degenerating society can be benefited by cleverness, but it is also more likely that cleverness will worsen its decay. Cleverness often loses value before and during degeneration and may be held in the hands of increasingly narrow factions (some factions may seek to control it while disinterest will prevent other factions from spreading understanding). Now, a regenerated or degenerated society might be more or less sophisticated, complex, ordered, intuitive, or otherwise than its predecessor. For instance, fascism is a degenerate mode of civilization, but is highly structured in many aspects. There is almost always a seductive force to degeneration that drives many people to simultaneously make choices that drive degeneration forward. Structure, superficial peace, and lack of restraint are some of the appeals of low-kindness/high-malice societies.

Signs of degeneration manifest when more and more people’s lives are consumed. Consumption is when a person is objectified, used as a tool, or otherwise eaten up and lose contact with kindness. People who want to do good cannot and suffer moral distress. Excessive social demands, overcomplexity, power structures insensitive to human emotion, trauma and suffering, exhaustion, addictions, illness, perversity, hypersexuality, and the like are both symptoms and causes of degeneration. Degeneration can only be combatted by choosing to use energy for kindness, so degeneration will push for decreasing the free energy and the willpower to do good. It needs to be a self-sustaining cycle for degeneration to complete, so stripping people of discretion to do what is right is essential (e.g., requiring judges to rule according to law rather than what is good [noting that precedent influences what is right, but cannot be morally conclusive]).

It becomes very important to distribute the burdens of governing society between many people. If rulers degenerate, they will degenerate those under their rule and, famously, monarchs have the greatest access to addiction and excesses, they are subject to burdens far beyond what any human can carry, and so on. In civilization design, it’s good to watch for any positions that have these traits-it’s not just monarchs. I would suggest doctors, lawyers, and presidents are examples of people with excessive burdens in our society-which often burns them out and turns these professions that should be about helping people into cold, unfeeling industries.

When we look to falls of past civilizations, we look to disease, climate change, warfare, and other environmental causes. What these phenomena represent is a pressure that consumes people’s lives and makes it harder for individuals to recognize what is kind and choose it for themselves and others. When kindness abounds, the effects of any of these are mitigated and do not destroy a civilization. To blame the environment is to miss the point. These things happen to people and make their lives harder, but they ultimately choose whether they are kind, cruel, or unfeeling.

Regeneration comes when people are not consumed and choose to be kind with the energy that is free. Where degeneration drains people of the capacity to resist, regeneration is most likely to happen as kindness becomes more and more intuitive. Being kind takes energy, so a rich understanding of kindness makes doing good easier and more effective. That requires education, benevolence, and good faith discussion of virtue and good. The goodness that results from isolated individuals reasoning for themselves what is good is too costly. Regeneration only happens when many people choose to be interested in moral discussion and are willing to correct and be corrected. Without cleverness within kindness and systems to help people understand kindness on a deeper, more functional level, the upper limit of good will not be reached. It is not enough to say, I am kind or I wish to be kind. It is necessary to ask: what is kindness, and what does kindness look like within my life, what is the kindness that my neighbor needs.

Some notes: empathy is related to kindness but is not it. Empathy is also quite capable of cruelty. Empathy must be tempered by goodwill and must be extended to all people. Selective empathy aids factionalism instead. I think our society is full of degenerative signs, in particular, an unwillingness to discuss morality and religion (religion being one of the only institutions seriously concerned with questions of kindness). Amorality is not real: it is callousness and disinterest in the welfare of others, which is a degenerative impulse. We need more doctors, lawyers, engineers and the like-any profession where the risks are big, we need more people so that caseloads are kept small. We don’t need people losing their sense of self under the pressure that people will die because they don’t have the resources to do everything they need to.

Final Expressions of War

This article is perhaps odd, since it’s not about how to wage war, but war would look like in its final and most extreme technological forms. There are some core concepts, but the ideas in this article are somewhat loose.

The greater the scope you consider, the greater the powers that can dwell within it. When considering an infinitely large reality, the disparities in technology and force should become incomprehensible. It is guaranteed some power out there is arbitrarily greater than yours, no matter what. When the gulf of power is severe enough, there is absolutely no chance for resistance.

Examples of severe disparity:

  • Using thermobaric weapons on a castle guarded by knights and ballistae.
  • First-strike nuclear capability is a marginal but significant example of disparity at the heart of Cold War technology races. If you could deliver a nuclear payload to a target faster than the target could deploy a response, then you would be able to attack with impunity: mutually assured destruction would fail.
  • Orbital bombardment of a society that cannot reach the stars.
  • Wielding weapons that cannot be built within the constraints of the universe they are being used in.
  • Scanning space in all direction for heat signals, only for dust to fall from the sky, but each grain of dust becomes a warhead by dint of what we’d consider magic or exotic physics.
  • The ability to alter the physical laws in which the war takes place.
  • Being attacked by a higher-dimensional entity: imagine how much a 2-dimensional force could do to you, no matter how sophisticated they are, as long as you stand to the side of them in a 3rd-dimension. A 2-dimensional weapon of mass destruction could be sidestepped, while you’d be able to touch their internal organs at will. We are similarly vulnerable to 4th-dimensional attacks.

War by unmaking

War by unmaking is a method of war that relies on categorical technological superiority. Unmaking is done by a total saturation attack, completely destroying the target civilization. The territory can then be rebuilt. So, a war of unmaking requires massive military superiority and the ability to efficiently undo the damage you produced. If you could efficiently terraform, for instance, orbital bombardment of an entire planet wouldn’t be too big a deal and would eliminate even powerful, subterranean defenses. Wars of unmaking can happen on relatively minor advantages, so long as they grant sufficient disparity.

At the highest point, one party savagely obliterates another, even destroying planets or planes or what have you, and then brings in a planesmaker to mold the plane into a favorable shape and erase unfavorable conditions.

Limitations:

  • Unmaking requires total destruction and reconstruction. There is no recycling, no occupation.
  • Destruction is easier than construction. If the targeted territory is to be occupied after, you have to be able to undo the damage you inflict.
  • The expense is considerable.
  • It may not be possible to guarantee no survivors, especially if the targeted class has wayfaring members.
  • War by unmaking is an atrocity by any standard. If a civilization possesses the power to unmake another, the other can only survive so long as a moral leader is in place. The mere possession of this power creates fear and animus (a benefit to some). It creates enemies, even besides survivors.
  • It takes time. If we do assume there’s an entity that can unmake us, we survive either because it is moral, its conquest hasn’t reached us, or it does not care to conquer us.
  • Expansion risks running into more powerful civilizations. Encountering a more powerful entity that can unmake you is not a desired result when unmaking.

Alternative theories

Other models of war arise from what parts of unmaking you cannot or will not perform:

  • Being sane
  • The inability to restore conquered territory if you’re seeking expansion
  • Territorial occupation as a goal/nonreplacement of the conquered population

These qualities lead to different needs in war. An occupying force, for instance, must identify targets, whereas a saturation attack need make no distinctions. Exerting control over a population requires all kinds of alternative considerations, like judiciaries and guards and postings and schedules and whatnot. Beyond-Visual-Range combat is also generally impossible for an occupier: someone has to be in range to identify targets and hostiles will force conflicts only if they can actually reach you. It’s not on your own terms.

Other Notes of Final War

  • Whether the target is aware of an advanced attack or not is mostly an aesthetic choice. If they cannot defend, it may not matter much (except, perhaps, for reasons like propaganda).
  • Almost all warfare would be beyond visual range and, certainly, at great enough ranges that counterattacks are not possible. These ranges may necessitate their own exotic technologies to mitigate the effects of distance: a war is not terribly effective if, in the millions of years it takes your missiles to travel between stars, the target invents adequate defenses.
  • Within visual range, intercept should be essentially instantaneous. A computer can be trained to destroy anything that moves if target identification isn’t a concern. With basic data integration, a computer should even be able to destroy targets mixed in with friendlies. Adequate scanners and high speed technologies should make intercept at greater ranges incredibly swift. This note is largely based on an issue I have with scifi films: laser cannons shouldn’t miss. There is no reason for their aim to not be computer-aided and, seeing as modern targeting isn’t that far off from being able to do this, there’s no reason to believe a scifi civilization wouldn’t be able to. While missiles, railguns, and the like have issues such as the need to lead shots and adjust aim based on the target’s evasive maneuvers, weaponized lasers have no such issues. Even accounting for things like atmospheric refraction, humidity, and other factors, sufficiently intense lasers will be less affected. But a sophisticated targeting system would be able to fire off a few high-speed shots and use the errors to rapidly correct targeting, even in an unfamiliar environment. In a familiar environment, such factors can be directly integrated into the targeting.
  • Battles where there is no disparity advantage or disparities balance each other out can be planned out months or years in advance. Generally, this makes human control unnecessary, but that depends on how the final moments need to play out. Missiles, for instance, are unlikely to be bothered by evasive maneuvers at long-range, but may not be able to correct their targeting at short ranges. This can be mitigated by implementing a massive warhead, but this can be countered by destroying the missile, etc. So, battles at parity are all about the ability to one-up the other and anticipate the other’s technologies and moves.
  • Targeting systems may be essential, making spotters, hacking, terminal guidance systems, and the like important. These may be much more vulnerable than normal weapons installations.

Golems

Golems are a broad type of semiartificial life. They are living beings who gain life when a spirit enters a body granted the ability to move by magic or spiritual infusion. Golems are mostly made of inorganic materials. Locomotion, speech, and the senses are typically achieved by magic, but sophisticated golem designs will also include these features on the physical level. Golems, as magical life, have a natural affinity for magic. Many also have strong spiritual connections and can use spirit/necromantic magic.

The rituals, bodies, and methods used to create golems are diverse. Most are not created to be living at all. Instead, some wandering spirit decides to inhabit the golem body, which has already been designed to be capable of sustaining a spirit. Indeed, a body couldn’t be sufficiently complex to make a lifeless golem unless it is also sufficiently sophisticated to host a spirit. The natural abundance of spirits means that most golems are living, while lifeless golems, called machine golems, are rare.

When a spirit inhabits a golem body, it is functionally equivalent to birth: the spirit forgets its life from before and becomes a soul, bound to the body until the body’s destruction. On death, like other spirits, the spirit will then regain its original memories, without losing its memories of life. What constitutes a golem’s destruction varies according to its construction, but severing the magic tied to the body is always sufficient–the spirit is never trapped in a body reduced to a statue.

Golems experience mental growth and childhood like any other species. Young golems are infantile in their understanding and gradually learn how to make use of their mind, senses, and understanding. Only communal golems have the luxury of physical maturation, that is, having a body that matches their cognitive development. Golems with advanced bodies or magic may have a lot of knowledge or instincts at birth, but will struggle with being born into powerful bodies without having any experience or maturity. Most magic, including that used by primitive golem builders, grants basic language comprehension on birth, since golem builders desire a golem that can follow orders. This process makes golems specially vulnerable to psychological disorders tied to slavery.

Variants

Prole

Other names: Worker, Clay, Common. Prole golems are your iconic golem, designed for brute labor. They serve as heavy laborers, soldiers, guards, and the like. They are the simplest subspecies and civilizations will typically build prole golems before anything else. In consequence, prole golems are the most common subspecies by far. They are rarely built with the capacity to speak–most primitive golem builders do not even realize this is a possibility. Taking these factors together, prole golems are the source of most prejudices against golems, especially the belief that they are soulless, mute, or devoid of intelligence. It should be emphasized that prole golems are none of these, and furthermore, can be quite erudite, wealthy, free, etc. if allowed to develop on their own terms.

Vanitas

Vanitas golems are any golem designed to fulfill some vanity of the creator: the pursuit of beauty, the replacement of a loved one, an artificial child, an attempt at immortality, and so on. Vanitas golems tend to be one-of-a-kind, with physiologies tailored to their purpose. They may or may not resemble the species of their creator. Most vanitas golems are enslaved and many have particularly tortured psychologies, stemming from the peculiar pressures and demands of their creators. Their name comes from the art genre of the same name. Many mythological golems, like Galatea and Pinocchio, would be vanitas golems.

Domestic

Other names: Noble, Service. Domestic golems are the softer equivalent of prole golems. They are designed for domestic labor. For example, a wizard might have prole golems build a tower and then have domestic golems cook and clean. Domestic golems are more likely to be able to speak, especially if they are assigned tasks like cooking or care. Cleaning, light gathering, and light maintenance are the most common tasks. Some domestic golems are even educated as magi, healers, doctors, or other complex roles, but this is rare since few civilizations reach this level of sophisticated golem design and still enslave golems. The creation of domestic golems corresponds to more advanced golem building societies–the precision required to build hands that can handle a broom or even a scalpel are much more complicated than clubs or unwieldy fists. The magic required to subjugate a domestic golem also tends to be more sophisticated, since they can speak and perform more complicated tasks. This magic might feature speech control (e.g., speak only when spoken to or clarifying questions only), physical limits (e.g., do not leave this building), and emotional manipulation (e.g., rage suppression). Domestic golems will often undergo training and education before sale too, meaning golem builders typically instill attitudes of submission (whether they realize the golem is intelligent or not). Oftentimes, golem builders will emplace magic subjugation so severe even before implementing speech that the golem builders do not realize that the golems are intelligent. Other, unscrupulous golem builders will refine their magic to disguise the fact the golems are intelligent to a concerned buyer. Consider the substantial and justified concern about AI in our nonmagical society: developing sophisticated and speaking golems invokes comparable controversies.

Imitation

Other names: Rogue, Impostor, Changeling. Imitation golems are those golems trying to fit into some other civilization, often adopting a physical appearance that is difficult to distinguish from whatever other species they live amongst. This is often to avoid reenslavement or prejudice, but some golems do simply adopt the aesthetics of surrounding species. Imitation golems are often also vanitas or domestic golems, especially if they are still enslaved. Note, however, that imitation golems have nothing to do with actual changelings and can only change at great expense (in terms of material and alteration to their magical enchantment).

Communal

Other names: Heritage, Free. Communal golems are golems born into a society of golems or one who has had time to reshape itself as part of such a society. Free of the pressures of other species, communal golems can vary wildly. Some have bizarre forms, others have highly functional bodies, and others still follow whatever sense of aesthetics their community develops.

Machine

Other names: Animal, algorithmic, husk (perjorative). A golem that genuinely does not possess a soul is a machine golem. Unlike living golems, machine golems operate on purely magical principles to understand speech and take orders. Other golems can naturally and intuitively distinguish whether a golem possesses a soul, but it is much more difficult for other species. Machine golems are surprisingly rare: the natural and magical processes and rituals used to construct golems make suitable vessels for souls. Many listless souls inhabit golem bodies as a matter of instinct or curiosity. Machine golems tend to degrade and collapse faster than other golems, plus they are prone to errors, rages, and obtuseness because they are magical machines instead of creatures that can genuinely understand language. Primitive golem builders and users tend to believe machine golems are simply defective, accelerating the destruction of machine golems and increasing the enslavement of other golems. While all golems technically begin as machine golems, many golem bodies spend only moments as machine golems. After all, places where people converge and build golems tend to be places where spirits also converge. Many golem builders use rituals or other practices that invite spirits without understanding what they are doing. Golem societies have their ways of making sure most bodies receive life.

Free Golems

Any golem can, of course, become free. Some golem societies practice slavery of their own, but overall, most communal golems are free. Thus, communal golems are almost always free. Imitation golems are generally free as well, while vanitas golems may have substantial freedom, depending on the vanity they serve.

