The question is not so intuitive as what stands behind it: the nature and purpose of communication is to convey a message. An argument seeks to advance a particular point, often grounded in an ideology or worldview. What then is brainwashing if not an argument communicating a message that you don't like?
The connotation itself betrays its subjectivity. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the term as "mak[ing] (someone) adopt radically different beliefs by using systematic and often forcible pressure." These beliefs can only be "radically different" with respect to other beliefs taken to be normative. A cult, for instance, is thought to be an institution of brainwashing. But what is a cult other than a religion we don't like or recognize as valid?
Any religion or philosophy or governmental institution can be taken to be brainwashing by those who view it as deviant from the norm. We are fed arguments in the form of propaganda each day toward enculturating us to accept a particular agenda. The more seemingly innocuous forms of it assail our sensibilities as advertisements. We see people enjoying a product or identify with a situation or emotion on display, causing us to associate it with the product. Marketing is subtle and often subconscious. We don't need to be told something directly in order to fall sway to suggestion. The catechism or liturgy found in religions or fraternal rituals, though overtly suggestive, has largely become passe in a culture with an aversion to direct fronts. As with bacteria, however, the fact that we don't see it doesn't mean it isn't affecting us.
But brainwashing is more than simply an argument that we oppose: it's an argument that we fear. If we were stoical and objective in our rationale, brainwashing would just be regarded as an opposing argument. Instead, because we feel threatened due either to ignorance or hatred, we demonize our opposition's argument by labeling it as brainwashing. Insecurities cause us to take comfort in the sanctity of our convictions in contradistinction to what they are not.
Beware anyone who accuses of brainwashing. They are very afraid and want you to be as well.
Showing posts with label Civilization. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Civilization. Show all posts
Monday, January 21, 2013
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Another Brick in the Wall of the Tower of Babel
There exists an ideology of the American Dream – a creative symptom of the Protestant Work Ethic brought to the New World. It has since taken the form of what sociologist Robert Bellah, echoing John Locke, calls utilitarian individualism, or the idea that one should maximize self-interest respective to an intended telos. It is this ethos that built America into the “stuff dreams are made of”, yet unmoderated and unchecked, it has degenerated the dream from a recipe for success to plutocratic-controlled socioeconomic stagnation.
Yet there is a solution to this problem – and it is a problem – of which the Occupy Wall Street protests are only the beginning. The first step is the same as with Alcoholics Anonymous: getting people to admit that there is a problem. Except it must be admitted not just by those adversely affected, but also by those who do the affecting. This is called social responsibility.
But this obviously is not so easy, for why would individuals act against their own interest? Basic economics have long demonstrated that there is a symbiotic relationship between the now proverbial 1 and 99% in the exchange between consumers and owners of the means of production: if consumers don’t consume, then producers don’t make money. An article “What happened to upward mobility?” in last week’s issue of Time adduces academic research that income inequality and lack of social mobility are deleterious to everyone, not just those at the bottom. So why would the 1% stand in the way of their own interest?
The answer is that they don’t know it’s in their own interest. David Brooks in last Monday's New York Times column “Let’s all feel superior” called this myopia Motivated Blindness, in which individuals actively don’t see what they don’t think is in their interest to see. Barry Ritholtz came closer in his Washington Post article “What caused the financial crisis? The Big Lie goes viral”, calling out the plutocrats for cognitive dissonance, which is when a failed belief system is confronted by evidence of its implausibility.
His evocation of the Big Lie is key here, for this is a phrase that Hitler coined in his autobiography, Mein Kampf, and made the central tenet of his strategy for ascending to power and advancing his agenda. In fact, if you compare the current pro-Wall Street Tea Party and Republican agendas, they bear a striking resemblance to the US Office of Strategic Services’ psychological profile of Hitler in their absolute and uncompromisingly self-serving catechism. I realize any comparison evoking Nazism is acerbically hyperbolic, but I do so only to draw attention to the modest beginnings that allowed him to blitzkrieg his way through politics.
But Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Zizek, who came to America to encourage the protesters during the early stage of the movement, hits the nail on the head in what he calls the fallacy of ideological fantasy. This builds on the Marxian (can we print his name in America without getting arrested yet?) observation that “they know what they do, yet they do it anyway.” This is to say that individuals recognize the inherent problem of conforming to a flawed system, but its ideology has so fully shaped their realities that they shirk away from that momentary, seemingly alien discomfort when their subconscious wants to prod their awareness with the truth it recognizes. But the mind’s power to believe is formidable, and it can convince itself of anything. This is the Big Truth that Ritholtz called for in response to the Big Lie.
The cornerstone by which the Big Truth can be heard has been laid in the form of OWS. Its resonance can be seen by how many cities across the world have citizens who have taken up its cause. And according to a LiveScience finding published in July, it only takes 10% of the population to espouse an idea for it to be accepted by the majority of the population. If the finding is true, then given 2011’s U.S. Census’ report, the critical mass for public opinion to be changed is 31 million Americans (not including those under 18, it shrinks to 26 million). If 9% of Americans (on the low side) are unemployed and divert their efforts toward advancing OWS, then we’re almost there. We just need, ironically, 1%.
Robert Bellah also posited an idea of civil religion, which, crudely put, unites all Americans not by our love of country, but by our allegiance to a superstructure far greater than ourselves. That ideal is, through the smoke and mirrors of politics, a common moral purpose toward the welfare of all citizens and consequently the nation as a whole. If I might extend Bellah’s religion metaphor, God in the practical sense is the President of our nation. Each and every group lobbying congress to advance its interests is, in a manner of speaking, a nation unto itself speaking its own language, sharing construction in a Tower of Babel to have its message heard. But with so many groups laying bricks and not unifying behind the one cause that really, underneath all different interests, brings them all together, then nothing will get accomplished. But if the churches and mosques, labor unions and PTA, and especially students on college campuses – who were so essential in resisting the Big Lie during the Vietnam era – congregated toward their mutual self-interest in support of OWS, then we might actually do our founding fathers justice in upholding their principles. As Bellah points out, when our individual sensibilities prove inadequate, we have historically resorted to those cultural traditions – religion, which transcends class boundaries; and civic organizations – by which to overcome our limited individual impact.
