“Murder Your Darlings”

2PM Wednesday 16th January 2013.

Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it – wholeheartedly – and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings.
 — Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch.

In writing, your darlings are disruptive. The very thing that makes them darlings breaks the flow for the reader. Delete them.

In programming, your favourite bits of code are often too clever for their own good. Delete them, and replace them with more straightforward pieces.

In science, you should confirm a hypothesis (or not) by trying to disprove it, rather than prove it. (The same should hold for police work.)

Don't protect your work from critique. Attack it. Mercilessly. (This will be hard on your ego. Don't let that stop you.)

If you meet the Buddha, kill him.
 — Zen Master Linji

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Firearms in New Zealand

6PM Wednesday 2nd January 2013.

Guns are scary, powerful, and can kill. Let's acknowledge that up-front. They're instruments of death, designed to kill things, and if you're anti-death you're probably anti-gun.

On the other hand, guns are just tools. They're inert, passive objects, only imbued with purpose and power by their human operators, and as such no different to a hammer, or a knife, or a car. (This is the ‘guns don't kill people, people kill people’ argument.)

It happens that both perspectives are true. But the main purpose of a gun, the reason for its existence, is quite different to that of a car. A car primarily exists to move people and things about. A gun primarily exists to punch very traumatic holes in things at some distance. Cars and guns lend themselves to quite different sets of purposes.

So let's set aside potential uses – basically anything can be used to kill, and guns account for only a tiny number of (human) deaths in New Zealand:

[In New Zealand] around 1,400 people suffer an untimely death from criminal or accidental causes each year. Firearms typically contribute to around 6 of those. That’s fewer than the number who die through falling off their chair.
Gary Elmes

What we really want to concern ourselves with are primary purposes, and there is no denying that the primary purpose of a gun is to kill living creatures. (Target-shooting is a pretty popular secondary purpose, but a secondary purpose it is.)

The New Zealand Arms Code has this to say (emphasis mine):

People who have…

  • a history of violence or
  • repeated involvement with drugs or
  • been irresponsible with alcohol or
  • a personal or social relationship with people who may be deemed to be unsuitable to obtain access to firearms or
  • indicated an intent to use firearms for self defence

…may find it difficult to satisfy the Police that they are fit and proper to have a firearm. […]

Self-defence is not a valid reason to possess firearms. The law does not permit the possession of firearms ‘in anticipation’ that a firearm may need to be used in self-defence.

Section 4 of the NZ Arms Code

So, this allows us to focus our discussion a bit; in New Zealand, self-defense is not a legitimate justification for gun ownership, and intent to use a gun (or actual use) against a human being is most likely already criminal. If our concern is guns being used against people, that's a question of the details of effective regulation, but there's otherwise not really any discussion to be had, here.

Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.
— Mao Zedong

An armed society is a polite society.
— Robert A. Heinlein

This ‘not for self-defence’ restriction pretty well neutralises the fact that guns can serve (politically and socially) as an implied threat of violence. Obviously the armed forces and the police still have access to guns with a certain scope for use against people, but ‘civilians’ do not, so we can (in New Zealand) safely ignore the political and social overtones. (The government monopoly on legal violence is a whole 'nother discussion.)

(To me, incidentally, Heinlein's ‘polite society’ seems more of an intimidated one, where citizens have to tiptoe around and offer opinions carefully and quietly lest they offend the wrong person. Guns in Heinlein's society are simply another form of power and privilege.)

So, if you're here in New Zealand, the ‘gun question’ boils down to really a single problem: what is the place of hunting in our increasingly urban, gun-shy, and blood-shy society?

Personally, I think hunting springs from a very similar impulse to veganism. I know that sounds quite strange, but think of it like this: both hunters and vegans recognise that factory farming and exploitation of animals is a problem; that we are out of balance with nature; that our rule of the natural world is more oppressive domination than benevolent management.

The difference is in the response to such a recognition. Those with the vegan impulse (who usually live in cities, and I don't think that's incidental) react in much the same way conservationists do when they recognise we are damaging our environs – that is, they distance themselves, limiting their interactions. ‘Take only photographs, leave only footprints’ is a pretty succinct summary of the philosophy; essentially, enjoy it, but don't get involved, don't interfere. Look but don't touch. For vegans, that means completely avoiding all animal products and by-products.

Hunters, on the other hand, (who are frequently country-dwellers, and that's not incidental), upon recognition of this damaged relationship, seek to increase their involvement, to insert themselves back into these natural systems in a more integrated fashion. Animals have hunted animals for millions of years; this is how a system stays in balance. Why should we be any different?

(Of course, this is a post-facto justification; likely a majority of hunters have never consciously thought this. I think it would be fair to describe hunters as generally less ‘aware’ than vegans. But you don't have to be conscious of a thing to be living it.)