Many freed golems struggle with freedom. Their magic may make them compulsively obedient, but plain psychology is often to blame. Enslavement and abuse, especially by owners who do not believe golems to be intelligent, causes all kinds of mental disorders. Many golems internalize the belief that they are a slave species, develop loyalty to their controllers, are habituated to slave work, or become dependent. Most enslaved golems are born with the capacity to understand language and do labor, meaning they are inducted into slavery while their minds are still infantile. Such golems genuinely know no life besides enslavement. The legends of golems fulfilling orders well after their master’s death are true, but only rarely is it out of genuine loyalty or love. Golem communities where escapees, abandoned, or freed golems are common often dedicate significant resources to helping newly-free golems adjust.

Meatstone, Threadstone, and Silkstone

These substances are strongly associated with golems because of their value as golem materials, so much so that they are referred to collectively as golem materials. Each can be found in many colors. Meatstone is firm, malleable, and flexible, good for golem interiors. Silkstone is soft and pleasant to the touch, often used for skin. Thin layers of silkstone are translucent. When combined with meatstone, silkstone can create incredible color combinations and realistically imitate skin colors and complexions. Combined with meatstone, Threadstone is highly flexible and naturally forms in thin strands, so it is used as faux hair, fur, and so on. Golems themselves love having bodies with these materials integrated. Relying on magic for movement can make for stiffness and golems who switch from stone to meatstone will be surprised at how much easier it is to move their body, no matter how powerful the magic they are made with. Silkstone makes for greater sensitivity, and threadstone is popular aesthetically as well. Simply put, most golems feel more supple, limber, strong, and well-rounded with golem materials.

Golem materials can only form naturally in certain universes of particular physical laws, making them a luxury import in most places. Golem civilizations compete with wealthy buyers and golem builders. Many free golems struggle with buying these materials, since it means some enslaved golem might be deprived of a better construction.

Their cost assures that only the most obscenely wealthy would use them for prole golems (flaunting wealth). Instead, prole golems are generally made with whatever’s most available: clay, stone, steel, bone. Vanitas golems, since they’re unique and typically designed with aesthetics in mind, are the most likely to use these materials. Even relatively poor vanitas golem makers will sometimes obtain silkstone and threadstone (less will seek out meatstone since it’s not visible and the majority of the golem’s mass). There are even some vanitas golems made entirely out of silkstone or threadstone–this tends to make for a very weak golem though. Since domestic golems are associated with wealth already, it’s common for them to have hints of golem materials, but since domestic golems are usually used in groups, fewer people can afford to use golem materials for the entire golem. Imitation golems get these materials if they can, since golem materials allow for a more realistic appearance. Communal golems are free to use whatever they get their hands on.

A Historical Perspective on Edelgard and Political Nonviolence

Edelgard’s declaration of war is often criticized by appeals for using nonviolent methods of change. This criticism most often looks like the argument that Edelgard should’ve just talked it out with Rhea and/or Dimitri. It may also manifest as the claim that Edelgard’s cause is not urgent enough to justify violence, so only nonviolent means are permissible. Now, before we get into this, I should note that I am a prima facie pacifist for the sake of disclosure.[1]

Historical Significance of Political Nonviolence

I’m not going to say it would have been impossible for nonviolent strategies to work. Everything that follows refers to probabilities, viability, and limitations, not unconditional truths. However, the nonviolent argument is ahistorical. While the philosophy of personal nonviolence is old, the philosophy of political nonviolence is modern. Here, I refer to political nonviolence as the belief that nonviolence is an effective means to effect political change. Political nonviolence could not exist until human rights, rule of law, and (to a lesser extent) democracy had become reality. It is only because these conditions are common that we can contemplate nonviolence as a political option. As George Orwell observed:

It is difficult to see how Gandhi’s methods could be applied in a country where opponents of the regime disappear in the middle of the night and are never heard of again. Without a free press and the right of assembly, it is impossible not merely to appeal to outside opinion, but to bring a mass movement into being, or even to make your intentions known to your adversary.[2]

Freedom of speech, press, and assembly are prerequisite to the formation of a nonviolent movement. Rule of law is necessary so that violent opponents of nonviolent protesters cannot act with impunity – paramilitary groups, members of the government, and lone actors must all be held responsible or expected to be held responsible for attacks on nonviolent protesters. Democracy aids nonviolence since nonviolence relies on popular support, but is neither essential nor sufficient (after all, Socrates was democratically executed). Before these conditions existed, nonviolence was a philosophy of individual conduct – it was not considered a method to effect political change. Striking, protesting, and the like are not effective against someone who is willing to kill innocents in the name of preserving their power. (Just as Peasant Revolts were wildly unsuccessful, a Peasant Picket Line is a laughable concept.) It just is not possible to develop a serious philosophy of political nonviolence in the medieval political environment.

On the subject of monarchy, violence is nearly the only form of regime change. Since the monarch controls policy, policy change can only come by changing the monarch’s beliefs (usually only possible as an adviser) or by changing the monarch (assassination, coup, invasion, kidnapping, etc). For an outsider to change the monarch’s beliefs, the outsider must do more than convince the monarch. The outsider must overcome the (probably hostile) influence of the monarchy’s staff. The staff may be advisers, guards, bureaucrats, or messengers. Whatever their station, officials are unlikely to aid anti-establishment causes and are likely to resort to censorship or false reporting. Monarchs are powerful forces for the establishment, but are generally less effective vehicles of reform.

As a corollary, even if the monarch is sympathetic to an anti-establishment message, the monarch must change the moods of all their enforcers. That is an enormous challenge logistically, legally, and politically, even for a monarch. Monarchy is not prone to dramatic ideological change unless the people themselves are readied to make the same change.[3] The renaissances and ideological revolutions of the medieval era were organic. A monarch, or an aspiring agitator, could not have willed them into existence.

Nonviolence in Fodlan’s Political Environment

Now, let’s look at Edelgard’s options for peaceful change. First off, diplomacy with Rhea is a nonoption. Rhea is dogmatic, totalitarian, and does not recognize freedom of discourse. Rhea is the only single figure that could bring about change across Fodlan, but she is not in a position where she is willing to listen to a political opposition. Centuries of hegemony warp the mind and it is no wonder that she has a hard time taking any vision but hers seriously, for all other ideologues die without damaging her position. The other lords aren’t particularly promising either. Dimitri is highly unstable, even pre-timeskip, prone to blinding emotion during disagreements, and pro-establishment (though not radically so). His refusal to recognize that it is impossible for Edelgard to be behind the tragedy of Duscur is demonstrative. As for Claude, there is no particular advantage to diplomacy. Edelgard considers Rhea her adversary and Dimitri considers Edelgard her enemy. Claude being on Edelgard’s side would not move us closer to a Golden Route. Further, his own desire to conquer Fodlan, coupled with his manipulative and secretive nature make him a poor partner for Edelgard. In short, the personalities of Edelgard’s counterparts leave me with little trust in the diplomatic process.

It is also reasonable to suppose that Edelgard would be a nonparty to the political scene without a war. Edelgard’s rise to power was likely contingent on starting a war. Her main benefactors are House Hevring and House Bergliez, both of which benefit from a war. House Hevring’s main source of revenue is mining and its main duty is administration. Thus, their best method for accruing power is land, the primary form of wealth prior to industrialization. More land -> more mines/exploitable resources and more land -> more need for Hevring’s administrative role. Wartime also increases demand for mining (stone and ore for armor, weapons, and fortifications) and heightens their influence over domestic policy as competitors shift focus to external affairs. As for House Bergliez, they command the army. They have more power during wartime. They stand to benefit from the boost to attention and prestige. Even if they aren’t warhawks in particular, they are unlikely to oppose war on ideological grounds. We do not know Count Bergliez or Count Hevring to be idealistic in any sense (Count Hevring participated in the Insurrection of the Seven, after all). Since they do not care for Edelgard’s vision, the war remains as the biggest factor distinguishing her and PM Aegir. For his part, PM Aegir has shown no hawkish inclinations over the course of his rule. Therefore, if Hevring and Bergliez want a war, Edelgard is their only option.

Without the title of Emperor, Edelgard would have little political influence, especially in foreign affairs. Even with the title, nonviolence is especially impotent on the international scale: “Applied to foreign politics, pacifism either stops being pacifist or becomes appeasement.”[2] As a puppet or figurehead, Edelgard would have no leverage and no means beyond her own charisma. Rhea and Dimitri, her primary adversaries, are violently unstable – “the assumption, which served Gandhi so well in dealing with individuals, that all human beings are more or less approachable and will respond to a generous gesture, needs to be seriously questioned. It is not necessarily true, for example, when you are dealing with lunatics.”[2] Even without the violence, they are still dogmatic and closed off to Edelgard’s influence. This all combines to make diplomacy unviable.

Summary

Political nonviolence would be an anachronism in FETH.[4] Even in theory, it is out of place. Considering the particulars of Fodlan, the case for nonviolence gets even worse. The promise of a war was probably necessary for Edelgard to retake power in the Empire.

I’ve written this because <3 Edelgard, but also because it really is important to understand the history, limits, and nature of our ideals. This is a bit personal, but I’ve been troubled by the rise of ideologues throughout modern society and how they call dogma “idealism” or “faith to their principles.” And I think it’s something to watch out for/keep in mind.

[1] Prima facie pacifism “presumes that war is wrong but allows for exceptions [and] places the burden of proof upon the proponent of war: it is up to the proponent of war to prove, in a given circumstance, that war is in fact morally necessary” (Standord Encyclopedia of Philosophy: Pacifism).

[2] Reflections on Gandhi, George Orwell, 1949

[3] The Adrestian people seem readier to accept ideological change than the others. For one part, Adrestia seems to suffer from more extreme examples of the abuses that exist throughout Fodlan. For another, the Adrestian people have no common ideology that shores up these abuses. By contrast, Faerghus seems the least ready for change. Even though Faerghus’ culture is full of severe abuse, the Faerghus culture shores up these abuses. A normal participant of Faerghus culture (esp. the knightly ideal) is discouraged from criticizing the aristocracy, the religious ideologues, and the dogmatic cultural norms. Faerghus culture is self-preserving and shifts attention from itself: every character from Faerghus (excluding Felix and Jeralt to some degree) criticizes those around them or themselves for their suffering, not the systems, laws, and beliefs that cause suffering. This being the case, Faerghus may well resent many of Edelgard’s reforms in Crimson Flower, but reform is more likely to come by conquest than from within. Funnily enough, there is a real-life novel that would be perfect for the people of Faerghus, especially literary folk like Ingrid and Ashe: Don Quixote, or my preferred title, El Ingenioso Hidalgo Don Quijote de la Mancha (The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha). Don Quixote was written specifically as a criticism of the chivalric ideal and as a parody of chivalric novels, the same ideal that plagues Faerghus. Miguel de Cervantes’ genius would probably strike a chord with many Faerghus readers.

[4] Another anachronistic idea that I see a lot is new players’ preference for the Leicester Alliance. They see Adrestia and Faerghus and, based on the fact that monarchy is bad, decide that the Alliance is preferable. Some may even mistake the Leicester Alliance as being close-ish to democracy, which, as moderns, we are supposed to prefer in all circumstances. However, the Alliance is an aristocratic oligarchy, which is one of the worst forms of government. In fact, Plato’s Republic goes out and calls it the absolute worst form of government, out of all forms it considers. It inherits almost all the foibles of monarchy and the weaknesses of democracy: indecision, corruption, excessive concentration of power, an elite class formed by blood, etc.

[Originally written 04 May 2021 for r/Edelgard]

Con amor, el noir: Una teoría de empatía literaria

El noir es un género emocional. Por tanta preocupación que los personajes noir tienen con la lógica, tanto ellos como los lectores reconocen el espacio que existe más allá de la lógica—el mismo espacio que sirve para darle al noir su identidad, aparte de la novela policiaca y la novela detectivesca (véase Copjec 178-183). Dentro del hueco dejado por la lógica, surge una disposición emocional en particular: la empatía. Es de la empatía que el noir saca la mayoría de su valor literaria. La empatía es una de las motivaciones principales de la filosofía noir, igual que un factor esencial de sus resultados. La empatía también asegura que el género no degenere en su propia vileza. El rol clave de la empatía se debe al ambiente de emoción negativa que crea el noir, el cual ambiente ha recibido recientemente el nombre de noir affect. Sin la empatía, el afecto noir quedaría tóxico y no recibiría lectura fuera del contexto nihilista.

Este estudio discutirá los temas mencionados de esta manera: se establecerá la base del afecto noir, la empatía será identificada como elemento sine qua non de este afecto. Como el afecto es un fenómeno con elementos fuertes de subjetividad, el punto de referencia afectiva tendrá que ser el del autor, en este caso, en relación con la novela Montevideo noir, por Hugo Burel. Habrá referencias ocasionales a las experiencias afectivas de otros autores que las han descrito e interacción con otros textos, cuando es relevante. Sugiero que un estudio fuertemente empático puede hacerse con cualquier texto noir, sin sugerir que todos los autores desearían o anticiparían tal lectura. El noir tiene su componente empático en sí, donde la empatía esté ausente, el texto carecerá del afecto noir.

1. El afecto noir

Empezamos con el afecto noir. Existe mucho desacuerdo en cuanto a la definición, la ontología, la causalidad, la posición, etc., del afecto dentro de las disciplinas diversas que se han valido del concepto. Aquellas discusiones quedan fuera de este estudio: nos conformamos con considerar el afecto noir. Para los propósitos del afecto general, adopto la definición de Carroll y Russell: “genuine subjective feelings and moods (as when someone says, ‘I’m feeling sad’), rather than thoughts about specific objects or events (as when someone calmly says, ‘The crusades were a sad chapter in human history’). Affect can be assessed at any given moment, rather than only in times of great emotion” (3-4). El afecto noir, entonces, es formado por los sentimientos que corresponden al noir, tanto los sentimientos efémeros y reactivos de una lectura como el humor que el lector asociará con el libro después de haberlo terminado.

Breu y Hatmaker han propuesto que la presencia del afecto noir sea la definición total del noir. No proveen una definición exacta, pero quizá con la razón de que el noir tiene cierta hostilidad con las definiciones libres de ambigüedad. Proveen las palabras siguientes para bosquejar el concepto:

In trying to define noir, we encounter the same forms of negativity that characterize the work of the form itself. Noir itself foregrounds fractiousness, divisiveness, conflict, and dissension. Moreover, it is preoccupied with belatedness, retrospection, fatality, inadequacy, and intransigence. It also marks the elusiveness of subjects to definition and even to self-knowledge. (3)

De este bosquejo, se nota que el afecto noir está vinculado en todo a la filosofía noir. Si la filosofía noir se trata del nihilismo, la incertidumbre, la posmodernidad y la fatalidad, el afecto noir es la crisis existencial que estos asuntos filosóficos suelen traer consigo. En general, el afecto es dividido entre el afecto positivo y el afecto negativo. El afecto positivo corresponde a conceptos como el amor, la felicidad y la seguridad, mientras que el afecto negativo se relaciona con sentimientos como el enojo, la tristeza y el temor. En base de estas filosofías, el afecto noir es de la clase negativa: “an understanding of noir as characterized by negative affect is the central premise” (Breu y Hatmaker 3).

En el caso de Montevideo noir, yo describiría el afecto de la primera porción de la novela como una ansiedad nauseabunda. El protagonista, Gabriel Keller, se ha fascinado con la estética del asesinato perfecto a través de la lectura de una novela noir llamada Asesino a sueldo, esta novela protagonizada por un Murray Sullivan. A la vez, Keller sufre de la soledad y la pérdida de su familia (su esposa perdida a la muerte y su hijo a la mudanza remota) y descubre un amor tentativo para una vecina, Beatriz, y un odio convencido hacia su novio, Javier Brentano.

