Part 3. Part 2 HERE. Part 1 HERE.

In previous weeks I have looked briefly at the concepts of the symbiotic relationship between innovation and the commitment of evil acts. It’s a relationship I find fascinating on many levels, partly because I question the moral relationship between innovation and the killing of others, and also because I find it fascinating that so many genius minds are tied intrinsically into the killing of others.

This week I’m having a quick look at the outcomes of evil, and how we find great beauty in tragedy and the site of evil. This has deviated somewhat from my original train of thought about the link between innovation and evil. Such is the nature of musings, but it was one I felt was worthwhile since it would follow from the original thoughts on the functionality of innovation, and how it is used to commit evil. Innovation comes in many forms, and has many levels of impact – from the original function, through the execution of that function, to the lasting impact on the end user.

While potentially trite, you can’t escape the generative relationship between form and function. Take the bullet, for example – the function of the bullet is simple – to damage tissue. The form of the bullet is incredibly simple (and iconic). The end-user’s interaction with the bullet is incredibly simple – pull finger here, or (for the victim) feel impact here. This outcome…is horribly fascinating – people make trophies out of dead animals. People glorify the death of others. Movies are made with scenes that glorify the “balletic” activity of wartime and death. We have long sequences, meticulously constructed, in movies and documentaries which linger over the outcomes of a battle sequence. We are also fascinated by the people who use bullets – serial killers, murderers, gang members, soldiers – especially child soldiers.

This is not restricted to bullets. When we look at the places where evil was committed, the scenes inspire incredible emotion. Beautiful monuments to the past have been built. Why is that? Why is it that some of the most beautiful (and inspiring) locations are ones that have seen incredible pain – on both a human, and cultural level.

Author: C.Puisney, from Wikimedia Commons (http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Main_Page)

Auschwitz is a most haunting example. Once again, we have a name that carries incredible weight in our shared history. The architecture is haunting, and it holds a certain beauty of balance - between the colours, the solid harsh lines of the era’s architecture and stark contrast between the emptiness of some areas (the fields, some internal areas) and the block architecture of the living areas. It’s a harshness of form that is largely unintended – produced directly and dictated by the function. Gaols I have encountered have a similar sense of harsh disparity between the open spaces (for people to gather, mingle, be crowded and be watched), and the sharp lines of the cell blocks.

I am almost…afraid…to discuss this sense of balance, or imply any sense of beauty, at a place like Auschwitz. It’s the scene of something innovative and completely evil – the attempt to collect, collate, and exterminate a massive racial and ethnic group. There’s such a sense of evil about it – the common history that we all know is so heavy at Auschwitz, to override other factors. I wonder if this is something others feel?

When discussing this topic with a friend, his response was “even dictators need a good architect”. It’s one of those blunt statements, that factors architecture (and design) as a physical representation of a culture. Fascist architecture, with its heavy, communal nature. Imperial architecture, buoyed by columns, stages and parade grounds. Dictators probably need a better architect than free nations – it takes grand planning, on a megalomaniacal scale, to create an Empire within a few years (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nazi_architecture).

It’s also worth remembering when looking at the impact of a location like Auschwitz. Our common cultural impact cannot divide the history from the location. The sense of heaviness at Auschwitz is a sense of history that we see when we encounter the area. It’s architecture as emotional monument. A physical tie to past evil – we cannot divide the form, or the outcome, from the original function. The outcome – the heavy emptiness. The vast, unpopulated dirt, reminds us of who we are, and what we are capable of.

As a culture we seek hope and inspiration from these tragedies – seeking communal solace in the tragedy left behind, or the beauty of a site. The commitment of evil is not just against other humans, but against our shared culture itself.

The Notre Dame Cathedral at Reims (Champagne, France) is renowned for the number of unique statues on its façade, and its history as the Cathedral where the Kings of France where crowned. It is a UNESCO heritage site that was heavily damaged during World War I and is still being restored. One of the remarkable details is the stained glass window, which was created by Marc Chagall (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marc_Chagall). This incredibly beautiful stained glass would not have been possible if the Cathedral were still in its original condition – it is also such a wonderful reflection of the cultural fragility we feel when we see the tragedies of evil. Similarly, the beautiful façade is made more powerful by the contrast of damaged gargoyles to the restored ones. The knowledge that the gargoyles were damaged through the commitment of evil (ie war) is a very powerful conceit in terms of interpreting the beauty and impact of the cathedral.