The results of this difference in philosophies shows up in the Department of Conservation's use of poisons to manage New Zealand's ecosystems. As all our mammal species (deer, possums, goats, rabbits, wallabies, pigs, tahr, chamois, rats, stoats, ferrets, dogs, cats…) were introduced to New Zealand (by both white and Maori settlers), these species aren't in balance with the environment here; that kind of balance takes long ages to form. So, to avoid our bush being destroyed, native birds made extinct, and our environment left in tatters, DOC has to do something about it.

And the unfortunate reality is that poisoning is the best way to manage animal populations; hunters definitely contribute to this management, as do possum trappers and commercial game-meat sellers, but there just aren't enough of them, and they can't do enough between them, so it falls to aerial poison drops to manage numbers.

And while poison causes painful deaths, and is thus awful and inhumane in the small, in the large it's still better than doing nothing; a sufficiently large animal population can strip their habitat of food so quickly that the usual natural (intrinsic) population controls don't have time to kick in; it's not unheard of for animal populations in New Zealand to destroy their habitats and starve themselves to death.

Hunting used to be as Kiwi a thing as ever there was. Take these anecdotes of the good old days [sic]:

Don't think I would try and catch the bus back from National Park [like I used to], throwing the venny [venison; deer] into the cargo hold then climbing aboard with rifle, blood soaked swanny and a big smile from all the passengers.

My stepdad moved from Aussie to NZ back in the day - he carried his gun on the plane in the overhead luggage […] - carried it through the airport and cruised through customs no worries they just asked a couple of questions. Walked down Queen St in Auckland with the rifle shouldered without raising an eyebrow.

As this old video shows, air travel with a rifle used to be a truly casual affair!

Neither my dad nor my uncle were ever professional hunters, but my uncle used to keep all the meat he hunted and still cover the costs of his trips by selling all the ‘interesting’ bits to a chinese man who made alternative medicines.

If you became a professional hunter during the culling days of the 60s and 70s, you'd disappear into the bush with a rifle for months at a time. The government would sell you cheap ammunition, and pay you for every deer tail you carried out. Plenty of guys did well enough to buy their first homes, or set themselves up in business.

New Zealand has a long history of hunting; we even had moose introduced to Fiordland in 1910 (and there's some evidence that a few are still kicking around down there.)

There aren't many countries in which all mammals are introduced; in some ways it makes New Zealand a hunters paradise. Our introduced species are considered pests, and as such there are no bag limits or restrictions on hunting them. (There are restrictions on access to many hunting areas, but that's a different story.)

New Zealand now is a far cry from New Zealand then. We're an increasingly urbanised country – our three largest cities alone account for half of our population. A large number of New Zealanders will never see a gun outside of a TV screen.

We laugh about the vegetarian who doesn't realise that chicken is an animal, or those who say ‘hunters are cruel, why can't they just get their meat from the supermarket where no animals have had to suffer’, but the reality is that we live in a society of increasing distance from the gory, bloody bits of life, and in this context hunters are a regressive force, swimming against the tide. Often-times media reports about hunters and guns make errors of the same kind of magnitude as the ‘chicken isn't meat’ vegetarian, but no one outside the ‘gun community’ knows enough to spot it.

Hunters and other gun-owners aren't always sympathetic figures, either. Cowboy spotlighters, idiots shooting at road-signs, Ewen Macdonald, people who got the license but have no background and no knowledge of ideas like ‘humane killing’, and just want to go hurl bullets at things for a laugh – these people exist, and they don't do anyone any favours.

On top of this, we're also in a place where many people only ever experience guns through TV, movies and games, and usually only in very limited situations. Almost all on-screen depiction of guns sees them used against other human beings; primarily in crime/law enforcement, terrorism, or military combat scenarios. We don't tend to see movie depictions of deer-stalking or duck-shooting, and our perceptions of firearms become coloured by what we do see.

(Which of course creates a feedback effect; there are gun-owners who just want to live the movie fantasy of Dirty Harry or John McClane or, god forbid, Travis Bickle.)

Hunting is one of the oldest traditions in the world, and even in its modern form it has a long history in New Zealand. However, the world moves on, and traditions run the risk of being left behind. I think hunting is an important, perhaps even crucial part of our relationship to our world, and it would be a tragedy to lose it.

I shoot with a .25-06 in which the “-06” is short for “1906 Springfield,” which is when and where its predecessor was designed. It hasn't been changed much since then, either. I also shoot a .22LR, which was designed by another American company in 1887.

A few related links:


Swift Trust

11AM Friday 13th January 2012.

…she’s trying to get a group to form a collective, with a shared set of principles and shared goals. […] To get there you have to build deep trust: a polite way to say that the folks in the collective have to sort out the politics involved. In general that can take months, even when the participants share a great deal in common in education, background, and temperament.

