Leapdragon 2016 - Aron Hsiao Was Here

Monthly Archives: May 2016

Goodbye Democratic party.  §

I’ve left the Democratic party. I joined when Obama was running because I thought it was time to “grow up” politically. Now I think I was wrong.

Here are the words and phrases that made me leave. If they ever stop being endlessly repeated in Democratic party circles, I may consider joining again.

Speciesism, microaggressions, misogyny, mansplaining, progressive, bigotry, hate, proud, oppression, transphobia, ageism, ableism, cisgendered, privilege, etc.

As in, “Your stated desire to focus on climate change and global poverty rather than speciesism, transphobia, ableism, misogyny, and ageism is not just privileged, cisgendered mansplaining, but is in fact, microaggressive to a proud progressive like me!”

I’m back to the party of my youth, where people don’t believe that the CO2 gas in the atmosphere would calm down and stop threatening to heat us all to death if only it would take up yoga, go vegan, and make some LGBTQIA friends.

It’s not that I don’t think that these are serious issues. It’s that I can’t take seriously a party that thinks that one oughtn’t order a pizza because speciesism, or walk too fast down the street because ableism and ageism, or install solar panels because their male-biased rectilinear shape and the unavailability of non-plottable curved versions is a microaggression that smacks of so much latent misogyny in the world of green energy.

More truth.  §

“Behind every fascism there is a failed revolution.” (Walter Benjamin)

This is one of the most profound things ever said. And though I don’t want to go too far down the road of letting words mean just about anything, I want to say that this applies beyond mere fascism and politics to nearly every conflict in every dimension of life.

Anger and cold rationality are the waste products of the combustion of hope.

And, see also from the same Walter Benjamin:

“There is no document of civilisation which is not at the same time a document of barbarism.”

As a corollary:

“Our own cultural fundamentalists claim that culture is an authentic experience at the innermost core of our being. Such a claim is false. Fake it, pretend it, overcome it, but I don’t think that this appeal to some inner core (even if it is of our own culture) has any value. It certainly doesn’t have any emancipatory value. Our innermost attitudes are something we learn, but they can also be changed. We must never forget that.” (Slavoj Zizek)

On bullshit.  §

A few people recently have expressed surprise as I’ve increasingly used the term “bullshit” to talk about things in policy and in society. Some of them are no doubt worried that I’ve gone over to the dark side, become some sort of closet conservative. And it has been and is a season of reflection for me, one of growing up just a little more and thinking about things seriously, rather than simply taking for granted “the way things” (including myself) “are.”

So here’s the clarification. Whether you think more or less of me because of it.

It’s not that I’m leaving left for right. I’m just calling out what I see as the stupid reduction of life by both camps into a series of moral litmus tests, without any room for moderation or critical thinking. Here’s my “bullshit” with more context, for those of you that are wondering.

Fighting redlining, police brutality, and the massive racial imbalance in incarceration is tremendously important. Making the fighting of “microaggressions” the centerpiece of anything at all is bullshit. Fighting for penalty-free maternity leave and against the glass ceiling is tremendously important. Voting for a presidential candidate—or doing anything—purely because of someone’s sexual anatomy is bullshit. Ensuring that trans people can use the restroom in peace and safety and that LGBT people can enjoy the civil benefits of marriage is tremendously important. Demanding that people use the pronouns for them that they prefer—on penalty of civil fines and/or being called a bigot—is bullshit.

And seeing any of these things as more important than climate change, militarism, or public health in the face of multiple growing global crises is bullshit.

This no doubt makes me anathema to activists on both sides. Oh well. It’s the society we live in.

— § —

Oh, and one more thing… That truism about “the personal being political”?

It’s bullshit, too.

If the personal becomes political across the board, then you don’t have a society any longer. And if you don’t have a society, there’s no political anyway.

Allow me to ruffle some feathers.  §

Identity politics is the politics of privilege par excellence.

Nuttery.  §

Here is where people I know may get upset at me. But seriously, this echoes what I am feeling in life right now. Significant parts of Oberlin, like much of higher education and culture in general, appear to be going off the rails.

I’ve spent my entire life as a left-leaning person. But there are, in fact, two lefts. The sensible, empirically grounded one that seeks to improve practical living conditions of creditable body and mind for real people on actual earth by addressing social and economic structures, and this one, the identity politics left, which is nuts.