La ansiedad mencionada tiene varios elementos. Primero, hay el miedo que Keller imite la trama de Asesino a sueldo. A este miedo, se suma un miedo específico: Murray Sullivan mató a la mujer a quien él había tratado de salvar. Mientras se deshace la división entre la realidad (ficticia) de Keller y la trama de Asesino a sueldo (una ficción dentro de una ficción), se produjo en mí una preocupación intensa de que Keller mate a Beatriz. La severidad de este peligro es atestiguada por las palabras que Keller se asevera débilmente cuando comprende las razones que Murray Sullivan teñía cuando mató a la mujer: “Finalmente se dijo que era solo una novela y que la realidad suele ser muy diferente” (41). Este segundo miedo se distingue del primero por afectos. Que Keller mate a Brentano, por ejemplo, es grave, pero es menos grave gracias al afecto negativo del caso: Keller puede inculcar en el lector parte del odio que Keller siente. El lector no tiene que depender totalmente de Keller para este afecto negativo, cuando aprende que Brentano es un adicto del azar, es abusivo en su relación con Beatriz y tiene otra novia aparte (aunque solamente la adicción es revelada antes de que Keller mata a Brentano). Por otra parte, el riesgo de que muera Beatriz produce un afecto nauseabundo porque Beatriz produce afecto positivo, ya que es retratada como abnegada, optimista e inocente. En ambos casos, hay un afecto fuertemente negativo asociado con la posibilidad de que Keller mate (una posibilidad que se realiza), pero este afecto es agravado por el afecto positivo hacia Beatriz y aliviado por el afecto negativo hacia Brentano.

Además de estos afectos principales, hay varios afectos auxiliares dentro de la primera porción de Montevideo noir. Por ejemplo, mientras crece el entendimiento de la vileza de Brentano, crece el miedo de que Brentano siga causando daño a Beatriz y a su familia sin sufrir repercusiones, ya que la sociedad no promete ningún castigo para él. Hay también el afecto de la disforia, demostrado cuando Keller se despide de su jefe anterior: “Keller lo miró y de pronto le pareció estar ante un desconocido, alguien que no podía comprenderlo ni saber siquiera remotamente cómo se sentía” (48). La angustia mental y emocional suele producir este sentimiento de aislamiento entre conocidos y, aunque Keller no describe ninguna enfermedad mental específica ni expresa necesariamente una experiencia duradera del trauma, Keller invoca los afectos del trauma en los lectores que conocen trauma por sí mismos a través de este lenguaje.

El afecto noir existe de una manera más limitada después del asesinato de Brentano. Con la muerte de Brentano realizada, la ansiedad y la ambigüedad se han acabado en gran parte. La segunda parte de la novela retrata las acciones de Keller mientras él procura encubrir el crimen y mata a otro en el proceso, es decir, más de lo mismo. La filosofía ha cumplido su propósito y la trama se confirma en lugar de proponer nuevas amenazas existenciales. La trama se enfoca más en hechos y menos en posibilidades.

El afecto noir sufre esta reducción de severidad en gran parte porque hay menos miedo mortal. El peligro que Keller presenta hacia Beatriz se disminuye lentamente. El peligro no es recalcado y pasa de la memoria. Las amenazas que Keller enfrenta no producen un afecto fuertemente malo. Es un caso del reproche que normalmente corresponde al asesinato. Si Keller es capturado y castigado por la ley, es triste, pero es una tristeza cotidiana y fácil de soportar porque se entiende por qué el matador es castigado. La convergencia de la realidad de Keller y de Asesino a sueldo para de una manera asintótica, o sea, son historias paralelas, no historias convergentes.

En base de las diferencias entre el afecto en las dos partes de la novela, el afecto noir no puede ser solamente el afecto negativo, sustenido a lo largo de un texto. A la segunda parte de la novela no le falta de afecto negativo: Keller sigue con odio y hay mucho temor de ser descubierto, arrestado o chantajeado (en fin, Keller sufre un chantaje que le obliga a cometer más asesinatos). Sin embargo, este afecto negativo no produce un afecto fuertemente noir. La fortaleza del afecto noir que rodea Beatriz en la primera parte de la novela viene del afecto positivo que se asocia con ella.

Regresando a la perspectiva de Breu y Hatmaker, un afecto puramente negativo no puede producir “divisiveness,” “retrospection” o “inadequacy” (3) a solas. ¿Quién podrá luchar divisively sin ideología o pasión positivas? ¿Para qué considerará uno el pasado de una manera retrospectiva si no había una posibilidad de un pasado y un presente mejor? ¿Quién se creerá inadecuado si no es adecuado para nada? Copjec también observa la necesidad de un afecto positivo (que ella llama desire) para crear el afecto noir y el gap dentro del cual el noir existe: “Desire is not an impurity that threatens the ‘objectivity’ of the detective but the quasi-transcendental principle that guarantees it. … Desire does not impose a bias but supposes a gap: the detective reads the evidence by positing an empty beyond” (178-179). Copjec invoca el deseo como el medio para contemplar el espacio noir porque la lógica no basta fuera del mundo conocido: la lógica y la filosofía noir tiene que ceder el paso al afecto noir.

Gracias a afectos como el deseo, el afecto noir es tanto un afecto positivo como un afecto negativo. Consistente con la complejidad del noir, hasta el deseo puede convertirse en un afecto negativo: el lector del noir sabrá bien que el deseo puede volverse cáustico. Para entender el afecto noir, hay que “consider the possibility that in many cases one and one does not equal two, at least when it comes to comparing positive and negative affective states. Instead, … most of the time, positive and negative feeling states are independent of one another: a person can be both happy and sad, or even unhappy and not sad” (Potter et al. 75-76). El afecto noir es un conjunto complejo de afectos negativos, positivos e irresueltos que coinciden sin cancelarse.

El afecto noir es el afecto que surge al navegar el espacio noir entre la positividad, la negatividad y la ambigüedad. Sin importar dónde uno se coloca en tal esfuerzo, la diversidad de influencias afectivas del noir garantiza que parte de la jornada pase por espacios desconocidos, el gap de Copjec. En breve, el noir es un encuentro afectivo con el Otro (afectivo porque el encuentro es una experiencia afectiva que solamente es posible gracias también al afecto). Debido al afecto negativo que permea el noir, Copjec concluye que el Otro (“the existence of other people”) es lo más horrible que hay (195). Keller tiene miedo de muchas personas, por cierto, pero, aunque existe tanto desacuerdo, aislamiento y confusión entre él y su sociedad, todavía Keller desea llegar hasta el Otro representado en su hijo lejano y Beatriz. En base de las observancias anteriores en cuanto al rol del afecto positivo, sugiero que el afecto noir no termina con el miedo del Otro, porque la empatía noir representa una búsqueda para algo mejor: hacer las paces con el Otro.

Todo el afecto noir culmina en la necesidad de la empatía en el noir. La empatía es la herramienta precisa para vivir dentro del espacio noir de una manera ventajosa, capaz de procesar los afectos positivos y negativos.

2. Sine qua non: la empatía

La fascinación con el afecto negativo en el noir ha hecho que la empatía pase desapercibida. Este resultado sorprende poco, ya que la oscuridad del noir sobrepasa la que se halla en la literatura general, hasta el punto de que el género recibió su nombre basado en la falta de luz. Sin embargo, es natural que el género se base en la empatía. La empatía, desde el principio, ha sido un fenómeno noir, una contradicción: una expresión de amor y bondad que invita el dolor y la miseria ajenos.

Describo la empatía como una disposición emocional ya que la empatía no es una emoción en sí, sino un conducto por el cual los sentimientos y las disposiciones de otras personas pueden ser transmitidas a otras personas, las personas que ejercen la empatía. Ya que la empatía transmite el afecto en diversas formas, la empatía puede describirse como una atmosfera afectiva: los afectos que uno absorbe del ambiente.

El noir crea una atmosfera empática desde el principio: suele escoger antihéroes y villanos como protagonistas. El protagonismo es una estructura empática, diseñado para ayudar a que el lector comparta los sentimientos del personaje principal, con el fin de que se regocijen y lloren juntamente. En otros géneros, el regocijo y el llanto no son fijados a personas que se regocijan del asesinato o que lloran por la posibilidad de que uno haya matado emocionalmente y no imparcialmente, como hace Keller. La autora Claudia Piñeira explica el proceso empático para personajes de una moralidad tan inadecuada:

¿Quién no puesto en el lugar de unos de los personajes haría el mismo que ellos? Esa cosa de ver a alguien hacer algo que primero decir que no, jamás haría eso y después, si reflexionás, puedes llegar a pensar, bueno, habría que ver yo no estoy en ese lugar. A lo mejor si estuviera en ese lugar podría hacerlo creo que tiene que ver con la empatía, con lograr tener con estos personajes, algunos que se van del límite, puede haber crímenes, puede haber un cuento de terror, distintas circunstancias de las cuales de verdad uno sabe que no estaría allí.”

Este proceso empático es esencial para entender preguntas importantes como por qué existe la violencia y por qué hay personas que están dispuestas a causarle daño al Otro. Hay que considerar el afecto negativo que otras personas experimentan para reconciliarse con ellas. Estos afectos se vuelven todavía más negativos con el entendimiento que cada uno de nosotros somos el Otro de otro. Esta empatía es también importante en el desarrollo de la empatía dirigida de uno a uno mismo: somos todos capaces de volvernos un monstruo en la vista de otras personas y en nuestra propia vista. Si odiamos los monstruos ajenos, más odiaremos la monstruosidad dentro de nosotros.

Keller mismo ejerce la empatía en base de este modelo. Siente una empatía demasiado directa con Murray Sullivan, el protagonista de Asesino a sueldo. Antes de decirse que “era solo una novela y que la realidad suele ser muy diferente,” siente que Murray Sullivan “había actuado como un monstruo. Y sin embargo… [él], como lector no podía condenarlo por completo. El autor había sido capaz de meter una duda en su moralidad” (41).

Otro ejemplo del proceso se halla en Ornstein, un rabino y académico legal, quien pasó en medio de las posiciones de Keller y Piñeira, con deseos de empatía y fuertes desafíos a su capacidad de ejercerla. De joven, el noir le inculcó la filosofía de empatía hacia los desamparados. Las palabras de Bogart en Knock on Any Door le impactaron: “Until we do away with the type of neighborhood that produced this boy, ten will spring up to take his place, a hundred, a thousand. Until we wipe out the slums and rebuild them, knock on any door and you may find Nick Romano” (citado en Ornstein 7). Después, Ornstein

learned what victims of crimes come to understand the hard way: A crime is a brazen, traumatizing act of cruelty and an abuse of power, no matter who commits it or the circumstances of that person’s life that led that person to become a criminal. It took me time and maturity to recognize that justice against criminals for their crimes must constantly be balanced against mercy for the sometimes terrible circumstances that contributed to their actions. (8)

El afecto noir no es aditiva. Lo malo es malo y lo bueno es bueno, sin que el bueno impida lo malo y viceversa. La empatía noir, por lo tanto, no puede negligir ni lo bueno ni lo malo para lograr la empatía que Piñeira y yo tanto deseamos. Una cantidad de oscuridad y una cantidad igual de luz no son cero en suma porque son cantidades independientes. El malo debe ser reconocido, pero también la humanidad de la gente que comete maldades merece reconocimiento. Tratar de añadir y comparar lo bueno y lo malo, como si fuesen números compatibles, sería disminuirlos. Si la suma del bien y el mal en un texto favoreciera a lo bueno, tendría que faltarle respeto a la humanidad de los que han obrado mal y, por lo tanto, lo bueno y la empatía se hallarían frustrados. Por otra parte, el favorecer a lo malo sería burlarse de las víctimas—inaceptable para la misma filosofía noir, que reconoce a los victimarios como víctimas, lo cual es la base de la empatía dirigida a las personas dentro del mal. Para expresar fielmente la empatía, hay que tomar el bien y el mal aparte, de modo simultaneo e igual, sin mezclarlos.

Con este modelo de empatía en mente y con deseos de evitar la empatía disfuncional de Keller, la empatía cumple varias funciones para el noir y protege el género de la degeneración en dogmas y vilezas. Sin embargo, los ejemplos anteriores demuestran que la empatía dentro del noir crea riesgos. Lo que describe Piñeira es importante para entender al Otro pacíficamente, pero lo que ocurre en Keller es el caso menos ideal para tal cosa, ya que Keller llega a matar a parte del Otro en base de su empatía para otra parte. El afecto noir, como debe esperarse, siempre conlleva riesgos. La realidad no suele ser muy diferente de lo que ocurre con Keller: la empatía parcial se halla en la violencia tribal y el terrorismo (Hartevelt Kobrin 108; Putilin 359-361). La empatía es el vencimiento del afecto positivo y la reconciliación con el Otro, mientras que la vida de Keller representa una fe demasiada en el afecto negativo y una empatía parcial. La tarea del afecto noir necesita ser una empatía universal, o tiene riesgo de destruirse y convertirse en odio del Otro y de uno mismo (tal como el afecto noir ha sido entendido por tanto tiempo por autores como Copjec y Conard).

Esta tarea es difícil. El afecto negativo dentro del afecto noir puede dañar al lector de varias maneras, no solamente convertirlo al tribalismo o a la violencia. Por ejemplo, el afecto negativo puede causar el enfoque excesivo en uno mismo y, consigo, ansiedad social, ansiedad general y depresión (Mor y Winquist 638). El retrato de la criminalidad crea un riesgo de la angustia moral (del inglés moral distress), o sea, angustia relacionada con no cumplir con la conciencia de uno al ver la victimización de uno mismo o de otra persona. Los textos noir pueden recordarle al lector de diversos problemas sociales en los cuales el lector no puede actuar conforme a su conciencia. La angustia moral será más intensa entre más cercano está el lector a las dificultades invocadas en el noir y puede causar una pérdida de moralidad y trastornos físicos y mentales (Devos Barlem y Souza Ramos 612). Además, aunque apenas necesita ser mencionado, si el noir solo causara dolor en el lector sin algún producto positivo (y más que un poco de afecto positivo dentro de la mezcla), ¿quién lo leería?

Recalco que el afecto negativo es una parte esencial del afecto noir y, sin ello, la empatía podría ser extendida hacia el Otro. Entonces, con consideración a estos riesgos y con esfuerzos para no dificultarle la vida al lector sin buenas razones, el afecto noir puede tomar dentro de sí los afectos negativos y positivos. Un afecto altamente negativo, temperado inteligentemente con afectos positivos y contextualizado dentro de una empatía universal puede profundizar los sentimientos del lector y alcanzar un modo de empatía más avanzada. Este estado avanzado se define por poder llegar al Otro después de tomar en cuenta todo el afecto negativo dentro del noir, con todo el miedo del Otro, la inseguridad del ambiente y la inhabilidad de confiar en el bien humano. Que yo pueda desear el bien de Keller y de Brentano, aunque el uno mata al otro y ambos necesitan mejorar su pensamiento moral, es la finalidad de la empatía noir. Deseo el bien, no de ellos (ya que no existen), pero de todas las personas reales que han sufrido, se han confundido y se han perdido como ellos, igual que deseo que las personas como Beatriz puedan librarse de novios abusadores y acosadores. Que la empatía se extienda a Brentano y Keller, no solamente a la inocente Beatriz, importa mucho: la ayuda dirigida a los victimarios ayuda a que las Beatrices del mundo no tengan más novios abusadores y acosadores. Además, esta empatía respeta la inocencia que Brentano y Keller antes tenían y la que quizá no tuvieran culpa en perder.