But why form a collective? As she points out, it’s risky. If you want to build things, you can define a small project to test some ideas, and form a Hollywood-style project team to accomplish it. Instead of trying to collaborate on a big, wholly integrated vision of the future — where everything has to be discussed and agreed on before the first thing gets done — just cooperate on something fast, small, and low risk.

The way of the future is cooperation, not collaboration.

— Stowe Boyd, Getting To Trust: Better Swift Than Deep

I think this is a pretty good summing up of my problems with consensus movements (communes, for instance, and the various Occupations), and a good description of the direction I'd rather go in. Decentralisation, looser ties, more flexibility, less permanence.


Infrastructure needs to change

2PM Thursday 12th January 2012.

For some decades the green movement has emphasised personal action, which is an important part of responding to climate change. But what is becoming ever clearer is that massive change is needed at an infrastructure level to enable people to make changes to their lifestyle. This is especially true in transport.

Local and central government policy and funding has made it much cheaper, easier and more convenient to travel by personal car around our towns and cities, and to travel around the country by plane as our passenger rail services have languished. Meanwhile, it has become much less convenient, less safe, sometimes more expensive, and sometimes impossible to travel by train, bus, or on foot or by bicycle.

— Julie Anne Genter, Cycling to Southland



10AM Tuesday 3nd January 2012.

Here it is my usual year-in-review. ‘Read more,’ you know you want to.

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On the Netsafe/RIANZ agreement

1PM Wednesday 30th November 2011.

I wrote the following comment in response to this post on the Netsafe blog, regarding the agreement between Netsafe and RIANZ to carve out an exception to the three-strikes copyright legislation for schools. My comment hasn't yet shown up there, so I'm archiving it here.

My concern isn’t that Netsafe is being incoherent, but that this will be used as a defense of a broken law in terms of “see, it’s not so bad.” Depending on copyright holders and their representatives (here, both complainant and judge) to be carving out and acknowledging exceptions is a bad bad look for the rule of law.

We shouldn’t be dependent on informal back-room deals for things that should be included in the law.

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12PM Sunday 6th November 2011.

A travel book may tell us, for example, that a narrator journeyed through the afternoon to reach the hill town of X and, after a night in its medieval monastery, awoke to a misty dawn. But we never simply journey through an afternoon. We sit in a train. Lunch digests awkwardly within us. The seat cloth is grey. We look out of the window at a field. We look back inside. A drum of anxieties revolves in consciousness. We notice a luggage label affixed to a suitcase in a rack above the opposing seats. We tap a finger on the window-ledge. A broken nail on an index finger catches a thread. It starts to rain. A drop wends a muddy path down the dust-coated window. We wonder where the ticket might be. We look back out at the field. It continues to rain. At last the train starts to move. It passes an iron bridge, after which it stops inexplicably. A fly lands on the window. And still we might only have reached the end of the first minute of a comprehensive account of the events lurking within the deceptive sentence ‘he journeyed through the afternoon’.

— Alain de Botton, The Art of Travel


Cheating isn't Winning

11AM Thursday 27th October 2011.

The point being: we have a massive police force in America that outside of lower Manhattan prosecutes crime and imprisons citizens with record-setting, factory-level efficiency, eclipsing the incarceration rates of most of history's more notorious police states and communist countries.

But the bankers on Wall Street don't live in that heavily-policed country. There are maybe 1000 SEC agents policing that sector of the economy, plus a handful of FBI agents. There are nearly that many police officers stationed around the polite crowd at Zucotti park.

— Matt Taibbi, Wall Street Isn't Winning It's Cheating


‘Hamlet’s Blackberry’

10PM Thursday 20th October 2011.

There's something about electric communication that is a little bit unsettling to the consciousness or puts us in a state that's relatively unsettled. This has been the case for over 150 years now with the invention of the telegraph. We feel like we're speeding up and accelerating and that can be very exciting and useful in some ways but in the end it doesn't afford focus the way that non-electric modes of reading and experiencing information do. That's something we're still wrestling with.

If you're really a digital person and you have been spending your days connected and you haven't had time away from the screen for weeks or months or even years for some people, it's very hard to even grasp what it feels like to spend a couple of full days offline and how different it is. The way in which your perception and your thoughts and really your whole experience just go into a different gear. You can't do it by going offline for one day.

William Powers, author of Hamlet’s Blackberry – Boing Boing



9AM Tuesday 18th October 2011.

Wall Street, after all, hasn’t got a list of demands that it makes one protest at a time; it exerts constant, unyielding pressure on the engines of power and arranges to continue to bully policymakers in perpetuity. If the Occupy movement expands and persists, it can conceivably arrange to bully policymakers even more fiercely. That would result in the achievement of real democracy, and all of the policy goals that implies.

Anatomy of a Victory: Occupy Wall Street Wins a Big One | Truthout




Written by Matt Wilson