yule wraps

I am writing this right before Christmas, Hanukkah is upon us, as the solstice descends and we prepare for the period in which, in the words of Tongva artist Mercedes Dorame, together we pull the sun back into the sky. This is the good news I bring. Against the monstropolous gloaming of our darkening skies, there is always a band of luminescence. It will not be extinguished, at least in our lives, or in the lives of anyone we love. No matter how mighty the institutions in which we find ourselves, no matter how intractable these structures might seem, we know that the only truths we have, as living beings who are also necessarily social beings, are change and chance. The architects who crown themselves lords and masters can still be taken by surprise; and as mercilessly repetitive as much of our everyday lives might feel, sometimes we are still capable of surprising even ourselves. This is, I believe, the weak messianic power of which Benjamin spoke, the one with which we are all equally endowed; and while this might be an odd or even awkward place to begin a talk on militarization and security, I leave it here now, as preface, to remind myself that, while Mother Night will eventually defeat us, until all the stars have exhausted themselves, some trace of the light will always remain. This is not to say that we wait for the miraculous; every party needs planning, and while not every surprise involves a conspiracy it is better not to leave all details to chance. But the log will get burned.