Everything is amazing and nobody is happy

Today I came across this YouTube clip of comedian Louis C.K. on Conan O'Brien a couple of years ago.

Louis C.K. is right in a lot of ways: everything is amazing right now and nobody is happy. We don't have the patience to give our phones one second to transmit and receive signals to and from space. We get frustrated when we get held up at airports, despite the fact that we are able to fly through the air whilst sitting in chairs to get to distant places in a very short time. Instead of being thankful that we live in such an incredible time with amazing technological developments, we moan and complain because things aren't fast enough or good enough. There's so much to appreciate and be in awe of in the developed world many of us live in, and things will only get better as people continue to innovate and create. We can either choose to live with wonder and gratitude, or choose to constantly grumble that nothing is satisfactory.

I'm going to strive to not be a spoiled idiot that is part of the crappiest generation ever.

G.

Degas to Dali exhibition

To celebrate the Queen’s Birthday long weekend, a few friends and I (and what seemed like half of Auckland) decided to check out the Degas to Dali exhibition on at the Auckland Art Gallery today. It was a fantastic collection of artwork by modern artists of various movements, including Impressionism, cubism, surrealism, and pop art. $17.00 NZD to check out 79 paintings, sculptures and prints by 62 master artists – not a bad deal.

My favourites out of the lot were:

Edgar Degas, Before the Performance, c1896-c1898,
Oil on paper laid on canvas

Edgar Degas, Study of a Girl's Head, Late 1870s,
Oil on canvas

John Duncan Fergusson, Dieppe, 14 July 1905: Night, 1905,
Oil on canvas

Gwen John, A Young Nun, c1915-1920,
Oil on canvas

Pablo Picasso, Mère et enfant [Mother and Child], 1902,
Oil on paper laid on canvas

Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, Japanisches Theater [Japanese Theatre], 1909,
Oil on canvas

Gustave Courbet, The Wave, c1869, Oil on canvas

I learnt some pretty neat things about modern art too. For example, painting landscapes was initially considered sub-par art because pre-modern art valued human beings and historical figures and events as subjects. It’s crazy to think that now because landscapes can inspire wonder and awe, just as amazing art depicting persons and well-known happenings can. Also, the invention of the camera totally changed the world of art: no longer did artists need to strive to faithfully capture reality anymore, so artists experimented with distorted perspectives and imagery. Rather than letting their external surroundings dictate their work, lots of artists looked inwards for inspiration and expression.

I had an awesome time today. Yay for art!

G.

The book thief

Last night I read Markus Zusak's "The Book Thief". All of it, 554 pages, in one go. I just couldn't stop reading - it was that good. "It's a small story about a girl, an accordionist, some fanatical Germans, a Jewish fist fighter and quite a lot of thievery."

The book is set in Nazi Germany. The main character of the story is Liesel, a young girl who is put in the care of foster parents by her mother because the authorities are targeting her own parents for being communists. On the journey to her new foster home, Liesel's six-year-old brother dies, and this traumatises her. At his sudden funeral, one of the gravediggers accidentally drops a book, and Liesel steals it. She will later acquire a taste for stealing books - she is the book thief of the title.

Liesel's foster father, Hans Hubermann (Papa), is a gentle and kind soul who instantly bonds with her. Her foster mother, Rosa Hubermann (Mama), is a foul-mouthed and hot-tempered lady who puts on a tough front but deep down loves her husband and loves Liesel. Papa is a trade painter who plays the accordion, Mama does the washing and ironing for rich people in the neighbourhood. They live on Himmel Street, one of the poorest streets in the township of Molching. Papa has always been kind to Jews, which has made life difficult for the family. Liesel becomes best friends with the boy next door, Rudy Steiner, who loves Jesse Owens and once painted himself black with charcoal and ran the 100 metre track at the local racecourse to imitate his hero.

