Meta: Dystopia and Moral Voices: A Politico-Aesthetic Response to V for Vendetta

[alixtii]

deliriumdriver was discussing V for Vendetta (the movie version, not the comic) in a flocked post on her journal, and it had me thinking about my own reaction to the movie. No one (and by "no one" I mean "neither deliriumdriver nor I") denies that it's a powerful emotional experience while one is in the theatre, but there is a sense in which it sort of falls apart when one thinks about it afterwards. (As opposed to, say, Donnie Darko, which had me screaming at the screen all through the ostensibly science-fictional parts because they made NO SENSE WHATSOEVER.)

Politically I suspect I am sympathetic to the views of the filmmakers, and I don't have any problem in principle with a movie being intended to be used to promote a political agenda; the intentional fallacy almost ensures the result will be richer and broader than the filmmakers intended. Some of my favorite literary works, from Shaw's plays to Rand's novels, were intended to serve as polemics (but succeed as literature for me insofar as they are read as failing at those intended goals; Shaw was a horrible polemicist because he always gave the devil the best lines). After all, texts don't speak with moral voices, or rather with a unified moral voice, speaking differently to different people in different situations in different places and times (who speak, so to speak, different languages).

Although from an aesthetic viewpoint I suppose I prefer a little more ambiguity à la Shaw (although the movie did impose ambiguity at points, and I suppose asking for the ambiguity to be "resolved" would mean asking for the movie to no longer be ambiguous), but I don't know what political message the movie was trying to make--or, to avoid the intentional fallacy, I'm clueless how I should be constructing the author-function. I mean, texts don't speak with a moral voice in themselves, but the message to me in this socio-historical moment was . . . I'm not sure. I guess I walked away with a feeling that dystopian governments are bad. Which is all fine and good, but did I really need to be convinced of that? Does anyone?

The claim that there is a point at which a government's authority becomes illegitimate and the only solution is violent insurrection is one that I can respect (and which, at its extremes, I suppose I hold--as probably everyone who is not a pacifist does). But the movie doesn't seem to answer the question of at what point a government has usurped its own authority, so I don't quite see what the point of the exercise was. There are not-stupid arguments that we have already reached that point, as Bush (or at least, Bush's lawyers) seems to be of the opinion that under Article Four he has the right to do whatever he deems necessary without oversight which to me is an interpretation of the text which makes Roe v. Wade look downright conservative.

And on some levels I'm just an idealist: is it better to live in a flawed government (and how flawed is flawed?) or to die for an ideal one. I'm already on the record that I'd rather a person let the Earth be destroyed than compromise their ideals, and this seems to be a related sort of ethical dilemma. I'd rather let terrorists blow up America than let people's civil liberties be infringed upon*, because otherwise what we're left with isn't really America, the land of the free and the home of the brave. And practically speaking, I have to admit that this isn't a realistic perspective (hence the idealism).

*Anyway to rephrase this sentence so the preposition isn't at the end of the clause? It's one of those passive constructions I'm so interested in, like "who(m) was whispered to."

As far as I can tell, V for Vendetta just channels (from the viewpoint of the filmmakers [at least as I construct the author-function] righteous and legitmate) anger with Bush and the current administration to a strawman (which I suppose considering the tradition of Guy Fawkes' Day is somehow strangely appropriate) and if anything I think that hurts their (my?) cause, because I walked out of that that theatre complacent with my life (it was better than the fictional England!--even though on reflection I'm not 100% sure how so) rather than, say, formulating plans to blow up the White House (or, as a nice middle ground, ready to fill out a cheque to send to the ACLU). (Which reminds me I really should fill out a cheque to send to the ACLU. Why am I putting it off*?)

"Off" is acting as an adverb in this question, if I'm not mistaken. Or else "put it off" just counts as idiomatic.)

I think my initial response to V for Vendetta was that I was too close to the events to really judge, and I think that was a wise stance. I mean, Nineteen Eighty-Four--on which most of you know I did my honors thesis--is a pretty shallow book if one reads it as a diatribe against Communism (or the Catholic Church or the BBC), and my English teacher who said that Animal Farm isn't "really" about animals, but "really" about Russians, plain didn't understand symbolism. (Animal Farm is "really" about animals and figuratively about Russians--but it's also figuratively about a lot of other things since symbolism is never an A for B substitution the way metaphor is.) (And a simile is a type of metaphor, except insofar as it isn't really a type of figurative language since similes are literally true.) (Most of my teachers probably didn't understand symbolism, which signals to me either a) I don't understand symbolism, or b) our educational system--both public and private--is a mess.) Brave New World--well, one of the things I like about Brave New World is that I can't reduce it to a single line of thought; I have no clue against what Huxley thought he was complaining. He's a little like Shaw in that respect I suppose (and I suppose that Brave New World Revisited could be seen as the equivalent of one of Shaw's prologues).