De esta manera, ni la moralidad ni la empatía dentro del noir apoyan un relativismo verdadero (no es la muerte de Dios, sino una revisión). El impedimento al relativismo se debe a que, tras reconocer las causas de las acciones, no deja de calificarlas como buenas, malas o ambiguas. Si fuese relativista, el noir no sería el género negro, sino el gris. “In many cases one and one does not equal two, at least when it comes to comparing positive and negative affective states” (Potter et al. 75), pero el gris es la resulta de precisamente esto: sumar falazmente el bien y el mal, lo positivo y lo negativo. El noir es negro y blanco. Extiende la empatía sin dejar de reconocer la injusticia de los hechos. Las víctimas merecen este reconocimiento, mientras que los victimarios merecen la empatía.

Un noir sin empatía, un noir verdaderamente gris, que no reprocha la victimización y tiene simpatía para la víctima, perdería su sentido rápidamente y se quedaría como melodrama: “scenes of violence within [melodrama] take on an even darker cast than the shadowy corners and wailing sirens that make us shudder with pleasure and fear in noir. Melodrama may be noir’s bad seed” (Rabinowitz 265). Un noir que se concediese al schadenfreude podría ser melodrama, podría ser horror, pero no sería noir. Los afectos negativos tienen que quedarse negativos: la filosofía noir surge del dolor ajeno y propio, la lástima por la vileza del humano y el conocimiento que las personas pueden comportarse mejor. Es clave que el noir no deje de retratar la crueldad tal como es: cruel, vil, asqueroso. El afecto negativo, asociado con tales eventos, es necesario para interpretar los eventos correctamente y las acciones resultantes, es decir, las tramas noir. Si un texto noir llega a negligir el sufrimiento de las víctimas y negarles empatía, no importa cualquier empatía extendida hacia los victimarios, o sea, sería una hipocresía total. Igualmente, el noir es más rico mientras retrata fielmente la bondad en la humanidad y en la naturaleza. El afecto noir se beneficia del contraste, no solamente de la contradicción.

3. Conclusión

La reconciliación del afecto negativo y positivo dentro del afecto noir, si se puede llamar una reconciliación, es sencillamente el retrato simultáneo. La empatía solamente puede existir si ambos elementos son respetados. Si fuese de otra manera, repito la declaración: no sería un género negro, sino un género gris. La oscuridad existe, pero no se puede entender sin la luz.

Esta simultaneidad es lo que hace que el noir sea un género de tanto significado. El noir se basa en la declaración radical que toda la humanidad, hasta el bellaco, el miserable y el desamparado, debe ser respetada. Mucha literatura declara algo parecido, pero el noir es uno de aquellos lugares excepcionales donde la creencia se pone en práctica. La mayoría de la literatura no alcanza esta fidelidad positiva a la causa humana. Será porque la tarea es difícil y, como se ha propuesto, requiere una contemplación directa y más completa de lo malo, o sea, la mayoría de la literatura no acepta el costo del afecto negativo que se cobra para llegar a la empatía poderosa y positiva que posee el noir. Siempre es difícil hacer que las personas contemplen lo negativo, pero la empatía es una manera de hacerlo y salir con ventajas.

En resumen, el noir es un microcosmos donde se hace una meditación difícil y verdadera: la contemplación simultánea de la hermosura profunda, silvestre, eterna y vital del universo, con la tragedia, la destrucción, el caos, la futilidad y la muerte. Aquí, el bien no borra el mal, ni puede el mal borrar el bien. Sin poder añadir la luz y la oscuridad, el puente que queda para unirlas es la empatía.

Obras citadas

Arias Mariana y Claudia Piñeira. “Entrevista a Claudia Piñeiro – Conversaciones.” YouTube, subido por LA NACION, 7 nov 2018, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uCcw0LytZs.

Breu, Christopher y Elizabeth Hatmaker, editores. Noir Affect. Fordham UP, 2020.

Breu, Christopher y Elizabeth Hatmaker. “Introduction: Dark Passages.” Breu y Hatmaker, pp. 1-27.

Burel, Hugo. Montevideo noir. Alfaguara, 2016.

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Conard, Mark. “Nietzsche and the Meaning and Definition of Noir.” The Philosophy of Film Noir, UP of Kentucky, 2005, pp. 7-22.

Copjec, Joan. “The Phenomenal/Nonphenomenal: Private Space in Film Noir.” Shades of Noir: A Reader, Verso, 1993, pp. 167-197.

Devos Barlem, Edison y Flávia Souza Ramos. “Constructing a theoretical model of moral distress.” Nursing Ethics, vol. 22, no. 5, 2015, pp. 608-615.

Hartevelt Kobrin, Nancy. “Nobody Born a Terrorist, but Early Childhood Matters: Explaining the Jihadis’ Lack of Empathy.” Perspectives on Terrorism, vol. 10, no. 5, 2016, pp. 108-111.

Mor, Nilly y Jennifer Winquist. “Self-Focused Attention and Negative Affect: A Meta-Analysis.” Psychological Bulletin, vol. 128, no. 4, 2002, pp. 638-662.

Ornstein, Dan. “Balancing Justice and Mercy.” Cain v. Abel: A Jewish Courtroom Drama, U of Nebraska P, 2020, pp. 7-12.

Potter, Phillip, et al. “The Independence of Affects is Context-Dependent: An Integrative Model of the Relationship Between Positive and Negative Affect.” Annual Review of Gerontology & Geriatrics, vol. 17, no. 1, 1997, pp. 75-103.

Putilin, Dimitri. “Tribalism and Universalism: Reflections and Scientific Evidence.” The Oneness Hypothesis, editado por Philip Ivanhoe, et al., Colombia UP, 2018, pp. 351-370.

Rabinowitz, Paula. “Afterword: Melodrama, Noir’s Kid Sister, or Crying in Trump’s America.” Breu y Hatmaker, pp. 261-273.

La locura sana y la violencia enfermiza: Don Quijote como hombre más violento que loco

El nombre Quijote es sinónimo de la locura y lo ha sido por mucho tiempo y en varios idiomas. A pesar de esto, deseo sugerir que esta perspectiva hace hincapié en la cosa equivocada. La locura de Quijote no está en sus ideas o moralidad, sino en la violencia que mutuamente se efectúa entre él y su comunidad. En sí, la palabra locura es poco apta para lo que ocurre con él. Quijote, y los que lo rodean, no son locos, sino violentos. Quijote es la víctima de un proceso de radicalización violenta, mientras la enfermedad mental ha sido el chivo expiatorio por sus disparates. Gracias a la dominancia de la ideología en la mente moderna, combinada con el ajuste de cuentas sobre el maltrato y la falsa representación de las personas con enfermedades mentales, la reforma de la imagen del Quijote tiene un valor cultural aumentado. Para esta discusión, se estudiarán primero los problemas con la asociación entre las hazañas de Quijote y sus errores de percepción, o sea, su enfermedad mental. Este componente tiene como propósito principal desvincular el legado de Quijote con la enfermedad mental. Después, se desarrollará la tesis alternativa que asociará la identidad de Quijote con la ideología violenta, la cual es, en este caso, la misma ideología caballeresca.

1. La tesis de la insania

Para demostrar unos problemas en la alegación que Don Quijote es quién es por su locura, podemos tomar el mismísimo ejemplo de las molinas del viento. Famosamente, Quijote percibe las molinas como si fuesen un grupo de aproximadamente treinta gigantes con múltiples brazos de unos diez kilómetros. La abundancia de brazos es sugerida por el desafío levantado por el caballero: “Pues aunque mováis más brazos que los del gigante Briareo, me lo habéis de pagar” (76). Quijote, como ya se conoce, decide que tal grupo ha de ser combatido, ya que “es gran servicio de Dios quitar tan mala simiente de sobre la faz de la tierra” (75).

La interpretación típica de esta escena hace hincapié en el desacuerdo alarmante entre gigantes y molinas de viento. Aunque, por cierto, esto es un problema llamativo, hay un problema de pensamiento más sutil en este episodio. ¿Por qué merecerían la muerte los gigantes por el mero hecho de existir?

No hay nada intrínseca en la idea misma del gigante que justificaría esta reacción. La clasificación de los gigantes como mala simiente va más allá de la definición de un ser con apariencia humana y una altura desmedida. A menos que el tamaño mismo sea tomado como una señal de la virtud, tendría que haber otro indicio para justificar el ataque de Don Quijote. El relato es escaso, tal de que, si existen otras justificaciones, tendrán que ser extratextuales.

El prejuicio que Quijote expresa hacia estos gigantes se vuelve aún menos si se considera el retrato de otros gigantes dentro del texto. Malambruno, en el episodio de la condesa Trifaldi, por ejemplo, es capaz de razonar y, “aunque es encantador, es cristiano y hace sus encantamentos con mucha sagacidad y con mucho tiento, sin meterse con nadie,” además de haber servido una familia real con distinción (856). Si Malambruno, como miembro de la especia de los gigantes, es capaz de fidelidad religiosa, servicio gubernamental y la sabiduría para obrar con encantamientos y magia, la especie obviamente es capaz de una vida altamente moral y filosófica, igual que cualquier humano. Como miembros de la misma especie (a menos que exista una taxonomía desconocida de gigantes), los gigantes molina han de ser capaces de la misma nobleza e inteligencia de Malambruno y Don Quijote mismo.

Por cierto, la descripción de Malambruno viene del artificio de los duques y no de la mente de Quijote. El otro gigante principal en la historia, el que atemoriza a la princesa Micomicona y su nación, tampoco es de la invención de Quijote. Esto limita la aplicación de sus casos al caso de las molinas, aunque no deja de establecer que la idea de gigantes pacíficos, cristianos o inteligentes es compatible con el entendimiento que tiene Quijote del mundo.

Para resolver esta ambigüedad, pensemos en las diferentes maneras por las cuales una molina de viento puede volverse un gigante. Por ejemplo, quizá los gigantes tuviesen un parecer espantoso, o el grupo, el parecer de unos invasores, y, gracias a la valentía de Quijote, él poseía la capacidad de enfrentarse a ellos para defender el país. Los artistas han interpretado a los gigantes de varias maneras, generalmente con varios brazos, rostros enojados y a veces con espadas (las espadas sirven también como una transformación de las aspas de las molinas) (véase “The Giants (Don Quijote)” para varios ejemplos). La manera consistente de retratar a los gigantes con disposiciones violentas será garantizada porque Quijote mismo los describe como violentos.

La dificultad que surge en la narración de Quijote es que la percepción errónea de gigantes, en sí, no tiene mucha razón de proporcionarles un aspecto violento. Es posible que sí, Quijote los percibe de esta manera independiente de todos los demás factores como la ideología. Aunque existe esta posibilidad, no existe razón para pensar que la tergiversación de la vista sea ponderada para preferir imágenes violentas. Es decir, la tergiversación debe ser un proceso más o menos neutro y aleatorio. Entonces, si los gigantes violentos tienen un parecer violento solamente en consecuencia de la percepción y no de otra cosa, este resultado tendría que corresponder puramente al azar. Si llamamos el proceso de tergiversación T, con la entrada de la imagen original y la salida de las imágenes potenciales que podría ver Quijote, entonces T(molina de viento) = {cualquier gigante} + {otros objetos aparte de gigantes}. Tomemos por sentado que la percepción nos mostrará gigantes y no otra cosa para descartar el conjunto de objetos aparte de gigantes, como torres, castillos, montañas y espíritus. Aunque limitemos así T(molina de viento) a {cualquier gigante}, el conjunto de cualquier gigante incluye gigantes violentos, gigantes pacíficos, gigantes neutros, gigantes que le causan un dialogo para cambiar su perspectiva sobre los gigantes. La figura 1 ilustra la poca diferencia entre un gigante que agita los brazos y un gigante que labra la tierra con azadas, desde el punto de vista de T. Los estímulos visuales, como el contorno de una imagen y la relación de los componentes, permiten muchas interpretaciones tergiversadoras. En breves palabras, el resultado no es único. La apariencia violenta no deja de ser posible, pero es lejos de inevitable o garantizada.

Figura 1.

Por consiguiente, el error de percepción asociado con la enfermedad mental (bajo el nombre tradicional de locura) difícilmente justifica a solas el episodio con las molinas del viento. Además, la atribución de la violencia de Don Quijote a la enfermedad mental se basa en un prejuicio no científico que falazmente sugiere las personas que sufren la enfermedad mental son más violentas que las personas sin tales enfermedades. Hasta las enfermedades mentales más asociadas con la violencia, como la esquizofrenia y el trastorno bipolar, no producen una taza de violencia mucho más alta que la taza de violencia en la población general. Aproximadamente 4% de toda la violencia societal parece ser el resultado de la enfermedad mental (Fazel et al.; Harvard Mental Health Letter). La enfermedad mental que sí se asocia con violencia elevada es el trastorno del uso de substancias, el cual no se halla presente en ninguna manera en Don Quijote. La violencia que ocurre en las personas con enfermedad mental es parecida a la que ocurre en cualquier persona: “[it] stems from multiple overlapping factors interacting in complex ways. These include family history, personal stressors (such as divorce or bereavement), and socioeconomic factors (such as poverty and homelessness)” (Harvard Mental Health Letter).

Ya que los elementos que generalmente instan la violencia están ausentes en Don Quijote, quien lleva una vida ociosa y cómoda, la tesis de locura, o en palabras más adecuadas, la tesis de enfermedad mental, es menos confiable o estable que generalmente se considera. Por cierto, Don Quijote sufre de alguna tergiversación desconocida de su percepción, pero no son los errores de percepción lo que le inculcó un deseo de matar gigantes y salir en tres aventuras para vencer y luchar.

En la sociedad actual, la enfermedad mental ha llegado a ser un chivo expiatorio para explicar todo tipo de violencia masiva: “Media accounts of mass shootings by disturbed individuals galvanize public attention and reinforce popular belief that mental illness often results in violence. Epidemiologic studies show that the large majority of people with serious mental illnesses are never violent” (Fazel et al.). El autor de este ensayo conoce personalmente los prejuicios asociados con la violencia masiva: de joven, cada vez que hubo un tiroteo masivo, como yo era callado, los compañeros de la escuela me dirigían el cliché vil: siempre son los callados. Esta persecución de personas con enfermedad mental no es justificada, especialmente con el conocimiento de que la persona que es más amenazada por la enfermedad mental es el mismo que sufre: la enfermedad mental sí se asocia con el suicidio (Frazer et al.).

Hay una necesidad urgente para cambiar la perspectiva alrededor de la violencia societal y la enfermedad mental, tanto para apoyar y proteger a los que sufren de la enfermedad mental como para combatir la violencia societal y ayudar a que las personas no lleguen a expresar impulsos violentos. La enfermedad mental no puede seguir siendo un chivo expiatorio por la violencia.

2. La tesis ideológica

El modelo alternativo que propongo para la locura quijotesca es la de la ideología. Don Quijote es víctima de la radicalización. Igual que en los casos del terrorismo, no es culpa de la enfermedad mental, sino de la fe basada en una ideología violenta. Quijote comete violencia masiva y dirigida repetidamente a lo largo de la historia. Una brevísima selección incluye los episodios siguientes: las molinas del viento, la lucha con el vizcaíno y su caravana, el robo del barbero, la lucha con los galeotes y los leones (estos episodios son mucho más frecuentes en la primera novela, conforme al humor distinto de la segunda novela). Por suerte, la tergiversación de perspectiva y la ausencia de enemigos auténticos u oficiales (como lo fueron los moros) aseguran que, en la mayoría de los casos, los ataques de Quijote son sin víctimas, pero no cambia la naturaleza del hecho. Que él no sea homicida resulta del cuidado de los con quienes se encuentra, no por virtud de él.

