Ethical Arguments Of Electronic Surveillance Information Technology Essay

Ethical Arguments Of Electronic Surveillance Information Technology Essay 1.1 Introduction In his dystopian masterpiece, 1984, George Orwell portrays a society in which government surveillance has become all too pervasive with nightmarish consequences. Even though Orwell never envisioned the advent of the internet and how it has become part of our daily lives, he understood the dangers of a culture of surveillance and much of what he wrote has become startlingly true. Indeed governments have moved on from traditional spying to electronic surveillance, thanks to the internet and other electronic forms of communication. Corporations too have jumped on the surveillance bandwagon, though for different purposes. This has led to ethical concerns, as illustrated in the case of the research firm Phorm. 1.2 Ethical Concerns that Could Arise Phorm is a company in the United Kingdom that developed software that allows it to monitor users online activities without their consent. This has legal ramifications as allowing such activities has caused the European Commission to investigate the UK for breaching rules pertaining to consent to interception of online transactions. However, the issue has an ethical dimension as well. Phorm has tried to justify its actions citing the benefits to customers and the companies involved. However, is it morally and ethically right for a corporation, no matter how innocent its purpose, to secretly monitor the activities of internet users without their consent? Do the advantages, both in financial and non- financial terms warrant this seeming violation of basic human rights? These are some of the ethical dilemmas posed by this case and they will be critically examined in this report. 1.3 Ethical Arguments in Support of Electronic Surveillance Corporate surveillance is a new form of surveillance by companies of people and groups. The aim is to collect data for marketing purpose which is used by the corporation itself or as in the case of Phorm, sold to third party corporations or the government (Brooks and Dunn, 2010). From the companys perspective, this is an excellent form of business intelligence as the data collected can be used to refine marketing strategies to reach the target audience. Direct marketing also employs online corporate surveillance as evidenced by Google and Yahoo (New York Times, 2007). Governments also make use of corporate surveillance data to monitor the activities of users and collect information to do profiling. The U.S. government has used this approach more often in recent years to track down terrorists, and this may be good in a sense. The ethical argument in support of this type of initiative is that it benefits various stakeholders. Electronic surveillance can improve marketing activities and this leads to more revenue which in turn benefit shareholders and the employees of the corporation that uses the services of electronic surveillance company data. Supposedly, when shareholder and employee wealth is maximized, it elevates the standard of living and thus, benefits society as a whole. True, customers are literally spied on but there is no physical damage done. Most customers are oblivious and what they do not know would not harm them. In fact, such improved marketing could even help them make better decisions when buying products and services since they will receive advertisements on things that interest them. These are some of the arguments that are used to support electronic surveillance by corporations. 1.4 Ethical Arguments Against this Type of Initiative To answer why corporate electronic surveillance is unethical and unjustifiable, we need to frame it in ethical terms. Let us look at it from the theory of consequentialism. Consequentialists are intent on maximizing the utility produced by a decision (Ermann et al, 1990). For them, the rightness of an act depends on its consequences. Consequentialism holds that an act is morally right if and only if that act maximizes the net good. In other words, an act and therefore a decision is ethical if its favourable consequences outweigh its negative consequences. Moreover, some believe that only the act that maximizes the net benefit of favourable minus the negative consequences is morally right or ethical. Philosophers also debate what consequences should be counted, how they should be counted and who deserves to be included in the set of affected stakeholders that should be considered (Brooks and Dunn, 2010). Therefore, corporate electronic surveillance is morally wrong because it does not maximize the net good. True, it may improve sales slightly if done in secret but if customers are aware that they are being spied on, they will feel violated and alienate the company altogether. Other potential customers may shy away from the company as well. In the end, such a move could seriously backfire and negatively impact shareholders. The net disadvantages dramatically outweigh the advantages. It is also illegal since such activities constitute a breach of international laws on internet privacy. Deontology is different from consequentialism in that deontologists focus on the obligations or duties motivating a decision or actions that on the consequences of the action (MacKinnon, 1998). Deontological ethics takes the position that rightness depends on the respect shown for duty, and the rights and fairness that those duties reflect. Consequently, a deontological approach raises issues relating to duties, rights and justice considerations and teaches students to use moral standards, principles and rules as a guide to making the best ethical decisions (Caroll, 1991). Deontological reasoning is largely based on the thinking of Immanuel Kant. He argued that a rational person making a decision about what would be good to do, would consider what action would be good for all members of society to do. Such an act would improve the well-being of the decision maker and the well-being of society as well. Kant began to search for an overriding principle that would guide all action an imperative that everybody should follow without exception, which could therefore be considered universal or categorical (Brooks and Dunn, 2010). His search led to what is known as Kants Categorical Imperative, which is a dominant principle or rule for deontologists. Kants principal indicates that there is a duty or imperative to always act in such a way that you can also will the maxim of your action should become a universal law (MacKinnon, 1998). This means that if you cannot will that everyone follow the same decision rule, your rule is not a moral one. As a universal principle, everyone should follow it. Moreover, the Golden Rule do unto others as you would have them do unto you would readily qualify as a universal principal (Forrester and Morrision, 1990). Using the same approach could yield a universal respect for human rights and for fair treatment of all. This can be best achieved by adopting the position that one must fulfil obligations or duties that respect moral or human rights and legal or contract rights (Flaherty, 1989). Furthermore, it can only he achieved if individuals act with enlightened self-interest rather than pure self-interest. Under enlightened self-interest, the interests of individuals are taken into account in decisions (Verschoor, 1988). They are not simply ignored or overridden. Individuals are considered ends rather than used as means to achieve an end or objective. Actions based on duty, rights and justice considerations are particularly important to professionals, directors and executives who are exp ected to fulfil the obligations of a fiduciary (Wartick and Cochran, 1985). In classical management, it has been repeatedly argued that the only fiduciary duty management owes is to the shareholders of a corporation. Thus, if activities are disadvantageous to customers, it does not matter. However, such thinking has gradually gone out of favour as corporations now realize the importance of embracing all their stakeholders (Freeman, 1984). Hence, electronic surveillance would be deemed enlightened self-interest in the old way of thinking but it is now regarded as pure self-interest. Companies that spy on customers are violating their privacy and show them no respect, which is a breach of duty of care . Electronic surveillance also goes against the Golden Rule so there is no deontological basis in support of electronic surveillance. From the above discussion, it is obvious that the arguments against electronic surveillance far outweigh those in support of it. For every argument in support, there are a few against it. Hence, corporations should stop it and use other methods that are more respectable, ethical and legal to gather marketing data. 1.5 Conclusion The ethical arguments in support of corporate electronic surveillance are scant and specious. At best, it leads to improved sales and happy shareholders but it severely undermines the basic principle of respecting the privacy of others. The right to privacy is a right to be free from certain intrusions. It is highly intrusive to have all of ones online activities monitored and used to create a database about the users likes and preferences, especially when the user is an unwilling party. From all ethical perspectives, whether utilitarian, deontological consequentialism, there is little or no basis in support of such activities. Task Two 2.1 Introduction To Phorm, its monitoring software may be a legitimate form of business. However, as a software developer, it must abide by the professional code of conduct regarding professional responsibility. The question here is whether there is a conflict of interest between its business activities and its professional responsibilities. 