Holidays seem to produce by-the-books recitations of “giving thanks” as much as a sewer produces stink. “I’m so glad to have [things I am socially required to be glad for]” or some such phrase is heard before every turkey dinner from November to January.

One of the most interesting refrains is a recitation of thankfulness for wealth. America is an (ahem) affluent country to say the least, and so it seems to make sense that Americans are “grateful” for the tremendous bounty which modern global capitalism has bestowed upon them, and at least go through the motions of saying so. But the story of “wealth” is more complicated than just having a lot of stuff.

Wealth derives from an Old English term “wele,” meaning “well-being,” and is related to many other words invoking similar concepts. For example, “well,” “welfare” especially in the sense of “doing or faring well,” and “weal” in the sense of “what is best for someone/thing.” All this stretches back to an Indo-European root “wel-” meaning “to wish or will.”

These related terms are about a kind of wellness, as in doing the best, flourishing or being in the right way, and given the Indo-European origin, they all have a hidden notion of self-making within them as well. In other words, the common theme among words derived from this root is the idea of self-care of the soul (or if you don’t believe in the soul, substitute body, mind, self, unified agent or whatever else meets your standard).

Of course these kinds of meanings don’t seem to inherently have much to do with our understanding of wealth as having a whole lot of something, usually money. But given what money can bring — good food, big houses, cars, political office, etc. — perhaps the connection between flourishing and having tons of money isn’t too far of a leap. Having stuff is secure and comfortable and feels good.

Nevertheless, a concept of “wealth” that encompasses not only economic well-being, but the entirety of it in all facets of life is called for.  Indeed, “wealthy” derives from “wealth” by way of a phonemic analogy with “healthy.” “Wealthy” means to be healthy in every way possible, socially, mentally, bodily, and nothing less.

It’s doubtful whether many of the thankful people getting ready to carve up a 30 pound turkey to celebrate their affluence with their weird in-laws and creepy uncles meet all the above criteria. But perhaps once everyone is drunk enough on turkey and not-turkey, they feel wealthy enough not to care that they really aren’t.

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Turning on the television to any one of the major cable news networks is a hazardous business. It could bring a smile to your face or put a hole in your wall, depending on whom you happen to agree with.

Pundits argue with their guests, who fight with the other guests, all of who attack some government official or other. In general, there is a lot of argument going on. Or is there?

The origins of the “argument” are of the most ancient variety: it traces back to the Latin root arguo- which means something like “to make clear.”

It doesn’t stop there though. You can trace it even further back to the obscured language which was about as old to the Romans as Latin is to us: the reconstructed Proto-Indo-European language, which almost all European languages ultimately call their ancestor.
There, the root ARG meant something like “shiny, bright, silvery, clear, white” depending on context.

The whole history of “argument” suggests making something once hidden or shadowy visible for the first time, like turning a light on, or the daylight breaking.

Now, has it ever been the case that anything has ever been made more clear by a personal quarrel or a fight in which a loud and angry pundit demands your microphone be shut off? Precisely the opposite seems to be true, that in fact “arguments,” in the more common sense of people yelling at one another, can only confuse, hurt, and render dark anything that could be of value to the settling of the fight or in making a coherent point.

Rest assured, there is a less violent way of thinking about the concept than desk pounding and it involves recognizing that the older Latin sense of the word has never completely left us. Academics and intellectuals have preserved it down through history.

An argument is a way of making some kind of idea clear through the use of good reasoning. It is a way in which you can prove some kind of point by asserting that point and supporting it with a number of strong premises or pieces of information that relate directly to it and (hopefully) show it to be true.

That doesn’t mean that every argument will be a good one, that is, actually be convincing. But given the history of the word, it might be that an argument is good when you get that “aha” feeling, that moment when bright and shining sense pierces your brain and makes something extremely clear; the light bulb moment, so to speak.

In this way, an argument in the common sense of “quarrel” only ends when the quarrelers really start arguing in the sense laid out here – by making rational points and accounting for them with supporting reasons.  You can’t stop fighting until you start arguing.
So, Glenn, Jon, Sean, Bill, Steve, and all the rest of the cable news gang: Starting an (actual) argument or two would be much appreciated.

