This Week’s New Articles

Answer to the travel picture on Home Page: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Note: We’re traveling. No new articles until 4/3/2025.

Many hobbies can have two different aspects: equipment and the final product. Take photography, for example—some people are more interested in cameras, light meters, tripods, and various lenses than in the actual photographs. In Minnesota, lakes freeze over in winter. Ice fishing enthusiasts often haul a ton of gear—not only for drilling holes in the ice but also for setting up tents, installing heaters, and bringing small chairs and tables. Then they sit and watch their fishing rods for any movement. When they catch a fish, they remove the hook and release it back into the water. Clearly, their focus is not on the catch, but on the process of playing with their equipment.

When it comes to coffee, the first question to ask is: Am I interested in the actual flavors of coffee, or do I enjoy experimenting with various brewing methods and equipment? The cost of coffee ranges from $0.10 per cup for instant coffee to over $5 for a hand-brewed cup in a restaurant. Can we really distinguish which one tastes better?

During my travels in Bali, Indonesia, I had the opportunity to try the renowned Luwak coffee. This unique brew is made from coffee beans that have been eaten and excreted by wild or farmed civets. After collection from the feces, the beans are meticulously cleaned and processed like standard coffee beans. Despite its intriguing production process and hefty price tag—over $20 per ounce—I found its taste similar to that of a regular Italian espresso. So, I wouldn’t consider purchasing it for myself.

Beyond selecting my favorite coffee beans and roast level, I find joy in exploring various brewing methods. I dismissed using machines due to their bulkiness and lack of engagement. My journey began with pour-over brewing, utilizing a funnel-shaped dripper with either a metal or paper filter. The process involves placing ground coffee in the dripper and meticulously pouring hot water over it, allowing the coffee to drip into a cup below. Despite its elegance, I moved away from this method as it didn’t produce the robust flavor I desired.

Next, I experimented with the Vietnamese stainless steel drip filter. The principle is similar to other methods, requiring a generous amount of coffee and boiling water to produce a strong brew. However, since this method relies solely on water passing through the coffee grounds for extraction, the depth of flavor can be limited. I then tried the French press. This technique allows the coffee grounds to steep in hot water for an extended period, granting greater control over the brew’s strength and preserving the coffee’s natural oils. While it offers a richer flavor profile, the simplicity of steeping in hot water means there isn’t a lot of technical skill involved.

I also tried the Ibrik, a long-handled pot commonly used in Turkey and Greece. Coffee is ground to a fine powder, mixed with water, and slowly brewed over charcoal or hot sand. The heat must be adjusted by monitoring the rise and fall of the foam. This method allows for plenty of personal customization. The resulting brew develops a rich, bold flavor, but it leaves a thick layer of sediment at the bottom of the cup. If you’re not careful while drinking, the grounds can be unpleasant if they end up in your mouth.

At last, I discovered the Italian Moka pot. This brewing method also uses gentle heat, but its design generates about 1.5 bars of pressure, effectively extracting coffee’s essence—perfect for my taste.

Selecting a brewing method is a personal choice for each coffee enthusiast. After all, coffee isn’t essential for survival. The best cup is the one crafted to suit your own preferences and tastes.

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（Continue from last week）

I knew well that in previous years, many of my colleagues succumbed to Andrew’s pressure and offered biased reviews against those he disfavored. Worse still, some faked data per the boss’s demand. When asked why, they said they were simply following orders from above. Yes, ordinary people can conduct evil deeds because of pressure from hierarchical structures or societal norms.

With God’s mercy, in the end, I stood by my principles and refused Andrew’s request. Before he could punish me for not obeying his order, our entire department was laid off. In a way, God delivered me from an undesirable situation. Yet, to this day, I still ask myself, “What if it happens again without God’s deliverance? Will I make a different decision?”

Years ago, Hannah Arendt, a German-American political theorist, tackled the concept of “mediocre evil” with a unique perspective. Coined during her coverage of the Adolf Eichmann trial in Jerusalem in 1961, Arendt’s term “the banality of evil” provides profound insights into how ordinary individuals can commit abhorrent actions under particular circumstances.

Adolf Eichmann was a key player of the Holocaust, coordinating the logistics of mass deportation and extermination of millions of Jews. Captured in Argentina in 1960, Eichmann was brought to trial in Jerusalem. Arendt, covering the proceedings for The New Yorker, anticipated encountering a monster of diabolical proportions. Instead, she found Eichmann to be disturbingly average—a man not driven by fanatical hatred but rather by a dull, bureaucratic obedience to orders.

Eichmann’s lack of deep-seated ideological cruelty so startled Arendt that she proposed a bold thesis: evil can manifest through the unremarkable adherence to rules/orders and a failure to think critically about one’s actions—an unsettlingly mundane form of malevolence.

In her seminal book, Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil, Arendt argued that Eichmann’s crimes stemmed not from a place of monstrous hatred, but from a thoughtless engagement with what he perceived as mere duties. His actions, she contended, were rooted in conformity and a refusal to reflect on the ramifications of his work.

Arendt posited that this “banality” was far more terrifying than demonic violence. While society can recognize and guard against explicit evil, the insidious nature of banal evil lies in its ability to operate under the guise of normalcy, hidden behind bureaucratic language and procedure.

Arendt’s insights into the banality of evil raise significant questions about the structures of society. In a world where processes and hierarchies dominate, it becomes easier for individuals to abdicate their moral responsibility. The average worker fulfilling their tasks without considering the broader implications can become a cog in a harmful machine.

This notion prompts an essential question for today’s world: Are systems that prize obedience over ethical contemplation inadvertently cultivating environments where mediocre evil thrives?

From corporate scandals to governmental failings, examples abound of misconduct excused or overlooked due to hierarchical compliance. As bureaucracy expands, the risk increases that individuals may prioritize orders from higher-ups over ethical decision-making, enabling systemic wrongs.

Arendt’s work insists on the necessity of critical thinking and moral introspection. In recognizing the potential for average individuals to participate in mediocre evil, society must foster an environment that encourages questioning and ethical reasoning.

As Christians, we must be vigilant not only against overt malice but also against unthinking compliance. The true measure of a moral society may lie not just in its laws and punishments but in its capacity for self-reflection and its commitment to ethical consciousness.