So the conclusion, insofar as there is one, seems to be that I should stop searching for V for Vendetta's moral voice (because it doesn't have one) and enjoy it (or not enjoy it, whichever the case may be) solely as a work of art, one which asks questions but does not provide answers. This is, of course, the type of hermeneutical process I outlined in my honors thesis, suggested for use on the novel Nineteen Eighty-Four, based on part on this passage from Wittgenstein's Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus:

6.53 The correct method in philosophy would really be the following: to say nothing except what can be said, i.e. propositions of natural science—i.e. something that has nothing to do with philosophy—and then, whenever someone else wanted to say something metaphysical, to demonstrate to him [sic] that he [sic] had failed to give a meaning to certain signs in his [sic] propositions. Although it would not be satisfying to the other person—he [sic] would not have the feeling that we were teaching him [sic] philosophy—this method would be the only strictly correct one.

And because it seems an appropriate way to end this post, and because it's just that awesome, and because some of you might not be aware of it: Philosophy Songs, a site full of philosophical song parodies including "Antinomy" (to the tune of "Chim Chim Cheree"), "Solipsism is Painless," "Hume on the Brain," and (my favorite) "Supererogationisticextraobligation"!

Comments

[deliriumdriver.livejournal.com]

I think "put it off" is idiomatic. I need to check out that Philosophy song website and send it to my brother. And I kind of like being half of everyone. :-D

[alixtii.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I think "put it off" is idiomatic, too. Although I'm not sure how much of an explanation that actually is.

The Philosophy song website is awesome, at least to people who would understand the references. Is your brother interested in philosophy? (Did I even know you had a brother? I have a brother.)

[deliriumdriver.livejournal.com]

My brother graduated with a philosophy degree this spring from Depauw.

[alixtii.livejournal.com]

Out of morbid curiosity, is he finding his philosophy degree any more useful than I am finding mine? (And now that you say it, I vaguely remember a story about how you can get away with anything because at least you're not majoring in phil.) My brother will be beginning his senior year this fall at the same Catholic high school from which I graduated.

[deliriumdriver.livejournal.com]

He's spending a year working for the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. So no, he's not. I'm not sure whether that offers you solidarity or decreases hope for the future, but there it is. :)

[swedish15.livejournal.com]

Here via pygs_lj's friend page.

As for Brave New World: I don't know the author's background, but as I read it, I really don't know whether it protested against anything; in my opinion, both ways of life - the one of the clones as well as the naturalists - were portrayed with both advantages as well as disadvantages. The biggest concern, I think, was the transplantation of people grown up in one world to the other, something that failed catastrophically in both recorded cases, the "Island full of Alphas" as well as the Savage, with dramatic consequences.

The clone world wasn't described negatively, at least not from an objective point of view. Unfree, yes. Not according to our (or at least my) moral paradigm, yes. But not negatively. It was productive. And it made its inhabitants happy, in a way. Yes, it's stagnant. And peaceful, in the very same breath.

The same goes for the savage reservations. Free, dirty and backwards. But FREE, dammit.

I think that this is one of the biggest, greatest boons of the book; there is no enemy like Big Brother in 1984, but instead there are several ways of living the reader can choose as superior- or dismiss them altogether, as I do. But there is no moral lecture behind it; it has moral, but only the moral the reader wants to see.

At least my 2 cents. Hope you're not angry for intruding.

[alixtii.livejournal.com]

Of course not! All are always welcome to comment, so no intrusion at all, and I'm v. grateful to you for actually summing up a lot of my own thoughts about BNW at least as eloquently as I could. I've thought for a long time that the reason why the conflict in the novel is so late in being introduced is that Huxley takes care first to paint the "dystopia" as a place which is genuinely attractive, as a future which could happen not because Governments Are Evil And People Are Stupid but because it actually has real human appeal. But that's an interpretation that I always thought I held by myself until now; this is the first time I've seen anyone else make a similar comment, so I don't think this is a mainstream position.