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I keep hearing classmates claiming to being discriminated against. It’s usually a dramatic story involving a sort of pathetic solitude in the high school cafeteria or in a Carl’s Jr. and rarely getting more than a slanted look from the table of blacks on the other side of the room. Sometimes it’s a different setting, involving a speeding ticket and a nonwhite cop. It may be an expression of indignation that Native Americans can receive scholarship money from tribes that is not available to everyone. But there’s simply no such thing as reverse discrimination.

The retort: “Well, EVERYBODY’S discriminated against.”

If everyone is discriminated against, then what use is the word? Misuse of the word is precisely why there’s misunderstanding with its meaning.

To be sure, there are instances of prejudice that can, but do not always lead to exclusion from a group. There are two words for this: intolerance and, when it reaches levels of outright hate and violence, bigotry. Bigoted attitudes are often mistaken for discrimination.

Discrimination is when a socially constructed identity is a subject of intolerance and/or bigotry. There are certainly categories in our society, such as gender, race and sexuality that are socially constructed. Most importantly, discrimination involves some form of structural violence – be it racism, sexism, ethnocentrism, or heterosexism – where the discriminated are hindered or prevented in some way from providing for themselves and their most basic needs. That is to say that getting suspicious looks from a table of
Koreans in the cafeteria and being too afraid to sit with them is not discrimination, and neither is getting slammed doors and violent threats on your LDS mission. You have alternative choices that enable you to do something about the situation.

But getting turned away by restaurants or being attacked on your way to work, and being silenced by law and having no recourse? That’s systematic intolerance that directly affects your livelihood. That’s real discrimination.

There likely aren’t many members of the majority here in Utah who have had their livelihood threatened because of bigoted attitudes and intolerance based on their race. Personally I’ve been called racial slurs, been mistreated by police, been followed to my apartment after kissing my boyfriend goodnight by people who wanted to hurt me, and experienced other prejudices. That doesn’t mean I’ve got the market cornered on human suffering or that, as a nonwhite person, I can’t be racist (or, in my own way, “hetero”-phobic). But there’s a huge difference between those things and actual discrimination, and it does mean it’s extremely disrespectful when those who are privileged in this town by virtue of their race, sexuality and religion (and sometimes wealthy upbringing) start complaining that the advantages society and mainstream culture has granted them are being somehow threatened.

So next time you feel like you’re getting weird looks from the non-white students in the cafeteria, either get up and go make friends, or get up and leave. And more importantly, unless you’ve had your well being threatened by institutional intolerance, do those who have actually experienced discrimination a favor and don’t call it “reverse discrimination.”

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I consistently notice that speakers of the grand ol’ English language, even smart students, fail to realize the broader usage of the words they speak and write with, most especially loaded terms which aren’t used often. Words like “violence.”

The most common understanding of violence is that of physical violence. I punch you, or shoot you, or stab you with a sharpened stick. Indeed this is probably the most subjectively perceptible form of violence – because it hurts.  A lot.

But it is easy to go farther and show another form of violence: just yell something really rude at someone in the hallway today, and see how they react. Physical contact has not taken place, no one has been physically harmed but I’d be willing to bet that they either react much the same way as if they had. Emotions can be done violence just like bodies.

These are easy to see forms of violence, because they are both so personal.  You can see and feel the violent person. But if we move past the easy ways to think about violence, we find that there are many more ways to think about it than the obvious.

The root of the word, like so many we talk about, is Latin, and has the sense of being impetuous, or vehement – in short, forceful. The Latin “violentus” itself derives from the word “vis” or “power, force.” In this light, we see that real violence is to act either brashly, to do something one ought not to do according to a standard, and/or to use force and power. Something requires an impetuous control or power in order to be considered violent.

Plenty of things meet this requirement. Things like systems, organizations, and even language can have an unthoughtful and undeserved force or power over us. So violence isn’t only personal or between people.

Once you understand this, it’s not too difficult to think up something non-personal meeting this definition. We all have particular systems, economic, political, or cultural that we think are…well bad. They cause harm, or are considered evil. Why? It may not be just because we fight with them – or they with us – in wars, it might be the system itself is violent.

I imagine almost everyone can agree that the treatment of women in earlier European cultural systems was pretty terrible. Women were treated violently, even if they weren’t physically harmed, and even if they didn’t know about it or care about it. Violence is still violence even if those who are violated don’t know it or care about it.

We see culture itself had a flaw, and of course there are lots of other potential examples – the same could even be true of some current systems.

At any rate, now you can recognize violence where you see it, even where it is not immediately, physically perceptible to you.

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