Some years ago I was fortunate enough to visit the Longmen Grottoes (Luoyang, China) – one of the most important sites of Buddhist sculpture. Tens of thousands of statues are carved into niches across the river walls, some 3 stories tall, others barely a hand high. And like the Cathedral at Reims, the scene of human evil. During the Cultural Revolution, hundreds of statues were destroyed, their heads broken off. Many others have disappeared, stolen over the years by human greed. To me, the innovation in case was a beautiful one – producing sculptures unlike anything else. Like the statues at Bamyan (Afghanistan – which were destroyed by the Taliban as an affront to Islam) the beauty has been exploited by evil needs.

It is also an incredible site – remote, desolate, daunting and incredibly heartbreaking when you reflect on how it has been exploited and its original function changed so much.

This is stretching my original concept somewhat, I know. It has led down a path where the commitment of evil is about using innovation for its own needs, whether directly or indirectly exploiting the wonders created. It would be a little silly to say that “innovation is as it does”, and it is our human need which exploits it for good or evil. My musings have led to this somewhat. I’m not very comfortable finishing on that point. It feels unfinished.

But that's okay. Musings are never finished. And hopefully it's been enough for someone to find something of interest in it. That's it for this series. Next week? Stay tuned...

- Chai

Part 2. Part 1 HERE

"It is the Germans who are responsible for the fact that I became a fabricator of arms. If not for them, I would have constructed agricultural machines. (...) If someone asks me how I can sleep at night knowing that my arms have killed millions of people, I respond that I have no problem sleeping, my conscience is clean. I constructed arms to defend my country."

- Mikhail Kalashnikov

Following on from last week’s look into the conceptual relationship between innovation and evil, I want to follow up with a quick look at some of the innovators, and genius minds, who are tied into this symbiotic relationship. For those joining the program now, I have a semi-permanent fascination with the link between innovation and the evils that humanity perpetuates upon itself. Not in the killing or the nature of evil itself, but in the planning, anticipation and ingenuity to find another person, and kill them. It’s a symbiotic relationship that has existed since the first sharp stick was used as a weapon.

Around 218BC - the Second Punic War, Hannibal Barca led an army in a circuitous route from North Africa around the Mediterranean and the Alps to invade Roman territories in Italy. It was daring, unexpected, changed the dynamic of politics (he occupied the territories for over a decade), created history, and was incredibly effective. Not only did this army include war elephants (war elephants crossing the Alps? A feat I don’t think has ever been repeated) but according to historians he used vinegar and fire to break apart rocks that blocked their path. In that same campaign, the Roman general Fabius innovatively refused open battle, choosing to use guerrilla methods that went against the vast technical, structured instincts of the Roman army. To ensure survival, Fabius was forced to innovate against an enemy that had already innovated to invade Rome.

During the Second Punic War (yes, the same one as Hannibal’s invasion above) the famous engineer and mathematician Archimedes mythically used reflected heat as a “heat ray” to burn an invading Roman fleet. It was also a small victory, as soon after the success of the Heat Ray, Archimedes’ home of Syracuse was taken by Rome and he was killed.

Immediately the thread of necessity as the mother of invention can be seen. Or killing. We see some incredible innovation in the pursuit of war, and the defence of the country. Kalashnikov refers to this in his quote above, and had stated on another occasion that he would have been content making lawnmowers for people. No offence to lawnmowers, but his creation of the Kalashnikov AK47 machine gun is innovative genius. It is a weapon that is easy to maintain, cheap to produce, can tolerate any weather conditions, effective, and useable by almost anyone. Machine guns already existed, but his design has become THE ubiquitous machine gun design.

Why is it that we see so much innovation when survival, or lives, are at stake? Is there something that attracts genius minds to innovate when killing and lives are at hand? I can see some allure in the “challenge” of it – as can be seen in the case of Hannibal and Fabius, who had to innovate to defeat an enemy who had already been so successful by innovating. To defeat an enemy, it is vital to be one step ahead, technologically and strategically – and to do this would need innovative minds, who can design machines, or strategies that surprise the enemy and take victory.

