来源 ：尚客 2019-12-08 10:51:50|大乐透17153开奖结果
PARIS — In January 2015, not long after I arrived here to live and teach philosophy, terrorists assassinated 12 people, including four cartoonists, in an attack on the offices of the French satirical newspaper Charlie Hebdo. This act brought to the surface and seemingly galvanized a view about censorship I had long held. I spent considerable energy in the weeks and months after defending the absolute right of satirists to keep doing what I saw as their sacred work, and criticizing many of my former friends, who found it more important at that moment to speak out against offending the sensitivities of religious communities, for their moral cowardice in the face of nihilistic violence.
After the assassinations, with the perpetrators quickly killed in their turn, the rest of the year seemed to play out as a long public trial of satire itself. In April, when the writers’ organization PEN granted Charlie Hebdo a freedom of expression award, American progressives roundly condemned the decision, saying that it played into an American imperialist agenda, and that the death of the cartoonists at the hands of terrorists did not diminish the implicit Islamophobia of rewarding a magazine for its offensive caricatures.
In general the most facile and uninterested articulations of what satire is and of how it works satisfied both parties to the controversy. Both sides missed, in particular, that satire is a species of humor that works through impersonation: taking on the voices of others, saying the sort of things they would say, using one’s own voice while not speaking in one’s own name. It is not surprising that this craft is so often misunderstood, for when satirists do their job convincingly, when they get too close to their target, it is easy to hear them not just as the channelers of the views expressed in the satire, but as defenders of these views as well. It is at such moments that critics like to exclaim that a satirist has “gone too far,” while it would be more correct to say that the satirist has only done his job too well.
Today, with the pollution that new technologies have brought to our information ecosystem, this distinction is no longer so easy to make. And this is the real problem, and danger, of satire: not that it mocks and belittles respect-worthy pieties, not that it “punches down,” but that it has become impossible to separate it cleanly from the toxic disinformation that defines our era.
To see how things have changed, let’s go back even further than the Charlie Hebdo attack. In 2002 a satirical article in The Onion announced that “Congress Threatens to Leave D.C. Unless New Capitol Is Built.” The target here, obviously, were the petulant professional sports teams holding American municipalities at ransom by threatening to leave if they do not get a greater share of local taxes. This was lost, however, on the editors of the Beijing Evening News, who took the story as a straightforward sign of the decline of American democracy. I can recall my smirking attitude when the same Chinese newspaper acknowledged soon after that it had been fooled. “Some small American newspapers,” the paper chided, “frequently fabricate offbeat news to trick people into noticing them, with the aim of making money.”
Today it is no longer publications like The Onion that are driving the proliferation of satire. Nor is it the palliative care for liberals offered up by Stephen Colbert and the other the late-night talkers, or by “Saturday Night Live,” now into its fifth decade of tedium. It is rather the culture of social media, often coming from obscure or anonymous sources. Here by comparison all other sources of humor, including professional comedians, seem quaint and futile.
In early 2018 the Twitter account known as PixelatedBoat offered what it claimed was an excerpt from Michael Wolff’s recently published Trump exposé, “Fire and Fury.” It was related that upon arriving at the White House, the new president complained that the television options there did not include what he called “The Gorilla Channel.” So the staff began transmitting gorilla documentaries from a makeshift tower outside his window, until he complained that these were boring, that the gorillas were not fighting enough. So they edited the documentaries down to the fight scenes, at which point the president was appeased, and knelt in front of the TV from morning until night.
This was excellent satire: just believable enough to be entertained as true. I myself believed it for about five minutes, and I was indignant when I realized I had been fooled. I thought of the stiff functionaries in Beijing who had also reacted poorly to getting played. I realized they were right.
The Gorilla Channel was to become one small skirmish in the never-ending American culture war. Some on the right charged that PixelatedBoat had contributed to the overall quantity of disinformation flowing around, and was therefore no less part of the problem of fake news than were the distortions and lies that the right had been condemned for propagating in the lead-up to Trump’s election. And those who made this charge were right, too.