2.2 Conflicts with software developers professional responsibilities Software developing and engineering is a profession. As such, it has professional associations which like all other professional associations have their own code of conduct regarding professional responsibility. This is done to safeguard the reputation of the profession and to maintain the highest standards of ethics. Among the professional associations for software developers are AMC, IEEE, APEGBC and the Institute for Certification of Computing Professionals (ICCP). To be a member of these associations, one must abide by the respective code of ethics and professional responsibility. Failure to do so would result in suspension or revocation of license to practice the profession. The Software Engineering Code of Ethics and Professional Practice states that software developers should be committed to making the design, analysis, development, testing and maintenance of software a respected and beneficial profession and that all engineers should adhere to eight basic principles. Principle 6 relates to professional responsibility. This clearly stipulates that software developers shall advance the integrity and reputation of the profession that is consistent with the public interest. Among other things, a software developer should not promote their own interest at the expense of the profession, client or employer (6.05), obey all laws governing their work, unless in exceptional circumstances, compliance is inconsistent with the public interest (6.06) and avoid associations with businesses and organizations which are in conflict with this code (6.10). Based on this principle alone, Phorm has made many breaches of professional ethics. Monitoring software such as the one developed by Phorm goes against this professional responsibility code. In fact, this action goes against the interest of customers since it monitors their online activities without their knowledge. Similarly, such an action is inconsistent with public interest as it is morally, ethically and legally wrong for companies to do surveillance on the public without their knowledge (Flaherty, 1989). Phorm should know better than to conduct business that is in conflict with a professional code of conduct. Even though its software developers may not be members of this specific professional organization, they are sure to be members of other organizations which would have similar guidelines. Phorms actions also conflict with principle one of this code which concerns the public. It states that software engineers should act consistently with the public interest. According to paragraph 1.03, software developers should approve software only if they have a well-founded belief that it is safe, meets specifications, passes appropriate tests and does not diminish the quality of life, diminish privacy or harm the environment. Phorms monitoring software diminishes individual privacy. According to Warren and Brandies (1890), privacy can be defined as a right to be left alone. It is widely regarded that privacy is a basic human right. Phorms case is a good illustration of the problems concerning internet privacy. This is because while most agree that internet privacy must be protected, there is debate on the extent it should be protected. Should privacy protection be accorded to email usage or to websites visited as well? Privacy protection is a vital part of democracy but many countries in the world, most noticeably China, are not democracies and therefore have no qualms about seriously undermining internet privacy. Nevertheless, such arguments are mainly about the rights of governments to monitor the activities of citizens for the greater good, for instance protection against terrorism. However, in terms of corporate surveillance, laws and professional codes explicitly prohibit it. 2.3 Suitability of an established code of computer ethics or an ethical decision making model There are many professional codes of ethics such as the one mentioned in the previous section that helps professionals make ethical decisions. The problem is that they are general and not company specific. Also, some employees in a corporation are not members of a professional organization and therefore do not feel obliged to follow the guidelines stipulated by these organizations. For example, software developers may be against developing monitoring software, but if the CEO compels them to do so, they have little choice but to follow orders or leave the organization. To overcome this problem, each corporation should have its own code of ethics and ethical decision making model to make the right choice. A decision making model must be designed to enhance ethical reasoning by providing insights into the identification and analysis of key issues to be considered and questions or challenges to be raised and approaches to combining and applying decision relevant factors into practical action (Brook and Dunn, 2010). A decision or action is considered ethical or right if it conforms to certain standards. One standard alone is insufficient to ensure an ethical decision. Consequently, an ethical decision making framework should be designed so that decisions or actions are compared against four standards for a comprehensive assessment of ethical behaviour. The ethical decision making model assesses the ethicality of a decision or action by examining the consequences or well-offness created in terms of net benefits or costs, rights and duties affected, fairness involved and motivation or virtues expected (Paine, 1994). The first three of these considerations consequentialism, deontology and justice are examined by focusing on the impacts of a decision on shareholders and other affected stakeholders, an approach known as stakeholder impact analysis (Caroll, 1991). The fourth consideration, the motivation of the decision maker is known as virtue ethics (Pastin, 1986). It provides insights likely to be helpful when assessing current and future governance problems as part of a normal risk management exercise. All four considerations must be examined thoroughly and appropriate ethical values must be applied in the decision and its implementation if a decision or action is to be defensible ethically. There are three steps for making an ethical decision (Velasquez, 1992). Step one is identifying the facts and all stakeholder groups and interests likely to be affected. Step two is to rank the stakeholders and their interest, identifying the most important and weighing them more than other issues in the analysis. The final step is to assess the impact of the proposed action on each stakeholder group interests with regard to their well-being, fairness of treatment and other rights, including virtue expectations, using a comprehensive framework of questions and making sure that the common pitfalls do not enter into the analysis. These pitfalls include conforming to an unethical corporate culture, misinterpreting public expectations and focusing on short term profits and shareholder only impacts (Paine, 1994). It may be helpful to organize an ethical decision analysis using the seven steps outlined by the American Accounting Association (1993) (Cited in Brooke and Dunn, 2010). One, determine the facts such as what, who, when, where and how. Two, define the ethical issues. Three, identify major principles, rules and values. Four, specify the alternatives. Five, compare values and alternatives and see if a clear decision emerges. Six, asses the consequences and finally make the decision. 2.4 Conclusion The development and implementation of involuntary electronic monitoring, such as done by Phorm conflicts with software developers professional responsibilities. This is because no professional association of software developers would ever sanction the creation of software that violates the privacy of users and goes against the best interest of society. To overcome such a situation, each IT organization must have its own corporate code of ethics. This should compliment the professional code of ethics of software developers and serve to ensure the highest ethical standards. Yet it is not enough for a company to create a good ethics policy. Implementation is the hard part and high ethical conduct must flow from top to bottom and there must be zero tolerance for breach of professional ethics. It is only by instituting such strict policies that activities like monitoring users internet usage can be curbed.