The clone world wasn't described negatively, at least not from an objective point of view. Unfree, yes. Not according to our (or at least my) moral paradigm, yes. But not negatively.

But I think that in the societies (with their dominant moral paradigms) both in which Huxley was writing and in which we are reading the novel, our conclusions as to which way of life is better are more or less overdetermined, you know? So it functions as a moral argument the way that the other texts I've mentioned (most of them satiric) function as moral arguments.

But there is no moral lecture behind it; it has moral, but only the moral the reader wants to see.

This is basically what I meant when I said that texts do not have moral voices, and such I think it's a characteristic of all texts, not just BNW. It takes a reader to construct an author-function.

[swedish15.livejournal.com]

But I think that in the societies (with their dominant moral paradigms) both in which Huxley was writing and in which we are reading the novel, our conclusions as to which way of life is better are more or less overdetermined, you know?

What exactly do you mean with overdetermined? I'm not a native speaker, and what would lend itself would be the mathematical definition; that there are too many constraints for it to be fulfilled. If this is what you mean, I totally agree with you.

As for moral voices: No word. Most texts - especially the good ones, such as Dick's Minority Report or Brave New world - have none. But some books are specifically written to impress a certain point of view into the mind of the reader. Look for example at Michael Moore's books and movies, such as "Fahrenheit 9/11" which ,while still being documentaries, certainly express a "Bush is bad" opinion. (Note please: I myself am not fond of President Bush.)

Right now, I'm looking for a book someone gave as a gift for me; it's a so-called "Christian Novel", and it tries to get across the idea that Christianity is the spring of well-being. I wouldn't mind the message so much if the book wasn't absolutely drivel.

[alixtii.livejournal.com]

I don't know much mathematics, and I'm not sure what you mean by "constraints" or "fulfilled" in this context, but I'll try to explain what I mean in this context. (It seems like it might mean what I mean, but also that it might mean the opposite.) In philosophy (which in the English-speaking world has been very stongly influenced by mathematics in the last 100 years), we'll say that A is determined by B if we can truthfully say something along the lines of "If B, then A." If B is prior to A temporally, we might say something along the lines of "A is causally determined by B." A case of overdetermination occurs in a situation in which we can say not only of B, but also of C and D, "If B or C or D, then A." In a case in which B, C, and D all apply, then any single factor can be removed and A will still be the case--it is overdetermined.

As for texts and moral voices: I suppose I should have limited myself to fictional texts, which were the ones of which I was really thinking. While I'd still claim a non-fictional text like the claim "Thou shalt not kill" does function as a floating signifier (all language does, as far as I am concerned) practically speaking its interpretation is so radically overdetermined that anyone who interpreted it differently could reasonably be said to be speaking a different language.

But the reason these non-fictional texts don't seem as flexible as BNW or Minority Report because we interpret them as being written in the author's own voice--in the cases where we don't assume the texts are expressing the viewpoint of the author, as in Swift's satire, meaning becomes much more open. And since fiction can at most give us the perspective of a narrator who can be unreliable, the way we construe the work's moral voice can never be intrinsic to the text itself.

Also, there's no formal characteristic of, say, the Constitution of the United States which prevents us from reading it as a satire. At most, we allow ourselves to be guided in the way we construct its author-function by what we know (or what we think we know) of the historical events which shaped its production--information which is extratextual to the document itself.

So no, I don't think there can be anything such as a "Christian novel"; to a Scientologist, it might function more as a satiric look at the self-delusion of Christianity. Which is likely to be a richer reading, because otherwise propaganda is likely to be, as you point out, drivel. Which brings me back to my original point: a text cannot function as literature until it can be read, so to speak, "against the grain" (or more precisely, against what had previously been considered to be the "grain").

[swedish15.livejournal.com]

Sorry - I overread the announcement that you answered my post.
I'll go into your post on Sunday in depth.

Just what I meant by overdetermined - Given a system of two equations and only exactly one variable which is in both equations, the variable is overdetermined iff the two equations are linear independent, i.e. if the variable, in order to solve the equation system, would need to have to separate values.

This, of course, is impossible. (Well, in most cases. Maths is entirely man-made, and I'm pretty sure one can devise some kind of system which would permit such a variable.)