In this we see the incredible symbiosis between killing (or survival) and innovation. During the second world war, the US government had a massive underground effort smuggling out (or kidnapping) the best minds from Europe into English and American soil. It also saw projects such as the Manhattan Project (which led to the atom bombs and nuclear reactors), as well as developments in Germany such as the first Jet Fighter plane, bombing techniques, stealth fighters and other strategies still in use today. World War 2 also saw some incredible innovation in synthetic materials, medicine (and mass killing, mind you), mass production, communications and more. Visually, the War was a hotbed of some incredible work – graphic designer Walter Heck (who was a member of the Nazi SS) is credited as creating the logotype of the SS, which is based on ancient Norse symbology. The Nazi uniform was produced in the factories of Hugo Boss, and the propaganda poster work done at the time is pretty incredible.  

There could be something in the nationalistic fervour that drives a person to innovate more effectively (Kalashnikov would agree). In the recent controversy surrounding Chinese computer hackers successfully infiltrating (http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2010/jan/15/microsoft-china-google) Google, it’s alleged that China uses “patriotic hackers” to voluntarily try their luck (providing deniability for China, as well as cheap labour). It’s a clever strategy that relies on love of the nation to drive innovation. Would the general Fabius have come up with his strategy if his homeland were not at stake? Would the work during World War 2 have been as revolutionary? Of course, they are inseparable, as is it the social commonalities (like the bullet, our shared history and perception of World War 2 colours our impressions of events and outcomes from that time).

I’m also making the assumption that the morality of facilitating mass killing, like Kalashnikov, does not factor in, for whatever reason. We tend to see artists and innovators as positive geniuses, yet does this reconcile with the symbiosis between innovation and the evil of killing? It's a debate that has come up before - where people involved in the World War 2 are accused of compromising their morality for the evils of the regime. Does working for an evil regime negate their quality and work as a designer/innovator? To extend this - is the creation of designs that are intended to kill a problem for the "legitimacy" of a designer's work? Is it just another job.

However, could the reason be more mercenary at heart? It’s often believed that inventors have less tie to a nation, as their love is less for a flag than their “science”.

(image from HERE)

This (also here) is from Leonardo Da Vinci – it is a resume letter to a Duke explaining Da Vinci’s suitability to the Duke’s army as an engineer and inventor. It explains some of the work he has done in terms of sieges, invasions, navies, and so on. It’s only in points 11 and 12 that he mentions his abilities as an architect or sculptor.

In other words (or in this case) Da Vinci was not just a painter, sculptor, or Dan Brown’s codebreaker. He was a warmonger. A brilliant one, too, whose early machines are reflected in modern tanks, and armoured troop vehicles. His sketches of helicopters and submarines are legendary, but he also created a massive list of catapaults, siege engines and tanks (like the below)

No, I am clearly not the Renaissance Man Da Vinci would have wanted driving this tank.

So why did Da Vinci promote his skills as a warmonger? Did it pay his bills so he could pursue his interests? Sure, but it was also an outlet for incredible innovation. And there is that symbiosis – the link that fascinates me – tying the genius mind with finding a new, better designed, more effective, machine that kills (and what better way to judge effectiveness than a bodycount, or war victories, as morbid as that is).

It can reasonably argued that these innovators were geniuses, whose innovations would have been genius even separated from war. However – WHY is there a link? Some of the link could reasonably be argued as money – when a State wages war, more money is thrown at innovation than at any other time. The desire to be further ahead of the technology curve than the enemy is a real driver of investment, both money and intellectually. This allows innovators more freedom to take risks, and to pursue ideas that they have – the Manhattan Project cost an estimated $2 billion dollars (roughly $22 billion by today’s standards) based on some pretty revolutionary concepts, and the threat of Germany developing a nuclear program.

Does the “necessity” of killing also assuage the potential personal guilt of being tied to the evils of killing others? This is naturally tied into the reasons that an innovator gets involved in the war effort, I’m assuming. Fasincating, eh?

I’m going to explore the outcomes of the relationship next week…

(links from Wikipedia mainly)

You know what this is. It’s probably the most powerful design you will see today.

This is a bullet. Almost every human on the planet knows what it is, and what it does. It is probably one of the most amazing designs in our history, and let’s face it – probably the most powerful design you’ll see today. It’s visually elegant, simple (while fulfilling some potentially complex needs) and indelibly entrenched in our common memory and history. While it has many variations, the basic shape and design – and its purpose – remain consistent, and have been since the first modern variations in the early 1800s. The bullet, consisting of the bullet itself, primer, propellant and the casing, is designed to cause trauma of some kind. The brilliance of the bullet’s design is enhanced by quite simple variations, such as the hollow point – a simple concavity at the tip of the bullet – which is designed to expand and fragment upon contact, to decrease penetration in a target, but increase the trauma caused as it enters.