At its core is a foundational evisceration of both epistemology and ontology as social currents. First, it implicitly claims there is no moral basis for ontological consensus whatsoever, and in fact quite the opposite—it is rather morally proper that all “things” be individualized as epiphenomena of selves. And next, it implicitly claims that the only justified epistemological position is also an appeal to individual phenomenology. It is the claim, in other words, that sharing is deeply unjust. Knowledge and being are rightly individual, as are experience, and it is wrong to transmit, share, or conjure with them—as their moral justifications are essentially singular, particular, and interior, intrinsic only to a self and its inner states. This is what I wrote about years ago in the best thing I’ve ever written (keeping in mind that the camera man of record is most often now the self), all without realizing just how right I was.

In short, this other left, which has now come to dominate the entirety of the left and is increasingly dominating society, argues that there is no practical or moral basis for society at all. Any properly ontological claims are covertly a form of warfare, as are any attempts at communication of any kind. Moral utopia is an aggregate of discrete and entrenched human atoms, as sociability itself is a ruse whose only purpose is to disguise exercises of will by other incommensurate and essentially foreign selves. Utopia is borne of repulsion, rather than of cohesion. Hence the return of the conservative impulse toward segregation and segregated “safe spaces,” this time under the claimed banner of enlightenment and progressivism.

At the core of my political, intellectual, and even personal discomfort these days is something that goes well beyond the “two parties” or the “culture.” It is the fact of disconnection that all of this implies. “Tune in, turn on, and drop out” has taken on a new, and more acute meaning. It now refers not just to society, but in fact to the very foundations of being and knowing. It is a canonizing of the process of checking out from social being, despite full credit that others exist.

Why is it not mere solipsism, full stop? Because it concedes the multiplicity, while saying that it this multiplicity is morally unimportant; it is not that “the self is all that can be known” but rather “morality is to justify the self, and screw the rest, even down to the atoms that make the world.”

The students in this article are angry because they already know everything that can legitimately and morally be known by anyone, so far as they’re concerned—by virtue of their own untranslatable and incommunicable experience. Everyone, so far as they are concerned, already does—and this knowledge practically can not be and morally must not be reconciled or shared. Under such conditions, all education is oppression, and indeed all encounters with other person(s) are oppression. Jean-Paul Sartre’s lament that “hell is other people” has here been turned into an affirmative project, a battle cry.

The highest goal is to travel through life not merely unchanged, but in fact untouched as the mere bundle of sensations that we already are, in order to valorize the victimhood that we and those that bore us unquestionably experienced; the rest is the rest, open warfare included. I am reminded of Walter Benjamin’s reflection that

“Our coming was expected on earth. Like every generation that preceded us, we have been endowed with a weak Messianic power, a power to which the past has a claim. That claim cannot be settled cheaply.”

These people are at war with everyone else—literally—because the nature of “others” is that of having the utter and inexcusable moral cheek to not be them and to not share their own lineage—biological, intellectual, historical, personal. Nothing else matters; it is a purely moral play, a kind of toxic idealism, the self-as-essence-of-justice run amok.

In any case, nihilism and narcissism are winning. Because Oberlin in this article looks very much like what is going on everywhere.

In an age of global warming, food crises, and nuclear proliferation and dispersion, identity culture and politics may just end up killing us all. This is what happens when you put Foucault and intersectionality in the hands of small-minded and deeply hurt people, in a culture lacking rites of passage into adulthood. “A little enlightenment is a dangerous thing,” indeed.

It’s a dead end, folks. If we begin with the assumption that we can’t ever understand each other, grow, or learn—and that it’s a grievous moral wrong to try to accomplish any of these things—then the human race is done for.

Rants directly and by proxy.  §

So:

  • I seriously can’t believe that Trump and Clinton are our general election candidates. Like, I can’t believe it. Yeeeeech. Scary and disappointing and troubling and everything else. This is a cataclysmic comment on U.S. political culture and on U.S. culture in general. Ugly. So ugly.
     
  • The policy core of my problems with identity politics and the focus on self and identity are reflected in this article at Spiked! Online, which is fast becoming one of my favorite spots to read. Identity politics is narcissism, pure and simple, and demands for safe spaces are demands invariably made by the privileged. Some will want to shoot me now. Okay.
     
