Rae-Hunter's take on Inception

Casey Rae-Hunter of The Contrarian offers his take on Christoper Nolan's Inception. Rae-Hunter, who has guest blogged on Sentient Developments, is surprised that many of the technorati have neglected such themes as neurosecurity and mindfulness in their reviews of the film. He writes:

To me, the idea of establishing a defense against neural invaders is interesting, especially in light of new discoveries in neuroplasticity and the battle to maintain computer network security.
Fascinating stuff, but I’m pretty sure our psyches are less in danger of being harmed by outside forces than our own mental habits.

One of Nolan’s most original ideas is that the subconscious can be trained to act as a built-in police force during synaptic security breaches. The director seems to gravitate towards characters who exhibit tremendous martial/intellectual/transcendental discipline on the road to exceptionalism (Batman, The Prestige). This includes certain mental technologies.

Buddhism has for centuries been aware of the the mind’s plasticity. It teaches (among other things) that we can shape the function of our neural networks by observing our thoughts and establishing new patterns. In therapeutic psychology, this is called Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) — a remarkably effective treatment for a host of mental afflictions. Borrowing from Buddhism, it prescribes mindfulness as a method for rooting out “bad code” and establishing a healthier psyche.

Remapping the mind requires a great deal of discipline, but it can be done. Brains are far less rigid than stone, and even stone can be shaped by water. In this view, our thoughts are similar to ripples on a swift-moving river. Like thoughts, these ripples spontaneously and constantly appear and disappear. By not fixating on the origin of the ripples, but rather accepting the simple fact of their existence, we can begin to see the river as a whole and even influence its flow.

Inception takes a more martial approach to mindfulness, but it does offer hints as to how we can keep our shit together in the midst of chaos. In the film, one of the characters experiences acute panic when he realizes the reality he thought was solid is in fact quite the opposite. (We experience similar feelings of disassociation when someone close to us dies, we lose our job, get divorced, etc.) The character is told to focus on his breath and remember his training. The particulars of instruction aren’t revealed, but I’m guessing it involves meditation and mindfulness.

Rae-Hunter is absolutely right; Inception is a treasure trove of food-for-thought. Nolan's film should keep thinkers and writers busy for years to come.

Speaking of neurosecurity, it may someday be possible to create firewalls for the 'jacked-in' mind: Fighting back against mindhacks.

Avatar: The good, the bad and ugly

Great science fiction films are few and far between, so it was with great anticipation that I went to see Avatar on opening night.

I had been looking forward to this film since 2006 when James Cameron began working on the script. My expectations were significantly heightened after learning that Cameron, the director of Aliens, the first two Terminator movies and Titantic, was drawing inspiration from Japan -- namely through such directors as Mamoru Oshii (Ghost in the Shell) and Hayao Miyazaki (Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away).

I was particularly interested to see if Cameron could pull of the Miyazaki. As fans of his films know, there's nothing quite like a Miyazaki picture; they are as delightful, provocative and as imaginative as they come. Not since the early days of Disney have animated films been so good. Miyazaki weaves a magical touch that has eluded Hollywood since their Golden Age (think Pinocchio and Snow White).

After watching Avatar, I can honestly say that Cameron gave it a good shot. The Pandoran jungle was as atmospheric and alive as anything that Miyazaki has ever produced. The 3D element added an immersive and visceral component that was particularly powerful; there were times when I truly felt lost in the jungle alongside Jake and Neytiri. The bioluminescent forest was truly jaw dropping.

Further, the tastefulness and care with which Cameron added the CG elements is unparalleled (with a tip of the hat to Lord of the Rings). This is the kind of film that George Lucas could watch but not have the slightest clue as to why Cameron's CG works and his does not. Cameron, unlike Lucas, has learned to weave the fabric of all on-screen elements into context such that nothing is superfluous and everything adds to the entire composition and story. Where Lucas works to bash viewers over the head with a 'look what I can do!' approach to movie making, Cameron has taken a more thoughtful and artistic course.

Take, for example, the floating seeds that land on Jake when he first meets Neytiri. I was genuinely moved by the delicacy and beauty of each tiny seedling as it floated through the air. Moreover, my feelings were heightened after learning about the sacred status of the seeds and the implication to the story. This is exactly the kind of aesthetic moment I imagined when I thought about the potential for CGI back when it was first introduced so many years ago.

Spoilers follow.