Throughout the satire trials of 2015 I had resisted the idea that one person’s satire is another’s propaganda. I insisted that satire was speech in something like a grammatical mood of its own, as different from the declarative as the declarative is from the interrogative, and that it was therefore subject to its own rules. But in this judgment I was mostly considering established print media, venues such as Charlie Hebdo that practically announced their own satirical nature as a disclaimer.
By the following year, however, I began to notice the way in which new media blur the line between satire and propaganda. Alt-right personalities were now gleefully acknowledging that their successes in meme warfare relied precisely on the inability of media consumers to distinguish between the sincere and the jocular, between an ironic display of a swastika and a straightforward one.
At the same time artificial intelligence was increasingly producing texts and images that, whether overtly political or not, contributed to the general sense that we cannot possibly know the ends for which media content is being churned out. There are for example Facebook accounts that do nothing but show images of celebrities with deadpan captions mistaking them for other celebrities: Betty White for Queen Elizabeth, Samuel Jackson for Kofi Annan. Are these satire? No one is called upon to say. They may well be generated by bots, and you cannot possibly discern the intentions of machines that have no intentions. Their cumulative effect, anyhow, is to make media consumers less certain of their grasp on reality.
Lurking in the darker shadows beyond these strange new phenomena, there are porn sites with the faces of celebrities grafted onto the bodies of others; and there are, or will be soon, deep fakes of politicians accepting another sort of graft. There are distortions at a level of intensity and verisimilitude that we could not possibly have imagined in 2002, all being generated, in the end, in the aim of gaining notice and money.
Over the past few years I have been made to see, in sum, that the nature and extent of satire is not nearly as simple a question as I had previously imagined. I am now prepared to agree that some varieties of expression that may have some claim to being satire should indeed be prohibited. I note this not with a plan or proposal for where or how such a prohibition might be enforced, but to acknowledge something I did not fully understand until I experienced it first hand — that even the most cherished and firmly-held values or ideals can change when the world in which those values were first formed changes.
I hate to have to say this, and I feel that while it is an admission necessitated by the changing times, it also could not come at a worse time. The madness of 2015 has not subsided. In an astounding article in the British newspaper The Independent in February, Sean O’Grady attempted to stoke the decades-old fatwa against Salman Rushdie for his satirical take on the life of Muhammad in “The Satanic Verses.” “Rushdie’s silly, childish book,” the columnist writes, “should be banned under today’s anti-hate legislation. It’s no better than racist graffiti on a bus stop.” O’Grady proudly admits that he has never read the book, and in this he is just like the Ayatollah Khomeini before him.
Is my own belated acknowledgment of the need to regulate satire an unwitting discovery of common cause with the likes of O’Grady? I certainly hope not. O’Grady belongs to what seems to be an increasingly common species of moral coward, a dupe of totalitarians, spiritual brother of the Charlie Hebdo assassins, whereas I am only trying to respond to the real threats of hitherto unimagined technologies. “The Satanic Verses,” I tell myself, is literature, where free play of the imagination is the rule of the game and the inalienable right of the creator. Twitter is, well, something else.
But the truth is I am not at all sure of this distinction. The truth is that the nature and proper scope of satire remain an enormous problem, one that is not going to get any easier to resolve in the political and technological future we can all, by now, see coming.
Justin E.H. Smith is a professor of history and philosophy of science at the University of Paris 7, Denis Diderot, and the author of the “Irrationality: A History of the Dark Side of Reason.”
Now in print: “Modern Ethics in 77 Arguments,” and “The Stone Reader: Modern Philosophy in 133 Arguments,” with essays from the series, edited by Peter Catapano and Simon Critchley, published by Liveright Books.