America was founded on political dissent; its imperative is our national birthright. As Thomas Jefferson wrote, “When wrongs are pressed because it is believed they will be borne, resistance becomes morality.” Thus protests naturally must occur when representative democracy fails to represent the will of the people.
Most importantly, we are all American before we are for a given political party. It is due time that we remember the American Dream that we were promised and unite toward making it realizable again by backing OWS. Otherwise, all in all, it’s just another brick in the wall.
Yet there is a solution to this problem – and it is a problem – of which the Occupy Wall Street protests are only the beginning. The first step is the same as with Alcoholics Anonymous: getting people to admit that there is a problem. Except it must be admitted not just by those adversely affected, but also by those who do the affecting. This is called social responsibility.
But this obviously is not so easy, for why would individuals act against their own interest? Basic economics have long demonstrated that there is a symbiotic relationship between the now proverbial 1 and 99% in the exchange between consumers and owners of the means of production: if consumers don’t consume, then producers don’t make money. An article “What happened to upward mobility?” in last week’s issue of Time adduces academic research that income inequality and lack of social mobility are deleterious to everyone, not just those at the bottom. So why would the 1% stand in the way of their own interest?
The answer is that they don’t know it’s in their own interest. David Brooks in last Monday's New York Times column “Let’s all feel superior” called this myopia Motivated Blindness, in which individuals actively don’t see what they don’t think is in their interest to see. Barry Ritholtz came closer in his Washington Post article “What caused the financial crisis? The Big Lie goes viral”, calling out the plutocrats for cognitive dissonance, which is when a failed belief system is confronted by evidence of its implausibility.
His evocation of the Big Lie is key here, for this is a phrase that Hitler coined in his autobiography, Mein Kampf, and made the central tenet of his strategy for ascending to power and advancing his agenda. In fact, if you compare the current pro-Wall Street Tea Party and Republican agendas, they bear a striking resemblance to the US Office of Strategic Services’ psychological profile of Hitler in their absolute and uncompromisingly self-serving catechism. I realize any comparison evoking Nazism is acerbically hyperbolic, but I do so only to draw attention to the modest beginnings that allowed him to blitzkrieg his way through politics.
But Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Zizek, who came to America to encourage the protesters during the early stage of the movement, hits the nail on the head in what he calls the fallacy of ideological fantasy. This builds on the Marxian (can we print his name in America without getting arrested yet?) observation that “they know what they do, yet they do it anyway.” This is to say that individuals recognize the inherent problem of conforming to a flawed system, but its ideology has so fully shaped their realities that they shirk away from that momentary, seemingly alien discomfort when their subconscious wants to prod their awareness with the truth it recognizes. But the mind’s power to believe is formidable, and it can convince itself of anything. This is the Big Truth that Ritholtz called for in response to the Big Lie.
The cornerstone by which the Big Truth can be heard has been laid in the form of OWS. Its resonance can be seen by how many cities across the world have citizens who have taken up its cause. And according to a LiveScience finding published in July, it only takes 10% of the population to espouse an idea for it to be accepted by the majority of the population. If the finding is true, then given 2011’s U.S. Census’ report, the critical mass for public opinion to be changed is 31 million Americans (not including those under 18, it shrinks to 26 million). If 9% of Americans (on the low side) are unemployed and divert their efforts toward advancing OWS, then we’re almost there. We just need, ironically, 1%.
Robert Bellah also posited an idea of civil religion, which, crudely put, unites all Americans not by our love of country, but by our allegiance to a superstructure far greater than ourselves. That ideal is, through the smoke and mirrors of politics, a common moral purpose toward the welfare of all citizens and consequently the nation as a whole. If I might extend Bellah’s religion metaphor, God in the practical sense is the President of our nation. Each and every group lobbying congress to advance its interests is, in a manner of speaking, a nation unto itself speaking its own language, sharing construction in a Tower of Babel to have its message heard. But with so many groups laying bricks and not unifying behind the one cause that really, underneath all different interests, brings them all together, then nothing will get accomplished. But if the churches and mosques, labor unions and PTA, and especially students on college campuses – who were so essential in resisting the Big Lie during the Vietnam era – congregated toward their mutual self-interest in support of OWS, then we might actually do our founding fathers justice in upholding their principles. As Bellah points out, when our individual sensibilities prove inadequate, we have historically resorted to those cultural traditions – religion, which transcends class boundaries; and civic organizations – by which to overcome our limited individual impact.
America was founded on political dissent; its imperative is our national birthright. As Thomas Jefferson wrote, “When wrongs are pressed because it is believed they will be borne, resistance becomes morality.” Thus protests naturally must occur when representative democracy fails to represent the will of the people.
Most importantly, we are all American before we are for a given political party. It is due time that we remember the American Dream that we were promised and unite toward making it realizable again by backing OWS. Otherwise, all in all, it’s just another brick in the wall.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
An Informed Idea ≠ An Idea about Information
Thirty years ago, British rock band Iron Maiden declared their refusal to be reduced to information – to be rendered into a number and stripped of their identity. In the present day, thinker Neal Gabler has assiduously diagnosed the most prevalent symptom of the information age as just that – obsession with attaining information irrespective of its importance or practical value. Informationists is the term he uses to refer to such novel brand of consumers – at least novel so far as it has become pandemic phenomenon.