La pregunta fundamental de esta sección es por qué Don Quijote está tan predispuesto a usar la violencia en sus encuentros. Tal como Cervantes podría haber señalado, es culpa de la ideología caballeresca. Esta ideología es homicida en sí. Quijote mismo dijo: “¿y dónde has visto tú o leído jamás que caballero andante haya sido puesto ante la justicia, por más homicidios que hubiese cometido?” (91). El caballero tiene muchísima confianza en la capacidad y la justicia de cometer violencia libremente. Mientras Quijote vive bajo esta ideología, busca aventuras, donde la aventura requiere violencia. Por consiguiente, Quijote eleva la probabilidad de violencia en todo encuentro en que se halla. Él busca la violencia y, por lo tanto, necesita que los extranjeros sean violentos para justificar su violencia.

La ideología caballeresca tiene por lo menos dos axiomas. Primero, el caballero ejerce su oficio a través de la violencia. Segundo, la violencia caballeresca es justificada. Las circunstancias y el carácter de los demás tienen que conformar con esta verdad. Estos dos axiomas, por ejemplo, permiten que la violencia entre dos caballeros, por tan inútil y frívolo que sea, sea normalizada.

De regreso a los gigantes de las molinas, dentro de la ideología, caben muchas justificaciones para matar a cualquier gigante. La justificación más fácil será el racismo, el cual se halla fuertemente en la filosofía medieval y en los libros de caballería (aunque el racismo de la época de Cervantes es menos sistematizado como en la actualidad, o sea, la filosofía alrededor del concepto era menos formal, relacionada, cohesiva y desarrollada. De este modo, muchos elementos de la obra de Cervantes critica instantes del racismo sin llegar a una condenación sistemática del racismo). La ideología también se vale de conexiones superficiales con la religión, por lo que, dentro de la caballería, los pecados de Goliat bastarán para la condenación de la especie. Otra posibilidad es que los gigantes presentan en sí un riesgo a la seguridad popular, debido a su capacidad intrínseca militar, pero esto no es muy distinto al caso racista. Es difícil, en fin, que la tergiversación visual justifique la violencia quijotesca, pero la ideología provee muchas maneras fáciles para hacer lo mismo. Se dijo anteriormente que la tergiversación no tiene una probabilidad muy alta de crear una imagen de gigantes violentos sin algo que añada un sesgo al proceso. La ideología es precisamente aquel sesgo.

Hay espacio para decir que existen méritos parciales de la ideología del Quijote; validez que sería mayor si no fuese por la violencia. Por ejemplo, la historia está llena de personas que, de veras, tienen necesidad de ayuda extrajudicial para ayudarles donde las estructuras oficiales les han fallado. Esto incluye a Andrés, Dorotea, Cardenio, Lucinda, Doña Rodríguez, su hija, Ricote, Ana Félix y Roque Guinart. La mayoría es ayudada por la buena suerte o la intervención divina, mientras que Roque Guinart se hace la ayuda extrajudicial que necesita. En sí, de todos los personajes, Guinart es el que quizá más vive el credo caballeresco, pero se vuelve ladrón por organizarse con otros (el modelo del caballero andante a solas es reemplazado por la sistematización formal en un grupo de rebeldes, ya que el sistema les permite combatir con enemigos organizados a pesar de los avances de tecnología que tanto amenazan al caballero anacrónico). El punto decisivo se halla precisamente en que Quijote es demasiado violento y no lo usa medidamente. Así que, por tanta necesidad que la España de Cervantes tenía para un sabio armado viajero y fuera de la ley, la violencia acaba creando tantos problemas como resuelve (con referencia a la tortura de Andrés, la libertad de los galeotes y la autoflagelación de Sancho).

Que la ideología caballeresca sea condenada por el libro de Cervantes y que sea demasiado violenta no son conclusiones tan sorprendentes en sí. Más bien, este estudio sugiere que la violencia ideológica es el problema esencial de la novela, no la locura. Debemos clasificar a Don Quijote como radicalizado, en lugar de disparatado. De hecho, un estudio de la literatura caballeresca sugiere que la radicalización violenta no es tan accidental: el género es un género de modelos, enseñanzas, hechos e ideales que imitar, tanto dentro de las crónicas como las ficciones caballerescas. Bellis y Leitch documentan este fenómeno:

Chivalric literature was practical, not just in that it instructed knights in their métier … but in that it reflected to medieval society the image of its proper order. It was both inspirational and corrective, as Hoccleve’s advice to the Lollard Sir John Oldcastle made clear: ‘Clymbe no more in holy writ so hie!’ but ‘Rede the storie of Lancelot de lake,/ Or Vegece of the aart of Chiualrie,/ The seege of Troie or Thebes’. … Chivalric literature reinforced patterns of conduct and the proper structure of society: restraint and obeisance, exercising and recognising authority, muscularity moral and literal, when to stand and when to bend. (242)

A esto, se añade la declaración del cronista medieval Froissart: “In order that the honourable enterprises, noble adventures and deeds of arms which took place during the wars waged by France and England should be fittingly related and preserved for posterity, so that brave men should be inspired thereby to follow such examples, I wish to place on record these matters of great renown” (citado en 243). Esta literatura tiene elementos de enseñanza loable—“chivalry signified knights, fighting, and the ideas that encouraged them to be more than trained thugs”—pero no podemos escapar del hecho de que la literatura caballeresca fue diseñada para un mundo violento y que aumenta la violencia en personas como Quijote (251-252).

Figura 2.

Quijote no fue el último radicalizado por la literatura caballeresca, ya que la estética de los cruzados y los caballeros ha sido adoptada por extremistas derechistas. Esta adoptación llega hasta el odio del islam, un eco nefasto y aterrador de las campañas españolas contra los moros. Koch documenta, por ejemplo, un meme de una página (ya removida) de Facebook de la Liga de Defensa Española que combina dentro de contextos modernos la imagen caballeresca con la ecuación prejuiciado entre el islam y el terrorismo (17) (véase fig. 2). Koch resume la relación entre lo caballeresco y el derecho extremo en la modernidad:

For the extreme right wing (either the CJM or neo-Nazis and fascists) circles, Christianity is under a religious and demographic threat, posed by Muslims in general and by Jihadis in particular. … Right wing individuals, groups, movements, parties and organizations in Europe and North America use the same militant-religious symbols and rhetoric, … to provide an appropriate response to what they see as a threat posed by Muslims. Furthermore, it is being used not only as a motivational source … but also for recruitment, mobilization and propaganda. (20)

Entre la apropiación de la caballerosidad, el prejuicio anti-islam y el prejuicio anti-enfermidad mental, la distinción entre un Quijote disparatado y un Quijote radicalizado llega a tener más que un significado literario y filosófico.

3. Conclusión

Ya que Quijote es radicalizado y no disparatado, su declaración “Yo sé quién soy” resulta más verídico (58). Él puede formar su propia identidad, su quién soy, independiente de los esfuerzos de su familia y sus amigos de desradicalizarlo. La identidad de un radicalizado es consciente y, aunque puede ser irracional, no es sin su lógica. Reconocer la identidad de Quijote, tal como él la construyó, nos ayudará a entender mejor su vida y el deseo de Alonso Quijano de ser llamado “El Bueno.” El pensamiento cuidadoso en cuanto a la radicalización, el esfuerzo por la desradicalización y la liberación de la enfermedad mental de las asociaciones falsas con la violencia son proyectos urgentes en la sociedad moderna.

El ejemplo de Don Quijote radicalizado (y el Alonso Quijano desradicalizado) sirve para aviso. El mundo moderno está inundado por las ideologías—quizá la razón porque muchos académicos se ven en Quijote no es la locura, sino la abundancia de ideología que Quijote comparte con la modernidad. Toda ideología con rasgos o elementos violentos, igual que la caballeresca, merece mucha desconfianza. Aunque no participemos de una ideología violenta, el aviso queda para que tengamos más cuidado al poner fe en cualquier ideología, ya que esta nos puede consumir, hasta que salgamos en tres aventuras y muramos arrepentidos. Es decir, evitemos ser un nuevo Quijote. Alonso Quijano, el Bueno, dejó un ejemplo mejor.

Obras citadas

Bellis, Joann y Megan Leitch. “Chivalric Literature.” A Companion to Chivalry, editado por Robert Jones y Peter Coss, Boydell & Brewer, 2019, pp. 241-262.

Cervantes, Miguel de. Don Quijote de la Mancha. 2ª ed. Conmemorativa del IV Centenario Cervantes, editado por RAE, Penguin, 2015.

Fazel, Seena, et al. “Mental illness and reduction of gun violence and suicide: bringing epidemiologic research to policy.” Annals of Epidemiology, vol. 25, no. 5, 2015, pp. 366-376. PubMed Central,doi: 10.1016/j.annepidem.2014.03.004. Accedido 20 abril 2021.

Harvard Mental Health Letter. “Mental illness and violence.” Harvard Health Publishing, enero 2011, https://www.health.harvard.edu/newsletter_article/mental-illness-and-violence. Accedido 20 abril 2021.

Koch, Ariel. “The New Crusaders: Contemporary Extreme Right Symbolism and Rhetoric.” Perspectives on Terrorism, vol. 11, no. 5, 2017, pp. 13-24.

“The Giants (Don Quijote).” Villains Wiki, https://villains.fandom.com/wiki/The_Giants_(Don_Quixote)#Gallery. Accedido 20 abril 2021.

Paths to Salvation

Summary:

This is a collection of 5 independent short stories focused on different aspects of healing and being healed.
1. A childhood story about Silque and her discovery of magic. Focus: healing + magic as a way to see the world.
2. Elise engages with various theoretical texts on healing magic.
3. A choka poem by Mitama. Focus: preparing for battle as a healer.
4. Flora reflecting on being forced into the healing role.
5. A story wherein Libra lives inside his trauma while working to heal others on the battlefield.

Notes:

This was written for the Live to Serve Zine.

This is my only fanfic to date (I’m more of an essayist).

Myondusk made an art piece to go with it 🙂 You can check it out in the Zine, a partially-colored version served as the cover to the bonus zine, too.


Silque

On pilgrimage from Rigel to Sofia. Still a child, she is unaware that it will be her last journey with her mother, as well as the first pilgrimage of a Saint.

In the dappled sunlight, Silque walks alongside her mother. Enjoying the forest’s shade, they walk long hours, yet the child’s short legs keep the pace dreadfully slow. Her mother has not talked much at all. That is to say, Silque is bored out of her mind. There is a great deal of trees to see, but not much else. In her boredom, she recalls an odd experience she had last time they camped.

Silque closes her eyes. At first, she notices some hidden sounds and smells. Her steps are awkward now and her mother tells her to stop dragging her feet. But she shuts her eyes ever more tightly, using all the willpower of a child to shut herself off from any sense of the world around her. After a few minutes of doing so, Silque begins to sense new things. At first, it’s large, radiant bubbles. She doesn’t see them, but she can feel their presence: their size, distance, and intensity. She allows herself a peek now and again, identifying a bubble as a deer or a bird. Her mother, walking just ahead of her, is incredibly bright, but her bubble isn’t too large. She follows her mother’s trail, allowing Silque to remain in the world of lights without the risk of getting lost or falling behind. As the process carries on, she becomes aware of large bubbles with low intensity, densely scattered around the path (trees). A foam of light runs across the ground, a tight constellation of stars of all brightnesses (herbs, mosses, insects, rodents, and the whole spectrum of miniature life). Silque is lost in love with the swirling, flowing lights all about her, a world all to herself, a world full of life. She cannot distinguish the forms, for now she sees but darkly, but in time she will learn to understand the myriad images.

As Silque is lost in contemplation, a flash of light strikes her and a bubble explodes and reds, blues, and purples fill her eyes (an eagle delivers a fatal strike to a hare). Reeling, she suddenly becomes aware of a large number of bubbles that don’t radiate the same way, not so bright, not so purely. They flicker and dim and, most importantly, they hurt to sense. A spiny clump is curling in on itself (a bleeding fox), a quicksilver ball undulates (a far-off villager vomiting from a chronic disease that will ultimately be fatal), a spicy bubble sizzles (a mouse crawling through a rosebush). Silque’s constellations spin and spin, but it does not rise to a cacophony. She cannot resolve the whole scene in her head, but she couldn’t do the same for the stars at night either. Neither was any less beautiful.

Now, it is worth remembering that walking with eyes closed is a bad idea. This fact is unchanged by the ability to magically sense life. Silque, carrying on in her magical world, trips and falls down a small embankment, bringing her sensory rapture comes to a harsh stop. The two do not pick up their journey again, on account of a child’s pain at scrapes and bruises. When they start again, Silque, the one-day healer, has bandages and salves on her arms and legs.

Elise

Xander has ordered Elise to reinforce Corrin on his solo mission to quell the Ice Tribe. Elise, urgently and happily, prepares herself to join her adoptive brother. She sorts through books from her studies for some reference materials she’ll need on the trip.

Elise thumbs through textbooks, indices, and her own notes. The first tomes on staff maintenance and repair are quick reviews (she had made thorough notes on the subject at the beginning of her studies). A few sheets of paper were enough to refresh her memory should she need to fashion some staves in the wild. Her hands move to the legal texts. Codices of Healing Malpractice details the diverse manners in which the healer could negligently harm their subjects. Legal Principles of Nosferatu covers a history of the legal treatment of the nosferatu spell, which had been banned in Hoshido and was taught only to warmages in Nohr, a development resulting from the ease with which healers could carry out assassinations in the guise of healing via the fell spell. Nosferatu had a number of theoretical uses which Elise had studied, she recalled, as she skimmed her old notes. Disease and the Healing Arts made the controversial argument that nosferatu could perhaps serve a healing function in the treatment of disease. Disease had long been one of the great challenges for healers. Injury and short-term mental trauma were the traditional domain of healing, while medicine was the only known tool against most diseases and poisons. The same author argued that diseases were, in fact, living; healing could not treat the disease because it could not kill or erase, only repair. Indeed, healing a sick person would aggravate many diseases, while delaying death in others (predicated on whether the healing affects the disease or the human body more). Thus, the application of nosferatu to the problem to destroy malignant factors within the body. As of yet, the healing community believed such a line of thinking and experimentation to be unethical.

Finally, Elise finds her encyclopedias of herbal remedies, disease identification, and diagnostic methods (including distinguishing between healing, medicinal, psychological, and mixed cases). These enter her satchel in full. With that, Elise judges her literature sufficient for the mission.

She calls Cassita to send some last flowers down to the undercity. The snowfall outside Castle Krakenburg is heavy and will slow the journey. Elise sees Effie and Arthur waiting below in the courtyard with horses and supplies. Based on road and weather conditions, they had calculated that the swamps are be the best place to rendezvous with Corrin. And so, Elise sets out with a bundle of books and joyous heart, ready to do what she loved most: supporting those she loved.

Mitama

Another battle is on the horizon. As is her custom, Mitama calligraphs new and old poems on shide to hang from her festal rods, a part of her pre-battle ritual. The poetry protects and preserves her soul amidst the horrors of war.

Underneath mother’s sky /

Sleep, dream, child of war, of her /

Spring brings scarlet buds.

The clamor of swords /

Crying out for attention /

Angry at silence. /

I rest my pen remorseful /

For sleep will not come /

Til we or they are smitten. /

Entering repose /

Resting one way, another /

I go out sleepy /

With the words of life and death /

Catching in my breast, /

Carrying in hand a rod /

Beautif’ly arrayed /

To bestow heaven’s blessing /

On those who fight, those who die.

Flora

It is Flora’s turn to prepare Corrin for the day, another day in a dread castle. The captive songbird longs for home and refuses its master a song.

