Disney and the teaching of America's children

First of all, I need to say that I have done no hard research on this topic.

Second, I need to say that I am making no moral judgement on Disney.  "I like Disney" is the extent of my moral judgement.

Third, I would like to say that I think this would be a very productive avenue of research.  I am only musing.  If someone wants to offer me--an overqualified muser--an enormous grant to research this avenue further, I might take it, but I'd have to think about it first.

Having provided those disclaimers, I'll begin.

Disney released its fifth feature-length animated film, Bambi, in the summer of 1942 (that would make an interesting title for a book, wouldn't it?  The Summer of '42--oh, wait, scratch that).  I attended a re-release of Bambi in the 1960's that had a profound influence on me.  After I saw the film, though I had grown up in a home and in the midst of a culture that revolved around the deer season, I could not bring myself to seriously hunt deer.

I do not object to hunting, and I love the taste of venison.  Furthermore, my unwillingness to take a gun and go blasting away at Bambi's mother is born as much from my inability to see clearly (and the fear that I might blast my own father, let alone an errant doe) as it is the trauma of reliving this most traumatic childhood movie.

But I have wondered how many other people were influenced as I was by the film, and I've noticed a few correlations that may or may not be related.

The first modern federal gun control legislation (The Gun Control Act of 1968) was passed just two years after the US re-release of Bambi.  PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) was founded in 1980, five years after a 1975 US re-release.  Vegetarianism in the United States is said to have begun to become popular with the publication of Frances Moore Lappe's 1971 book, Diet for a Small Planet.

Of course, this may all be post-hoc ergo propter-hoc fallacy, but I suspect that there is at the very least a lurking guilt for the death of Bambi's mom in all of these things.


AFI lists "man" in Bambi as one of the worst film villains of all time.

I'm not suggesting at all that Disney consciously intended to propagandize against hunting.  I think Walt found a good story that children would love, and he adapted it brilliantly.  (I personally think the film is better than Felix Salten's book, or at least I did when I read the book in the sixth grade.)  But there is no denying that the film is powerful and formative.

Why?  Apart from the Disney skills at work, the film is addressed to children.

And that is something that interests me a lot.

Let's take Disney seriously

When I was in graduate school back in the mid-1990's, one of my professors and I got into--shall we say?--an argument about whether or not Disney was a valid subject of film study.  "Disney is not film!" the professor insisted.  "Disney is only a corporation selling things!"

This arose because I suggested at the time that such films as The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and The Lion King might represent a renaissance of musical film and theater.  They were classic musicals, I asserted, and, if they were on the stage (they weren't at the time--wasn't I prescient?) they would be the sorts of shows that parents would take their children to, which would lead their children to learn to appreciate musicals in form, content, and symbology.

This was partly born out of my personal belief that ever since the late 1960's, and especially with the advent of Hair, musical theater has been much less family friendly, and that unfriendliness is part of the reason for a period of decline in the popularity of the form.  I think that since the musical form is a difficult form to read, if children are not trained to read it, they will likely abandon it--which is almost exactly what happened until--guess when--Disney helped to establish the resurgence we are seeing today.


In order to consider such things as Disney's influence on the American musical--or the company's influence on any part of American culture--we must take Disney seriously as an artistic style, and not reject the company merely because it makes makes money. (Which American motion picture company does not try to make money?  Even William Shakespeare made money--lots of it--and we take him seriously.  If he could have sold little Hamlet dolls, I'm sure he would have without flinching.)

So, let's take Disney seriously.  Walt, after all, won more Academy Awards than any other person in history.  Disneyland, perhaps the best if not the first theme park, is an immersive theater experience, utilizing audience participation, environmental theater, street theater, improvisation, happenings, and shows within the show.

Before I start on any extended discussion of Disney and performing art, I want to make it clear that I do not work for the company.  I never have, and I likely never will.  I have no connection to Disney whatsoever except the connections of my own childhood and the connections of the Disneyphiles I raised.