  • Love me or hate me, I am coming to the realization that the thing that matters most is that you actually engage me as me. I am not here to be anyone’s paper cutout, good or bad.
     
  • I had the distinct misprivilege of hearing a moustached man clad in cowboy boots and hat today pronounce the word “jalapeno” as jaaa-laaa-PEEE-noh. This is life in Utah.
     
  • There is no room for judgment, reflection, or nuance in our politics or in our epistemology in the U.S. Everyone chooses sides, then accepts their marching orders. Anyone that doesn’t is claimed by all sides to be the enemy. This is why we have Trump and Clinton. And it’s bogus. We have gone off the rails.
     
  • Read this.

I don’t know. I think I’m angry again.

Well, I did say it.  §

I said I was looking for signs and wonders.

Postmodernism.  §

Postmodernism is woven through my educational history, through my time as an academic, and through the experience of my generation. It’s something that I’ve had to grapple with, sometimes in groups or intellectually, sometimes alone and at the core of my being.

Here’s the thing.

I am and have been so far gone as to be someone inclined to embrace the strong version of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis. To intuitively accept the notion that what is named exists; that what isn’t, doesn’t, in a very real way, for human cognition. That in fact boundaries and edges and names are things and creations, forms of rhetoric and performance and ways of exercising power rather than ontological forms. That so many forms knowledge, truth, and empiricism are thus expressions of social constellations, rather than the other way around. Though this may sound radically liberal, it isn’t; as a friend once pointed out, this is presumedly the same way in which that most conservative soul, the god of the religions of the book, also was said to operate. In the beginning, after all, was the word as the writing goes, and all that exists proceeded from it, yet at the same time the word as it is written proceeded from the peoples about which it claims to speak and it is the word itself that reassures us that both things are true. This is a language game writ large, if ever there was one; its reality is in its embedding and it is nonsense as apart from it.

The discourse on discourse, however, has been reluctant to engage with seminal circularities like this one—that language and being are both part and parcel of the same emergent experience of being—that the rhetoric and performance both are consequences and have consequences and that all of this has an incarnated, embodied quality into which time is woven as well. That assemblage and bricolage and transgression thus come to us as generations and yet are also generative; that we are—but also that we create—things of consequence and inertia indissolubly bound up with utterance, performance, and action. That we and all of these things are not less real as a result, but rather remain as real as they were always presumed to be.

And so I am coming to the point in my life where I am ready to play the role of the conservative postmodernist. Things may not exist de jure in the universal and prior sense, according to the given laws of a clockwork universe—or they may; I don’t claim to know. But what I tend to believe is that as either co-creators or as complete creators of the universe in which we live, we have a distinct responsibility to move beyond criticism and deconstruction and to credit that these, too—indeed, that all things that we do—are also acts of construction, whether we wish to influence the world or not.

Interpretations become truths once we have pronounced them, for the pronouncement is a fact-on-the-ground, a truth in its own right, and it acts in the world as any other truth might to build the realities that themselves build future truths, however malleable we wish truth to be.

Rather than implying less responsibility, as many often take this to mean, it ought to imply more. The building of reality in which we all participate is of no small consequence. It may enable, constrain, injure, or heal others, the world, and future generations. If due to our postmodern sentiments we as a people in a particular time are less sure of our footing in statement and in action, then we ought to be more conservative about our utterances and gestures, realities that they are, with the knowledge that we create the barbed wire fences of the future, or pull the rug out from under the residents of the future with each passing moment.

The problem with postmodernism is a circular one. If it is all sophistry and epiphenomena, yet we know that as a self we exist and sometimes cry out in pain, then we must concede that the fruits of these things are nonetheless real for us and others, and that these fruits have real effects. We can either then choose to take responsibility for these effects or not. Here a moral judgment comes to the fore; one must choose between nihilism and being in earnest. Put this way, I don’t believe that anyone has ever not been earnest in their being without being dead shortly thereafter, whether or not they admit this to themselves. To wake up and eat in the morning is to give up the game.

And with the moral judgment made, if one chooses earnestness, then one must have a theory for how being works, for how to pursue being effectively. One must discriminate between the less effective and the more effective, dare we say the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’ with respect to this earnestness, and even if one can’t do so with certainty, one certainly tries.