In addition to the visual elements borrowed from Japan, Cameron also dipped heavily into one of Miyazaki's most famous films, Princess Mononoke. Indeed, one could say that he borrowed perhaps a bit too greedily. Rarely does imitation of this sort lead to anything deeper or superior than what was provided by the original.

Specifically, both films feature a majestic and beautiful forest teeming with a life that's intimately interconnected with itself and an ethereal spiritual realm. And both feature a nature that is under threat. The balance of the natural worlds are in jeopardy from greedy miners who are consuming its resources at an alarming rate. The miners are in turn threatened by an outsider who, after learning the ways of the forest, has come to protect and preserve it at all costs. Ultimately, the creatures of the natural world are forced to band together and deal directly with the parasitic elements. Even the character of Neytiri is a close parallel to San; both are deeply connected to the natural world, borderline feral and ride on the backs of wolves.

Interestingly, Princess Mononoke was Japan's top grossing movie until Cameron's Titanic usurped it from that position in 1999. This certainly looks like a case where if you can beat them, you should still join them.

Princess Mononoke wasn't the only story co-opted by Cameron; aside from the Miyazaki touches (both graphically and narratively), Avatar closely resembles another classic story, Frank Herbert's Dune. In fact, Avatar is essentially Dune -- Cameron simply replaced the desert planet with a jungle and removed all the depth, complexity and profundity that made Dune the classic science fiction story that it is.

Again, the comparisons: A young man arrives on a strange and inhospitable planet occupied by hostile natives -- natives who are perfectly adapted to the planet and live in harmony with it. The young man's civilization is there to exploit the planet for a precious resource and at the expense of the planet's ecological balance. Our hero, awkward at first, learns the ways of the locals and eventually 'goes native.' He finds a girlfriend among his new clan and is accepted and revered by the natives on account of signs that point to his unique purpose and status. The hero-messiah then starts to exceed the abilities of his new comrades -- there's even a test of manhood involving the taming and riding of a dangerous animal. In the end, the hero leads a charge against the outsiders by banding together natural resources and the local population. They eventually win and drive the outsiders out.

Now, while this certainly describes the general plot of both stories, Herbert's universe is filled with intelligent and provocative commentary that touches upon such themes as ecology, evolution, commerce, politics, religion, technological advancement and even social Darwinism. The best that can be said of Cameron's adaptation is that he got the environmental message across. But where Herbert's discourse on the environment was treated with subtly and complexity (including the issue of terraforming), Cameron chose to bang his audience over the head with a blatantly overt, simplistic and ridiculously biased sledge hammer.

In Avatar, Cameron rekindled the tired and cliched "noble savage" myth and set it in space. It was an effort that seemingly attempted to romanticize Stone Age culture and promote a Gaianist agenda. The film was anti-technology, anti-corporatist, anti-progress, and dare I say anti-human.

Gaianism in space? Really, Cameron? That was the best story you could come up with on a $237,000,000 budget?

Okay, some credit where credit is due. Given that the story is, whether I liked it or not, a Gaianist treatise, I did appreciate how Cameron achieved the sense of interconnectedness between the characters and Pandora. The ability of the Na'vi to link with other animals in a symbiotic fusion was very cool, as was the ability to upload conscious thought through the very fabric of the planet (a nice interplay on the high-tech/lo-tech theme knowing that the humans were also dabbling in mind transfer). I also liked how the humans could not breath the air of the planet, a strong hint that they truly had no business being on Pandora. The natives, on the other hand, were at complete peace with their environment.

So, overall some very mixed feelings about Avatar. The graphical and aesthetic achievements were certainly impressive, and for that it's a must-see film. And for those with a pronounced environmentalist bent, you will likely swoon over this movie. But if you're looking for a story with depth, complex characters and some challenging commentary, you're going to have to look elsewhere. And in this sense, the movie is a significant let down. One that I'll gladly watch over and over again.

When superheros run amok: Exploring posthuman and technological themes in Watchmen

Warning: Spoiler alert.

Many things have been said about the recent film adaptation of the Watchmen graphic novel series, particularly the ways in which it has come to redefine the superhero genre. While it's certainly a brave film that's succeeded in pushing a number of boundaries, I believe its true strength lies in its various philosophical themes and social commentary. In particular, I was drawn to the discussions of technological power and the innovative ways in which this commentary was represented on the screen.