Macbeth And Lady Macbeth, A dealike Butcher And A fiend? Essay

"This dead like butcher and his fiend like queen" is this a fair description of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth? Malcolm made the remark "This dead like butcher and his fiend like queen," when he was crowned as the king of Scotland, after Macbeth's reign of terror. It becomes questionable upon the fairness of this justification, whether or not Macbeth was really a "butcher" and whether or not Lady Macbeth was a "fiend." In some ways, Macbeth would have fit the description of being a "butcher," after all, he had taken the lives of many people, some of them were even close associates of Macbeth. He assassinated Duncan, the king, in order to gain the throne, as he says, "I have done the deed" He also murdered Banquo, who was his best friend, due to two different reasons. The first is the witches' prophecies, which predicted that Banquo's son is to become king, and secondly, there is a sense that Banquo has his suspicions on the assassinator of the king. Acting under the name of fear, he slaughtered Lady Macduff and her son, due to the prophecies made by the witches, "Beware the thane of Fife" Macbeth only resolved himself into a far more stereotypical villain when he felt that he had gone to far, as he says, "I am in blood stepped I do far." His ambition of staying king now begins to spur him toward further horrifying deeds, and he starts to disregard and even challenge fate and fortune. Each successive murder reduces his human characteristics still further, until he appears to be the more dominant partner in the marriage. Nevertheless, the new-found resolve, which causes Macbeth to "wade" onward into his self-created river of blood, is persistently alarmed by supernatural events, the ghost of Banquo, an evidence suggesting Macbeth isn't at the right state of mind, that his guilt has affected him deeply. Macbeth was also seen as a ruthless tyrannical king, as he is referred to by Malcolm and Macduff, as "tyrant," and "a devil." In order to protect his title, Macbeth had to murder those who get in his way, and he even planted spies in every household in Scotland. Near to the end, Macbeth has even, "Forgot the taste of fears" It's as if he had overcome fear, which had made him able to be ruthless, and murderous. On the other hand the j... ...an interpret Lady Macbeth as, the dominant, commanding wife with an ambition to be queen bigger that Macbeth's ambition of being King. Or the manipulative wife, whose ambition is just as big as Macbeth. Lady Macbeth may be described as a fiend by Malcolm, and may have been a fiend to an extent, that she manipulated her husband into doing the things Macbeth has done, which may have been against Macbeth's will. She also accused her husband on being a coward, showing that she could fit the description as a fiend. However, she is not what we would call as purely evil, or lacking humanity, because she, is after all, a woman, whose instinct still remains with her, despite what she had done. She was also washed over by guilt, and became mentally deranged, even before Macbeth. Overall, the remarks that Malcolm made may have their justifications, as to an extent, both Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are a pair of "butcher and his fiend queen". However, to an extent these justifications may not fit either Macbeth or Lady Macbeth, as they have had their own humanity within them, as if the "butcher" and "fiend" were just a part of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth's alter ego.