Flora’s freezing hands glide around Corrin’s body, securing clasps, trimming armor, checking for wounds. Every time her fingers brush his skin, he is jolted awake, breaking his morning stupor. Flora knows Corrin feels uncomfortable whenever she conducts morning preparations. He often tries to force a conversation. She answers as little as possible and, when the questions become particularly unpleasant, she silences the boy with a sharp touch on his nape.

Flora’s icy hands sting Corrin, but on such days, it is Flora who cannot endure it. The greys of a forsaken castle, iced-over snow, and a pestering noble-child mock her. They are shadows of the pure whites and blues of the soft snow of her people. They lack everything that a home should proffer: a family for her to care for, a family to care for her.  This long into her captivity, Flora can no longer remember the face of her father. This, as she grows more familiar with Corrin’s physique: grooming his hair to taste, ensuring the fit of his dress, soothing wounds and aches.

Looking past her silence, Flora had become the perfect maid. She knows her master’s needs. She has learned every manner of healing, for body and soul. She wields an artisanal touch for cooking and cleaning, crafting a soothing, satisfying experience for her master. Felicia has a slight advantage as a combat healer, but in all else, Flora is superlative.

Indeed, Corrin could want nothing from Flora, save the one thing she does not have herself. Flora knows only to heal others, to bless others, to serve others. When she dares think of her own heart, she detects nothing. When she prepares herself early each day, she dresses herself as she would a doll. Felicia did not know her, still innocent and unaware of their captivity. It is impossible that her father knows her now. And every time it was Flora’s turn to prepare Corrin for the day, she cannot help but think of another Flora, a Flora of the Ice Tribe, a Flora who would know nothing of soothing the fears of a nobleman, what food he would need when he was hurt this way or that. A Flora who loves her sister, who loves her father, who loves her people, not as a stranger, but as a friend. Perhaps, this is a Flora who loved Flora enough to heal her soul. She cannot bear it alone, but Flora has no one else. So today, and every day, she longs for this other Flora, dreaming of meeting her, understanding her, loving her.

Libra

A harsh sun burns a Plegian battleground, where Ylisseans and Plegians bleed out. Healers move quickly to save those they can, before the march is forced to continue. Libra heals a now legless man, Plegian by his armor. He may never walk again, but there is hope that survivors such as him can receive further treatment from pursuing armies or nearby villages.

As Libra attempts to move to a new patient, a hand catches his arm. Libra spins, panicked. He breaks the grip and stumbles backward. The man he had just healed looks at him blankly, raising himself on one arm. The man drops his hand with a weary look. He had wanted to thank the man who saved him, an Ylissean stranger in religious garb. But he perceives his thanks are unwelcome; so he relaxes his arm and lapses into unconsciousness.

Libra looks at the defeated man and the rush of fear subsides. His arcana tells him that people are bleeding out and dying all around him. He had just come from a typically brutal battle on the Plegian plains. And yet, what terrified him most that day was a cripple’s touch. He closes his eyes and detects a pair of lights, lying close to each other, blink out together. Libra recognizes the dead lights as one of those constellations that could not live without the other. Their lifeforces had bled into each other in reflection of a profound bond, the strength of which only close friends and healers experienced in sensing life could perceive. Every moment he tarries, another star will burn out under the Sun’s harsh gaze.

Libra curses himself for being such a poor war monk. With a duty to fight for truth and heal all he encounters, his intolerance of human touch is a grave obstacle. Unlike so many soldiers and medics, he can handle blood, he can handle battle. But what they could handle, mere human contact, he cannot. His fear of human touch does not subside. He often wonders if he is too warlike, too antisocial. Above all, he asks himself what he is doing wrong, why he is like this.

Libra will bear this guilt for years more; a war is full of trauma and pain and confusion, that is, it is a time when everyone can feel their souls and minds fleeing under pressure. That is, war is not a time where many people are going about healing the mind, when the body requires so much attention. Libra is one of those healers of the soul, too, through his monastic service and devotion, his attendance to religious rites, confessions, preachings, and counseling. But there are not enough people like him to go around. His first love and future wife will be one of the first to help him understand what was happening to him, among other friends in war and faith. The time will come, not too far distant, when Libra will not bear this burden alone. He will even come to understand it, manage it, understand how it all came about. Yet the time has not yet come, and it is his burden to live with his phobia, inflicted on him during his cruel youth by souls grimmer than his. And so, Libra bears the burden of fearing human touch, a burden atop the burden he chose for himself: healing.

Moral Distress: A Systemic Issue in L2 Teaching

Introduction

Moral distress exists at epidemic levels, but most of its sufferers and potential doctors do not have the vocabulary to describe it. As long as moral distress remains unchecked, it self-perpetuates and spreads throughout schools and societies. This essay seeks to follow a handful of earlier researchers in introducing the teaching world to moral distress. Developing a thorough awareness of moral distress is urgent: “The adoption of a theoretical model of moral distress allows the visualisation of everyday situations, often perceived as ordinary, but frequently hiding traps, devices and strategies of subjectivation” (Devos Barlem & Souza Ramos, 2014, p. 6). After defining terms, this essay details moral distress’ parasitic relationship with the L2 classroom. That will be followed by an examination of its causes, methods of propagation, and finally a review of strengths and weaknesses in moral distress research within pedagogy.

Definitions

Three definitions are central to this discussion: that of moral distress itself, its causational partner, morally injurious experiences (MIEs), and networks (particularly, social networks).

Moral distress is a form of distress that corresponds to damage to one’s sense of what is right. Persons suffering moral distress typically feel decreased ability to trust, to advocate or self-advocate, and, naturally, intense stress. Severe cases can cause a breakdown of a person’s moral framework. Moral distress damages the affective state itself. Moral distress has also been found to potentially produce other severe mental ills such as PTSD and burnout (Currier et al., 2015).

MIEs can intuitively be defined as any event that produces moral distress. The term itself suggests how moral distress arises; a person experiences something that injures their sense of morality. These experiences are qualitatively diverse. The injury can come from failing to live up to one’s own expectations, that is, underperforming morally. The injury can also come from viewing others underperform, or cause harm. In short, MIEs are any sort of event that “challenge[s] one’s deeply held moral beliefs and values as well as possibly threatening death or injury” or otherwise “violate[s] deeply held moral values/beliefs” (Currier et al., 2015). Another scenario is a clash of moral systems, where a person may feel their own sense of right threatened or their commitment to doing good weakened. Most literature refers to moral distress rather than MIEs, however, the concepts are intimately related. In particular, distinguishing MIEs as the causational component and moral distress as the resultant component makes for clearer discussion.

Vachová (2019) alone identifies over 65 types of MIE typically encountered by teachers. A familiar handful of these teacher-specific MIEs include: “Required participation in school events cut down the time available for preparation for my teaching” (509). “I know that some colleagues set a bad example by their behaviour towards their pupils” (510). “I have to work with pupils with special educational needs even though it is not within my professional competencies” or “I do not have enough information for the elaboration of an individual educational plan” (511). “When I inform OSPOD (the [Czech] agency for the social-legal protection of children), I have concerns as to whether I will not cause more harm to the pupil” (511).

Beyond commonly recognizable MIEs where the typical person’s sense of morality is threatened, it is important to understand that some MIEs will be more intimate in definition and character. The fact that most people would not be affected by a given event does not mean an MIE and the moral distress resultant will not be any less real for the victim. What constitutes an MIE will vary from one person to the next.

The term network, as it is used here, is an abstract structure composed of connected objects. The connections may represent any manner of real or abstract connections and the objects may be any sort of real or abstract object. When studying social networks within schools, typical objects are students, teachers, administrators, and even entire schools. Connections may be teacher-student interaction, friendships, bonds of trust, mentorships, supervisor-supervisee relationships, and so on.

Social networks are a class of networks whose connections are social in nature. This type of network is valuable for studying moral distress because MIEs typically happen within preexisting social networks and affect the network structure itself. It is noted here that the common usage of the term social network to refer to sites like Facebook and Twitter is correct, but overly narrow, as many social networks exist outside the Internet. Many social networks exist simultaneously within schools. For instance, Cole and Weinbaum (2010) worked with networks built of connections between staff who went to each other for help; networks made of connections between staff formed by nonprofessional discussions, like relaxation or discussion of personal issues; and networks based on connections formed when a staff member recurred to another for help in implementing a given school reform program.

The L2 Context

Moral difficulty is found in many fields and, while it is pertinent to all branches of teaching, it is especially proximate to L2 classrooms. It must be emphasized that L2 teachers face not only all the typical MIEs encountered by all teachers, but their own MIEs particular to L2 teaching. Some MIEs are dramatically more common in L2 classrooms, as will be discussed in continuation. As if these were not enough, L2 teachers are still at-risk for all the MIEs that arise outside schools: the racism, discrimination, violence, and the like that exist within all societies. Moral distress, as it causes a breakdown of trust and confidence, will raise the affective filter between teacher and student. A student suffering moral distress tied to L2 culture cannot be expected to want to continue in language learning, just as a teacher under moral distress is far less able to meet their student’s needs.

Culture can be a flashpoint for MIEs. L2 classrooms are cultural contact points for both their teachers and students. Many L2 programs bridge majority-minority communities and involve all the moral challenges involved in bringing disparate (and sometimes hostile) communities together. Students, teachers, administrators, and parents may view the L2 or L2 culture as inferior, undesirable, or problematic. MIEs tied to cultural contact include bullying, classism, racism, and religious discrimination. This bridging runs both directions, as language majority students learn minority languages and language minority students learn majority languages. Substantive cultural exploration necessarily exposes moral differences between students, teachers, and the target culture. Teachers and students alike may be unprepared to handle those differences responsibly.

Consider the contextual variety of a concept like target culture. When a target culture is ostensibly faraway, learning its language becomes a problem of empathy, globalism, and international involvement. Closer to home, it is often the case that the target culture is the host culture, which implies a dangerous power dynamic that students and teachers must navigate. For instance, members of host cultures do not need to choose between their family’s cultural identity and an identity based on the host culture; for them, those cultures are the same. On the other hand, language and cultural minority students may be punished by their families for assimilating, while they may also be punished by peers for not assimilating. Those dueling pressures could well manifest as the student attempts to learn the L2.

Because so many L2 classrooms include individuals with immigrant, refugee, or other minority backgrounds, these individuals are more likely to suffer MIEs outside the classroom. Many refugees with profound, unresolved trauma. Students and teachers may have friends or family deported. They may be in danger of deportation themselves. Beyond deportation, there is a myriad of dangers and distractions found in navigating immigration law: document issues, court hearings, interviews. Even when a student belongs to a majority at home, they may discover that, in the target culture, they would belong to a minority suffering discrimination.

This contextual complexity creates moral complexity, increasing the risk of MIEs. MIEs suffered by teachers can affect students and vice versa. The fact that L2 students and teachers are at heightened risk for MIEs increases the risk their peers face, too. Thus, while all teachers are at risk for moral distress, moral distress is a particularly urgent issue in L2 teaching. Many of the same things that make L2 learning and teaching so valuable are the same things that create MIE risk. MIEs must be managed without sacrificing the cultural integrity of L2 classrooms.

A Model of Moral Distress

Current and previous conceptions of moral distress have repeatedly proven inadequate. (Devos Barlem & Souza Ramos, 2014; Bradbury-Jones et al., 2020). This inadequacy stems from several sources. One source is the variety of MIEs; as more MIEs are considered, the concept of moral distress is complicated and vice versa. Another is that moral distress is a young concept; it was first developed by the nursing field in the 1980s. Moral distress has been considered within pedagogy for only about a decade. In general, the movement has been towards a broader concept.

The concept began with this definition of an MIE: “one knows the right thing to do, but institutional constraints make it nearly impossible to pursue the right course of action” (Jameton, 1984, as cited in Bradbury-Jones et al., 2020). Constraints, institutional or otherwise, are what allows an MIE to produce moral distress.

Moral distress exhibits a cyclical, self-perpetuating structure in the individual, as described by Devos Barlem and Souza Ramos (2014). See Figure I on the next page. An individual experiences something that causes them moral sensitivity, uncertainty, or discomfort. The subject typically will attempt to resolve the source of their moral issue, through processes like deliberation and advocacy (possibly self-advocacy, possibly advocacy on another’s behalf). Devos Barlem and Souza Ramos suggest that moral distress begins when these resolving processes are obstructed.

The concept of obstruction should be interpreted broadly. Some subjects may take no action to resolve their initial feelings of moral distress, especially if it is their own actions that are morally troubling. A person may simply violate their own conscience and make a habit of doing so. The obstruction here, is the self. A similar case is when the moral distress is attached to a past, irreversible action, in which case it is time itself that causes the obstruction. Shapira-Lishchinsky (2011) found several teachers whose moral distress stemmed from their own past misbehavior (in this case, moral distress begins to overlap with concepts like guilt and shame). Furthermore, the initial conditions—moral sensitivity, uncertainty, and discomfort—can constitute obstruction in themselves. If they manifest severely enough, they may produce decision paralysis. Abstractions, like ignorance, uncertainty, or self-doubt can also provide obstructions, preventing the subject from even attempting action. It should also not be assumed that the initial MIE is composed of a single problem—the obstruction may be that too many morally distressing events are happening at once to handle.

The obstruction tends to compound the initial feelings of moral distress. The experience of having someone or something prevent the subject from doing what they feel is right tends to be morally injurious itself. Thus, what may have been thought to be a simple, single MIE may in fact be a multi-faceted process of morally injurious experience.

Figure 1. Conceptual model of moral distress (Devos Barlem & Souza Ramos, 2014, p. 5)

After nonresolution occurs, the subject begins to suffer feelings of powerlessness. Feelings of powerlessness reduce the subject’s resistance and mortify their interest. All three of these factors mutually reinforce each other, forming what Devos Barlem and Souza Ramos refer to as the “Chain of Moral Distress” (2014, p. 5). The reduced resistance to MIE increases moral sensitivity, uncertainty, and discomfort (that is, it aggravates the original condition of moral distress). Reduced resistance also may cause the subject to fail in preventing additional MIEs. The mortification of personal interests produces ethical, political, and advocational inexpressivity. Ethical, political, and advocational expressivity are all tools for preventing and correcting MIEs, heightening the risk of new MIEs again. The chain collectively produces moral distress, with distinct physical, psychical, and behavioral symptoms.

By way of note, there is a strong tendency to associate moral distress with institutional obstruction. Devos Barlem and Souza Ramos frame moral distress as occurring because of institutional power games. This certainly captures many moral distress situations. Institutions are effective at suppressing moral expression. Employees, dependents, and the like are unlikely to raise moral objections to people who control their pay, employment, or other necessities. The subordinate status of the nurse in the nurse-doctor and nurse-hospital relationship likely explains why moral distress was first identified within the nursing field. Teachers and students often find themselves in potentially subordinate positions: adjunct-tenure professor, teacher-administrator, teacher-school, student-teacher, student-parent, student-student, student-school, and sometimes teacher-parent. Additionally, social norms often demand moral suppression. A moral critique directed at a coworker may be viewed as poisoning the workplace environment by introducing conflict. It may damage all of a person’s workplace relationships, not just the relationship with the person creating the MIE. It is hard to question someone’s moral activity, even in an agreeable fashion, if that person is unlikely to be receptive. The source of the MIE may be a bully who already punishes the victim arbitrarily and without consequence. These social issues are worse in workplaces with low turnover, like schools, where the social repercussions of speaking up can last years. It is often the case that institutions punish people for doing the right thing.