In short, postmodernist criticisms may or may not be valid, but even if they are, the fact remains that we believe things, that things mean something to us, that we take these things to be external to us, that we also pronounce things that are external to others yet nonetheless affect them, that we don’t like to suffer, that we care about some people and some things and presume that they, too, can suffer, yet don’t wish them to do so. A postmodernist moral foundation ought to suggest that in our uncertainty and doubt, our responsibility for careful reflection, discrimination, and generation is increased as a result—not lessened—because we remain responsible for the things that we must honestly concede are important to us, yet we have conceded even greater uncertainty in how to do right by them.

This is the sense in which postmodernism reaches its limit. Do we care? If so, we act accordingly, whether we admit it or not. And in doing so, we discriminate and we evaluate according to meanings that we do, in fact, hold—even if secretly. We build the world, both according to law and in pronouncement of the law, even if we then run for cover.

And running for cover buys us precious little, except to make us look, both to ourselves and to others, like cowards.

— § —

Even shorter version: Postmodernism, for all its complexity, changes nothing. It is like saying that the sky is blue only because I am a human that sees it through eyeballs and uses words to describe the experience. Well, I am. And so, as far as we know, is anyone else that cares about, or has ever named, its color. And to say that this is merely a unsupportable presumption based on my having chanced only on other humans that also credited the existence of a blue sky, and on no animals or coffee tables that did so, borders on either intellectual dishonesty or on nihilistic intellectual obstructionism. It’s hard to say which.

Quote of unknown origin.  §

“Frustration that is allowed to fester turns into anger.
Anger that is allowed to fester turns into bitterness.
Bitterness that is allowed to fester turns into resentment.
Resentment that is allowed to fester turns into hatred.”

— § —

The older I get, the more conservative I get. Still on the left side of the aisle. But no longer identifying with everything wholesale.

— § —

Things that are going on:

  • Photography is coming back into my life.

  • I am haltingly embarking on new spiritual pathways.

  • I am coming to separate “social left” from “economic left” in my own identity, and re-evaluating what I think about much in politics and the public sphere. In particular, I am more and more suspicious of victimhood, of discussions of the “self” and “self nurturing,” and of terms like “conscious” and “enlightened” and so on. I am beginning to understand arguments that others have made about this being a very narcissistic society.

  • I am trying to figure out how to arrive at honesty, and transparency with the world, without a lot of destruction. It is painful to lose one’s identity, to find that it no longer quite fits, and at the same time, that is the sort of thing that needs to be done.

  • I am seeing more and more bullshit, everywhere I look. It is hard not to look around and not just see so much bullshit in our culture and society right now.

  • I am trying to think directly and with clear eyes about the second half of my life and what I want to do with it.

A lot of changes will have to be made. I am no longer who I was a decade ago, and there is no going back. I am officially becoming “old” in many ways; the young me would have disliked the old me that I am becoming. But it is who I am becoming.

— § —

Put it this way: If everything that I have been and have believed has led me to a cul-de-sac with which I am not at all hapoy, then it is time to interrogate and challenge all that I have been and have believed.

— § —

“We all become a well-disguised mirror image of anything that we fight too long or too directly. That which we oppose determines the energy and frames the questions after a while. You lose all your inner freedom.” (Richard Rohr)

Myself, sophistication, and intelligence.  §

Years on, the pattern remains the same.

When people meet me, they overestimate my intelligence and sophistication and think I’m some sort of god, even though I continually say that I’m not. They think I’m being overly modest. But I can get shit done and figure shit out, so I get on with it and generally do.

Over time, despite all objective evidence, they come to think I’m some sort of credulous buffoon that can’t keep two thoughts straight in his head. Then, when I say that I’m not, they feel a misplaced pity—poor, unsophisticated lump, he doesn’t realize just how clueless he is!

Then long after they dismiss and disengage, they are shocked when they meet me again to realize that I’m not the idiot they thought I was at the end. Gosh, you actually are pretty smart, and you’re getting things done in life, and you know all this stuff about me that I didn’t think you’d ever figured out. I’d sort of written you off as a derp.

This is, like, the interaction cycle of my life. I still can’t figure out why it’s so. Is it because I’m not superficial and admit that everyone has t-shirts with holes in them and armpits that smell sometimes? Is it because I’m friendly? I mean, I’ve written books and held good jobs and done television and have a Ph.D, I can’t be an idiot, and I can’t be imperceptive or clueless about people. At the same time, I’m not Albert Einstein, my books are just books, my television is a few interviews, not my own talk show, and I’m not a world-famous professor.