Liesel is haunted by nightmares of her family (especially her dead brother) and wakes up almost every night. Her Papa always comforts her. One night, the gravedigger's book that Liesel stole falls out from its hiding place in the mattress, and Papa begins to teach the illiterate Liesel how to read. Once Liesel becomes literate, she begins to hunger for books. Her hunger is satiated somewhat by the mayor's wife, one of Mama's clients, who lets Liesel into the huge library at the mayor's home and read whatever she wants for as long as she wants. Liesel develops the habit of stealing books, and her primary target becomes the mayor's library, the reason for this being that the mayor's wife fires Mama once Germany became officially embroiled in World War II (tough times, not enough money to keep hiring to someone to do one's washing and ironing). She begins to steal other things too (mostly food), usually with Rudy as her crime partner. (It turns out that the mayor's wife had known of Liesel's book thievery all along, and even left the window open for Liesel to come in and steal from her library. But anyway.)

One day, a Jew named Max Vandenburg comes to the Hubermann residence. It transpires that Max is the son of a friend of Papa who saved Papa's life in World War I, and Papa promised the friend's (who died in battle) family that he would do anything to help them. Max had been living in hiding from Nazi soldiers for two years, and he had come to the Hubermann's house to see if they would hide him. Papa keeps the promise he made decades ago and hides Max down in the basement. Max and Liesel quickly become friends. Max used to be a fist-fighter. To pass the time, he works out, does crossword puzzles in newspapers that Liesel forages for him, writes down his thoughts and writes stories for Liesel. One day, when a throng of starving and sickly Jewish people are being marched through the town to the nearby concentration camp by Nazi soldiers, Papa instinctively offers one of them bread, and this catches the eye of one of the soldiers and most of the neighbours. Papa fears that the Nazi Party will target him and raid the house, which would result in them discovering Max. Everyone agrees that Max should leave the house for a while and come back in a few days. However, Max doesn't ever come back. Papa's fear is confirmed when he is sent off by the Party to help in the war efforts. Miraculously, he survives.

When the air raid threats arrive, several houses of Molching with deep basements are designated to be bomb shelters. The residents experience numerous air raid warnings as the war deepens, but each time, nothing happens to the town. Liesel keeps an eye out every time the soldiers march Jewish concentration camp prisoners through the village, to see if Max might be a part of the crowd. She does meet Max one day, an unbelievable miracle - he had been captured on the way to Stuttgart. Liesel also decides to write to the mayor's wife apologising for stealing books, and the mayor's wife gifts her with a notebook to write in: if she wasn't going to read any more books from the library, perhaps she might like to write one instead.

One night, bombs fall on Molching while everyone is sleeping. The Allies tricked the German army and no air raid sirens are heard. Liesel is the only one to survive, because she had been in the basement of her own home, writing down the story of her life in the notebook given to her by the mayor's wife. Later, when the war is over, she is reunited with Max.

It may not be apparent from the poor way I laid out the plot but as I said earlier (there's a much more comprehensive plot summary on Wikipedia if you want to check that out), this was a great read. The story jumps around a bit in time in certain places but that kept things interesting, kept up the suspense, and it wasn't confusing at all. The most unique thing about the book was that the story is told by Death, which made the whole thing super interesting. Because of this narrative device, parts of it were quite poignant, particularly when Death is reflecting on human nature and war. Zusak writes really well, very poetically and beautifully. Check out some of the prologue:

"I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables. It suffices to say that at some point in time,  I will be standing over you, as genially as possible. Your soul will be in my arms. A colour will  be perched on my shoulders. I will carry you gently away.
   At that moment, you will be lying there (I rarely find people standing up). You will be caked in your own body. There might be a discovery; a scream will dribble down the air. The only sound I'll hear after that will be my own breathing, and the sound of the smell, of my footsteps.
   The question is, what colour will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?
   Personally, I like a chocolate-coloured sky. Dark, dark chocolate. People say it suits me. I do, however, try to enjoy every colour I see - the whole spectrum. A billion or so flavours, none of them quite the same, and a sky to slowly suck on. It takes the edge off the stress. It helps me relax."