We – those of us who subscribe to and engage in social media exchange – are all informationists. We cannot escape it, unless we refuse reality. We cannot escape that which yokes us constantly... the need for information – like insatiable, obsessed fiends – we devour voraciously and leave trace amounts of it as a byproduct in our boastings of cultural – or rather, informational capital. Cliché though this example is, we share in 140 characters or less – insufficient to present an argument or back up claims – but only helpful in directing attention toward deeper sources of information. We participate by funneling traffic to a third party site, that others might be exposed to something we found compelling enough to broadcast. But who actually takes the time to digest and ruminate over the swallowed information before thoughtlessly and robotically regurgitating it out for hungry chicks or worse – forgetting about it since most of it is, by relative definition, useless?
If we are living in a post-idea world, as Gabler states, then what actually could be left to generate innovation? Saying that is tantamount to saying we live in a post-life existence. And maybe we do. The truth is, innovation has for the most part evolved to take a different form. Rather than novel, revolutionizing concepts and technology, innovation has largely been delimited to software development for extant hardware, or the equivalent of such a metaphor for other spheres. It seems the exponential growth of our techno-culture is fast reaching the asymptote of complacent status quo – or at least slowing down.
In the movie Wall-E, the narrative illustrates how self-contained narcissism can thrive through a system designed to cater to the personalized needs of everyone. For a long time, narratives have been wonderful mediums for allegorical cultural commentary. Sometimes, however, the allegory is too real and resonates startlingly close to home. This is one of those times. This is the direction we're heading, replete with developed software for facial recognition while one is shopping so as to customize the experience and maximize purchases. Food delivery already makes it possible for someone to never actually have to leave home.
Resistance is futile. The Borg made this assertion abundantly clear in the early 90s. There can be no retrogressing with technology like we can with religious ideologies. It's far too profitable anyway for the government or anyone in a position of power to seriously consider something so outrageous as banning it. So what is left to be done; or is this really just a high brow critique of the promulgation of low brow culture?
I know it's passé, but here's a idea: post considerately – both for content and for the time of your derivative consumers. If you can't beat them, join them. The old adage still applies. But that doesn't mean join the rampant whoring of information; it means if you choose to partake, at least do so sensibly in a manner that transcends self-awareness but actually brushes up against a virtual awareness of others. In an age when we socialize from the isolation of our home computers, it's still important to deny solipsism from taking hold and acknowledge at least the fabled presence of other Users.
We – those of us who subscribe to and engage in social media exchange – are all informationists. We cannot escape it, unless we refuse reality. We cannot escape that which yokes us constantly... the need for information – like insatiable, obsessed fiends – we devour voraciously and leave trace amounts of it as a byproduct in our boastings of cultural – or rather, informational capital. Cliché though this example is, we share in 140 characters or less – insufficient to present an argument or back up claims – but only helpful in directing attention toward deeper sources of information. We participate by funneling traffic to a third party site, that others might be exposed to something we found compelling enough to broadcast. But who actually takes the time to digest and ruminate over the swallowed information before thoughtlessly and robotically regurgitating it out for hungry chicks or worse – forgetting about it since most of it is, by relative definition, useless?
If we are living in a post-idea world, as Gabler states, then what actually could be left to generate innovation? Saying that is tantamount to saying we live in a post-life existence. And maybe we do. The truth is, innovation has for the most part evolved to take a different form. Rather than novel, revolutionizing concepts and technology, innovation has largely been delimited to software development for extant hardware, or the equivalent of such a metaphor for other spheres. It seems the exponential growth of our techno-culture is fast reaching the asymptote of complacent status quo – or at least slowing down.
In the movie Wall-E, the narrative illustrates how self-contained narcissism can thrive through a system designed to cater to the personalized needs of everyone. For a long time, narratives have been wonderful mediums for allegorical cultural commentary. Sometimes, however, the allegory is too real and resonates startlingly close to home. This is one of those times. This is the direction we're heading, replete with developed software for facial recognition while one is shopping so as to customize the experience and maximize purchases. Food delivery already makes it possible for someone to never actually have to leave home.
Resistance is futile. The Borg made this assertion abundantly clear in the early 90s. There can be no retrogressing with technology like we can with religious ideologies. It's far too profitable anyway for the government or anyone in a position of power to seriously consider something so outrageous as banning it. So what is left to be done; or is this really just a high brow critique of the promulgation of low brow culture?
I know it's passé, but here's a idea: post considerately – both for content and for the time of your derivative consumers. If you can't beat them, join them. The old adage still applies. But that doesn't mean join the rampant whoring of information; it means if you choose to partake, at least do so sensibly in a manner that transcends self-awareness but actually brushes up against a virtual awareness of others. In an age when we socialize from the isolation of our home computers, it's still important to deny solipsism from taking hold and acknowledge at least the fabled presence of other Users.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Hemingway: A Golden Calf in a Mythic Golden Age
It has forever been the preoccupation of man to idealize the ways of the past, as history has a way of highlighting modern values in their "purest" forms. This is the mythology we tell ourselves in an age when Biblical stories are regarded as parables and those who cling to them are regarded as nutty. But then there's the truth: there was no Golden Age. There was no time when things were done perfectly. Cultural memory becomes selective and occludes those facts that might threaten our lionized account of history.http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
We are raised to be discontent, as Duryodhana exclaims in the Mahabharata. We are reared to be self-deprecating. We are acculturated to compare ourselves to others -- to size others up -- even if they're no longer living. What do they have that we don't? Which of their characteristics do we admire and how can we cultivate them in ourselves? Why is it so much harder to attain those qualities today than it was back then? The stories we tell ourselves condemn us to misery.
In an article lamenting the lost manliness and braggadocio of Ernest Hemingway, author Marty Beckerman illustrates this false nostalgia well. He paints Hemingway as a man's man, both a knower and go-getter -- the perfect combination of sophistication and ruggedness. Every civilization has its gods; and the gods of the postmodern era are no more real or false than those of foregone civilizations. But their veracity or fictitiousness never mattered; what matters is what it tells us about their followers and consequently ourselves.