Looked at metaphorically, Watchmen is largely a treatise on the use and misuse of advanced technologies and the resultant soul-searching, dehumanization and loss of innocence that inevitably follows. It's a cynical and sobering look at weapons technologies in particular and how they often work to create disparities -- whether it be the militaristic disparities between combatant nations or the ways in which it pulls people apart.

And with the presence of a god-like posthuman superhero, Watchmen shows the ways in which a greater-than-human intelligence could either serve humanity's needs or bring it to its knees.

Doctor Manhattan and The Bomb

By far, the most powerful of the Watchmen is Doctor Manhattan, a "quantum superhero" with powers so incredible that he is essentially considered a god. He has the ability to manipulate matter with his thoughts, allowing him to teleport, change his size, copy himself, move objects through space and disintegrate people. His powers are frightening to say the least.

As his name suggests, Manhattan is the walking, talking personification of the nuclear bomb. And as it turns out, god happens to be an American -- a god that the U.S. government isn't afraid to utilize. In Strangelovian manner, the United States uses Manhattan (both directly and indirectly) as a super-weapon to stave off the Soviet Union. Disturbingly, Manhattan does as he's told. He is indifferent to the nature of his powers and the horrors he can unleash; like the bomb itself -- or any technology for that matter -- Dr. Manhattan is largely neutral. It's those who choose to unleash his awful powers who make the moral judgments.

But as the unfolding story suggests, there are consequences to the use of such power.

Take the episode in Vietnam, for example, and the awesome image of the gigantic Doctor Manhattan cutting a swath through the jungle and annihilating the Viet Cong with the wave of his hands. As the explosions around him would indicate, this is an alternate history in metaphor -- one in which the United States has chosen to use nuclear weapons in Vietnam.

This alternate history in which the U.S. wins in Vietnam doesn't end there, however. The impact of this action is felt back home; sure, the Americans may have won, but the resulting social climate and negative reaction results in a completely decayed and degraded America -- one whose population no longer wants anything to do with "superheros."

A cynical and pessimistic outlook

And it's not just Dr. Manhattan -- all the Watchmen can be seen as representing the impacts of one-sided weapons technologies. The flame throwing Edward Blake was right alongside Manhattan in Vietnam and for good reason. Blake is there to represent the dark and ugly side of America -- a symbol for the arrogant and jaded sentiment that tends to accompany militaristic success. Edward Blake represents the worst of a belligerent and techno-happy America as he runs amok with callous indifference.

The cynicism of the Watchmen doesn't stop there. Even the final outcome of the story, where millions of deaths are the only way to prevent all out human extinction, is a sobering look at the powers at our disposal. It's only through the use of apocalyptic scale technologies that world peace can be secured; it's The Day the Earth Stood Still all over again, but this time with the fist coming down hard.

Doctor Manhattan and the posthuman

"I've walked across the sun. I've seen events so tiny and so fast they hardly can be said to have occurred at all, but you... you are a man. And this world's smartest man means no more to me than does its smartest termite." -- Doctor Manhattan to Ozymandias

Interestingly, the Watchmen commentary goes beyond the advent of nuclear weapons. The discussion extends to the potential emergence of those powers that radically exceed human capacities. Given the incredible scale of Dr. Manhattan's abilities, he can also be seen as a personified instantiation of a posthuman or superintelligent artificial intelligence (SAI). The film explores the ways in which such a power could be an alienating, alienated, and dehumanizing force.

For context, transhumanists and speculative AI theorists consider the emergence of an SAI -- an entity with intellectual capacities that are radically more advanced than the human mind (such an intelligence could emerge from an AI or as an outgrowth from a highly modified human brain). Such discussions have evoked images of god-like intelligences capable of reworking human affairs and even the fabric of the Universe itself. Because we lack the proper terminology or frame to envision such an intelligence, many have referred to this potential AI as being 'god-like.'

Doctor Manhattan encapsulates many of these characteristics. He is the reluctant god, one who is largely indifferent to human affairs. Manhattan lives in the quantum universe and does not perceive time with a linear perspective, something that alienates him even further from those around him. Consequently, his interests and intellectual endeavors lead him to a different mind-space altogether; he is primarily concerned with the inner workings and unfolding of the Universe. His ability to relate to humanity recedes with each passing day, almost to the point where he can no longer distinguish between a living and dead human being.

This is a fear levied by some futurists as they worry about the emergence of a poorly programmed or indifferent SAI. Indeed, how and why would an intellect that runs at a radically increased clock-speed and expanded/alternative mind-space relate to unaugmented humans? It's an open question. In Watchmen this problem nearly results in human extinction, not due to the actions of Manhattan, but out of inaction and apathy.