Back in the Saddle Again

Well, I'm back.  The haitus is over.

I want to start this foray into the blogosphere with a more overt expression of my current intentions.  I read through my previous statement, and I don't necessarily want to amend that too much.  I'm still interested in pop culture, and I like to flex the ol' PhD occasionally.  I might even wax funny occasionally, if PhD's are actually allowed to do that without sucking all the moisture from the atmosphere.

But I am increasingly interested in having a voice in the national--check that:  world--dialogue about religion and its place in the public sphere.  I am also interested in both Mormon and general Christian apologetics

So, here is my intital salvo:

I am still an orthodox member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. 

I have a personal witness from direct experience that there is a God.  I have faith that I am in the image of God, and that he looks human though I haven't seen Him.

I have direct personal experience--I might rather say "experiences"--that prove to me that God loves me.  I have faith that He loves everyone.

I have direct personal experience--again, multiple experiences--that prove to my satisfaction that God does not lie.  In all cases in which I have been able to personally test the veracity of what God has said (either through the LDS canon of scripture or through personal experience), I have discovered that God has spoken the truth.  I have faith that He cannot and will not tell a lie.  I have faith that cases which I have not been able to test--either because they have not happened yet, or because the test is otherwise not available to me--these cases will also prove that God speaks the truth.  I have faith that things I do not currently know or understand will be knowable and understandable and will prove God's veracity.

A long time ago, I prayed to know if "the Mormon Church is true."  The unequivocal answer was a resounding "Yes!"  There can be no possible doubt for me that the answer came from God.  I am reluctant to publish too much of my spiritual experiences, and indeed, I don't believe it's necessary for me to prove to the world that the experience I had on the first night I prayed, or experiences I have had since, are from God and not my own little brain.  However, I feel a certain responsibility to be a witness, just as if I had received a subpoena to testify in court.

I have had innumerable spiritual witnesses that the Book of Mormon is a true, ancient document, and is the Word of God, equal to the Bible.  I am perfectly willing to discuss the Book of Mormon at length.  I love the book.  Both as a scholar of literature and as a practicing Latter-day Saint, I confess that the Book of Mormon is my favorite book.  If I were allowed only one book (and me a compulsive reader!), and if I were confirned to some limited space, I could find happiness in reading and studying and pondering the Book of Mormon--both as a literary and as a devotional text.  The King James Bible, Shakespeare, and Mark Twain would be icing on the cake--but the cake alone would suffice.

So here I am.  Back in the saddle again.  Chafing at the bit.  Champing in the gate. 

And maybe I can finish that novel while I'm at it...

The orthodoxy of science

Sometime during post-modernism, science became a religion.

It might be worth researching when and how this happened; it doesn't suit my purpose here. I do not mean to suggest that, since science has become a religion, science isn't true. I mean to point out that, just because something is suggested by a scientist ("top scientist" is the modern equivalent of "high priest" or "prophet"), it is not above scrutiny on grounds both scientific and non-scientific. Conversely, just because something is suggested by non-scientist, it is not beneath respect. Further, I am often troubled by the need in the humanities to find justification and funding for non-scientific disciplines by trying to turn them into sciences.

Let me illustrate my idea that science is a religion:

The King James New Testament defines faith as "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1). It has become an accepted practice in science for objects to be dated using radioactive isotopes, even when the decay rate of the isotope is far beyond the range of human corroboration. As the "evidence of things not seen," this qualifies as a principle of faith. Evidence in support of organic evolution, even to the point of attempts at detailed explanations of the origin of life, is "the substance of things hoped for," and is a principle of faith.

Writers casually use the word "miracle" in reference to evolution. (See http://science.discovery.com/convergence/miracleplanet/tunein.html.)