Despite the compelling nature of Hemingway's larger than life persona, psychologists and biographers have deconstructed him to who he was rather than who he portrayed himself to be. This isn't to say that who he portrayed himself to be wasn't who he was... it's just half the story. However, reconciling these two constructs is hardly my point. Rather, my point is to illustrate the suggestive nature of the stories we tell ourselves and our predisposition for gullibility and the lack of relevance of authenticity in them. The Golden Age. Gods. Idyllic romance... our map is not our territory.
The very idea of a golden age is embedded in and founded on principles of discontent. It supposes a fall from grace or a degeneration of how things once were. But Duryodhana's claim that "only discontent leads to happiness" is not founded on an idealized past, but an idealized future. He seeks to gain for himself an unrivaled kingdom and forge his own history, rather than seek to revivify a time past. The idea of a golden age is thus only helpful so far as it provides models for one to emulate one's actions after; but we would do well to note that even these models are simulated constructs manipulated by historians, the media and those who would seek to rediscover them. If we maintain that a golden age has passed, then what hope have we for which to reasonably look forward? It is therefore better, I think, to imagine a golden age only as it could exist, not how it may have existed. Otherwise, we condemn ourselves looking backwards to reliving history, at best, rather than developing the future.
We are raised to be discontent, as Duryodhana exclaims in the Mahabharata. We are reared to be self-deprecating. We are acculturated to compare ourselves to others -- to size others up -- even if they're no longer living. What do they have that we don't? Which of their characteristics do we admire and how can we cultivate them in ourselves? Why is it so much harder to attain those qualities today than it was back then? The stories we tell ourselves condemn us to misery.
In an article lamenting the lost manliness and braggadocio of Ernest Hemingway, author Marty Beckerman illustrates this false nostalgia well. He paints Hemingway as a man's man, both a knower and go-getter -- the perfect combination of sophistication and ruggedness. Every civilization has its gods; and the gods of the postmodern era are no more real or false than those of foregone civilizations. But their veracity or fictitiousness never mattered; what matters is what it tells us about their followers and consequently ourselves.
Despite the compelling nature of Hemingway's larger than life persona, psychologists and biographers have deconstructed him to who he was rather than who he portrayed himself to be. This isn't to say that who he portrayed himself to be wasn't who he was... it's just half the story. However, reconciling these two constructs is hardly my point. Rather, my point is to illustrate the suggestive nature of the stories we tell ourselves and our predisposition for gullibility and the lack of relevance of authenticity in them. The Golden Age. Gods. Idyllic romance... our map is not our territory.
The very idea of a golden age is embedded in and founded on principles of discontent. It supposes a fall from grace or a degeneration of how things once were. But Duryodhana's claim that "only discontent leads to happiness" is not founded on an idealized past, but an idealized future. He seeks to gain for himself an unrivaled kingdom and forge his own history, rather than seek to revivify a time past. The idea of a golden age is thus only helpful so far as it provides models for one to emulate one's actions after; but we would do well to note that even these models are simulated constructs manipulated by historians, the media and those who would seek to rediscover them. If we maintain that a golden age has passed, then what hope have we for which to reasonably look forward? It is therefore better, I think, to imagine a golden age only as it could exist, not how it may have existed. Otherwise, we condemn ourselves looking backwards to reliving history, at best, rather than developing the future.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
What's Real about Religion Anymore?
This past Sunday, I went with a friend to her Baptist church. I had never been to one before, and she assured me that the people there were quite friendly and wouldn't attempt to proselytize me (which is why I usually give my "Christian" name whenever I go to church). She was right, but I had no idea how right she would be.
What struck me as odd wasn't the rainbow decorations and how LBGT friendly the place was -- it was surprising, but not offputting. It was the language used throughout the entire service. Everything was symbolic. Nothing actually "was" -- but rather represented an idea or ideal. Everything was fluffy. Everything that should have been sweet tasted of Splenda. Ever unable to turn my critical thinking cap off, I began to deconstruct what was transpiring and why the service felt so inauthentic to me.
In my musings I was reminded of Baudrillard's Simulacra and Simulation, in which he writes:
"...with their artificial resurrection in the systems of signs, a material more malleable than meaning, in that it lends itself to all systems of equivalences, to all binary oppositions, to all combinatory algebra. It is no longer a question of imitation or duplication, nor even parody. It is a question of substituting the signs of the real for the real, that is to say of an operation of deterring every real process via its operational double, a programmatic, metastable, perfectly descriptive machine that offers all the signs of the real and short-curcuits all its vicissitudes. Never again will the real have the chance to produce itself--such is the vital function of the model in a system of death, or rather of anticipated resurrection, that no longer even gives the event of death a chance."
While deeply abstract and intricate, Baudrillard contends (so far as our example is concerned) that the institutionalization of signification is vaccuous of identity and wreaks of the relativism indicative of our postmodern age. More over, something that signifies rather than simply is cannot be real, for it is nothing in itself. Instead, it only references something else -- an object long gone, far removed and "dead". By seeking to elicit the symptoms of the real by depicting what should be its characteristics, the church offers but a simulation of religion, not religion itself. Of course, this lends itself to Baurdrillard's claim that religion began when God died, so there never could have been religion as we think it to be, but only its ghost, its simulacrum.
I don't mean to debase the church I attended, but I can't help but find Baudrillard's argument compelling. Is it all just ritual devoid of content? Are we just going through the motions, trying to evoke the real that William James confessed or that Durkheim posited? Mystical experience and collective effervescence, without rubrics that seek to replicate experiences but rather originate them, may be the only way to resurrect and access the long-dead real that religion tries so convincingly to depict. A church service is at best an elaborate and habitual homage to a time passed. Perhaps there's truth to Serendipity's quote from the movie Dogma: "You people don't celebrate your faith, you mourn it." But I suppose Baudrillard would say that's really all you can do.