Another part of the book I really enjoyed was the second story that Max wrote for Liesel, called "The Word Shaker". A part of the story is that the Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler, craftily used words to achieve his objective of taking over the world. It struck me deeply because it's true. Hitler's tyranny began, and was sustained, with a bunch of well-chosen, powerful words. Max's second story begins like this:

"THERE WAS once a strange, small man. He decided three important details about his life.

• He would part his hair from the opposite side to everyone else.
• He would find himself a small, strange moustache.
• He would one day rule the world.

The young man wandered around for quite some time, thinking, planning and figuring out exactly how to make the world his. Then one day, it struck him - the perfect plan. He'd seen a mother walking with her child. She admonished the small boy at length, until finally, he began to cry. Within a few minutes she spoke very softly to him, after which he was soothed and even smiled.

   The young man rushed to the woman and embraced her. "Words!" he grinned.

   "What?"

   But there was no reply.

   He was already gone.

Yes, the Fuhrer decided that he would rule the world with words. "I will never fire a gun," he said. "I will not have to." Still, he was not rash. Let's allow him at least that much. He was not a stupid man at all. His first plan of attack was to plant the words in as many areas of his homeland as possible.

   He planted them day and night, and cultivated them.

   He watched them grow, until eventually, great forests of words had risen throughout Germany... It was a nation of farmed thoughts."

Captivating. 

I'd totally recommend "The Book Thief". It's a wonderful read.

G.

A message to law grads: instead of corporations, help ordinary people

Lawrence Lessig (a Professor of Law at Harvard University) gave this commencement address to the new graduates of 2012 at Atlanta's John Marshall Law School a couple of days ago.

http://www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2012/05/a-message-to-law-grads-instead-of-corporations-help-ordinary-people/257945/

"I am a professor of law at Harvard. I run the university's Edmond J. Safra Center for Ethics. At that Center for Ethics, we study corruption. Not Rod Blagojevich, or Randy Duke Cunningham corruption -- not "criminals violating the law" sort of corruption. Instead, corruption as in improper influence.

Think about a doctor taking money from a drug company, and then sitting on a panel that reviews that company's drugs: Not illegal -- if disclosed, not unethical -- but nonetheless, an influence that causes many to wonder whether it was truth or money that led the doctor to approve the drugs.

Or think about an academic taking money from a telecom company, and then giving testimony before Congress that just so happens to serve the interest of that telecom. Nothing illegal about taking that money -- if disclosed, nothing unethical -- but nonetheless, an influence that causes many to wonder whether it was truth, or money, that led the academic to speak in favor of that company.

Or think about just about every member of the United States Congress taking money from the interests they regulate -- Wall Street banks, coal companies, insurance companies, big pharma -- and then regulating in a way that makes life great for them, while making life for the rest of us not quite as great. Nothing illegal about taking that money -- if disclosed, nothing unethical -- but nonetheless, an influence that causes many to wonder whether it is truth and justice that leads Congress to care about them. Or whether it is just the money.

I tell you this about me because I want to establish my own expertise about corruption, so that I have the authority to say this: My being here today, as your graduation speaker, is totally corrupt. There are plenty of brilliant and successful souls who would have loved the honor of addressing this graduating class of lawyers. But I'm here because I begged. And I begged because my nephew is one among you. And the love and pride that I feel for him led me to do something that I have literally never done before: ask to speak someplace. And that, in turn, led your law school to do something no law school has ever done before: granted me an honorary degree and allowed me to speak to a graduating class.

This is all deeply corrupt; I am expert and I can prove it. It wasn't reason that led me here; it was love. And while that's perhaps a more pedestrian, forgivable sort of corruption, the question it now best is whether I can dig myself out of this deep and corrupt hole, to make something useful, maybe even virtuous, from this corruption.

Many of my students feel corruption every day of their working lives. They came to law school to do justice. They left law school to work in Inc. Law -- "Inc." as in law for corporations. No doubt, that is an honorable and important part of our profession, but for many of them, this isn't the law they imagined when they came to law school. They go through their whole careers never meeting a client who is a real person, only representatives of the "persons" we call corporations. And while there are many who are convinced that corporations are persons, as I once saw on a sign at a protest, I'll believe that corporations are persons when Texas executes one.