At one point in the film, Manhattan escapes to Mars so that he can avoid human contact. He does so because he finds personal interaction with humans annoying and a distraction. This is a god who would rather retreat into himself, preferring solitude on Mars where he can ruminate on existence and construct masterful structures.

Eventually Laurie Jupiter convinces Manhattan to come back to Earth and rescue humanity from nuclear armageddon -- but it's on account of an improbable existential quirk that he changes his mind -- the closest he can come to actually caring.

[As an aside, and looking as his inability to empathize and relate to other people, Doctor Manhattan can also be seen as an 'autistic superhero'. He is very much locked-in to his inner life, he has a fascination with the minutiae of all that is around him, and he is the beneficiary of prodigious talents. Sounds very autistic to me.]

A defeatist tale?

Despite the seemingly happy ending (even in consideration of the millions of deaths that were required to make it happen), Watchmen leaves the viewer with a profound sense of defeat. Indeed, what kind of a world do we live in if megadeaths are required to keep the peace? Is near-armageddon required to keep us in line? Will a common enemy (climate change, perhaps) unite all people in a common cause?

Or is all this rather pedestrian and grossly over-simplified? And what about the potential benefits that technologies may bring?

These are all questions for discussion at the very least. Watchmen leaves the viewer asking more questions than when they came in -- certainly the sign of a great and provocative film.

Revisiting The Day the Earth Stood Still - A SentDev Classic

This review was originally published on January 29, 2007.


I sat down with my son recently to watch an old sci-fi classic, The Day the Earth Stood Still. This film is drenched in the 1950's weltanschauung, but it has truly withstood the test of time. I was amazed at how relevant this movie remains to this day nearly 60 years after its release.

Our current global situation is not too far removed from the realities of the 1950s. We continue to struggle for rational discourse and peace. The revealing sciences are yet again offering a glimpse into a future filled with great humanitarian possibilities. We remain wary of apocalyptic threats and the disturbing potential for a new set of extinction risks.

And not surprisingly, our messianic cravings still linger, whether they be for extraterrestrial salvation or the onset of a benign artificial superintelligence. The Day the Earth Stood Still is a wish-fulfillment movie if there ever was one.

Historical context

The 1950s were not a great time for the United States. Nerves were on edge as there seemed to be no end to international tensions and the madness of war. The Cold War had emerged and the stakes were never higher. The world had completely lost its innocence and was now living on borrowed time; the means for apocalyptic destruction were in hand.

With all this desperation and fear in the air, Hollywood was eager to oblige the collective consciousness. Audiences flocked to theaters for one of two reasons: to escape or to confront their fears head-on. A sampling of these films included "The Greatest Show on Earth" (1952), "An American in Paris" (1951), "The War of the Worlds" (1953) and "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" (1956).

But desperate times call for desperate hopes. Hollywood was also anxious to moralize and offer some optimism -- even if it was far-fetched optimism. Religion took a heavy blow after World War II, and many lost faith in a God who was apparently nowhere to be seen and didn't seem to care. If God wouldn't intervene in human affairs, than perhaps Hollywood could; the masses started to seek a different kind of deus ex machina.

Fantasy films in particular offered some interesting possibilities. Comic superheroes like Superman, Captain America and Batman would always come to the rescue. The Bat-Signal was proven to be more reliable than prayer.

Additionally, the newfound enthusiasm for science during the 1950s sparked an interest in science fiction. Combined with growing hopes for rocket ships and fears of alien invasion, these sentiments resulted in one of the greatest science fiction movies of all time, The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) (hereafter referred as TDTESS).

Substituting fear for reason

The story is exceedingly simple, yet provocative and poignant.

In the film, an extraterrestrial named Klaatu (played by Michael Rennie) arrives in Washington D.C. with an important message for the people of Earth. He insists that all national leaders be present for his address, but given the geopolitical stresses of the time such an arrangement is not possible. Frustrated, Klaatu approaches the scientific community who he believes will listen to reason. In the end, with a number of prominent scientists present, he offers humanity an ultimatum: Earth can either decide to abandon warfare and join other advanced nations -- a peace ensured by a massive deterrent force, the robot race Gort -- or else be considered a threat and subsequently destroyed.