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大乐透17153开奖结果“【我】【不】【是】【跟】【你】【说】【了】【吗】，【我】【已】【经】【是】【将】【你】【带】【到】【了】【这】【里】。【了】，【你】【自】【己】【不】【是】【也】【是】【说】【了】【吗】？【你】【自】【己】【是】【要】【查】【那】【个】【事】【情】【的】， 【既】【然】【是】【要】【查】【事】【情】，【你】【这】【不】【去】【查】，【你】【这】【样】【老】【是】【跟】【着】【我】，【到】【底】【是】【想】【要】【干】【什】【么】【呀】？” “【我】【跟】【你】【说】，【这】【个】【事】【情】，【你】【不】【用】【太】【感】【谢】【我】【的】，【你】【知】【道】【吗】？【所】【以】，【这】【个】【事】【情】，【你】【还】【是】【该】【干】【啥】***【啥】【好】【吗】？” “【不】【用】
【世】【人】【常】【道】，【蓝】【漾】【人】【民】【重】【义】【气】【看】【情】【谊】，【但】【谁】【知】，【这】【也】【是】【因】【人】【而】【异】。【蓝】【漾】【较】【比】【其】【余】【地】【域】，【民】【风】【自】【由】，【崇】【尚】【至】【情】【至】【性】【之】【人】，【可】【这】【也】【不】【代】【表】，【可】【以】【为】【不】【认】【识】【的】【冲】【锋】【陷】【阵】。 【虞】【凉】【收】【回】【目】【光】，【却】【不】【再】【拿】【起】【毛】【笔】，【而】【是】【坐】【在】【椅】【子】【上】，【说】：“【讲】【讲】【虞】【棠】【吧】，【虞】【昙】【的】【那】【位】【姐】【姐】。” 【男】【人】【摸】【了】【摸】【后】【脑】【勺】，【眉】【头】【拧】【的】【能】【夹】【死】【苍】【蝇】：“【我】【对】
【他】【们】【现】【在】【虽】【然】【不】【比】【以】【前】【了】，【可】【一】【些】【小】【钱】【还】【是】【拿】【得】【出】【来】【的】。 “【妈】，【我】【工】【资】【挺】【高】【的】，【不】【用】【担】【心】【我】。”【慕】【蓁】【蓁】【朝】【慕】【夫】【人】【勉】【强】【挤】【出】【一】【丝】【笑】【容】。 【慕】【夫】【人】【点】【点】【头】，【忽】【然】【又】【想】【到】【什】【么】，“【你】【给】【嘉】【齐】【织】【的】【那】【些】【东】【西】，【你】【给】【他】【了】？【他】【还】【喜】【欢】【吗】？” 【慕】【蓁】【蓁】【表】【情】【僵】【了】【一】【下】。 【很】【快】【点】【头】，“【嗯】，【挺】【喜】【欢】【的】。” “【喜】【欢】【就】【好】，
“【所】【以】【慕】【大】【英】【雄】，【你】【准】【备】【啥】【时】【候】【下】【去】【呢】？”【既】【然】【暮】【林】【栖】【说】【她】【稳】【赢】，【江】【自】【流】【肯】【定】【也】【就】【不】【上】【赶】【着】【插】【手】【了】，【她】【准】【备】【到】【时】【候】【就】【敲】【敲】【边】【鼓】。 “【再】【等】【一】【会】【儿】，【那】【大】【姐】【往】【咱】【们】【这】【边】【瞟】【了】【好】【几】【眼】【了】，【估】【摸】【着】【是】【看】【见】【周】【哥】【往】【楼】【上】【跑】【了】。【咱】【们】【再】【等】【等】。”【暮】【林】【栖】【倒】【是】【不】【着】【急】。 “【别】【抻】【太】【长】，【估】【计】【官】【差】【和】【大】【夫】【半】【个】【多】【小】【时】【就】【差】【不】【多】【到】【了】，大乐透17153开奖结果【在】NBA【这】【个】【篮】【球】【水】【平】【最】【高】【的】【舞】【台】，【什】【么】【样】【的】【球】【员】【才】【是】【各】【大】【球】【迷】【喜】【欢】【的】【呢】？