I’m reasonably successful in some ways, less successful in others, probably smarter than most, and about as empathetic and socially skilled as an average person. Yet peoples’ opinions of me over time swing from wildly overinflated to wildly underestimative. Rarely do they just plain see me for who, and what, I am.

Frustrating, not so much as-what-it-is but because of the repeated cycle and my inability to figure it out.

Sickness.  §

The U.S. is sick. The culture is sick. Both on the “right” and on the “left.”

More Panasonic CM1 tips.  §

More stuff about the Panasonic CM1, for those interested, to add on to my previous CM1 post.

  • They can be had cheap. I paid like a fourth the price of what it’s listed for on Amazon. Low enough to sell my Galaxy Note 4 and come out ahead.

  • Agencies are accepting the output. I have placed a decent pile of CM1 photos now with agencies. No sales yet, but some zooms and lightboxes. It’s only been three weeks or so.

  • Don’t use wifi. The wifi upload was taking like 10 minutes per photo no matter which app or method I used. I was disappointed at first to see no stock USB mass storage mode, but I eventually installed Android File Transfer on my Mac and now can download at USB 2.0 speeds.

  • Screen protectors are out there. Hit eBay. There’s a place in Utah producing them, and they run basically around a buck each. They’re not super fabulous, but they’re real, and they get the job done.

  • Protect the lens. It’s a great little lens, but it has an extending front element and is vulnerable, seeing as how it’s part of a smartphone. There is a lens tube made by a company called “Cotta” that is around on eBay. Part of the lens bezel unscrews, and you can then screw the metal tube on. You can mount a 28mm UV filter on top of that. Then, everything is protected.

  • It’s good. I did my first shoot (an event with a decent number of people) using both the CM1 and my Fuji XT-1 with XF 23mm f/1.4 lens. With careful foot placement and shooting at f/2.8, it’s not at all obvious to viewers which shots came from which camera-lens combo. That is an excellent performance for a smartphone.

It’s a real camera, folks. I’m sad that Panasonic has apparently decided to end this form factor, making it one of those delicious technology one-offs that comes and goes and someday will cost a fortune to get ahold of.

Sometimes.  §

Sometimes my heart aches for what might have been.

Right now is one of those times.

Time.  §

There is not enough time to do anything.

To be in love. To be a parent. To have a job. To build a life. To live a life. To smile. To cry.

All of it will be lost, and lost too soon. That is the way of things. It does not matter what it is or how much time you think you have. If it is meaningful, there is not enough time. You will run out of time. All will be lost. And you will live forever in the state of about-to-lose.

And yet it is only because it will be lost that it is meaningful; without the pain of loss, nothing would matter anyway.

This is the core of everything. When the Buddhists say that life is suffering, or when the Christians talk about death and resurrection and redemption, what they are talking about is the fact that nothing matters unless it ends. That nothing can be good without first being temporary. That beauty exists only once death and decay are the rule. It is not about Good and Evil in capital letters, but about the nature of being, which is intrinsically valuable to us—moves us forever to tears and joy, fury and collapse—because it encompasses mere good and evil, which dance forever together so that they do not collapse—as they would if they were to coincide—into essential nothingness.

That is the tragedy of existence, but it is also the only beauty of existence. Eliminate the tragedy, and you eliminate the beauty. Peace requires war. Grace requires fallenness.

There is not enough time, because if there ever were to be enough, there would be no need for time in the first place.

All is nothing. Only not-all is something. That’s the way of things.

— § —

Corollary: Death is always sudden. Whether of things or of people, whether yours or someone else’s, it is always sudden.

Even if it was expected.

One moment there is life. The next moment there is death. There is no “almost” to connect them; death is transcendental.

But so, then, is rebirth, as death is—inevitably—the birth of something new.

Social media, again.  §

I know what it is now that has changed in me to make me more dubious of the big-picture social benefit of social media. It is not a change in knowledge or analysis, but a change in life experience, and a shift in perspective that proceeds from my personal life.

I have come to realize in a visceral way that is only recently possible for me—and I mean that literally—that what social media is, beyond being a way of connecting people that would otherwise be practically unable to connect, is a giant system for the complete personal management of social risk. The former is a laudable quality. The latter is a harmful one.