Bag of Bones CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

At first the door wouldn't open. The knob turned under my hand so I knew it wasn't locked, but the rain seemed to have swelled the wood . . . or had something been shoved up against it? I drew back, crouched a little, and hit the door with my shoulder. This time there was some slight give. It was her. Sara. Standing on the other side of the door and trying to hold it shut against me. How could she do that? How, in God's name? She was a fucking ghost! I thought of the BAMM CONSTRUCTION pickup . . . and as if thought were conjuration I could almost see it out there at the end of Lane Forty-two, parked by the highway. The old ladies' sedan was behind it, and three or four other cars were now behind them. All of them with their windshield wipers flopping back and forth, their headlights cutting feeble cones through the downpour. They were lined up on the shoulder like cars at a yard sale. There was no yard sale here, only the old-timers sitting silently in their cars. Old-timers who were in the zone just like I was. Old-timers sending in the vibe. She was drawing on them. Stealing from them. She'd done the same with Devore and me too, of course. Many of the manifestations I'd experienced since coming back had likely been created from my own psychic energy. It was amusing when you thought of it. Or maybe ‘terrifying' was the word I was actually looking for. ‘Jo, help me,' I said in the pouring rain. Lightning flashed, turning the torrents a bright brief silver. ‘If you ever loved me, help me now.' I drew back and hit the door again. This time there was no resistance at all and I went hurtling in, catching my shin on the jamb and falling to my knees. I held onto the lantern, though. There was a moment of silence. In it I felt forces and presences gathering themselves. In that moment nothing seemed to move, although behind me, in the woods Jo had loved to ramble with me or without me the rain continued to fall and the wind continued to howl, a merciless gardener pruning its way through the trees that were dead and almost dead, doing the work of ten gentler years in one turbulent hour. Then the door slammed shut and it began. I saw everything in the glow of the flashlight, which I had turned on without even realizing it, but at first I didn't know exactly what I was seeing, other than the destruction by poltergeist of my wife's beloved crafts and treasures. The framed afghan square tore itself off the wall and flew from one side of the studio to the other, the black oak frame breaking apart. The heads popped off the dolls poking out of the baby collages like champagne corks at a party. The hanging light-globe shattered, showering me with fragments of glass. A wind began to blow a cold one and was quickly joined and whirled into a cyclone by one which was warmer, almost hot. They rolled past me as if in imitation of the larger storm outside. The Sara Laughs head on the bookcase, the one which appeared to be constructed of toothpicks and lollipop sticks, exploded in a cloud of wood-splinters. The kayak paddle leaning against the wall rose into the air, rowed furiously at nothing, then launched itself at me like a spear. I threw myself flat on the green rag rug to avoid it, and felt bits of broken glass from the shattered light-globe cut into the palm of my hand as I came down. I felt something else, as well a ridge of something beneath the rug. The paddle hit the far wall hard enough to split into two pieces. Now the banjo my wife had never been able to master rose in the air, revolved twice, and played a bright rattle of notes that were out of tune but nonetheless unmistakable wish I was in the land of cotton, old times there are not forgotten. The phrase ended with a vicious BLUNK! that broke all five strings. The banjo whirled itself a third time, its bright steel fittings reflecting fishscale runs of light on the study walls, and then beat itself to death against the floor, the drum shattering and the tuning pegs snapping off like teeth. The sound of moving air began to how do I express this? to focus somehow, until it wasn't the sound of air but the sound of voices panting, unearthly voices full of fury. They would have screamed if they'd had vocal cords to scream with. Dusty air swirled up in the beam of my flashlight, making helix shapes that danced together, then reeled apart again. For just a moment I heard Sara's snarling, smoke-broken voice: ‘Git out, bitch! You git on out! This ain't none of yours ‘ And then a curious insubstantial thud, as if air had collided with air. This was followed by a rushing wind-tunnel shriek that I recognized: I'd heard it in the middle of the night. Jo was screaming. Sara was hurting her, Sara was punishing her for presuming to interfere, and Jo was screaming. ‘No!' I shouted, getting to my feet. ‘Leave her alone! Leave her be!' I advanced into the room, swinging the lantern in front of my face as if I could beat her away with it. Stoppered bottles stormed past me some contained dried flowers, some carefully sectioned mushrooms, some woods-herbs. They shattered against the far wall with a brittle xylophone sound. None of them struck me; it was as if an unseen hand guided them away. Then Jo's rolltop desk rose into the air. It must have weighed at least four hundred pounds with its drawers loaded as they were, but it floated like a feather, nodding first one way and then dipping the other in the opposing currents of air. Jo screamed again, this time in anger rather than pain, and I staggered backward against the closed door with a feeling that I had been scooped hollow. Sara wasn't the only one who could steal the energy of the living, it appeared. White semeny stuff ectoplasm, I guess spilled from the desk's pigeonholes in a dozen little streams, and the desk suddenly launched itself across the room. It flew almost too fast to follow with the eye. Anyone standing in front of it would have been smashed flat There was a head-splitting shriek of protest and agony Sara this time, I knew it was and then the desk struck the wall, breaking through it and letting in the rain and the wind. The rolltop snapped loose of its slot and hung like a jointed tongue. All the drawers shot out. Spools of thread, skeins of yarn, little flora/fauna identification books and woods guides, thimbles, notebooks, knitting needles, dried-up Magic Markers Jo's early remains, Ki might have called them. They flew everywhere l ike bones and bits of hair cruelly scattered from a disinterred coffin. ‘Stop it,' I croaked. ‘Stop it, both of you. That's enough.' But there was no need to tell them. Except for the furious beat of the storm, I was alone in the ruins of my wife's studio. The battle was over. At least for the time being. I knelt and doubled up the green rag rug, carefully folding into it as much of the shattered glass from the light as I could. Beneath it was a trapdoor giving on a triangular storage area created by the slope of the land as it dropped toward the lake. The ridge I'd felt was one of the trap's hinges. I had known about this area and had meant to check it for the owls. Then things began to happen and I'd forgotten. There was a recessed ring in the trapdoor. I grabbed it, ready for more resistance, but it swung up easily. The smell that wafted up froze me in my tracks. Not damp decay, at least not at first, but Red Jo's favorite perfume. It hung around me for a moment