[alixtii.livejournal.com]

Okay, yeah, that seemed the most straightfoward way of interpreting your post, and is almost exactly the opposite of what I meant.

[swedish15.livejournal.com]

Er, yes. That stroke (stroke? striked?) me also - which means for me thinking until Sunday. I'd answer tomorrow (it's almost midnight over here, and my bed calls mightily), but I'm going to be away the entire day.

[swedish15.livejournal.com]

Well, okay, it ain't Sunday, but still...

Still no word. A fictional text can still have a certain moral voice - even if a reader is willing to suppress it. You are, for example, ignoring the possibility of a reliable, all-knowing narrator. Pratchett uses one in all of his Discworld novels - we can trust the narrator. In fact, we have to.

As for your example of the Constitution - no, it could still not be read as satire. The reason for this is simple - it is a manual, and holds personal beliefs. It doesn't proclaim perfection - in fact, it only proclaims to be a way to a more perfect world, at least in the eyes of the authors. The authors' intention is clear and cannot be misunderstood. (Well, it can be; but not on the underlying principles.)

So, no, I can't agree with you, sorry.

[alixtii.livejournal.com]

You are, for example, ignoring the possibility of a reliable, all-knowing narrator.

How do we recognize such a narrator? A narrator can be "3rd-person omniscient" and still be unreliable.

Pratchett uses one in all of his Discworld novels - we can trust the narrator.

This seems like a curious choice, because I really can't think of many 3rd-person omniscient narrators that I trust less than Pratchett's. A good chunk of his humor stems from just how unreliable his ostensibly "omniscient" narrator really is.

In fact, we have to.

This in particular confuses me. Why do we have to? A text can't make us do anything we don't want to. I can't even think of a reason why we should do it, yet alone have to.

As for your example of the Constitution - no, it could still not be read as satire. The reason for this is simple - it is a manual, and holds personal beliefs.

Dean Swift's essay is also a manual which (ostensibly) holds personal beliefs. I'm not sure I see a formal distinction between the two.

Now admittedly there is a shared convention in interpreting nonfiction in which we typically assume that the views of the author and the narrator are the same. This is a contingent fact about how we read texts in this day and age, and Dean Swift's example shows it is not absolute. But in fiction this convention does not exist at all; indeed we more likely assume narrator=/=author. (Otherwise 1984 would have a very different message!)

[swedish15.livejournal.com]

How do we recognize such a character?
Easy. Does s/he make mistakes? I.e., is the story told inherently inconsistent? Do some parts violate the canon of itself? For example, a story in which the narrator told us "2+2 = 37", under any and all circumstances, only to later claim different, would break consistency. This would make him/her an unreliable narrator.

Of course, you can distrust even a flawless narrator. But then, you're caught in the same problem in reality - what are our senses but narrators to our mind? The only thing I can know for sure is that I exist, and only because I am conscious of myself. I can neither accept the existence of this world, nor of my body as given. So, if you distrust such a narrator, you can throw the book away as well - nothing you'd read you could accept as true, in the context of itself.

Pratchett's narrator is reliable. Everybody else in his works isn't. But the narrator him/herself? Is reliable. We are *never* told something only to learn later: "Allabätsch, that wasn't like you thought."
(You may prove me wrong; considering the fact that I own about half of his works only in the German translation, it is entirely possible that a translator screwed up.)

Why do we have to trust the narrator? Because we have to be careful with the entire novel, else. I understand there are some novels where *exactly* this mechanism is at work - the movie Fight Club comes to mind, where one may not trust the narrator, and may even not trust one's eyes.
If we'd distrust Pratchett's narrator, we'd have to distrust his description of Vimes. We'd have to distrust his (I'm choosing the male pronoun simply because Pratchett is male) description of Vimes' deeds. In fact, we'd have to distrust the entire plot.
As I said, there are some works where this the basis, and some of them are very good. But not all are this way.

Dean Swift's essay doesn't ring a bell, sorry.
As for 1984 - again, I say it depends on the work. 1984 is meant as a warning. So, yes, I doubt that the narrator - who is limited, if I remember correctly - is meant to be constructed as the author.

[alixtii.livejournal.com]

Easy. Does s/he make mistakes? I.e., is the story told inherently inconsistent? Do some parts violate the canon of itself? For example, a story in which the narrator told us "2+2 = 37", under any and all circumstances, only to later claim different, would break consistency. This would make him/her an unreliable narrator.

