Silence the movie

I am not a Scorsese fanatic but I liked several of his films, the most notable of which for me are Raging Bull, Goodfellas, Last Temptation of Christ, The Departed and Gangs of New York. I am embarrassed to admit that I haven’t seen Taxi Driver yet. Anyway, as I am now looking forward to seeing Shutter Island, it was recently announced that Daniel Day-Lewis, Benicio del Toro and Gael Garcia Bernal are going to be cast members of the film adaptation of Shusaku Endo’s novel Silence. 

Silence is one of the most fascinating novels I’ve read and its set in sixteenth century Japan. It tells of the story of a Jesuit missionary who travels to Japan and endures persecution in the time of the Hidden Christians. Reminds me of my favorite Graham Greene novels, particularly The Power and the Glory. Can’t wait to see it in the theaters.

Kant and law schools

Some pretty odd coincidence between my current reading, Kant’s On the Relationship between Theory to Practice of Political Right, (for my orals exam, not leisure reading) and this right-on-the-money post by law professor Michael Livingston on the future of law schools.

The notion that there is a gap between theory and practice is older than Kant. But this was the main weapon employed by his critics to attack his absolutist ethics, mainly that it was unrealistic and using Rousseau’s words, “do not take people as they are.” In the realm of contemporary legal academia, a similar battle is taking place. Simply put, critics argue that law schools should be more “real-world” and engage less on idle academic exercise. The proliferation of useless legal scholarship was even the topic of a very amusing essay by Pierre Schlag sometime early this year.

My basic law training is from a jurisdiction where the emphasis is all on the real world effects of law. Hence I don’t think I am just being plain biased when I say that theory has its utility. Generally speaking, an obvious use of theory is that it provides ideals, which although it can be seen as difficult to translate into practice, precisely provides for some horizon to which peoples and institutions can aspire to realize. As a set of general principles, one can deduce concrete rules from it, employing practical judgment according to the circumstances.

But too much emphasis on the real-world causes one to lose sight of the big picture - of a world or framework that can only be imagined by reflective minds. Legal rules and policies cannot be shaped as mere reactions to contemporary events. You have to be not just one or two steps ahead, but a visionary even into the future, even of the kind that will probably never come to pass. But then again, who knows? Prof. Livingston’s emphasis on intellectual creativity is, I think, the most crucial aspect of it. Lawyers are not mostly mere firm associates, and even if a good number of them are, they are not automatons. They are creative and strategic thinkers. They are also policy makers. Whether we like it or not, lawyers are agents of change, in big ways and small. For that, a balance has to be struck somewhere between real-world skills, and abstract theorizing. It doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive. .

Lovely Cambridge

English, cheeseburger and coffee with friends. Everything feels extra great now because of Israel.

Leaving Israel

The newly-minted memories came rushing in as soon as Michael drove away from my apartment of more than two months. Apropos enough, it was at that moment that he remarked that I should now say goodbye to the street, the city and later on, the country. Though it seems cliche, it is indeed quite true that the only time you appreciate your current place the most is when you actually leave it. And so it goes for Tel Aviv, and for Israel.

I was inspired to write short verses while waiting for my baggage security check. No longer fragile, The city is a memory and Strangers in the Room just seemed to burst from the pen. Perhaps part of it was because there were a lot of goodbyes said today, so much so that at some point, I just wanted to vanish into thin air. Goodbyes always unleash a torrent of emotions, both welcome and unwelcome. But even the unwelcome ones are there because somehow the place meant something, or rather the people in it, meant something to me. I am continually amazed at how I managed to survive this two-month foreign odyssey. I have been sustained and kept alive by the kindness and generosity of random strangers turned friends.

But even my hyped-up dreamy bubble couldn’t help but somehow burst in the face of reality. I caught the suspicious look of the airport guard as soon as Michael gave me a farewell hug. It continued to the baggage check where the lady, after rummaging through my meticulously packed luggage (that was for utilitarian reasons – that was the only way I could seal the suitcase shut). just left it there for me to return to its original pristine and lock-able state, to the final check before proceeding to the gates, where an obviously freaked out screener, after seeing the Arabic Catholic missal in the outer pocket of my bag, hurriedly called for the security supervisor to grill me. For some reason, I took note but remained calm and unfazed at these things. Unfazed enough to even try to be a smart aleck with the security person. But perhaps it was for the same reason that they let me go in the end. My Harvard ID is my get-out-of-jail-free card.

Nevertheless, this is not the most important thing. It was no coincidence that I am leaving Israel the same way I began it – with another stranger-turned-friend driving me to the airport, underscoring the point that somehow when you follow your heart, the universe takes care of the rest. It wasn’t an altogether giddy adventure to be sure. There were lots of tears shed and empty nights ruminated upon. But there were also sublime moments of joy and enlightenment. I couldn’t have imagined it any other way.

The city and the country were a source of alienation inasmuch as they were a source of fellowship. Its foreign language was for the most part a barrier that stood tall and formidable in the face of my longings and expectations but the Mediterranean waves also soothed the nerves and more than adequately comforted a tired and weary heart. It gave me food and drink even as it induced hunger and thirst. Its religions and traditions which is always on the verge of destroying, are likewise the same source of so much life and creation. Perhaps that’s the way it is ordained to be. After all, who can appreciate life without the horizon of fragile mortality?

So as time passes by and the memories start to fade, I write these words to preserve the remains of the moments that I will remember from this summer. The ironies, profundities and banalities have all contributed to this surreal experience. But even that is a misnomer, for the only experience there is, are the moments we live. And that – is always real.