and then it was gone. What replaced it was the smell of rain, roots, and wet earth. Not pleasant, but I had smelled far worse down by the lake near that damned birch tree. I shone my light down three steep steps. I could see a squat shape that turned out to be an old toilet I could vaguely remember Bill and Kenny Auster putting it under here back in 1990 or '91. There were steel boxes filing cabinet drawers, actually wrapped in plastic and stacked up on pallets. Old records and papers. An eight-track tape player wrapped in a plastic bag. An old VCR next to it, in another one. And over in the corner I sat down, hung my legs over, and felt something touch the ankle I had turned in the lake. I shone my light between my knees and for one moment saw a young black kid. Not the one drowned in the lake, though this one was older and quite a lot bigger. Twelve, maybe fourteen. The drowned boy had been no more than eight. This one bared his teeth at me and hissed like a cat. There were no pupils in his eyes; like those of the boy in the lake, his eyes were entirely white, like the eyes of a statue. And he was shaking his head. Don't come down here, white man. Let the dead rest in peace. ‘But you're not at peace,' I said, and shone the light full on him. I had a momentary glimpse of a truly hideous thing. I could see through him, but I could also see into him: the rotting remains of his tongue in his mouth, his eyes in their sockets, his brain simmering like a spoiled egg in its case of skull. Then he was gone, and there was nothing but one of those swirling dust-helixes. I went down, holding the lantern raised. Below it, nests of shadows rocked and seemed to reach upward. The storage area (it was really no more than a glorified crawlspace) had been floored with wooden pallets, just to keep stuff off the ground. Now water ran beneath these in a steady river, and enough of the earth had eroded to make even crawling unsteady work. The smell of perfume was entirely gone. What had replaced it was a nasty riverbottom smell and unlikely given the conditions, I know, but it was there the faint, sullen smell of ash and fire. I saw what I'd come for almost at once. Jo's mail-order owls, the ones she had taken delivery of herself in November of 1993, were in the northeast corner, where there were only about two feet between the sloped pallet flooring and the underside of the studio. Gorry, but they looked real, Bill had said, and Gorry if he wasn't right: in the bright glow of the lantern they looked like birds first swaddled, then suffocated in clear plastic. Their eyes were bright wedding rings circling wide black pupils. Their plastic feathers were painted the dark green of pine nee-dies, their bellies a shade of dirty orange-white. I crawled toward them over the squelching, shifting pallets, the glow of the lantern bobbing back and forth between them, trying not to wonder if that boy was behind me, creeping in pursuit. When I got to the owls, I raised my head without thinking and thudded it against the insulation which ran beneath the studio floor. Thump once for yes, twice for no, asshole, I thought. I hooked my fingers into the plastic which wrapped the owls and pulled them toward me. I wanted to be out of here. The sensation of water running just beneath me was strange and unpleasant. So was the smell of fire, which seemed stronger now in spite of the damp. Suppose the studio was burning? Suppose Sara had somehow set it alight? I'd roast down here even while the storm's muddy runoff was soaking my legs and belly. One of the owls stood on a plastic base, I saw the better to set him on your deck or stoop to scare the crows, my dear but the base the other should have been attached to was missing. I backed toward the trapdoor, holding the lantern in one hand and dragging the plastic sack of owls in the other, wincing each time thunder cannonaded over my head. I'd only gotten a little way when the damp tape holding the plastic gave way. The owl missing its base tilted slowly toward me, its black-gold eyes staring raptly into my own. A swirl of air. A faint, comforting whiff of Red perfume. I pulled the owl out by the hornlike tufts growing from its forehead and turned it upside down. Where it had once been attached to its plastic base there were now only two pegs with a hollow space between them. Inside the hole was a small tin box that I recognized even before I reached into the owl's belly and chivvied it out. I shone the lantern on its front, knowing what I'd see: JO'S NOTIONS, written in old-fashioned gilt script. She had found the box in an antiques barn somewhere. I looked at it, my heart beating hard. Thunder boomed overhead. The trapdoor stood open, but I had forgotten about going up. I had forgotten about everything but the tin box I held in my hand, a box roughly the size of a cigar box but not quite as deep. I spread my hand over the cover and pulled it off. There was a strew of folded papers lying on top of a pair of steno books, the wirebound ones I keep around for notes and character lists. These had been rubber-banded together. On top of everything else was a shiny black square. Until I picked it up and held it close to the side of the lantern, I didn't realize it was a photo negative. Ghostly, reversed and faintly orange, I saw Jo in her gray two-piece bathing suit. She was standing on the swimming float with her hands behind her head. ‘Jo,' I said, and then couldn't say anything else. My throat had closed up with tears. I held the negative for a moment, not wanting to lose contact with it, then put it back in the box with the papers and steno books. This stuff was why she had come to Sara in July of 1994; to gather it up and hide it as well as she could. She had taken the owls off the deck (Frank had heard the door out there bang) and had carried them out here. I could almost see her prying the base off one owl and stuffing the tin box up its plastic wazoo, wrapping both of them in plastic, then dragging them down here, all while her brother sat smoking Marlboros and feeling the vibrations. The bad vibrations. I doubted if I would ever know all the reasons why she'd done it, or what her frame of mind had been . . . but she had almost certainly believed I'd find my own way down here eventually. Why else had she left the negative? The loose papers were mostly photocopied press clippings from the Castle Rock Call and from the Weekly News, the paper which had apparently preceded the Call. The dates were marked on each in my wife's neat, firm hand. The oldest clipping was from 1865, and was headed ANOTHER HOME SAFE. The returnee was one Jared Devore, age thirty-two. Suddenly I understood one of the things that had puzzled me: the generations which didn't seem to match up. A Sara Tidwell song came to mind as I crouched there on the pallets with my lantern shining down on that old-timey type. It was the ditty that went The old folks do it and the young folks, too / And the old folks show the young folks just what to do . . . By the time Sara and the Red-Tops showed up in Castle County and settled on what became known as Tidwell's Meadow, Jared Devore would have been sixty-seven or -eight. Old but still hale. A veteran of the Civil War. The sort of older man younger men might look up to. And Sara's song was right the old folks show the young folks just what to do. What exactly had they done? The clippings about Sara and the Red-Tops didn't tell. I only skimmed