Quite understandably, common sentiments during this era were characterized by pessimism and collective self-loathing. The rise and fall of the Nazi regime and the onset of the Cold War painted a very grim picture of humanity and its capacity for horror. This is the world that Klaatu found himself in, and we, the viewer, see it through his eyes; it is through an outsider's observations that we gain perspective.

Klaatu's unexpected arrival causes great fear in Washington. Not thirty seconds after he steps out of his ship does he get himself shot when his gift is confused for a weapon -- a precarious start to his mission and a sign of things to come. After his recovery in the hospital, Klaatu escapes in hopes of exploring the city. Residents become paranoid and are on the verge of hysteria. "I am fearful," says Klaatu, "when I see people substituting fear for reason." Earlier, during his meeting with the president's aid, he noted, "I'm impatient with stupidity. My people have learned to live without it."

Science, not faith

Unable to meet with political leaders, Klaatu seeks a leading American scientist, Professor Barnhardt. This in itself is very telling -- a suggestion that political leaders are far too myopic and stubborn, detached from reality and mired in their petty squabbles. The world has started to look to a new kind of leadership -- a leadership of reason and intelligence. It is no co-incidence that Barnhardt is made to look like Albert Einstein.

The shift to science also reflects the turning away from religion. "It isn't faith that makes good science," says Barnhardt, "it's curiosity." Barnhardt's words remind me of our current sociocultural reality where science and religion continue to clash. The resurgence of religion around the world has been met with much criticism, most notably by such outspoken scientists as Richard Dawkins and Daniel Dennett.

Somewhat surprisingly, the film lauds the benefits of science and technology a mere 6 years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In this sense, TDTESS can be interpreted as a film that does not buy into defeatism, instead suggesting that while science and technology may cause a lot of problems, it may also offer potential solutions.

Klaatu's technology is certainly amazing. His ship can travel 4,000 miles an hour, he has a cream that can heal gunshot wounds overnight, and incredible medical technology that seemingly brings a dead person back to life. As one medical physician noted, "He was very nice about it, but he made me feel like a third-class witch doctor."

The quest for security

In addition to these advanced technologies, Klaatu also brings with him incredible destructive force. In an awesome display of power, he shuts down all the electricity on Earth for half-an-hour. And of course, he has Gort -- the intimidating robotic presence who patiently lurks in the background.

Gort is the stick with which Klaatu can enforce his ultimatum. "There's no limit to what he could do," he says, "He could destroy the Earth." Klaatu stresses the importance of law and the need to enforce it. "There must be security for all, or no one is secure. This does not mean giving up any freedom, except the freedom to act irresponsibly."

Klaatu's plea for world security on film acts as a call for international co-operation in the real world. A number of observers of the day, Einstein included, believed that the advent of nuclear weapons necessitated the creation of more powerful global bodies and even world federalism. Today, with the threat of bioterrorism, ongoing nuclear proliferation, and the future potential for nanotech catastrophes, the call for increased global co-operation can once again be heard.

Driven by the rational desire for self-preservation, Klaatu's society has given the robots police-like powers. "In matters of aggression, we have given them absolute power over us. This power cannot be revoked," says Klaatu, "At the first signs of violence, they act automatically against the aggressor. The penalty for provoking their action is too terrible to risk." Klaatu denies that his people have achieved any kind of perfection, but instead the attainment of a system that works. "Your choice is simple," he says, "Join us and live in peace, or pursue your present course and face obliteration. We shall be waiting for your answer. The decision rests with you."

Interestingly, Gort's power is analogous to the nuclear bomb itself -- they are both ultimate deterrents. The implication brings to mind the so-called policy of Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD). To engage in nuclear war or set off the Gort robots would be one-in-the-same: a suicidal gesture. Did TDTESS suggest that the means to peace was already in hand?

The messianic urge

As Klaatu and Gort fly away in their spaceship, the viewer cannot help but feel that their stern message was akin to an admonition from God. Indeed, the theological overtones in TDTESS are undeniable. Klaatu, when hiding among humans, goes by the name Carpenter, an obvious reference to Jesus. He is the messiah who has come down from the heavens to impart his message and save the people of Earth.

In recent times this theme has been taken quite literally by a number of religious groups and cults, most notably the Raelian sect. Similarly, the craving for messianic guidance is being re-applied to a different source, namely artificial superintelligence. The rise of Singularitarianism is an overt plea for advanced intervention, the suggestion that humanity is not capable of saving itself and that it requires a higher, albeit non-divine, power.