The institutional view does not, however, address moral distress that stems from events like when genuinely incompatible interests need to be accommodated or when it’s not a game of power but there is simply insufficient power available to all involved actors to achieve an unambiguously good moral result. Moral distress from failing to prevent violence or death, for instance, cannot be resolved in the sense that violence and death cannot be undone.

Moral distress, as described in the prior model, reinforces itself at several levels. It occurs within the process itself, as obstruction becomes an MIE itself and the Chain of Moral Distress makes the subject more vulnerable to new MIEs. However, one of moral distress’ most effective methods of self-preservation is on the level of the social network. Three phenomena cause moral distress to spread across a network: the cascading effects of the original MIE on the social network, the implicit reach of an MIE, and the damage moral distress causes to the connections that compose social networks.

Typically, MIEs have victims. Moral distress is a distinct phenomenon from victimhood, but often forms part of the experience of victimhood (Currier et al., 2015). Moral distress can affect everyone from the victim themself to remote witnesses, people who only hear of the morally problematic event. Moral distress starts with being troubled about a moral issue. The subject need not be directly affected by it in any way. This makes managing MIEs difficult, as the waves of harm tend to be diverse and possibly far-reaching. Moral distress causes harm even beyond what victimhood predicts (Currier et al., 2015).

The second effect is how MIEs can spread across healthy connections. Many important connections are implicit: if person A is connected to person B and person B is connected to person C, even though person A is not connected to person C, their shared bonds with person B can allow them to influence each other. Classic examples of these implicit connections are love triangles or the person in a trio who is stuck between two friends-turned-enemies. Implicit connections can be especially potent because they can force connections between people who do not want to be connected. If person A is victimized, person B is likely to be distressed. Assuming the victimization goes unresolved, persons A and B will likely develop moral distress. Even though person C is not connected to person A, they are likely to share person B’s distress. If the MIE is foul enough, merely learning about it may cause person C, and anyone else who hears it, to become morally distressed. Moral distress does not need a positive, trust-filled, or friendly connection to spread. A nasty enough idea hurts anyone who hears it, even if they are not connected to the actual sufferer.

The third social effect is that those suffering moral distress will have their social relationships decay. Mortification of interests cuts the subject off from healing hobbies and interest-based relationships. Many MIEs involve betrayal, on the individual or institutional level. People suffering moral distress will often lose faith in those who caused the MIE and those who failed to resolve it. Loss of trust destroys social connections. Loss of connections isolates the individual, increasing stress and cutting them off from any support systems that may still be operational. The more a person sought help and failed to receive it, the more pronounced this effect will be.

When individuals reach this point, this makes it incredibly difficult for the institution to correct its own problems. This is especially true if the institution is at fault. The success of school reforms depends massively on connections of trust (Moolenaar & Sleegers, 2010). Furthermore, schools where the average connections per individual was lower (referred to as low density) were less successful at implementing reform. Moral distress damages and deletes connections. Trust tends to be lower in surviving social connections and connection loss, besides isolating the individual, lowers network density. In other words, not only are they cut off from everyone else, everyone else is cut off from them. The isolated teacher will not be an effective advocate for reform, even if they are receptive to the reform, because they cannot transfer their positive feelings towards reform to others. There may be a temptation to artificially bring schools together in such circumstances by forcing staff to interact. This is unlikely to be successful. These networks need to be natural; artificial social connections established to encourage reform were ineffective at propagating change (Cole & Weinbaum, 2010). Whatever attitudes spread over natural social networks, pro-reform or anti-reform, would prevail over attitude spread across artificial social networks. Trust, friendship, and mutual support are essential for helping those facing MIEs. A school with a weak social network, whatever the cause, suffers a heightened risk of moral distress because it cannot provide that support. Once that moral distress takes root, it will self-perpetuate unless serious action is taken.

Discussion

A great deal of research on moral distress remains to be done. The field is young. However, some strong conclusions exist. First, preventing is better than curing. Due to the self-perpetuating nature of MIEs and moral distress, it is harder to cure than prevent. The unfortunate companion to this observation is that, on some level, moral distress is inevitable. If there were a school that managed to perfect its internal moral systems, it would exist within broader social institutions that would continue to produce moral distress. Teachers and students cannot always rely on police, child-protection agencies, parents, and governments to do the right thing. As teachers are increasingly placed on the frontline of childcare and as school resources remain critically insufficient, moral distress among teachers will rise. It is good for teachers to do good and to do the best they can, but these social changes are exposing more and more teachers to profoundly troubling MIEs. The situation is only worse in third-world countries; Currier et al., in both the 2014 and 2015 studies, examined El Salvador, where teachers’ students were being murdered and kidnapped by gangs at global-record heights.

Both prevention and curation are more effective at the institutional level. As institutional mismanagement produces moral distress, the absence of moral distress implies proper institutional management. Institutions designed with robust and supportive moral systems are powerful tools against moral distress, both in terms of prevention and treatment. Some such structures already exist. For instance, Löfstrom et al. (2018) found that the strong antiplagiarism institutions in universities shielded professors from moral distress caused by their students’ plagiarism. Of special mention is how, in effective programs, professors were given the option to take on as much of the issue as they felt comfortable with and offload the rest to another professor. The freedom to handle the situation on one’s own combined with the assurance that they do not have to do any more than they are comfortable handling (even if that amount is zero) is an effective balance between individual agency and mutual support. Institutional solutions should avoid dictating precise solutions or stripping individuals of their ability to choose what to do, because that is precisely how institutions cause MIEs. Guidelines, default recommendations, and the like allow the institution to set standards while preserving the balance so long as they do not become tyrannical. The balance is delicate; if individuals are too independent, they will cause their peers moral distress, but if they are too limited, they will be unable to do what is right themselves. Many institutions have programs like this for specific MIEs. In light of rapidly changing social and educational contexts, it remains to implement similar systems, when appropriate, for other MIEs.

The development of such programs remains an open question and will likely come with great contextual variety. A systematic approach to solution development could begin by studying known examples of MIEs, such as in Váchova (2019), Thornberg (2010), and Shapira-Lishchinsky (2011). Identifying the original sources of moral distress and obstructions can guide solutions. Which MIEs are better handled at the systemic level and which at the individual level is a question as well. Developing robust curative systems, like better moral distress diagnostic tools, as Váchova’s work attempts, and is another necessary element.

Prior research on combating moral distress has naturally emphasized the role of the sufferer within moral distress (see Currier et al., 2014; Devos Barlem & Souza Ramos, 2014). Once moral distress arises, the sufferer needs attention and should be treated. Possibly on account of its origins in the medical industry, moral distress is often framed as a condition to be treated, with the problem ending once the condition passes. Some remaining problems on this front include effective treatment, but especially diagnosis. Underdiagnosis is likely both because awareness of moral distress is low and because it is associated with better known conditions, like PTSD, burnout, and direct victimization. This research is essential for the curative function. However, this orientation towards the morally distressed is incomplete.

As discussed, institutions are often at the core of MIEs, whether as the obstruction or the source. Within the teaching profession, there are an abundance of power structures in which teachers are not able to morally advocate. The problems that existed guaranteeing MIEs inside and outside schools are also preventing teachers from fixing them. Teachers often lack negotiation power vis-à-vis administration, parents, peers, and even students, with little resources to address the broad swathe of social issues that appear within the schooling context. In the face of poverty, crime, discrimination, and the whole spectrum of childhood and teenage suffering, teachers are often powerless to address the actual problems they and their students face. This fact must be repeated. The issue will remain urgent without serious commitment to resourcing schools and other social institutions.

Hand-in-hand, moral distress among students must be studied further. The current research almost exclusively focuses on teachers. Nonetheless, Thornberg (2010), without using the vocabulary of moral distress, found an incredible rate of MIEs among students, all the way down to preschoolers. Significant institutional and social norms were already producing significant obstacles to students attempting to act according to their conscience.

Finally, moral distress within the L2 context is little understood. It is, so to speak, an elephant in the room. It goes without saying that classes centered around minority language speakers, cultural integration, globalized populations and the like are going to encounter MIEs. The moral component of culture shock, even if it disappears from students over time, is experienced by every new cohort. Cultural exploration is almost guaranteed inefficacy if it cannot address moral distress in its students, just as its efficacy will be greatly enhanced if moral distress is anticipated and addressed. It is worth asking whether prior MIEs are a significant reason why so much cultural activity in the L2 classroom is insubstantial. L2 classrooms can help immigrants and refugees find their place in new societies, just as they can help natives find their place in the global community. The chief obstruction here is, perhaps, the absence of moral thinking. Discussing foods, dances, and dresses is all well and good, but they are but a skeleton without the moral lifeblood of culture.

Conclusion

Moral thinking has the power to transform schools and society. As Thornberg (2010) concludes:

Moral development and education in … schools have to be far more proactive than merely making advances in moral reasoning and talking about hypothetical dilemmas indecontextualized classroom settings. Prosocial morality has to be practiced so that it can thereby become a significant part of students’ sense-making and actions in everyday real life. (p. 605)

L2 classrooms must be capable of meeting the moral challenges it invokes: those found by the host culture, those faced by the target culture, and those of the students themselves.

A world without moral distress is not a reasonable objective. It is fine for students to have morally difficult experiences. That is a part of moral growth and cultural discovery. The problem is that moral difficulty becomes moral injury. They find themselves alone, unsupported. What should have been one of a million moments in the slow growth of the human soul, a wound opens and is left to fester. The healing process, on the contrary, is the act of teaching itself: supporting a confused soul with the knowledge and resources they need to solve the problem themselves.

References

Bradbury-Jones, C., Ives, J., & Morley G. (2020). What is ‘moral distress’ in nursing? A feminist empirical bioethics study. Nursing Ethics, 27(5), 1297-1314. https://doi.org/10.1177/0969733019874492.

Cole, R. P., & Weinbaum, E. H. (2010). Changes in attitude: peer influence in high school reform. In Daly, A. J. (Ed.), Social network theory and educational change (pp. 77-95). Harvard Education Press.

Currier, J., Foy D., Herrera, S., Holland, J., & Rojas-Floras, L. (2015). Morally injurious experiences and meaning in Salvadorian teachers exposed to violence. Psychological Trauma: Theory, Research, Practice, and Policy, 7(1), 24-33. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0034092.

Currier, J., Herrera, S., Rojas-Flores, L., & Roland, A. (2014). Event centrality and posttraumatic outcomes in the context of pervasive violence: a study of teachers in El Salvador. Anxiety, Stress, & Coping, 27(3), 335-346. https://doi.org/10.1080/10615806.2013.835402.

Devos Barlem, E. L., & Souza Ramos, F. R. (2014). Constructing a theoretical model of moral distress. Nursing Ethics, 22(5), 608-615. https://doi.org/10.1177/0969733014551595.

Löfstrom, E., Nevgi, A., & Vehvilaäinen, S. (2018).  Dealing with plagiarism in the academic community: emotional engagement and moral distress. Higher Education, 75(1), 1-18. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10734-017-0112-6.

Moolenaar, N. M., & Sleegers, P. J. (2010). Social networks, trust, and innovation: The role of relationships in supporting an innovative climate in Dutch schools. In Daly, A. J. (Ed.), Social network theory and educational change (pp. 97-114). Harvard Education Press.

Shapira-Lishchinsky, O.  (2010).  Teachers’ critical incidents: Ethical dilemmas in teaching practice.  Teaching and Teacher Education, 27(3), 648-656. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tate.2010.11.003.

Thornberg, R. (2010).  A student in distress: Moral frames and bystander behavior in school.  The Elementary School Journal, 110(4), 585-608. https://doi.org/10.1086/651197.

Váchová, M. (2019).  Development of a tool for determining moral distress among teachers in basic schools.  Pedagogika, 69(4), 503-515. https://doi.org/10.14712/23362189.2019.1524.

A Description of La Vida total

This essay is an attempt to describe a certain framework of empathy and intellectual controversy. At the center of this attempt is a short piece of prose by Gabriela Mistral: “Poemas de la madre más triste.” La Vida total, the name for this proposed framework, is a story of grief, of infinity, of joy, sight and blindness. After covering the theoretical groundwork for la Vida total, we will move to Mistral’s work and how it generates a beautiful vision for literature, in terms of praxis and implications.

1. COMPONENTS

The concept of la Vida total is not so much a novel concept as it is an extension of previous theories. Two concepts must be defined before la Vida total can be properly described: umwelt and polyphony. The first is understood according to the theory of umwelt by Jakob von Uexküll and the second by the theories of Bakhtin. We begin by discussing these terms and the relevant parts of their respective theories.

An umwelt (plural: umwelten) is “an organism’s unique sensory world” (Britannica). More complexly, Herman Weber defined it as “the totality of conditions contained in an entire complex of surroundings which permit a certain organism, by virtue of its specific organization, to survive” (qtd. in Winthrop-Young 238). Uexküll principally contrasted umwelten on the level of species: how the perceived world of a jellyfish is distinct from a human’s, a worm’s, a moss’, or a salamander’s. Many species lack sensory tools humans possess, like eyes, ears, and noses, but certain species possess senses humans do not, like some aquatic species ability to sense electric charge. The umwelt can only be constructed from sensory information; what exists outside of the senses cannot exist within the umwelt.

Species is only the first of many ways by which umwelten become differentiated. In the human case, all sorts of subjective experience alter a person’s umwelt: nation, culture, family, religion, profession, education, class, illness, genetics. As a person with PTSD perceives the world differently on account of prior sensations of trauma, their entire world, their umwelt, is changed according to the changes in perception. However, umwelten are not a deterministic model: “Nobody is the product of their milieu—each is the master of his Umwelt” (Uexküll qtd. in Winthrop-Young 216). An umwelt does not determine the choices of its singular inhabitant; an umwelt changes the choices its inhabitant can make. Not the least of these are the decisions a person makes in integrating subjective information into a coherent worldview, the decisions that go into the creation of umwelten.

We now turn to polyphony: the manyness of voices. The concept is first relevant in its typical literary sense: the authorial inclusion of many voices within a novel, including voices conflicting with the author’s, on a more or less equal footing. Polyphony, in terms of umwelten, is allowing multiple umwelten to become visible to the reader.

For the purposes of this essay, the concept of polyphony will be stretched a bit far (that polyphony, as used here, does not conform to its usual meaning is acknowledged). La Vida total is not only concerned with the confluence of voices within a novel (intratextual), but across works (intertextual). On reading an author’s oeuvre, there is polyphony. The many moods, selves, and beliefs the author inhabited across their working period produce different voices, voices which typically will not sum to a complete concept of the author. Borges reflected later in life: “I suppose my best work is over. … And yet I do not feel I have written myself out. … I no longer regard happiness as unattainable; once, long ago, I did” (“Autobiographical Essay” 260). Borges’ most studied stories often seem to communicate that belief in an unattainable happiness, yet, that belief represented a Borges that existed for a certain period of time and later ceased to be. A polyphonic perspective listens to both Borges.

One more process of polyphonizing is required. La Vida total requires polyphony to act across every text and every authorship. Everything that any human ever has, could, or will write is here viewed as a single, infinite text: The Human Text. The Human Text contains endless, unknown and unknowable voices. Each voice inhabits a unique umwelt, an umwelt which it will never share with anyone else. Nonetheless, this multitude of voices can form a single text. La Vida total is concerned with reading that text. Umwelten is la vida, polyphony is the total, which combined produce la Vida total.

2. LA VIDA TOTAL

What then, is la Vida total? La Vida total is to expand one’s umwelt to include as many umwelten as possible and live accordingly. It is an attempt to live and understand as many lives as possible within the constraints of a single life.