My point is not to criticize Inc. Law. It helps create wealth; it helps protect wealth. It gives great innovators a chance to bring their innovations to market.

Instead my point is to emphasize the importance of the other part of law. Not the "Inc." part, but the part that touches real people with real problems. It's the part that keeps a family in their home against an unjust demand for eviction. Or enforces a simple contract with a bank, to supply the credit for a coffee shop. Or protects a woman against her abusive husband. Or forces an insurance company to pay on a claim it rightly owes. Or defends a child in a foster home against the neglect of a distracted state.

This, too, is law -- the law of Erin Brockovich, not the law of Cravath Swaine & Moore.

But here's the thing about this law: No one thinks it works well.

There are plenty of lawyers in "Inc. Law" who go home at the end of the day and feel that that system works. Their clients got the process they were due. Their arguments were heard. Their interests were fairly considered. If through litigation, the litigation took place in a federal court with great judges, beautiful carpets, and clean bathrooms. If through a transaction, the deal was cut in a conference room at the Four Seasons. No doubt, these lawyers work hard. And the system rewards them with the confidence that the system works.

Not so with the law of real people. There is no one in the criminal justice system who believes that system works well. There is no one in housing law who believes it is what law was meant to be. In contracts, you read about disputes involving tens of dollars, maybe a hundred -- the disputes of ordinary people. These disputes are not for the courts anymore. Or if they are, they are for courts that are an embarrassment to the ideals of justice. The law of real people doesn't work, even if the law of corporations does.

Now if I were to don my reformers cap and turn to questions that I spend most of my time now addressing -- the corruption of our democracy by the corrupting influence of money -- I'd say, who could be surprised by this? In a world where 0.26 percent of Americans give more than $200 during a congressional election, 0.05 percent max out, and 0.01 percent give more than $10,000, a mere 0.0000063 percent -- 196 Americans -- have given more than 80 percent of the superPAC money spent so far in this election. Who could be surprised that it is the law for the rich that works and the law for the rest of America that doesn't?

We lawyers are responsible for this corruption. And we lawyers will only earn back the respect of the people when we show the people that the law serves the people well. That it serves them quickly. That it serves them efficiently. That it serves them justly.

In the 225 years since our Constitution was drafted, no one can doubt the extraordinary progress business has made. The framers of the Constitution -- who included businessmen, farmers, scientists, physicians, and some lawyers -- would certainly be in awe of that progress. They would have also been in awe of the progress in farming: lack of food isn't America's problem today. Too much food is. Ben Franklin, the most famous American scientist and most beloved of the founders, couldn't have even conceiveconceived of an iPhone, let alone a hand-held calculator. And Dr. James McHenry, who studied with the framing generation's most famous doctor, Dr. Benjamin Rush, still believed bloodletting was the best way to deal with most illness.

In all of those fields, we as a people have made enormous progress. Yet the story of the law is more ambiguous. We today can pronounce the word "equality" with conviction; our framers stumbled over that idea. And we today can be proud of the range of citizens that we count as equal as compared with those they plainly and wrongly excluded.

But if you look at day-to-day law as it affects ordinary people, it's clear that the law back then was aimed at a more pedestrian crowd -- at ordinary citizens and ordinary problems. And it's clear that the greatest lawyers worked first on the law aimed toward that pedestrian crowd.

Since that time, we've seen little progress in this aspect of the law. Indeed, we've seen an accelerating retreat. We can cure cancer today. We could, if we chose, feed every human on the planet, three times over. But we can't give an ordinary citizen an easy and efficient way to protect her rights.

Courts are less open today than they were back then to the small claims -- small in the scale of things, but not in their importance to those who bring them. Courts are less relevant to most Americans. The system has convinced most of us that the law is for the rich, except that part of the law that involves the prisons.