Morality is defined by the scientific necessity or validity of something. Abortion, for example, is either a valid method of ending a pregnancy or an invalid murder of a human being depending entirely on when a fetus becomes a human, and both pro- and anti-abortionists fight over scientific decisions of when a fetus becomes human. An appeal to non-scientific sources for the moral question is not considered valid. (See http://www.prochoiceactionnetwork-canada.org/articles/fetusperson.shtml.)

Orthodoxy is enforced. Psychiatrists who believe that homosexuality is a mental aberration, biologists who question even minor aspects of orthodox evolutionary teaching, environmentalists who question global warming--all are disciplined (if not shouted down), usually by being marginalized. Excommunication from the scientific faith in the United States is usually effected by the rejection of publication in mainstream American journals. (Since other cultures are not fighting a pitched battle against organized religious forces, they may be more willing to consider alternative evaluations of given data; in the United States, data are expected to be interpreted in certain orthodox ways; data that defy orthodoxy may actually be suppressed until a coalition is built to defend it.)

The phrase "studies have shown" has validity, in spoken American, equivalent to that formerly reserved for Biblical citations. (Google the phrase; it's interesting.)

Finally, science is funded by true believers.

There is a movement, organized or not, to discredit religion in general. In the United States, Muslim extremists are used as an excuse to do this, though all religions--including science--have crazy extremists who do not follow the basic tenets of most religions that govern how we get along with each other. Sometimes these extremists even get into power and are able to do great damage (note Joseph Stalin for scientific atheism and the Medici Popes for Christianity for two extreme examples). This marginalization of those who cling to religious beliefs is really intended to establish a hegemony of materialists, not as an establishment of a higher order of truth, as science should be.

Therefore, if science is the "the observation, identification, description, experimental investigation, and theoretical explanation of phenomena," then let it be so. Let it be an unbiased search for knowledge and truth, and be careful of the dogma.

Rhetoric and the redefinition of marriage (Debate in the new millennium, Part 2)

I want to blend two previous threads here.

First, it is a hallmark of Millennialist discourse to redefine words in the middle, then use them in their new definitions, often as an ironic commentary on previous ideas in the discourse.

Second, the widespread public endorsement of homosexuality will continue to be a goal both fought for and fought over.

The two threads come together in the current reaction to California's passage of Proposition 8 which limits the definition of marriage to dual gender relationships only.

There is a cry among the proponents of same-gender marriage that the passage of Proposition 8 has removed the rights or affected the civil rights of homosexuals in California. This reasoning is based at least partly on the idea that, since the California Supreme Court ruled in May 2008 that the right of marriage must be expanded to include same gender couples, there is a civil right to marriage that is being removed from same gender couples.

"Civil right" is usually defined as a right granted by the 13-15 amendments to the US Constitution. The 13th Amendment abolishes slavery, and the 15th prohibits limitations on the voting rights of adult males. The only right possibly claimed to have been abridged by Proposition 8 would be those defined in the following clause from the 14th Amendment:

"No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws."

The way the argument in favor of same-gender marriage is usually framed implies that the right to marry has been taken away from homosexuals.

This is not true.

If there were laws that sifted homosexuals out of the equation before they were allowed to marry someone of the opposite gender, then there would be a civil rights issue. If, for example, a homosexual man and a lesbian woman chose to marry, and they were asked about their sexual orientation before the ceremony, then were forbidden to marry after confessing their homosexuality, then their civil rights will have been violated.

Marriage has always been defined as a dual-gender relationship, and only recently have modifiers begun to alter the meaning of the word (ie, "gay marriage"). Marriage has never been taken away from homosexuals; same-gender sexual relationships with the same sanction of marriage have only recently been considered and redefined to use the word "marriage."

The entire argument, therefore, is based on redefinition ("marriage," "civil right"), and not on a previously understood definition of either idea.

Related to redefinition are grammatical implications. "It is not a choice," is often say about "being gay." "Being" and "gay" are both redefined in this construct, but "it" is used as a pronoun without a specific antecedent. An argument then becomes impossible. How can the question of choice be debated when what "it" is is not clear?