An archetypal story

The Day the Earth Stood Still is a story for the ages. Along with its famous phrase, "Klaatu barada nikto," it has made an indelible mark in popular culture. At a deeper level it is a reflection of how societies deal with desperation, fear and hopelessness. It is an eye-opening snapshot into human nature and the different ways in which people react to stress and an uncertain future.

In this sense it is truly an archetypal story -- one that I'm sure will continue to be relevant in the years and decades to come.

Oliver Stone and the accidental president

When I first heard that Oliver Stone was making a film about George W. Bush I immediately assumed that it was going to be an unapologetically liberal roast-fest. I imagined W. to be a scathing and unrelenting portrayal of arguably the worst president the United States has ever seen.

With popular culture fueling my expectations, I imagined a surreal and glib rendition of the current administration along the lines of Saturday Night Live or the Colbert Report.

But after reading the reviews and hearing about Stone's supposedly 'fair' and 'balanced' portrayal of Bush, I started to pay more attention. Some commentators went so far as to say that the movie made them feel pity for the man.

Pity for Dubya?

What was Stone up to? This is the last director, I thought, who would let the Bush administration off easily.

And Bush is the last president, I thought, who deserves anyone's pity -- a man who has done more to terrorize people at home and abroad than the terrorists he's worked so hard to combat; a man who started an illegal war in the Middle East that has caused the deaths of nearly 100,000 civilians; a man who ignored one of the worst natural disasters to strike the US in modern memory; a man who has created unparalleled divisiveness amongst his own people. I could go on.

And even for me -- a Buddhist who strives to practice universal compassion -- this man has put my patience to the test.

Given all this I was very motivated to see and judge this movie for myself.

Powerful cinematic realism

And indeed, it was no late-night television caricature. Rather, W. is a typical Hollywood foray into super-realist cinema. But it is a realism that is far more upsetting and revealing than any pithy character attack.

By painting a fairly objective and first-person portryal of Bush, and by dramatising the twisted machinations and personalities of his administration, Oliver Stone has created a disturbing film that undoubtedly offers more impact than any other approach. The realness of it -- being right there amongst the major players and watching the events unfold -- cast an eerie light on not just this administration, but on the United States itself and how politics is done in that country.

W. subtly reveals the perils of populist politics by chronicling the unexpected and advantageous chain of events that brings the most unlikeliest of men to the White House. During one scene, for example, the campaigning Bush touts his ability to connect with ordinary citizens on account of his experience running the Texas Rangers baseball club. It's impossible to watch this scene and not think of Sarah Palin as she uses her experience as a hockey mom to appeal to populist sensibilities. This is an America that is consistently asking for trouble by grossly over-estimating the abilities of certain politicians. 

The deluded decider

Stone presents a George W. Bush who is ignorant, arrogant and shockingly unreflective -- a man who is driven by sheer ego and an unchecked desire to prove himself. At no time does this man ever question his own qualifications; in fact, the movie portrays Bush as a man who actively deludes himself into thinking that the ideas of his advisors are his very own.

He is the 'decider' after all. But he comes across as the puppet president who doesn't realize how utterly dependent he is on others and how they pull his strings. And when things don't go according to plan, he retreats like a sulking teenager to his room to watch sports highlights.

Yes, Oliver Stone created a fair portrayal of Bush and it is within this fairness that we find truth and insight. But just because we get to see a humanized George W. Bush in context doesn't diminish the horrors of this administration. If anything, it reveals a far more frightening snap-shot of Bush's first term than could have been expected.

This is the story of the accidental president who, motivated by ego and a deluded sense of religious mission, utterly failed to acknowledge that his weaknesses and deficiencies as a person made him a poor candidate for the executive office. The end result was, as proclaimed by the imaginary figure of his father, a complete fiasco.

So, is this a man who deserves our pity? Well, insofar as he is a man blinded by ego and delusion, yes he does. This man has lacked the courage and humility to admit his weaknesses, and as a result, took advantage of a country that celebrates the notion that anybody can grow up to become president. 

Indeed, any American can become president of the US -- of that we are now certain. But that doesn't mean that everybody should.

Film recommendation: Babel

I watched Babel the other night and have been reflecting on it ever since. I highly recommend this one. You'll particularly enjoy it if you like loosely intertwined multi-narratives (a la Traffic).