It also causes you to wince at the thought of the pain, and the collective memory of the evil that this simple, elegant design has committed.

Before I go further into the concept of the bullet, my musings resurfaced because of this recent photo gallery on news.com.au A gallery of photographs from 9/11. What fascinates me is not the photos themselves, but the innovation that actually surrounds the tragedy. That people successfully executed an innovative use of a mass transport machine.

I have been mulling over this for the past few weeks, gradually collecting my musings into 3 parts. This is part 1, while part 2 (next week) ponders the symbiotic relationship between innovative genius and the commitment of evil acts. Part 3 closes by musing loudly about the outcomes of evil. The tragedy, and the inspiration we find in tragedy.

2001, when the planes hit their targets. The knowledge of that event is as simple as 4 characters: 9 / 1 1. Suicide planes aren’t new by any means, but to successfully execute this plan with a number of jumbo jets on two of America's most populous, significant cities, is horrifyingly clever. The simple, deadly innovation in the commitment of terrorism has changed the way we travel, pack our bags, conceive of travelling, plan our destinations, and even the way we view others on the plane. 

Another variant on an old design is the AK47, designed by Mikhail Kalashnikov in 1949. It is a machine gun (assault rifle) that is synonymous with nigh-unbreakable, long lasting, easy to use and cheaply produced weaponry. What is interesting is this quote from Kalashnikov:

"It is the Germans who are responsible for the fact that I became a fabricator of arms. If not for them, I would have constructed agricultural machines. (...) If someone asks me how I can sleep at night knowing that my arms have killed millions of people, I respond that I have no problem sleeping, my conscience is clean. I constructed arms to defend my country."

Necessity is the mother of invention could be quite apt in this musing. Kalashnikov designed a weapon that anyone in Russia could use, and given the ideology/desperation of the time, this design is almost perfect. It is a weapon that is cheap to produce, easy to maintain, resistant to the extremes of weather in Russia, and could be used by anyone from a child to grandmother. There are examples of AK47s that have been dug up, found at the bottom of lakes and so on, and still work, half a century later. It is now used by terrorists, militaries and gangs worldwide, and has become entrenched in our commonality as machine gun design.

The bullet is even more entrenched in our commonality, partly for the impact it has had in terms of death, but also for the incredibly simple, memorable design. I find the design incredible in the combination of simple elegance (3 lines make the basic, unarguable shape), morbid effectiveness, and numerous variations that grow from small changes to that basic shape. All this from a conical design that grew from experiments in the armoury of the British Army in colonial India. Certainly that design change from spherical to conical is indelibly tied to killing. The change to a conical, self-contained design from spherical (previously bullets were packed in separate from the gunpowder and the packing cloth – a process that was time consuming and often ineffective due to an incorrect balance of elements) improved accuracy, power and efficiency.

When we think about the bullet, the AK47, and 9^th September, we cannot separate those common memories from death, killing and evil. Is our memory of these designs and innovations separable from the events and attached memories? No, you cannot have innovation without outcome, nor design without use. That our common memories of incredible evil are inseparable from these innovations is even more important, I believe.

There’s a lot more to Kalashnikov’s statement, too, in terms of the impact of “necessity”. Given the simple, innovative genius of the AK47, and the bullet, the “necessity” of killing seems to drive humanity to some of its greatest innovations. I won’t go into necessity here, but I’ll examine it a bit more next week when I muse about the genius personalities.

What is a bit of a theme in this musing is the concept of innovation - and how innovation isn't necessarily a force of good. There's something about the word innovation that tends to imply a change for the better, but clearly that isn't true. Innovation IS. It is change. I'm not quite sure where that leaves things, or where it should head. Perhaps I'll find out in a couple of weeks.

I’ll leave it at that then. The bullet. Incredible design, and innovation, tied into evil.

Saw this a couple of days ago on Gizmodo. And only sharing it now (which in the days of blogs, Tweets and Status Updates makes me feel like so very very dirty) but it's cute, clever, but most of all I think it's beautiful.

Making curtains out of old slides.

(goes to Flickr)

They're beautiful, and a great use of old slides, with their magnificent colour intensity. The stained glass effect is haunting, and plays with light. I'm not a huge fan of the way it's put together (using metal rings) due to the material, but it gives it weight, and adds to the older style feel.

I would love to see future photos as the old slides fade. It's almost like a comment on the impermanence of memory, especially in the context of a curtain on an old style door.

- Chai