them, anyway, but the overall tone shook me, just the same. I'd describe it as unfailing genial contempt. The Red-Tops were ‘our Southern blackbirds' and ‘our rhythmic darkies.' They were ‘full of dusky good-nature.' Sara herself was ‘a marvelous figure of a Negro woman with broad nose, full lips, and noble brow' who ‘fascinated men-folk and women-folk alike with her animal high spirits, flashing smile, and raucous laugh.' They were, God keep us and save us, reviews. Good ones, if you didn't mind being called full of dusky good-nature. I shuffled through them quickly, looking for anything about the circumstances under which ‘our Southern blackbirds' had left. I found nothing. What I found instead was a clipping from the Call marked July 19th (go down nineteen, I thought), 1933. The headline read VETERAN GUIDE, CARETAKER, CANNOT SAVE DAUGHTER. According to the story, Fred Dean had been fighting the wildfires in the eastern part of the TR with two hundred other men when the wind had suddenly changed, menacing the north end of the lake, which had previously been considered safe. At that time a great many local people had kept fishing and hunting camps up there (this much I knew myself). The community had had a general store and an actual name, Halo Bay. Fred's wife, Hilda, was there with the Dean twins, William and Carla, age three, while her husband was off eating smoke. A good many other wives and kids were in Halo Bay, as well. The fires had come fast when the wind changed, the paper said ‘like marching explosions.' They jumped the only firebreak the men had left in that direction and headed for the far end of the lake. At Halo Bay there were no men to take charge, and apparently no women able or willing to do so. They panicked instead, racing to load their cars with children and camp possessions, clogging the one road out with their vehicles. Eventually one of the old cars or trucks broke down and as the fires roared closer, running through woods that hadn't seen rain since late April, the women who'd waited found their way out blocked. The volunteer firefighters came to the rescue in time, but when Fred Dean got to his wife, one of a party of women trying to push a balky stalled Ford coupe out of the road, he made a terrible discovery. Billy lay on the floor in the back of the car, fast asleep, but Carla was missing. Hilda had gotten them both in, all right they had been on the back seat, holding hands just as they always did. But at some point, after her brother had crawled onto the floor and dozed off and while Hilda was stuffing a few last items into the trunk, Carla must have remembered a toy or a doll and returned to the cottage to get it. While she was doing that, her mother had gotten into their old Desoto and driven away without rechecking the babies. Carla Dean was either still in the cottage at Halo Bay or making her way up the road on foot. Either way the fires would run her down. The road was too narrow to get a vehicle turned around and too blocked to get one of those pointed in the right direction through the crush. So Fred Dean, hero that he was, set off on the run toward the smoke-blackened horizon, where bright ribbons of orange had already begun to shine through. The wind-driven fire had crowned and raced to meet him like a lover. I knelt on the pallets, reading this by the glow of my lantern, and all at once the smell of fire and burning intensified. I coughed . . . and then the cough was choked off by the iron taste of water in my mouth and throat. Once again, this time kneeling in the storage area beneath my wife's studio, I felt as if I were drowning. Once again I leaned forward and retched up nothing but a little spit. I turned and saw the lake. The loons were screaming on its hazy surface, making their way toward me in a line, beating their wings against the water as they came. The blue of the sky had been blotted out. The air smelled of charcoal and gunpowder. Ash had begun to sift down from the sky. The eastern verge of Dark Score was in flames, and I could hear occasional muffled reports as hollow trees exploded. They sounded like depth charges. I looked down, wanting to break free of this vision, knowing that in another moment or two it wouldn't be anything so distant as a vision but as real as the trip Kyra and I had made to the Fryeburg Fair. Instead of a plastic owl with gold-ringed eyes, I was looking at a child with bright blue ones. She was sitting on a picnic table, holding out her chubby arms and crying. I saw her as clearly as I saw my own face in the mirror each morning when I shaved. I saw she was about Kyra's age but much plumper, and her hair is black instead of blonde. Her hair is the shade her brother's will remain until it finally begins to go gray in the impossibly distant summer of 1998, a year she will never see unless someone gets her out of this hell. She wears a white dress and red knee-stockings and she holds her arms out to me, calling Daddy, Daddy. I start toward her and then there is a blast of organized heat that tears me apart for a moment I am the ghost here, I realize, and Fred Dean has just run right through me. Daddy, she cries, but to him, not me. Daddy! and she hugs him, unmindful of the soot smearing her white silk dress and her chubby face as he kisses her and more soot begins to fall and the loons beat their way in toward shore, seeming to weep in shrill lamentation. Daddy the fire is coming! she cries as he scoops her into his arms. I know, be brave, he says. We're gonna be all right, sugarplum, but you have to be brave. The fire isn't just coming,' it has come. The entire east end of Halo Bay is inflames and now they're moving this way, eating one by one the little cabins where the men like to lay up drunk in hunting season and ice-fishing season. Behind Al LeRoux's, the washing Marguerite hung out that morning is in flames, pants and dresses and underwear burning on lines which are themselves strings of fire. Leaves and bark shower down,' a burning ember touches Carla's neck and she shrieks with pain. Fred slaps it away as he carries her down the slope of land to the water. Don't do it! I scream. I know all this is beyond my power to change, but I scream at him anyway, try to change it anyway. Fight it! For Christ's sake, fight it! Daddy, who is that man? Carla asks, and points at me as the green-shingled roof of the Dean place catches fire. Fred glances toward where she is pointing, and in his face I see a spasm of guilt. He knows what he's doing, that's the terrible thing way down deep he knows exactly what he is doing here at Halo Bay where The Street ends. He knows and he's afraid that someone will witness his work. But he sees nothing. Or does he? There is a momentary doubtful widening of the eyes as if he does spy something a dancing helix of air, perhaps. Or does feel me? Is that it? Does he feel a momentary cold draft in all this heat? One that feels like protesting hands, hands that would restrain if they only had substance? Then he looks away,' then he is wading into the water beside the Deans' stub of a dock. Fred! I scream. For God's sake, man, look at her! Do you think your wife put her in a white silk dress by accident? Is that anyone's idea of a play-dress? Daddy, why are we going in the water? she asks. To get away from the fire, sugarplum. Daddy, I can't swim! You won't have to, he replies, and what a chill I feel at that! Because it's no lie she won't have to swim, not