What struck me as odd wasn't the rainbow decorations and how LBGT friendly the place was -- it was surprising, but not offputting. It was the language used throughout the entire service. Everything was symbolic. Nothing actually "was" -- but rather represented an idea or ideal. Everything was fluffy. Everything that should have been sweet tasted of Splenda. Ever unable to turn my critical thinking cap off, I began to deconstruct what was transpiring and why the service felt so inauthentic to me.
In my musings I was reminded of Baudrillard's Simulacra and Simulation, in which he writes:
"...with their artificial resurrection in the systems of signs, a material more malleable than meaning, in that it lends itself to all systems of equivalences, to all binary oppositions, to all combinatory algebra. It is no longer a question of imitation or duplication, nor even parody. It is a question of substituting the signs of the real for the real, that is to say of an operation of deterring every real process via its operational double, a programmatic, metastable, perfectly descriptive machine that offers all the signs of the real and short-curcuits all its vicissitudes. Never again will the real have the chance to produce itself--such is the vital function of the model in a system of death, or rather of anticipated resurrection, that no longer even gives the event of death a chance."
While deeply abstract and intricate, Baudrillard contends (so far as our example is concerned) that the institutionalization of signification is vaccuous of identity and wreaks of the relativism indicative of our postmodern age. More over, something that signifies rather than simply is cannot be real, for it is nothing in itself. Instead, it only references something else -- an object long gone, far removed and "dead". By seeking to elicit the symptoms of the real by depicting what should be its characteristics, the church offers but a simulation of religion, not religion itself. Of course, this lends itself to Baurdrillard's claim that religion began when God died, so there never could have been religion as we think it to be, but only its ghost, its simulacrum.
I don't mean to debase the church I attended, but I can't help but find Baudrillard's argument compelling. Is it all just ritual devoid of content? Are we just going through the motions, trying to evoke the real that William James confessed or that Durkheim posited? Mystical experience and collective effervescence, without rubrics that seek to replicate experiences but rather originate them, may be the only way to resurrect and access the long-dead real that religion tries so convincingly to depict. A church service is at best an elaborate and habitual homage to a time passed. Perhaps there's truth to Serendipity's quote from the movie Dogma: "You people don't celebrate your faith, you mourn it." But I suppose Baudrillard would say that's really all you can do.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Energy Drinks are Godsent
In a recent alarmist article warning of the dangers of energy drinks, the Huffington Post cautions symptoms of "irritability, high blood pressure, heart palpitations, seizures, and strokes." Ironically, these are the same symptoms of people who are overworked. Is it any coincidence that people who are overworked thus rely on energy drinks to get through their work? That's like saying people who have jobs risk making more money than those who don't. Really.
America is a land swimming in hypocrisy. We'll pull you in for an embrace and stab you in the back while you think you're getting love. We'll sell you cancer and withhold the cure so we can make more money off products that will just keep you in the pipeline for years. Energy drinks, really? In the land of minimal vacation, maximum hours behind the desk a week, and coffee shops on every street corner... energy drinks are the problem?
If America really cared about reducing the risk of diabetes (as the Japanese do), stroke and heart failure in its citizens, then it would adjust the conditions that contribute to developing such symptoms. I don't ever remember seeing a study that says "Americans work too many hours; maybe they should work less and companies should hire more workers". That would create jobs and improve worker health and happiness. But that's far too convenient. We're in a recession, so it's easier just to work employees to burn out or death since the pool of applicants gets increasingly full by the day.
But instead of actually solving problems, we cast blame on those things that actually would help us get past those problems. That's why Republicans so heavily sought the resignation of Congressman Weiner even though he didn't break the law and has done so much for our country, his state, and his district. Republicans have gotten away with worse. So has coffee.
So I sit here and sip my "all natural Amazon energy" acai berry drink, as I contemplate if I should end this article here, or move on to the mound of other work I should be doing. I don't drink coffee because I can't stand the taste, so I drink about one energy drink a day to get me energized enough to begin plowing through the endless amount of work I have. And these researchers really have the audacity to say energy drinks are the problem? I think not. I'll rest when I'm dead.
America is a land swimming in hypocrisy. We'll pull you in for an embrace and stab you in the back while you think you're getting love. We'll sell you cancer and withhold the cure so we can make more money off products that will just keep you in the pipeline for years. Energy drinks, really? In the land of minimal vacation, maximum hours behind the desk a week, and coffee shops on every street corner... energy drinks are the problem?
If America really cared about reducing the risk of diabetes (as the Japanese do), stroke and heart failure in its citizens, then it would adjust the conditions that contribute to developing such symptoms. I don't ever remember seeing a study that says "Americans work too many hours; maybe they should work less and companies should hire more workers". That would create jobs and improve worker health and happiness. But that's far too convenient. We're in a recession, so it's easier just to work employees to burn out or death since the pool of applicants gets increasingly full by the day.
But instead of actually solving problems, we cast blame on those things that actually would help us get past those problems. That's why Republicans so heavily sought the resignation of Congressman Weiner even though he didn't break the law and has done so much for our country, his state, and his district. Republicans have gotten away with worse. So has coffee.
So I sit here and sip my "all natural Amazon energy" acai berry drink, as I contemplate if I should end this article here, or move on to the mound of other work I should be doing. I don't drink coffee because I can't stand the taste, so I drink about one energy drink a day to get me energized enough to begin plowing through the endless amount of work I have. And these researchers really have the audacity to say energy drinks are the problem? I think not. I'll rest when I'm dead.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
The Right to Buy Beer
Being American is supremely about two things: convenience and responsibility. Convenience because we're an on-the-go culture and need whatever we want when we want it. And responsibility because, well, we have a surplus of laws that are anything but laissez faire and that dictate our life patterns and privileges to a certain extent. That's the reality, though we're often too self-involved to stop and realize the intersection of both of these truths. But what happens when responsibility precludes conveience? The result is decidedly unAmerican.