These rules seem unnecessarily stringent to me. Wouldn't "2 + 2 = 37" by itself be enough evidence of unreliability? (Which is not to say that I am a Platonist about mathematics; far from it. But I'm talking about how a reader would typically approach the text.) And if a mathematical fact, why not a moral one?

Also, do these rules apply only to to omniscient narrators, or to all of them? Because Poe's narrators (in, say, "The Tell-Tale Heart" and "The Black Cat") never contradict themselves. They tell a coherent albeit fanciful tale as they coherently albeit hysterically defend their sanity.

The only thing I can know for sure is that I exist, and only because I am conscious of myself. I can neither accept the existence of this world, nor of my body as given.

Congratulations--I'm not even convinced of that much.

So, if you distrust such a narrator, you can throw the book away as well - nothing you'd read you could accept as true, in the context of itself.

Well, I don't accept anything as true "in the context of itself." But throwing the text away seems a little hasty. I know that, as I interpret my senses, if I throw a ball up into the air it will far back to the ground. (Even if to an observer on the moon I'm not throwing it "up" at all.) I don't know anything about a thing-in-itself (ding an sich)--indeed, by definition I cannot--but I don't have to. I might be dreaming, I might be hallucinating, I might be insane, I might be a brain in a vat, but I don't quite see why I should really care. A given way of interpreting the text of my sense allows me to construct provisional truths. And conventions in the way we interpret allow us to communicate these truths with each other.

If we'd distrust Pratchett's narrator, we'd have to distrust his description of Vimes. We'd have to distrust his (I'm choosing the male pronoun simply because Pratchett is male) description of Vimes' deeds. In fact, we'd have to distrust the entire plot.

I fail to see the problem. Sounds like a fascinating way of reading, and fun to boot.

Dean Swift's essay doesn't ring a bell, sorry.

Sorry. I meant to put in a link, then forgot. By Dean Swift's essay I mean "A Modest Proposal" by Jonathon Swift, which is an essay in which Swift argues--ostensibly straight-faced--that the best way to solve the problems of poverty and overpopulation in England is for the rich (i.e. the English) to eat poor (i.e. Irish) babies. We know that he isn't being serious not so much because of anything he put into the essay as because we can't imagine him to be so morally skewed as to be capable of proposing such a thing.

1984 is meant as a warning.

Well, I read it more as a critique of the control mechanisms which underly all patriarchal societies, even as I recognized that that cannot possibly be what Orwell intended. So while I'll admit that it is "meant" as a warning in the sense that that was what Orwell wanted it to mean, that doesn't mean it can function only (or even primarily) as a warning. (First and foremost, after all, it functions as a novel, and even that isn't set in stone. It can function as a paperweight, albeit not interestingly so.)

[swedish15.livejournal.com]

Wouldn't "2 + 2 = 37" by itself be enough evidence of unreliability?
Well, no. You could, without problems, define it that way. Maybe, if the universe described is different enough, it's true. I chose a mathematical fact (Well, fact...) because that's where I'm from - I'm a computer scientist.

And yes, these rules would only apply to an omniscient narrator - a limited narrator could very well be mistaken - or insane. (Which reminds me that "The Tell-Tale Heart" is great.)

Congratulations--I'm not even convinced of that much.
You are not convinced of your own existence? That's interesting. Verbose, please; while I'm not convinced of your existence, I'm pretty sure that I exist. (As what, I don't know; maybe I'm just a self-aware program, a la Matrix. But I do exist.)

But throwing the text away seems a little hasty.
What I meant is: As soon as you are convinced that for your interpretation you have to distrust an omniscient narrator, the book no longer has meaning. Every ounce of meaning it would have is lost, and you could as well stare at blank pages, because you can't trust the foundations any longer. Compare it with a mathematician who starts his theories with "Iff 1+1 = 3, given the common addition on |R" - he states theories, which are sound as long as the basis is correct - but since the basis isn't (simply because he hasn't redefined the addition, or has chosen another area of value), his entire theories are meaningless.
If you distrust the narrator, you distrust the letters, words, and with that, the entire message.
Of course, for some things, that's exactly what's necessary.