We, all of us, have a duty to fix this, to make it better. We lawyers in particular have that duty. We fulfill it by practicing the law of real people, and through that practice, making that law better.

When my nephew told me he wanted to give up his career in journalism, and his career as a racecar driver, to become a lawyer, I was skeptical. I got the journalism part. But give up being a racecar driver?

I was skeptical because I'm not convinced we know any more how to do this law stuff well. How -- how to do it in a way that should make us proud, and gives others a reason to be proud of us.

But as I watched him grow through his years at this law school, I recognized that my skepticism was wrong. Never more than the day when he told me that he was thinking of simply hanging up a shingle after he left Atlanta's John Marshall Law School and practicing the law of real people.

He is brilliant, and generous, and playful and smart: And he will have a life that almost none of my students have: Every day, he will meet the people he is trying to help. And some days, he will feel that he has helped them. He has the talent to make "People Law" better.

And so I begged to celebrate this day with him, and therefore with you, because I wanted him, and you, to hear this one thought.

When you practice this law of real people, when you experience the way the law fails real people, when you see that the only medicine that you have to prescribe -- bloodletting -- helps no one except the vampires, recognize this:

There is no one who could justify the system we've allowed to evolve. There is no one who could defend its failures. But the men -- and okay, only men, and only white men, and mainly white men with property -- who gave us our nation also gave us a promise of something more than this.

And so when you experience this law of real people, you should feel entitled to demand that it work better. However bad it is, you should be proud of your work. But remain proud only if you do something to push it to become as great as our proud tradition promised it would be.

When LBJ took up the cause of civil rights, he was warned against it by his advisors. They told him that he would lose and doom his presidency. "What the hell is being a president for?" he replied and then passed the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

Well, I ask, what the hell is being a lawyer for?

You are as great as your proud parents hoped you would be. That's what they feel today, as they watch you today accept this degree.

They stand with you today -- those who watched you grow up and now celebrate the promise of your life. But as you begin your career as a lawyer, as you begin to dig yourself out of the financial hole that you are in, as you enter a field too many think is just corrupt, don't think just about your families and the pride they can't hide today.

Think also about those who 40 years from now will look up to you and ask you: What did you do then? Think of your kids and their families. Think of the work they will see. Think of the rewards they will recognize.

They won't respect you for your money, or for your fame, or even for your incredible good looks. They willlove you, no doubt, regardless. But they will only respect you for what you did, for who you became, for how you left the world. For how you made the law, "People Law," better.

Leave it better, lawyers, than we lawyers who have educated you have given it to you. Leave it in a place that your mother and your daughter, your father and your son, can respect. Not corrupt, but true. Not just rich, but just.

For what the hell is being a lawyer for?" 

I guess there are lots of things you could say to criticise Lessig's address. For example, studying at and graduating from Law School (especially an American institution, even more so at Ivy League universities like Harvard where Lessig teaches) requires significant financial input and most Law students are suffocated by debt, which no doubt influences their decisions when they think about what kind of job they would like to do after finishing their degrees: big commercial law firm jobs pay out, whereas fighting for the little guy generally doesn't; and you can't help others if you can't help yourself first. Et cetera, et cetera. I'm going to ignore the shortcomings of the address and focus on his main point. 

I work for a big commercial law firm whose clients are mostly big, faceless companies. Contrary to my relatively low expectations about the job just before starting, I've come to realise (happily) that I enjoy the kind of work that I'm required to do for my firm. I can quite comfortably go to sleep at night without being plagued by guilt or dissatisfaction or a sense of purposelessness. I am content with my job. For now. Though I do think one day not too far from now I'll decide that I've had enough of the corporate law life and go into practising "People Law", as Lessig calls it. I would like to use my knowledge and skills to help the Joe and Jane Bloggses of the world with their (seemingly) small but very real problems. As cliche as that sounds, that really is one of the reasons why I decided to go to Law School. "To help people." 

Let's stay true to ourselves. A calm but resolute reminder to which I hope to always return.

G.