now, not ever. And at least Fred's way will be more merciful than Normal Auster's when Normal's turn comes more merciful than the squalling handpump, the gallons of freezing water. Her white dress floats around her like a lily. Her red stockings shimmer in the water. She hugs his neck tightly and now they are among the fleeing loons,' the loons spank the water with their powerful wings, churning up curds of jam and staring at the man and the girl with their distraught red eyes. The air is heavy with smoke and the sky is gone. I stagger after them, wading I can feel the cold of the water, although I don't splash and leave no wake. The eastern and northern edges of the lake are both on fire now there is a burning crescent around us as Fred Dean wades deeper with his daughter, carrying her as if to some baptismal rite. And still he tells himself he is trying to save her, only to save her, just as all her life Hilda will tell herself that the child just wandered back to the cottage to look for a toy, that she was not left behind on purpose, left in her white dress and red stockings to be found by her father, who once did something unspeakable. This is the past, th is is the Land of Ago, and here the sins of the fathers are visited on the children, even unto the seventh generation, which is not yet. He takes her deeper and she begins to scream. Her screams mingle with the screams of the loons until he stops the sound with a kiss upon her terrified mouth. ‘Love you, Daddy loves his sugarplum,' he says, and then lowers her. It is to be a full-immersion baptism, then, except there is no shorebank choir singing ‘Shall We Gather at the River' and no one shouting Hallelujah! and he is not letting her come back up. She struggles furiously in the white bloom of her sacrificial dress, and after a moment he cannot bear to watch her,' he looks across the lake instead, to the west where the fire hasn't yet touched (and never will), to the west where skies are still blue. Ash sifts around him like black rain and the tears pour out of his eyes and as she struggles furiously beneath his hands, trying to free herself from his drowning grip, he tells himself It was an accident, just a terrible accident, I took her out in the lake because it was the only place I could take her, the on ly place left, and she panicked, she started to struggle, she was all wet and all slippery and I lost my good hold on her and then I lost any hold on her and then I forget I'm a ghost. I scream ‘Kia! Hold on, Ki!' and dive. I reach her, I see her terrified face, her bulging blue eyes, her rosebud of a mouth which is trailing a silver line of bubbles toward the surface where Fred stands in water up to his neck, holding her down while he tells himself over and over that he was trying to save her, it was the only way, he was trying to save her, it was the only way. I reach for her, again and again I reach for her, my child, my daughter, my Kia (they are all Kia, the boys as well as the girls, all my daughter), and each time my arms go through her. Worse oh, far worse is that now she is reaching for ‘me', her dappled arms floating out, begging for rescue. Her groping hands melt through mine. I cannot touch, because now I am the ghost. I am the ghost and as her struggles weaken I realize that I can't I can't oh I couldn't breathe I was drowning. I doubled over, opened my mouth, and this time a great spew of lake-water came out, soaking the plastic owl which lay on the pallet by my knees. I hugged the JO'S NOTIONS box to my chest, not wanting the contents to get wet, and the movement triggered another retch. This time cold water poured from my nose as well as my mouth. I dragged in a deep breath, then coughed it out. ‘This has got to end,' I said, but of course this was the end, one way or the other. Because Kyra was last. I climbed up the steps to the studio and sat on the littered floor to get my breath. Outside, the thunder boomed and the rain fell, but I thought the storm had passed its peak of fury. Or maybe I only hoped. I rested with my legs hanging down through the trap there were no more ghosts here to touch my ankles, I don't know how I knew that but I did and stripped off the rubber bands holding the steno notebooks together. I opened the first one, paged through it, and saw it was almost filled with Jo's handwriting and a number of folded typed sheets (Courier type, of course), single-spaced: the fruit of all those clandestine trips down to the TR during 1993 and 1994. Fragmentary notes, for the most part, and transcriptions of tapes which might still be down below me in the storage space somewhere. Tucked away with the VCR or the eight-track player, perhaps. But I didn't need them. When the time came if the time came I was sure I'd find most of the story here. What had happened, who had done it, how it was covered up. Right now I didn't care. Right now I only wanted to make sure that Kyra was safe and stayed safe. There was only one way to do that. Lye stille. I attempted to slip the rubber bands around the steno books again, and the one I hadn't looked at slipped out of my wet hand and fell to the floor. A torn slip of green paper fell out. I picked it up and saw this: For a moment I came out of that strange and heightened awareness I'd been living in; the world fell back into its accustomed dimensions. But the colors were all too strong, somehow, objects too emphatically present. I felt like a battlefield soldier suddenly illuminated by a ghastly white flare, one that shows everything. My father's people had come from The Neck, I had been right about that much; my great-grandfather according to this was James Noonan, and he had never shit in the same pit as Jared Devore. Max Devore had either been lying when he said that to Mattie . . . or misinformed . . . or simply confused, the way folks often get confused when they reach their eighties. Even a fellow like Devore, who had stayed mostly sharp, wouldn't have been exempt from the occasional nick in his edge. And he hadn't been that far off at that. Because, according to this little scratch of a chart, my great-grandfather had had an older sister, Bridget. And Bridget had married Benton Auster. My finger dropped down a line, to Harry Auster. Born of Benton and Bridget Noonan Auster in the year 1885. ‘Christ Jesus,' I whispered. ‘Kenny Auster's grandfather was my granduncle. And he was one of them. Whatever they did, Harry Auster was one of them. That's the connection.' I thought of Kyra with sudden sharp terror. She had been up at the house by herself for nearly an hour. How could I have been so stupid? Anyone could have come in while I was under the studio. Sara could have used anyone to I realized that wasn't true. The murderers and the child victims had all been linked by blood, and now that blood had thinned, that river had almost reached the sea. There was Bill Dean, but he was staying well away from Sara Laughs. There was Kenny Auster, but Kenny had taken himself and his family off to Taxachusetts. And Ki's closest blood relations mother, father, grandfather were all dead. Only I was left. Only I was blood. Only I could do it. Unless I bolted back up to the house as fast as I could, slipping and sliding my way along the soaked path, desperate to make sure she was all right. I didn't think Sara could hurt Kyra herself, no matter how much of that old-timer vibe she had to draw on . . . but what if I was wrong? What if I was wrong?