Under the guise of security and safety, social media gives individuals the ability to manually set the level of risk that they will face in social interaction. One can revise and re-revise one’s statements and photos until they are polished to a sheen to support a particular desired ego and persona. This can take any amount of time; the person insecure about their appearance can post what appears to be a momentary snapshot photo that in fact took weeks of curation and editing to achieve; the person insecure about their own wisdom and knowledge can scour texts and Google endlessly for just the right collection of Zen quotes to post airily as just-so-many-little-thoughts-in-passing.

Individuals can decide who sees and who does not see what they say. They can hide their engagement with others until and unless they have the perfect witticism or statement of support with which to respond. If, a moment or two after some action, an individual sees their most recent gesture in a new light, they can delete it, pull it back again before it is seen by anyone.

They can even return to the past—years back in wholesale—curating the story of their lives to hide the embarrassing, the mistaken, the regretted, and anything that doesn’t fit their current self-narrative.

All of the risk of social life—of conversation, of engagement, of communication, of other people—is eliminated. And so, too, thus, is all vulnerability, all intimacy, and all natality.

Sociability is edifying because it is fraught, and because it is opaque. Our experience of “others” as social beings is unavoidably bound up with the danger, wild (in the animal sense) human agency, practical novelty, and potential for achieved mutuality that they represent. We are hard-wired as a social species to need and to respond to these things. “Successful” sociability (say, on social media) without these things is like receiving a medal just for turning up at the race. It may be shiny, but it rings hollow, and is as likely to foster insecurity and self-doubt as anything else.

It goes well beyond the problem that people can “surround themselves with those that agree with them.” It’s that people can no longer even recognize disagreements or know whether others actually agree with them or not. It is lonely on social media because very few put themselves there, really—and because nobody can know whether any of the others that they see are one of those few at all.

I think it goes well beyond the commonly cited criticism of “narcissism” caused by social media; it’s actually the opposite—the potential for a descent into deep fear and isolation that is masked and goes unnoticed. Surrounded by an overload of social information and apparent connection, individuals don’t see the fact that the very essences of social being—novelty, risk, and the unavoidable confrontation with the uniqueness and depth of others, all of these working in tandem to create the new, to expand horizons—have been stripped out of the flow.

As a platform and structure, social media thus creates a kind of starvation, and by turns, an insatiable hunger for social being. As a primary habit for the pursuit of social being, it then intensifies and feeds this starvation and hunger. The right answer is to rediscover risk. To turn to social interaction that is not settled, cannot be controlled, may go wrong, is uncomfortable, includes not just everyone’s curated best but also everyone’s actual worst. But at the very same time, this answer is counterintuitive, since the density of interaction of any kind is so much lower outside of social media. It rather seems to stand to reason that if one is insatiably hungry for social being, one ought to turn to the place where it is most plentiful—and so the hungry of the present tend to turn precisely to that which has starved them.

And the same goes for social movements. For community building. And so on.

It is rather like drinking saltwater when one is thirsty and nothing else is available. The temptation is immense, the course of action is obvious—and it is also that which accelerates and multiplies your predicament.

So I was wrong. Or rather, I was reductive and somewhat blind. As a practical matter, social media is historically invaluable for connecting those that might not otherwise or in other times have been able to remain in touch. But on a de facto basis, the risks to key parts of society and sociability are also great, and the risks to individual growth and maturity are even greater.

I hereby eat crow.

— § —

Put another way, there’s an awful lot of love, intimacy, and enlightenment talk on social media. But there is precious little of these feelings to be found there, in comparison to what can be found away from it. And this experience of being-overwhelmed-by-its-volume-while-not-getting-it is a recipe for sadness and for feeling the outsider who does not understand and is somehow not understood.

It is a recipe for feeling fake, and for coming to believe that everyone else is fake—while paradoxically, at the same time, secretly wondering if everyone else is true and you alone are somehow defective. And thus it is a recipe for redoubling your efforts toward fakery—which is a very decent path away from fulfillment and wholeness.

— § —

I realize, too, that this position may at first glance seem orthogonal to the last post that I made about social media just days ago.

And yet intuitively I don’t think that they are orthogonal at all. When I have more and have thought about it more, maybe I’ll make another post that synthesizes the positions. That would be an interesting exercise, but now is not the right time. I leave it for later.