Caveat: as their good sovereign pleasure dictates

One (very) political blogger I like to read goes by the name Michael J. Smith at a blog entitled Stop Me Before I Vote Again. I'm not sure if his name is a pseudonym or his real name, and one thing is certain: I often don't agree with him. But he has a very biting and incisive style, he is a stunningly good writer, and is a genuine radical. He was offering up a paean to the recently deceased Hugo Chavez of Venezuela, and made the following observation:

"Democracy, on any informed understanding of the term, is the negation of ‘rights’. Democracy means that the people rule. They give rights, and they take them away, as their good sovereign pleasure dictates. If you’re really into ‘rights’, you have no use for democracy; and vice versa." – [from blog post here].

I have been trying to wrap my mind around what this means, but my gut feeling is that he is, in fact, on to something important. There is most definitely a tension (not to use a stronger term like dilemma or – god forbid – dialectic) between the field of discourse we call "democracy" and that which we call "human rights." Perhaps if I was better read in Marxism I'd find his remark to be a truism (in that context, anyway), but I think it's more valuable to remove it from that probable origin and confront it head-on, without so much theoretical baggage.

Democracy, at least in the modern, globalist, bourgeois conception prevalent today, is clearly at odds with the "rights" of minorities within democracies, and at odds with the rights of everyone excluded from given "democratic" polities – cf. the US government's attitude, on evidence, toward the rights of Pakistanis living in tribal areas, or toward Mexicans on the wrong side of the border who have failed to jump through previously established bureaucratic hoops. Et cetera.

Caveat: Llora… Trocitos de madera…

The song below (and referenced in the blog post title) isn't really related to the anecdote below, except that they both involve crying.

I have this one class where my patience runs thin. The ISP72-T 반 (which is mostly 8th graders) has some boys who really lack the ability to control their actions in class. They mouth off (in Korean, and half the time I have no idea what they're saying, I just know it's inappropriate, partly just by watching the reactions of the kids around them), they complain and protest every single assignment, they find excuses for un-done homework, they play footsie under the desks.

I selected one of the ringleaders today and lost my temper, a bit. I put a desk in the hallway, where I could see him out the door, and made him sit there. He's a "class-clown" and always happy-go-lucky, never doing much of anything in the way of homework (though he's not the worst by far in the class), though he's genuinely funny many times – he has a good sense of humor. But I'd just had enough of his constant acting up and not paying attention, mostly because he pulls away the attention of the other students.

His reaction, sitting there at the desk in the hall, was unexpected. He cried.

I thought about something I wrote last week: that I hope never to be the teacher that students remember with fear or loathing. I hope I'm not one of those teachers. I misjudged his resiliancy and wounded his complacency, clearly. It's one thing when a 2nd grader bursts in tears. It's a bit disconcerting when it's an 8th grader who's as tall as I am.

So he had a hard day. And I have a day when I question my effectiveness as a teacher.

What I'm listening to right now.

La Yegros, "Trocitos de madera."

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