Yesterday was Father's Day. As an aspiring responsible son, I went out to a local grocery store to pick up a funny yet vaguely touching Hallmark card, some kabobs to barbecue, and enough beer to make the family gathering less awkward. When I proceeded to check out, the cashier, before even greeting me, took the beer and put in behind her. The conversation went something like this:
Me: What are you doing?
Cashier: It's Sunday.
Me: So?
Cashier: You can't buy beer on Sundays.
Me: ...
Cashier: It's the law.
Me: So can I have the beer?
Cashier: No.
No matter how many times I go to a grocery store on a Sunday – which may as well be the national day for getting groceries – it never occurs to me that it's illegal to purchase beer. The thought is absurd to me and being a rationale creature, such an irrational thought never presents itself no matter how many times my prior experience should tell me otherwise. It betrays the spirit of this country, of the first amendment's freedom of religion, and of the documented alcohol habits of our nation's founding fathers.
More over, it runs contrary to the principle of convenience that Americans have come to expect and take for granted. We're last minute people. We don't think a day ahead to get things like beer because yesterday we weren't planning on drinking. Today, we are.
Traditionally, actions may be considered illegal because they pose a threat to others or to self. Concealed weapons cannot be carried into a bar (unless you're in Tennessee or 37 other states) because, hey, someone could get drunk and angry and shoot up the place. But to make it illegal to purchase alcohol from a store (and not a bar) on a specific day of the week is ludicrous and cannot be justified.
The only good thing that can be said about the law is that the people you meet at a bar on Sunday afternoons tend to be far more interesting than on other days of the week. But don't take my word for it.
Yesterday was Father's Day. As an aspiring responsible son, I went out to a local grocery store to pick up a funny yet vaguely touching Hallmark card, some kabobs to barbecue, and enough beer to make the family gathering less awkward. When I proceeded to check out, the cashier, before even greeting me, took the beer and put in behind her. The conversation went something like this:
Me: What are you doing?
Cashier: It's Sunday.
Me: So?
Cashier: You can't buy beer on Sundays.
Me: ...
Cashier: It's the law.
Me: So can I have the beer?
Cashier: No.
No matter how many times I go to a grocery store on a Sunday – which may as well be the national day for getting groceries – it never occurs to me that it's illegal to purchase beer. The thought is absurd to me and being a rationale creature, such an irrational thought never presents itself no matter how many times my prior experience should tell me otherwise. It betrays the spirit of this country, of the first amendment's freedom of religion, and of the documented alcohol habits of our nation's founding fathers.
More over, it runs contrary to the principle of convenience that Americans have come to expect and take for granted. We're last minute people. We don't think a day ahead to get things like beer because yesterday we weren't planning on drinking. Today, we are.
Traditionally, actions may be considered illegal because they pose a threat to others or to self. Concealed weapons cannot be carried into a bar (unless you're in Tennessee or 37 other states) because, hey, someone could get drunk and angry and shoot up the place. But to make it illegal to purchase alcohol from a store (and not a bar) on a specific day of the week is ludicrous and cannot be justified.
The only good thing that can be said about the law is that the people you meet at a bar on Sunday afternoons tend to be far more interesting than on other days of the week. But don't take my word for it.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Happiness through Process, Fulfillment through Work
Over a century ago, William James wrote: "Inner happiness and serviceability do not always agree. What immediately feels most good is not always most true, when measured by the verdict of the rest of experience." As one of the original pragmatists – even a humanist before the term was coined – his words resonate more loudly in today's world than ever before.
In yesterday's New York Times, columnist David Brooks wrote an op-ed piece on how recent college graduates are entering a world for which they are vastly unprepared. College provides a structured environment and inculcates students to succeed in that structure. The real world, he contends, is unstructured and open. Graduates will thus begin searching for a role with little guidance and may spend up to a decade or more finding that niche that suits them – or rather, suiting the niche in which they find themselves.
Brooks offers that at such a young age, we likely don't know ourselves well enough to know what we want to do with our lives. Yet we must start paying back those college loans, so we get that first and second job. Eventually, a problem in one of those jobs becomes a vocation, and it becomes our mission to fix the problem. He summarizes: "[Our] cultural climate... preaches the self as the center of life. But... [we] discover that the tasks of a life are at the center." Spoken like a true apologist of the American machine, though perhaps still in line with James. But am I the only one who sees a glaring problem with the gospel of Americana running contrary to its reality? I've never been a Christian, so I can't relate to the cognitive dissonance of realizing such lies. I still believe in the Dream.
Psychologist Martin Seligman, famous for his book Authentic Happiness, has come to recant his assertion of its importance. His most recent studies demonstrate limitations to the importance of happiness and instead point to values of well-being: positive emotion, engagement, relationships, meaning and accomplishment. He explains this by questions such as why billionaires continue to pursue making more money, or why do people play games that they don't even enjoy the act of playing? His response is the value of a composite phenomenon he calls flourishing, which pertains to relationships with others and sense of accomplishment in life. Better, what's important is "your sense of 'earned success' – the belief that you have created value in your life or others' lives."
If we were all simply hedonists, our great civilization built upon social contracts would hardly have taken root. Therefore, foregoing pleasure in favor of progress, as evocative of the Enlightenment as that is, must have some merit. Brooks is right so far as he speaks of American culture – a culture largely obsessed with success and finding meaning in an otherwise meaningless life. Gone are the days in which we inherited our professions from our fathers, Sartre's being-in-itself. A free world is a realm of fantasy, Sartre's being-for-itself. We can become whatever we wish, but at the peril of getting lost along the way in what we find meaningful. Maybe that's the point. Maybe happiness cannot be measured in progress, but in process. The act of doing, the proverbial labor of love, is what's at stake. I think William James would agree. I just wish America was more honest about it.
