Blood Sport and "Fake" Blood Sport

Wow, I hadn't realized it has been nearly six months since I last posted. Luckily, my sister, who specializes in harrassing me to do things I do want to do but am dragging my heels on doing, has saved me a day shy of the six-month mark. Though thanks to the time zone difference, it's tomorrow for her, and therefore -- happy six-month anniversary, post drought!

Today I have a longish quote from one of the books published by the publishing company I just started working for, New World Library. I expect this blog will benefit from their influence: my commas and semicolons and relative clauses will be perfectly aligned, and I will have plenty of thought-provoking and inspiring stuff to talk about here.

From The Tao of Equus:

In celebrating the opening of the Roman Coliseum in A.D. 79, Emperor Titus sponsored a series of games lasting one hundred days straight. Gladiators weren't the only attraction. Before the professional warriors fought in the afternoon, there were public executions around lunchtime, and "beast hunts" in the morning. Many arrived early to enjoy the spectacle of exotic creatures from the most remote corners of the empire running around the enclosure, dodging arrows, spears, and sabers. It was reported that during the first day alone, five thousand animals were dispatched "with the right degree of cruelty." Among the many service buildings surrounding the arena was a huge disposal pit for all the corpses produced by this brutal form of entertainment. Subsequent emperors tried to outdo their predecessors and kept statistics for posterity. One of them bested Titus by holding games for 122 days in which 11,000 people and 10,000 animals were reportedly slaughtered.

Cicero saw the carnage as much more valuable than mere entertainment. The Roman historian praised the games for their ability to desensitize people to bloodshed and prepare them for battle. The vast Roman Empire was managed by force and intimidation. During the four hundred years the games flourished throughout the kingdom, prisoners captured during these conquests provided a convenient source of ongoing amusement for the citizenry. The persecution of the early Christians also offered ready-made sacrifices for the "spectacles." Since they refused to fight back, however, these people were usually ripped apart by bears, lions, and other large predators -- just to keep things interesting.

Scholars have offered numerous explanations for blood sport, but basically they considered it a by-product of a value system emphasizing control over nature and control over your enemies.

Reading this, I surprised myself by instantly connecting it to violent television, movies, and video games. My views on violence in the media have shifted considerably since high school. Then, I was focused on the evils of censorship and hardly considered the possibility that loads and loads of dramatized violence could have much effect on my psyche.

When I first learned to meditate, though, I was tripped up by one of the ideas I encountered in the instruction book. That idea was this: just as "you are what you eat," so are you what you see, read, think, and say. For good physical health, be careful what you put in your body; for good mental health, be careful what you put in your mind.

But this does apply on even the most practical level to meditation; it can be frustrating to meditate after watching, say, Invader Zim, because demented theme music keeps leaping into the spotlight. It's also important if you're trying to be less defensive, aggressive, and bitter when dealing with people you don't like. A lot of movies are helpful for providing ways to imagine how you'd enjoy wreaking vengeance on your enemies when you feel wronged. For stepping back and trying to see the situation from the other person's point of view: less helpful.

And recently, after glimpses of the motivations and actions of those who sign up for the military, it's not tough for me to see "blood sport" making the path more inviting. My friend Heise showed me a website one of his cousins was obsessed with. It presented short videos of footage from Iraq. One began with a shot of distant buildings and soldiers talking in the background; then out of the sky a missile plows directly into the center of the frame with a huge explosion. In the background, then, come the cheers: "Whoo! Fuck yeah!" One soldier was practically post-orgasmic: "Oh, man, oh man, that was a good one. . ." This is not "War is hell." It is not even "We have to do what we have to do." It is "This is fun. Explosions are exciting, entertaining, thrilling. Anyone who is not the hero in this story, who is not us, can (as Duke Nukem would say) eat shit and die."

This is not to say that every recruit signs up out of sadism. There are plenty of good-intentioned heroes, as well. God knows we are all starved for heroism in this world: to struggle, to grow to meet your potential, to succeed in the face of adversity, to fight for a good cause. And luckily for the military, plenty of movies demonstrate the many heroic opportunities afforded by guns, bombs, and killing. Dumb luck on the Pentagon's part, I guess. (If you have any details on the sinister links I've heard about between Hollywood and the Pentagon, please throw your comments this way!)

This has, of course, turned into a much longer post than I intended. At any rate, I'm sick of violence anywhere, whether it's on TV or in Iraq, whether it's on my computer or on campus, and especially, whether or not it's supposed to be funny. I'm sick of wanting to cry or scream or puke at nearly everything I see in two dimensions and high definition picture.