The same tactic is used in discourse over abortion. The expression, "right to choose," is frequently used in public discourse of abortion, but "choose" is used as an intransitive verb, when the intention of both sides is that it is transitive--in other words, it requires the direct object "abortion" (also in its verbal form "to abort"). Do I believe in the "right to choose"? Of course, in the abstract who in the United States objects to the right of choice. Do I believe in the right to choose abortion, or the right to choose to abort a baby? There, the debate may become more productive.

The Millenialist, Mormonism, and Prop 8

It's about time that I identify myself as a practicing, orthodox member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

It was not my intention, at the beginning, to allow for the obvious confusion that would arise from a Latter-day Saint writing about Millennialism. I never intended for the trends that I choose to call "Millennialism" to be identified with the Mormon idea of the Millennium, or thousand-year reign of Christ. In fact, it would be better to draw a contrast.

I originally wanted to speak quietly, bridging as well as possible the gap between academic and popular writing, and point out motions that I have seen in American culture in the past thirty years. My academic background is in culture, the arts, and languages, and I believe that I am more than qualified to say, "I've noticed something interesting or different . . ." I expected that only a few of my friends will read this blog, but I confess that I'd hoped that, eventually, it might be heard by others. It's a fantasy, but it's one I share with many, I'm sure.

What has happened to make me explicitly insert my religion into personal academic and cultural meditations?

Proposition 8, the California Constitutional Amendment that defines marriage as between a man and a woman.

What is intersecting here is my feeling that it is very likely that a majority of Americans will accept same-gender marriage as normative within a generation, my sincere religious hope that it doesn't happen, and my sincere religious fear that--if it happens--it will be devastating to American life in less than a century.

The wide-spread acceptance of homosexuality is being nurtured through the schools. School children, especially in large urban areas, are carefully groomed by the schools to believe that homosexuality is not unnatural, and that, if two people truly love each other, they should be allowed to marry--or do anything that they deem essential to their sexual happiness. It is very unlikely that, given current movements in the schools, traditional marriage will be able to hold out on a national level. That coupled with the genuine appearance that same-gender marriage causes no (immediate) damage to a culture, will erode the resistance to it.

This, I think, will become one of the hallmarks of Millennialism. Traditional marriage will cease to exist as a cultural phenomenon in America.

I don't think it will go down without a fight, however, and I can easily see a second Civil War on this very issue. Constitutional crises, proposed national amendments, conventions, and political disorder could foreseeably come about in the near future.

Furthermore, within a hundred years if the traditional family continues to erode, or if it ceases to exist, it will very likely become necessary to legislate reproduction, much as is currently happening in China and Italy. Un-reproductive promiscuity will abound.

If there is no Civil War.

As a religionist, however, I am hopeful of many things. I am hopeful, for example, that Millennialism will end at the beginning of the true Millennium. I am hopeful that persecutions will galvanize support for traditional marriage (it is already happening), and that will delay the worst--perhaps indefinitely. I am hopeful that people will see reason in the current arguments, and can agree to disagree--even with love and acceptance of each other as individuals and human beings. I believe in miracles.

Debate in the new millennium, part 1

From at least the 1960s, post-modernists began a protracted battle to change the nature of debate so as to ensure outcomes.

It has come to be called "shouting down."

It began with the Civil Rights movement in the 1950s in which peaceful, non-violent means were used to move the question of civil rights for Americans of African descent in the United States. (There is a good argument that it began with Gandhi in the fight for Indian independence from Great Britain, and its seeds were sown in the American and French Revolutions and the writings of the American Transcendentalists, but I'm looking only to contrast current movement with post-modernism.)

"Shouting down," as a form of argument, is just what it says it is. If someone disagrees with you, you shout until they give up, then you declare yourself the winner. As often as not, you can make it appear as if you are correct, though no actual debate was held.