In yesterday's New York Times, columnist David Brooks wrote an op-ed piece on how recent college graduates are entering a world for which they are vastly unprepared. College provides a structured environment and inculcates students to succeed in that structure. The real world, he contends, is unstructured and open. Graduates will thus begin searching for a role with little guidance and may spend up to a decade or more finding that niche that suits them – or rather, suiting the niche in which they find themselves.
Brooks offers that at such a young age, we likely don't know ourselves well enough to know what we want to do with our lives. Yet we must start paying back those college loans, so we get that first and second job. Eventually, a problem in one of those jobs becomes a vocation, and it becomes our mission to fix the problem. He summarizes: "[Our] cultural climate... preaches the self as the center of life. But... [we] discover that the tasks of a life are at the center." Spoken like a true apologist of the American machine, though perhaps still in line with James. But am I the only one who sees a glaring problem with the gospel of Americana running contrary to its reality? I've never been a Christian, so I can't relate to the cognitive dissonance of realizing such lies. I still believe in the Dream.
Psychologist Martin Seligman, famous for his book Authentic Happiness, has come to recant his assertion of its importance. His most recent studies demonstrate limitations to the importance of happiness and instead point to values of well-being: positive emotion, engagement, relationships, meaning and accomplishment. He explains this by questions such as why billionaires continue to pursue making more money, or why do people play games that they don't even enjoy the act of playing? His response is the value of a composite phenomenon he calls flourishing, which pertains to relationships with others and sense of accomplishment in life. Better, what's important is "your sense of 'earned success' – the belief that you have created value in your life or others' lives."
If we were all simply hedonists, our great civilization built upon social contracts would hardly have taken root. Therefore, foregoing pleasure in favor of progress, as evocative of the Enlightenment as that is, must have some merit. Brooks is right so far as he speaks of American culture – a culture largely obsessed with success and finding meaning in an otherwise meaningless life. Gone are the days in which we inherited our professions from our fathers, Sartre's being-in-itself. A free world is a realm of fantasy, Sartre's being-for-itself. We can become whatever we wish, but at the peril of getting lost along the way in what we find meaningful. Maybe that's the point. Maybe happiness cannot be measured in progress, but in process. The act of doing, the proverbial labor of love, is what's at stake. I think William James would agree. I just wish America was more honest about it.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Living in the Moment
"Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That is why I call it the present." I disdain this quote, as it at once affirms both the American preoccupation with "the moment" and the practical impossibility of living in it. While the original quote, of which the aforementioned populist phrase is but a segment, comes from Alice Morse Earle's 1902 book Sundials and Roses of Yesterday", it speaks acutely to the present era and what I'll call the information-overload generation. The quote, is naively optimistic. It beseeches that we make the most of today because it is the only time we have, for we know not what tomorrow brings -- if it comes at all. It's lovely, really. It's a great mantra for the summer months when school children have little to do. But for most of us, unfortunately, its impractically fails at resonating.
We live in a society that values clinging to the moment -- a tryst with carpe diem -- but it's a fantasy that must exist to ironically distract us from its inverted reality. Our society runs on deadlines. It requires planning and preparation, management and oversight. It requires thinking again and backtracking to make sure that everything is taken care of. Often, it requires multitasking, which by definition precludes one from giving full attention to one task. Unless one is a guest at an event and good at compartmentalizing the bottomless To-Do list we all accrue, then living in the moment, as the apposition would infer, is culturally inconceivable.
We live in a society that values clinging to the moment -- a tryst with carpe diem -- but it's a fantasy that must exist to ironically distract us from its inverted reality. Our society runs on deadlines. It requires planning and preparation, management and oversight. It requires thinking again and backtracking to make sure that everything is taken care of. Often, it requires multitasking, which by definition precludes one from giving full attention to one task. Unless one is a guest at an event and good at compartmentalizing the bottomless To-Do list we all accrue, then living in the moment, as the apposition would infer, is culturally inconceivable.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
When the celebration of life succumbs to the celebration of death
We are America, paragon of civilization. We are America, exemplar for the world. We are America, who rejoices at the death of our enemies. Are we really? Is that really US? Since the recent slaying of wanted terrorist Osama bin Laden, the general response of the American people and media has been one of celebration. While as a country we are celebrating the death of a terrorist, latently we are affirming our inferiority to the ideal of civilization. We are no better than than enemy who celebrates the deaths of innocent victims of terrorism. No, Osama was not innocent, but we as a nation should have more dignity than to celebrate his death – as if it meant anything more than a case closed on an open file that hasn't been relevant for years.
The fact that Americans are celebrating is not bad in itself, but that they are celebrating for the wrong reason. They celebrate because they still think Osama had an active role in commanding Al-Qaeda schemes, when more likely the significance of his death is closer tantamount to the enemy killing a former US president – emphasis on former. What Americans should be celebrating is the felling of a symbol – of the face of the enemy, of the vulnerability of America, of grievance from the tragedy of 9/11. The death of a symbol is far more powerful than the death of a person.
That is really what was at stake in Obama's directive to kill bin Laden. Sure, there likely was political capital involved as re-election draws near. But his directive wasn't to kill bin Laden the person, it was to eradicate bin Laden the symbol. When the fear is gone, the object feared still remains. Yet lacking cognizance of it by removing the face of the fear, Obama has done Americans a great service in implicitly making the world a safer place by terminating America's arch-nemesis and erasing the possibility of his direct legacy from influencing the annals of the future. No, it is not true that we are any safer when we go abroad; yet I'm sure that at least at a subconscious level each and every one of us are sleeping better at night knowing that the face of American fear has literally been effaced.