【肯】【定】【是】【那】【些】【能】【展】【现】【自】【己】【进】【攻】【天】【赋】【的】【球】【员】，【在】【球】【场】【上】【这】【些】【球】【员】【在】【进】【攻】【端】，【可】【谓】【是】【无】【所】【不】【能】，【无】【论】【是】【远】【距】【离】【投】【射】，【还】【是】【背】【身】【单】【打】，【以】【及】【突】【破】【技】【巧】【都】【是】【在】NBA【历】【史】【上】【少】【有】【的】【球】【员】，【这】【些】【球】【员】【可】【以】【被】【真】【正】【的】【称】【作】【为】“【进】【攻】【万】【花】【筒】”，【今】【天】【我】【们】【就】【来】【看】【看】NBA【历】【史】【上】【的】【五】【大】“【进】【攻】【万】【花】【筒】”。
【徐】【军】【山】【给】【若】【云】【回】【电】【话】【的】【时】【候】【说】【了】【先】【想】【办】【法】【把】【那】【枚】【宋】【元】【通】【宝】【拿】【下】，【然】【后】【再】【想】【办】【法】【去】【跟】【拍】【卖】【行】【的】【人】【联】【系】，【看】【能】【否】【用】150【万】【左】【右】【的】【价】【格】【将】【这】【枚】【永】【乐】【通】【宝】【给】【拿】【下】。 【若】【云】【心】【里】【暗】【惊】，【知】【道】【徐】【军】【山】【是】【怕】【夜】【长】【梦】【多】，【万】【一】【有】【个】【行】【家】【中】【途】【杀】【出】【将】【永】【乐】【通】【宝】【拍】【下】【就】【得】【不】【偿】【失】【了】。 【于】【是】【若】【云】【加】【紧】【去】【催】【老】【二】，【希】【望】【他】【能】【够】【尽】【快】【将】【那】【枚】【宋】
【喧】【闹】【的】【山】【谷】【逐】【渐】【平】【静】【下】【来】，【月】【上】【中】【天】，【胥】【固】【才】【回】【了】【房】【间】。 【宓】【姝】【皱】【皱】【鼻】【头】，【闻】【到】【一】【股】【刺】【鼻】【的】【酒】【味】，【又】【听】【他】【笑】【着】【调】【侃】“【你】【这】【些】【族】【人】【们】，【可】【不】【好】【对】【付】。” 【说】【着】【用】【双】【手】【揭】【开】【大】【红】【的】【盖】【头】，【就】【着】【烛】【火】【看】【宓】【姝】，【夸】【赞】【道】：“【真】【好】【看】。” 【宓】【姝】【羞】【红】【了】【脸】，【低】【头】【不】【看】【他】“【伤】【还】【没】【好】【全】，【喝】【这】【么】【些】【酒】。” 【胥】【固】【挨】【她】【坐】【下】，【一】
【在】【农】【民】【的】【震】【慑】【之】【下】，【足】【足】【有】【十】【八】【名】【奇】【才】，【瞬】【间】【将】【身】【上】【的】【太】【白】【令】【子】【令】【交】【了】【出】【来】。 【而】【欧】【阳】【晴】【雪】，【只】【需】【在】【里】【边】【拿】【走】【十】【块】【太】【白】【令】【子】【令】，【就】【能】【够】【获】【得】【进】【入】【造】【化】【之】【门】【的】【名】【额】。 “【那】【怎】【么】【行】【呢】？”【欧】【阳】【晴】【雪】【眼】【中】【不】【由】【闪】【过】【了】【一】【丝】【感】【激】【之】【色】。 【事】【实】【上】，【她】【也】【很】【想】【立】【刻】【得】【到】【足】【够】【的】【太】【白】【令】【子】【令】，【然】【后】【去】【跟】【萧】【羿】【团】【聚】。 【可】【是】，