Babel offers excellent commentary on human carelessness and fallibility and how modern society is unable (or unwilling) to accommodate these shortcomings. People just go about their business, doing their jobs and what's expected of them. Blind institutions have usurped interpersonal connections and any sense of compassion. And even when empathy is established, people are constrained by their job obligations or societal expectations. The various stories include,

• A woman is shot by accident while traveling in Morocco, which in turn causes an international row that prevents help from actually getting to her.
• Unable to find someone who can watch the kids, or to obtain permission to take the day off, an illegal alien caregiver takes two children with her as she travels in Mexico for her son's wedding.
• A depressed and sexually confused deaf-mute Japanese teenager tries to cope with her mother's suicide.
• Carelessness during shooting practice goes horribly wrong for two young boys.

In each of these narratives, people make mistakes or become victims of their inherent imperfections and foibles. And in each story, society fails to properly help them.

Directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu, Babel is gut-wrenching and Kafkaesque (I'm thinking of Josef K's bureaucratic nightmare in The Trial) -- but where Kafka provided dreamy surrealism, Babel only offers the hard truth and bitter reality. It's a hard watch, but it never degrades to the point of complete hopelessness and cynicism.

If anything, you'll feel a bit more connected to your fellow man.

Revisiting the day the Earth stood still

I sat down with my son recently to watch an old sci-fi classic, The Day the Earth Stood Still. This film is drenched in the 1950's weltanschauung, but it has truly withstood the test of time. I was amazed at how relevant this movie remains to this day nearly 60 years after its release.

Our current global situation is not too far removed from the realities of the 1950s. We continue to struggle for rational discourse and peace. The revealing sciences are yet again offering a glimpse into a future filled with great humanitarian possibilities. We remain wary of apocalyptic threats and the disturbing potential for a new set of extinction risks.

And not surprisingly, our messianic cravings still linger, whether they be for extraterrestrial salvation or the onset of a benign artificial superintelligence. The Day the Earth Stood Still is a wish-fulfillment movie if there ever was one.

Historical context

The 1950s were not a great time for the United States. Nerves were on edge as there seemed to be no end to international tensions and the madness of war. The Cold War had emerged and the stakes were never higher. The world had completely lost its innocence and was now living on borrowed time; the means for apocalyptic destruction were in hand.

With all this desperation and fear in the air, Hollywood was eager to oblige the collective consciousness. Audiences flocked to theaters for one of two reasons: to escape or to confront their fears head-on. A sampling of these films included "The Greatest Show on Earth" (1952), "An American in Paris" (1951), "The War of the Worlds" (1953) and "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" (1956).

But desperate times call for desperate hopes. Hollywood was also anxious to moralize and offer some optimism -- even if it was far-fetched optimism. Religion took a heavy blow after World War II, and many lost faith in a God who was apparently nowhere to be seen and didn't seem to care. If God wouldn't intervene in human affairs, than perhaps Hollywood could; the masses started to seek a different kind of deus ex machina.

Fantasy films in particular offered some interesting possibilities. Comic superheroes like Superman, Captain America and Batman would always come to the rescue. The Bat-Signal was proven to be more reliable than prayer.

Additionally, the newfound enthusiasm for science during the 1950s sparked an interest in science fiction. Combined with growing hopes for rocket ships and fears of alien invasion, these sentiments resulted in one of the greatest science fiction movies of all time, The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) (hereafter referred as TDTESS).

Substituting fear for reason

The story is exceedingly simple, yet provocative and poignant.

In the film, an extraterrestrial named Klaatu (played by Michael Rennie) arrives in Washington D.C. with an important message for the people of Earth. He insists that all national leaders be present for his address, but given the geopolitical stresses of the time such an arrangement is not possible. Frustrated, Klaatu approaches the scientific community who he believes will listen to reason. In the end, with a number of prominent scientists present, he offers humanity an ultimatum: Earth can either decide to abandon warfare and join other advanced nations -- a peace ensured by a massive deterrent force, the robot race Gort -- or else be considered a threat and subsequently destroyed.

Quite understandably, common sentiments during this era were characterized by pessimism and collective self-loathing. The rise and fall of the Nazi regime and the onset of the Cold War painted a very grim picture of humanity and its capacity for horror. This is the world that Klaatu found himself in, and we, the viewer, see it through his eyes; it is through an outsider's observations that we gain perspective.