And no, 1984 cannot serve as a paperweight. One of its physical instances can. But not the work itself. (Difference between Class and instance. Similar to Plato's "Höhlengleichnis" (apparently, you speak German, which makes things a lot easier for me.) - the cave parable - 1984 is the thing that throws the shadow. The book, which may serve as a paperweight, is the shadow. I'm a computer scientist - for me, information is not bound to a physical manifestation.)

I'll read Swift later today. At least I hope I'll get to it.

[alixtii.livejournal.com]

And yes, these rules would only apply to an omniscient narrator - a limited narrator could very well be mistaken - or insane.

But much of the moralizing that is done in many texts--even in texts with omniscient narrators--is done from a specific POV. To only claim that fictional works in which an omniscient narrator

But still. wisdomeagle uses omniscient narrators to great effect, giving them a wonderfully quirky voice. Are you implying that the way that I read her stories, with the narrator as a character speaking in a distinctive voice which isn't hers and believing things which are not things she believes (and I know the voice isn't that of the biographical author, but of course I wouldn't privelege authorial intent that way) is illegitimate? That when I see the story commenting on the narrator's own shortsightedness (which is not heralded by anything so unsubtle as a 2+2=37 inconsistency), this is a wrong reading of the text?

Would not the same elements that cause us to distrust Poe's narrators be able to inspire doubts as to the reliable of an ostensibly omniscient narrator?

That's interesting. Verbose, please

Well, I guess there is a sense in which, on a phenomenonal level (as an interpretation of the text) there is a "thing which thinks," just as there is "a thing which is seen" when I see a green blobbish light on the inside of my eyelids when I close my eyes after looking at a bare lightbulb. So much I'll concede easily. (Indeed, I couldn't be having this conversation if I weren't willing to concede that much--for look at how often I use the personal pronoun even as I deny my own existence!) But you seemed to imply that there was some substance to that "thing which thinks" (res cogitans), an underlying ding an sich, even if you didn't know the exact nature of that substance--as a brain in a vat, or computer program, or as a "real" (whatever that means) human being. I'm simply avowing skepticism as to the underlying noumenon, not denying the appearance of a thing which seems to think and which I like to call "I."

What I meant is: As soon as you are convinced that for your interpretation you have to distrust an omniscient narrator, the book no longer has meaning. Every ounce of meaning it would have is lost, and you could as well stare at blank pages, because you can't trust the foundations any longer.

But surely blank pages aren't going to make you think of the same things as Nineteen Eighty-Four. Not that looking at the text as squiggles on a page (or on a computer screen, or as ones and zeros within a processer) would be a prima facie wrong way of reacting to the text, but it doesn't strike me as a particularly interesting one to me. Feel free to meditate on the blankness and meaningless of the novel on your spare time, but if you're going to be submitting to my (hypothetical) academic journal I'm going to be more interested in hearing about character and plot and theme and gender issues and the historical context.

You're forgetting (it seems) that there is a set of conventions as to how we interpret texts. When one works within those conventions, one is speaking in the same language as others who share those conventions. When one is operating outside those conventions (as in seeing a novel as no more meaningful than blank text), then one is merely being idiosyncratic.

Think of it like a group of children playing house. There might not be rules as such, and there is really no "wrong" way to play it, but some ways of playing it (for example, enacting an imaginary murder-suicide) will be more idiosyncratic and less mainstream than others. The text structures and influences interpretations even as it does not confine them.

[alixtii.livejournal.com]

And no, 1984 cannot serve as a paperweight. One of its physical instances can. But not the work itself. (Difference between Class and instance. Similar to Plato's "Höhlengleichnis" (apparently, you speak German, which makes things a lot easier for me.) - the cave parable - 1984 is the thing that throws the shadow.

But is not the Platonic form precisely the ding an sich to which we can never have access? In any case, I find much to be wrong with (received) Platonic metaphysics. Anyway, I don't think the relevant distinction is so much class/instance (which brings in much fraught metaphysics) than medium/message, which is marginally safer, although the point remains that information cannot exist apart from its physical manifestation, so there will always be something, so to speak, to use as a paperweight, whether it be a floppy disk or a server or an abacus.

(apparently, you speak German, which makes things a lot easier for me.)

If only! I know a few German nouns, such as grundegung, ding an sich, ubermensch, zeitgeist, and so on, from studies of Kant, Schopenhauer, Hegel, and Nietzsche, and some French, LAtin, and Greek words picked up in the same way, but if you threw a German verb at me I'd have no idea what to do with it.