Worldview A Christian Worldview - 1578 Words

Throughout this class we have discussed the different worldviews that an individual may have. This class has taught me that a worldview is how an individual understands the world and their place in it. â€Å"A worldview consist of what a person believes to be real and true, what a person values, how a person makes decisions, and what forms a person’s desires, longings, and goals† (Fuller, Lecture One). An individual’s worldview is the motivating force behind their every emotion, decision, and action. A worldview is what helps an individual make sense of life and this world. A worldview will provide answers for many different questions in life. A few of the questions that a worldview helps answer are questions of origin, human dilemma, hope, and destiny. I personally have a Christian worldview. A Christian worldview is built on the idea of the one true God, who created the world out of nothing and sent his one and only son to save the world. The bible is the foun dation of everything that a Christian says and does. The question of origins is one of the four main questions in life. Where did I come from? The answer Christianity provides is creation. In Genesis 1:1-2, a Christian learns that God created the world out of nothing. God spoke all things into existence. He also created man in his image with a special purpose. God created man in his likeness in order for an individual to share some of his same attributes; such as having compassion, mercy, grace, fellowship,Show MoreRelatedChristian Worldview Essay Paper1121 Words   |  5 PagesChristian Worldview Paper – Second Draft Christine Reiter CWV 101 – Christian World View 11/25/2012 Dr. Jim Uhley My Worldview My worldview is formed by my relationships, challenges and choices I have made, environmental surroundings and my family influence, all which have impressed on me my views of the world. According to Merriam-Webster’s Learners Dictionary, the definition of â€Å"Worldview† is â€Å"The way someone thinks about the world†. Although this simple phrase seems to the point, itRead MoreThe Worldview Of The Christian Worldview955 Words   |  4 Pagesword worldview means how an individual view the world around them. A worldview is a complete system of how we perceive the world and process it. According to Waddell (2014), â€Å"a worldview is a foundational set of assumptions to which one commits that serves as a framework for understanding and interpreting reality and deeply shapes one’s behavior.† The worldview of an individual is usually influenced by the person’s cultural background, life experiences, and upbringing. The Christian worldview is underRead MoreChristian Worldview : A Worldview864 Words   |  4 Pages â€Å"What is a worldview? A worldview comprises one s collection of presuppositions, convictions and values from which a person tries to understand and make sense out of the world and life. A worldview is a conceptual scheme by which we consciously or unconsciously place or fit everything we believe and by which we interpret and judge reality. A worldview is, first of all, an explanation and interpretation of the world and second, an application of this view to life.† (Dr. John MacArthur, May 2006)Read MoreNon Profit Analysis Essay7109 Words   |  29 PagesAnalysis Project Liberty University Penny LeBaron Busi 602 Carlson Hurst Part 1: Christian World View According to Del Tackett’s article on the Focus on the Family website, a person with a Biblical world view â€Å"believes his primary reason for existence is to love and serve God† (Tackett, 2012). Barna Research Group asks the following questions to determine if a person has a Biblical worldview: â€Å"Do absolute moral truths exist? Is absolute truth defined by the Bible? Did Jesus Christ liveRead MoreThe Christian Worldview1217 Words   |  5 PagesThe Christian Worldview is very widely known in today’s society. This religion has many strong beliefs about the creation of the world and what waits for believers in the afterlife. Psalms 111:10 gives a good idea of the foundation of the Christian worldview by saying. â€Å"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all who follow his precepts have good understanding. To him belongs eternal praise.† (New International Version). The Christian worldview has very specific beliefs and expectationsRead MoreThe Christian Worldview1359 Words   |  6 Pagescomplex and chaotic world, possessing a worldview that is practical can be essential to well-being and satisfaction. Without a cohesive framework with which to process the world around us, life can become discouraging and meaningless. Among a plethora of worldviews, Christianity is distinctive and singularly addresses many questions that come to the forefront concerning our existence and the universe. Unfortunately, many â€Å"who see themselves to be Christian really don’t understand even the basicsRead MoreBiblical Worldview And The Christian Worldview1295 Words   |  6 PagesBiblical Worldview in Romans It is an important factor in a Christian’s life to have a biblical worldview that coincides with God’s beliefs. A Christian cannot grow in their relationship with God with just their own understanding and knowledge. They must surround their framework of beliefs and ideas on God’s word and what he calls his children to live their life accordingly. That is why Paul’s letter to the Roman church is such as significant demonstration of the Gospel and the Christian Worldview andRead MoreThe Christian Worldview1920 Words   |  8 PagesThere are many components that make up a worldview. The stance a person takes on topics such as God, humanity, Jesus, and restoration can all make up their belief system. These beliefs can effect a person’s actions, thoughts, and how they chose to live their life. The Christian worldview is based on there being only one God, a God-centered purpose for humanity, the actions and work of Jesus Christ, and the journey to salva tion. Taking the same position on these topics will lead to a life being livedRead MoreChristian Worldview And The Secular Worldview Of Account1245 Words   |  5 PagesTo compare the Christian worldview to the secular worldview of account, one must understand the definition of what a worldview is and what a Christian worldview looks like as well as what a secular worldview looks. According to Valk (2012), Worldviews are those larger pictures that inform and in turn form our perceptions of reality. They are visions of life as well as ways of life, are individual and personal, yet bind adherents together communally (p. 1). It is not uncommon for individuals toRead MoreChristian Worldview1594 Words   |  7 Pages Let us ponder about how other religions worldviews relate to the Biblical worldview. There are three main areas or types of worldviews, Pantheists (Hinduism, Buddhism), Secularism (naturalism), and Theism (Christianity, Islam, Judaism). I will answer 5 basic questions on just one of the non-Christian worldviews and then compare it to the Biblical worldview. Part one will be about Buddhism and part two will compare Buddhism and the Biblical worldview. The questions to be answered are: 1.