Klaatu's unexpected arrival causes great fear in Washington. Not thirty seconds after he steps out of his ship does he get himself shot when his gift is confused for a weapon -- a precarious start to his mission and a sign of things to come. After his recovery in the hospital, Klaatu escapes in hopes of exploring the city. Residents become paranoid and are on the verge of hysteria. "I am fearful," says Klaatu, "when I see people substituting fear for reason." Earlier, during his meeting with the president's aid, he noted, "I'm impatient with stupidity. My people have learned to live without it."

Science, not faith

Unable to meet with political leaders, Klaatu seeks a leading American scientist, Professor Barnhardt. This in itself is very telling -- a suggestion that political leaders are far too myopic and stubborn, detached from reality and mired in their petty squabbles. The world has started to look to a new kind of leadership -- a leadership of reason and intelligence. It is no co-incidence that Barnhardt is made to look like Albert Einstein.

The shift to science also reflects the turning away from religion. "It isn't faith that makes good science," says Barnhardt, "it's curiosity." Barnhardt's words remind me of our current sociocultural reality where science and religion continue to clash. The resurgence of religion around the world has been met with much criticism, most notably by such outspoken scientists as Richard Dawkins and Daniel Dennett.

Somewhat surprisingly, the film lauds the benefits of science and technology a mere 6 years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In this sense, TDTESS can be interpreted as a film that does not buy into defeatism, instead suggesting that while science and technology may cause a lot of problems, it may also offer potential solutions.

Klaatu's technology is certainly amazing. His ship can travel 4,000 miles an hour, he has a cream that can heal gunshot wounds overnight, and incredible medical technology that seemingly brings a dead person back to life. As one medical physician noted, "He was very nice about it, but he made me feel like a third-class witch doctor."

The quest for security

In addition to these advanced technologies, Klaatu also brings with him incredible destructive force. In an awesome display of power, he shuts down all the electricity on Earth for half-an-hour. And of course, he has Gort -- the intimidating robotic presence who patiently lurks in the background.

Gort is the stick with which Klaatu can enforce his ultimatum. "There's no limit to what he could do," he says, "He could destroy the Earth." Klaatu stresses the importance of law and the need to enforce it. "There must be security for all, or no one is secure. This does not mean giving up any freedom, except the freedom to act irresponsibly."

Klaatu's plea for world security on film acts as a call for international co-operation in the real world. A number of observers of the day, Einstein included, believed that the advent of nuclear weapons necessitated the creation of more powerful global bodies and even world federalism. Today, with the threat of bioterrorism, ongoing nuclear proliferation, and the future potential for nanotech catastrophes, the call for increased global co-operation can once again be heard.

Driven by the rational desire for self-preservation, Klaatu's society has given the robots police-like powers. "In matters of aggression, we have given them absolute power over us. This power cannot be revoked," says Klaatu, "At the first signs of violence, they act automatically against the aggressor. The penalty for provoking their action is too terrible to risk." Klaatu denies that his people have achieved any kind of perfection, but instead the attainment of a system that works. "Your choice is simple," he says, "Join us and live in peace, or pursue your present course and face obliteration. We shall be waiting for your answer. The decision rests with you."

Interestingly, Gort's power is analogous to the nuclear bomb itself -- they are both ultimate deterrents. The implication brings to mind the so-called policy of Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD). To engage in nuclear war or set off the Gort robots would be one-in-the-same: a suicidal gesture. Did TDTESS suggest that the means to peace was already in hand?

The messianic urge

As Klaatu and Gort fly away in their spaceship, the viewer cannot help but feel that their stern message was akin to an admonition from God. Indeed, the theological overtones in TDTESS are undeniable. Klaatu, when hiding among humans, goes by the name Carpenter, an obvious reference to Jesus. He is the messiah who has come down from the heavens to impart his message and save the people of Earth.

In recent times this theme has been taken quite literally by a number of religious groups and cults, most notably the Raelian sect. Similarly, the craving for messianic guidance is being re-applied to a different source, namely artificial superintelligence. The rise of Singularitarianism is an overt plea for advanced intervention, the suggestion that humanity is not capable of saving itself and that it requires a higher, albeit non-divine, power.

An archetypal story

The Day the Earth Stood Still is a story for the ages. Along with its famous phrase, "Klaatu barada nikto," it has made an indelible mark in popular culture. At a deeper level it is a reflection of how societies deal with desperation, fear and hopelessness. It is an eye-opening snapshot into human nature and the different ways in which people react to stress and an uncertain future.

In this sense it is truly an archetypal story -- one that I'm sure will continue to be relevant in the years and decades to come.