La Vida total is in large part a literary task; it is obsessed with the Human Text. It goes without saying that reading the full Human Text is impossible, unless the reader possesses at minimum an infinite amount of time. Many of its parts are irreversibly lost, just as many of its parts will never be written. Many authors’ texts exist in pure potentiality, prevented from ever exiting the mind: how many texts are unwritten solely because the author was illiterate and impoverished, without the resources of text creation! Although those texts cannot be read, they exist and, therefore, enter the Human Text. It is written by everyone, constantly. It contains everyone’s stories, every dead man’s untold tales. Olmec farmers, Sumerian accountants, Jainist mathematicians, Norte Chico architects, Kentucky gas station clerks, Taiwanese schoolchildren—all their contributions are coequal components.

La Vida total is, instead, the incomplete reading of the Human Text. It is a finite contemplation of an infinite literary object. Many things are hidden in the infinities of the Human Text. The Human Text is a timeless, spaceless, unchanging text composed of the deeply spatial and temporal umwelten. It encompasses humanity’s past and future, but also alternative histories that exist purely as potentials. The worlds of fiction, too, figure in the Human Text. Fiction’s polyphonic characters may correspond to real human attributes combined in an entirely possible fashion within a fictional body, unreal only in the sense that no human has yet been born with that specific expression or combination of attributes. If not, they correspond to flaws in the author’s beliefs about humanity (flaws which must be accounted for in the total concept of humanity). It seems reasonable to call whatever worldview or beliefs that result from comprehending the Human Text capital-t Truth, so la Vida total is also a search for Truth.

La Vida total is a constant accumulation of incoherent, apparently contradictory data and narratives, filtered eternally through the reader’s own sensory devices. So, this is the final key aspect: harmony. Just as the reading of the Human Text will always be incomplete, so will the interpretation and reconciliation of all that has been read. On some level, every umwelt belongs to the same world, produced by the same laws dictated by the character of this universe and its human subjects. This common genesis guarantees all these disparate umwelten, subjectivities, and expressions can be reconciled in polyphony.

Impossibility and paradox are recurring themes in la Vida total. After all, the very definition of an umwelt precludes understanding even one umwelt outside of one’s own. With respect to reading, interpretation, harmonization, and, finally, application of all that has been learned, each is an infinite task alone and an infinite task combined. There should be no pretense that living la Vida total is terminable. Instead, it is the belief that it is better to go as far as one can down this path of reading, learning, and growing, despite the fact that the end will never come.

3. AN URTEXT FOR LA VIDA TOTAL: “POEMAS DE LA MADRE MÁS TRISTE”

“Poemas de la madre más triste,” by Gabriela Mistral, is an essential expression of this framework. It is a pair of prose poems followed by a brief explanatory note. The phrase itself, “la Vida total,” is taken from the explanatory note: “tales prosas humanas tal vez sean lo único en que se canta la Vida total” (528). Gabriela Mistral “[escribió] los poemas … con intención casi religiosa” after witnessing a pregnant woman be brutally insulted by a man passing by the woman’s ranch. The first poem, “Arrojada,” deals with a pregnant woman being cast out of her home and abandoned by her family and lover (527). The second, “¿Para qué viniste?”, is the woman’s soliloquy directed at her child, in which she laments how the child would be unloved by all but her and yet, the child came to be in order to comfort her.

The act of cosuffering that prompted her to write these poems was, from the beginning, an expression of la Vida total. She states her purpose as beautifying motherhood, a state she never possessed, being childless her whole life. Yet, her poetry is that of a mother; she lives another life vicariously through her poetry. “Poemas de la madre más triste” is about the umwelten of single mothers in their full complexity: “The distress of abandonment and loneliness, the difficulties of motherhood, and the unexpected sorrow of desire are assuaged but not erased by the unconditioned love between mother and child. Gabriela acknowledges the great power of love but does not shrink from the despair and isolation that sometimes accompany maternity” (Zubizarreta 299). La Vida total, as exemplified in these poems, wrestles with the opposing forces and perspectives that occur, not just outside the individual, but within. Oppositions are allowed to coexist, not in peace per se, but without the demand that either side cease to be.

This is hardly unique to “Poemas de las madres más tristes” en Mistral’s work. As Alegria observes, her work is composed of “personal confessions, human documents instead of literary exercises” (25). He describes her poetry as “a voice too strong for the little songs that it wishes to sing. The movement is always there, a powerful, vast, rhythmic upsurge that encompasses people, landscapes, passions, hopes, bitterness, faith.” Mistral dives deep into her own life and lays it bare in her production of poetry: the “intensity of emotion which adds such force to so many of Gabriela Mistral’s poems, giving them the appearance of being wrung from the very depths of the poetess’ soul” (Preston qtd. in Zubizarreta 309). Mistral understood how la Vida total is a deep dive, not just into the souls of others, but into the umwelt of oneself.

In accordance with the polyphonic spirit, the phrase “la Vida total” is not exclusive to Mistral. José Martí too invoked it: “en la vida total han de ajustarse con gozo los elementos que en la porción actual de vida que atravesamos parecen desunidos y hostiles” (qtd. in Housková 25). Housková elaborates on Martí’s connection to la Vida total: “En la concepción de José Martí, … la armonía y la belleza surge por unión de lo contradictorio. Abarca angustia, tensión, espanto del mundo … En otro polo de la armonía tiene dimensión cósmica y dimensión íntima, unida con la ternura y la nostalgia por la infancia” (26). Mistral and Martí elaborate a vision of compassion and tenderness that makes the intellectual and emotional complexity of la Vida total survivable.

4. PRAXIS

Because almost every step of the process is infinite or otherwise impossible, la Vida total must use methods of approximation. The work of authors such as Gabriela Mistral is essential to la Vida total—la Vida total would be impossible without them. Authors perform the work of approximation simply by adding to the body of writing, but more sophisticatedly through techniques like polyphony and soul-exploration, the study of their own senses, perspectives, and emotions: the world as they can perceive it. Each additional entry provides another finite piece to incorporate into the infinite text, thus bringing the finite collection of readable texts closer to the infinite.

Beyond authorship, the matter of interpretation requires significant discussion of its own. Unlike infinite or infinity-approximating texts like Borges’ Book of Sand or “Library of Babel,” the Human Text is fully interpretable. For most of its pages, when one begins to read, they will, within a certain degree of error, understand the text. Although the Human Text spans all times and languages, it also includes all translations necessary for readers in any language to partake. A translation increases the error range of interpretation but typically will not make the error level intolerable.

Error is the key concern when approximating infinity with finitude. Oftentimes, it is impossible to know how severe the error has become. However, there is a mathematical guarantee to ensure the finite reader’s perspective approaches the infinite Vida total over time. If the reader’s perspective always trends towards expansion (so long as the knowledge gain exceeds the error growth) and there is no limit on the knowledge gain, then the perspective will approach infinite comprehension with all guarantee (this is a literary application of the monotone convergence theorem, the proper discussion of which is beyond the scope of this essay. See Bakker). In short, the two conditions are that the reader acquires more truth than error and that the reader is willing to take on all truth eventually. It could also be thought of constantly growing one’s umwelt, never letting anything remain outside it—an ever-growing bubble of perception. Given an infinite amount of time, such a perspective will become infinite. That is to say, it will comprehend la Vida total.

The first condition, ensuring knowledge gain overall exceeds knowledge loss or error, is difficult. From a finite perspective, locked within our own umwelten, it is impossible to truly know. Thomas Bernhard’s observations on truth from the author’s perspective can be inverted for the reader’s sake:

Truth, it seems to me, is known only to the person who is affected by it; and if he chooses to communicate it to others, he automatically becomes a liar. Whatever is communicated can only be falsehood and falsification; hence it is only falsehoods and falsifications that are communicated … What matters is whether we want to lie or to tell and write the truth, even though it never can be the truth and never is the truth. (qtd. in Thornton 210)

The reader cannot even be sure the author intends to write the truth. However, Bernhard’s argument provides a decanter for separating texts valuable to the seeker of la Vida total from those that are not. Texts that seek to tell the truth, and especially those that acknowledge their inability to capture the truth, are elevated. Texts that are unconcerned with truth are deemphasized. Texts that exploit, dehumanize, or devalue their subjects are condemned. As la Vida total is concerned with umwelten, such texts can only be studied to comprehend the darkened umwelt of the author, because exploitation, dehumanization, and devaluation of others cuts the reader off from the subjects’ umwelten, preventing polyphony and contemplation of la Vida total. By the same token, texts that emphasize kindness, sensitivity, and mutual understanding often (but not necessarily) serve la Vida total better than texts that do not. One more thing must be said respecting texts lacking value for la Vida total. Even though some voices must be rejected in their literal or umwelten-less interpretation and even if certain actions must be condemned unilaterally, part of la Vida total is still acknowledging the umwelten that produced these voices and actions. It is often required of the reader to reject the belief or action expressed, but understand why that belief or action came to be.

The second condition, avoiding limits on knowledge, is not so troublesome. It can largely be achieved by enjoying all good texts. La Vida total is not a framework concerned with canonicity or short-term cohesion. La Vida total requires macro and micronarratives, modernism, postmodernism, paradox, multiculturalism, literary revival, and the enfranchisement of diverse perspectives. The old canons cannot produce la Vida total, in their centering within specific historical-cultural moments. New canons can do no better; simply establishing a canon of integrated, diverse authors and cultures will quickly fall behind the growth of literature (to say nothing of how any canon will necessarily exclude works regardless of source that may benefit the particular reader in their umwelt more than the canonical texts).

The reader should not cut themselves off from the broad domains of human experience: religion, science, literature. Each offers human testimony. This is also true of media and moods. La Vida total cannot be found solely through serious philosophy or contemplation. Silly, preposterous, and casual works all form an essential and beautiful part of the Human Text (as a somewhat embarrassing but useful demonstration of this principle, this essay’s author cried to the Swedish pop song Caramelldansen because of its sublime demonstration of this point).

Silly media is not the end of the unconventional in la Vida total. Sometimes, knowingly preposterous interpretation can be profoundly valuable. Borges highlighted this in “Kafka y sus precursores.” The essay aptly begins with one of Zeno’s paradoxes of motion, which, like la Vida total, are resolved by infinite methods. Highlighting a number of Kafkaesque texts that predate Kafka, Borges observes:

si no me equivoco, las heterogéneas piezas que he enumerado se parecen a Kafka; si no me equivoco, no todas se parecen entre sí. Este último hecho es el más significativo. En cada uno de esos textos está la idiosincrasia de Kafka, … pero si Kafka no hubiera escrito, no la percibiríamos. El hecho es que cada escritor crea a sus precursores. Su labor modifica nuestra concepción del pasado, como ha de modificar el futuro. (395)

It is preposterous to read a text predating Kafka as being Kafkaesque and yet doing so can produce incredible textual and philosophical insight. Similarly, there are many occasions in which using a knowingly mismatched interpretative frame can be a valuable exercise (so long as the reader readily acknowledges that they are not interpreting the author, or even the text, but their own modification of the text).

In addition to the variety of texts, the reader should understand that a large part of la Vida total is acknowledging the validity of “enemy” or opposing beliefs and umwelten. Every reader is insufficient on their own, just as is every author. There is a certain requirement of humility; if the reader mistakenly adopts an erroneous belief during their search for la Vida total, that erroneous belief will limit their growth and keep them from la Vida total until it is corrected. This happens constantly and inevitably. Every human needs to go through that correction process.

In addition to these chiefly literary methods for pursuing la Vida total, there exist a glorious abundance of other practices that expand one’s umwelt. Of these, we highlight the neologism sonder, coined by the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows:

the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

La Vida total is about exploration, discovery, and the beauty of diversity. Thus, its practice is accessible to people of many philosophies, religion, disciplines, and walks of life. The practitioner cannot do it all, like so many other parts of la Vida total. Diversifying the methods and disciplines employed for the expansion of umwelten should prove fruitful.

5. CONCLUSION

Unsurprisingly, the discussion of la Vida total cannot be completed. Like any stopping point in an infinite process, what is included and what is excluded is a matter of practicality. However, some final comments should be valuable.

La Vida total is an aesthetic of beauty, built from human difference and conflict. Interest in la Vida total is often attached to suffering. Gabriela Mistral employed la Vida total against the dehumanization of mothers in “Poemas de la madre más triste.” Her work elsewhere represents a struggle with powerful, internal pain or troubling outside forces; Wretmark identifies each of “Poema del Hijo,” “Meciendo,” “El niño solo,” “Poemas de las madres tristes,” and “Poemas de las madres más tristes” as possible expressions of her struggle with childlessness (35-36). José Martí died a martyr in order not to die of illness in Cuba’s war for independence, a war that ultimately subjugated Cuba to other foreign powers and set the foundation for the Castro dictatorship. This essay’s author has turned to la Vida total in response to the study of the true nature of genocide and the despair that comes from being unable to save or support anyone involved: the mad from their madness, the victim from their captor.

An objective model of reality cannot be correct unless it fully explains every subjective reality, every umwelten. Enough umwelten are pierced through with profound bitterness, pain, and suffering. The innocent, carefree child is part of it. So is the child soldier. La Vida total subjects its devotee to contemplation of pure pain and evil, which must be reconciled with the purest love and joy. It is an attempt to deal with the world as it is and, seeing truly, understand what to make of life.

Works Cited

Alegria, Fernando. “In the True Language of a Woman.” Review of Selected Poems of Gabriela Mistral, edited by Doris Dana. Saturday Review, 17 July 1971, pp. 25-26. The Unz Review, www.unz.com/print/SaturdayRev-1971jul17-00025/. Accessed 17 Dec. 2020.

Bakker, Lennard. “§2.4: The Monotone Convergence Theorem and a First Look at Infinite Series.” BYU Mathematics Dept., math.byu.edu/~bakker/M341/Lectures/Lec09.pdf. Accessed 17 Dec. 2020.

Borges, Jorge Luis. “An Autobiographical Essay.” The Aleph and other stories, 1933-1969, E.P. Dutton, 1970, pp. 203-259.

Borges, Jorge Luis. “Kafka y sus precursores.” Borges esencial, Real Academia Española, 2017, pp. 393-395. Accessed 16 Dec. 2020.

Housková, Anna. “Defensa de la poesía: Martí y paz.” Inti, no. 83/84, 2016, pp. 19-31. www.jstor.org/stable/26309970.

Mistral, Gabriela. “Poemas de la madre más triste.” Gabriela Mistral: En verso y prosa, Antología, Real Academia Española, 2010, pp. 527-528.

“Sonder.” The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, 2012, www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/post/23536922667/sonder. Accessed 17 Dec. 2020.

Thornton, Megan. “A Postwar Perversion of ‘Testimonio’ in Horacio Castellanos Moya’s ‘El asco.’” Hispania, vol. 97, no. 2, June 2014, pp. 207-219. www.jstor.org/stable/24368766. Accessed 1 Dec. 2020.

Umwelt.” Britannica, www.britannica.com/topic/Umwelt. Accessed 17 Dec. 2020.

Winthrop-Young, Geoffrey. Afterword. A foray into the worlds of animals and humans, by Jakob von Uexküll, U of Minnesota P, 2010, pp. 209-243.

Wretmark, Astrid. “Coping with Childlessness and Perinatal Loss: Reflections of a Swedish Hospital Chaplain.” Reproductive Health Matters, vol. 7, no. 13, May 1999, pp. 30-38. www.jstor.org/stable/3775700. Accessed 16 Dec. 2020.

Zubizarreta, John. “Gabriela Mistral: The Great Singer of Mercy and Motherhood.” Christianity and Literature, vol. 42, no. 2, 1993, pp. 295-311. www.jstor.org/stable/44312170. Accessed 16 Dec. 2020.