The fact that Americans are celebrating is not bad in itself, but that they are celebrating for the wrong reason. They celebrate because they still think Osama had an active role in commanding Al-Qaeda schemes, when more likely the significance of his death is closer tantamount to the enemy killing a former US president – emphasis on former. What Americans should be celebrating is the felling of a symbol – of the face of the enemy, of the vulnerability of America, of grievance from the tragedy of 9/11. The death of a symbol is far more powerful than the death of a person.
That is really what was at stake in Obama's directive to kill bin Laden. Sure, there likely was political capital involved as re-election draws near. But his directive wasn't to kill bin Laden the person, it was to eradicate bin Laden the symbol. When the fear is gone, the object feared still remains. Yet lacking cognizance of it by removing the face of the fear, Obama has done Americans a great service in implicitly making the world a safer place by terminating America's arch-nemesis and erasing the possibility of his direct legacy from influencing the annals of the future. No, it is not true that we are any safer when we go abroad; yet I'm sure that at least at a subconscious level each and every one of us are sleeping better at night knowing that the face of American fear has literally been effaced.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
On the Nature of Whoredom
A friend casually remarked today that a whore is one of the oldest "occupations" in human history. While it certainly calls into question the variable objects of exchange for a certain service predating currency, more broadly understood, I think my friend was far more right than he knew with his cavalier comment.
Though it clearly has a sexual connotation, the term whore today has come to broadly refer to anyone who abuses a commodity of sorts. An attention whore. A crack whore. A shopping whore. These are all acceptable usages of the word by today's colloquial understanding. For those of us who truly do appreciate the contextual role of words, we mourn the liberal application of them to the expressive folly of juvenile whims. Slang has degenerated the nuances of semantics.
Even so, such a liberal adoption of the term indicts the critical mind to discover what nuanced pith has been widely recognized, even if not consciously, that it has been re-appropriated so successfully. Without mulling it over much, the answer seemed self-evident – embedded in our nuanced cultural understanding of the word itself. What it comes down to, as far as is clear to me, is a compromise of integrity as a means to an end. Put differently, a whore is someone who does something that he or she would not normally do in order to attain something subjectively important. Mutatis mutandis, a whore is someone who unabashedly offers an illicit service that would not otherwise be offered for personal leverage. Therefore, an attention whore is such because he or she would not act in a manner demanding attention in order to feel good about his or herself if there was no one else around from whom to demand attention. So it is with the objects of other whores across the typology.
With this understanding, I wonder how pervasive the ethos of whoredom is in our capitalist society? How often do we do things that we don't want to do in order to attain something greater? I don't mean paying taxes so the IRS doesn't come after you or taking your child to daycare so your wife doesn't badger you, but more along the lines of things that don't actually need to be done but that you do for a personal boon. For instance, for those of us in the academy, how many will stay up extra hours, reading extra books to write this extra paper to try to present at a conference just so your CV looks that much better. It doesn't need to be done, especially when you have a full load of courses, a significant other, and a part time job. But you do it. You're an academic whore.
Playing politics, maintaining superficial pretensions, and pandering to the interests of others all fall under the umbrella of whoredom. Sure, maybe it doesn't have the nuanced illicit quality previously mentioned, but the means-to-an-end, immolating character of the action screams whore to me. Just as with pornography, you know it when you see it. Just as our adolescent culture has been desensitized to violence and sex, so too has the concept of whoredom been so seamlessly naturalized into our culture. Our capitalist democracy is an entire culture of whores governed by those who have best mastered the erotic art of political seduction.
Though it clearly has a sexual connotation, the term whore today has come to broadly refer to anyone who abuses a commodity of sorts. An attention whore. A crack whore. A shopping whore. These are all acceptable usages of the word by today's colloquial understanding. For those of us who truly do appreciate the contextual role of words, we mourn the liberal application of them to the expressive folly of juvenile whims. Slang has degenerated the nuances of semantics.
Even so, such a liberal adoption of the term indicts the critical mind to discover what nuanced pith has been widely recognized, even if not consciously, that it has been re-appropriated so successfully. Without mulling it over much, the answer seemed self-evident – embedded in our nuanced cultural understanding of the word itself. What it comes down to, as far as is clear to me, is a compromise of integrity as a means to an end. Put differently, a whore is someone who does something that he or she would not normally do in order to attain something subjectively important. Mutatis mutandis, a whore is someone who unabashedly offers an illicit service that would not otherwise be offered for personal leverage. Therefore, an attention whore is such because he or she would not act in a manner demanding attention in order to feel good about his or herself if there was no one else around from whom to demand attention. So it is with the objects of other whores across the typology.
With this understanding, I wonder how pervasive the ethos of whoredom is in our capitalist society? How often do we do things that we don't want to do in order to attain something greater? I don't mean paying taxes so the IRS doesn't come after you or taking your child to daycare so your wife doesn't badger you, but more along the lines of things that don't actually need to be done but that you do for a personal boon. For instance, for those of us in the academy, how many will stay up extra hours, reading extra books to write this extra paper to try to present at a conference just so your CV looks that much better. It doesn't need to be done, especially when you have a full load of courses, a significant other, and a part time job. But you do it. You're an academic whore.
Playing politics, maintaining superficial pretensions, and pandering to the interests of others all fall under the umbrella of whoredom. Sure, maybe it doesn't have the nuanced illicit quality previously mentioned, but the means-to-an-end, immolating character of the action screams whore to me. Just as with pornography, you know it when you see it. Just as our adolescent culture has been desensitized to violence and sex, so too has the concept of whoredom been so seamlessly naturalized into our culture. Our capitalist democracy is an entire culture of whores governed by those who have best mastered the erotic art of political seduction.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)