With college bowl season starting tomorrow (December 18), as typically happens at this time of year, any number of writers and outlets are offering their rankings of the bowl games based on appeal and interest level. For instance, check out Dennis Dodd’s list on CBSSports.com, Mark Schlabach’s list on ESPN.com, and Stewart Mandell's list on SportsIllustrated.com. As also typically happens at this time of year, these lists, generated from individuals and institutions heavily inculcated in the United States’ systems of power, are dominated by BCS bowl games and games featuring teams from the automatic-qualifying BCS conferences. Before reading these lists, though, I decided I would create my own list of bowl games based on appeal and interest. While surely serving as (and at least partially intended as) a kind of counterdiscourse in hopes of showing that legitimate alternative perspectives to the dominant and short-sighted national media context exist, this list is also true. I’ve truly ranked these based on how appealing and interesting I believe each game would be to watch. I don’t know how many or which ones I’ll get to watch, as I have quite a few other things to do over the next few weeks, but these are in the order that I find myself interested in watching them, from most interesting to least interesting.
1. Northern Illinois v. Fresno St. – After compiling the list, I read that Dennis Dodd says he's looking for motivation on this one. I feel sorry for him because time and again, as I ranked and re-ranked the games on this list, this sounds like the most exciting matchup to me. I watched part of the MAC championship game and the Fresno State-Illinois game a couple of weeks ago, and that experience makes me think this will be an exciting game. It’s too bad it's the first day. I guess it's all downhill from there.
2. San Diego State v. Navy – SDSU has, based on reports, been very good all year, and I have not had a chance to see them. Here’s a good opportunity to do so, though I am worried that if they are as good as the sense of them I’m getting, this could become a rout. Still, the appeal of seeing the Aztecs puts this game at number two.
3. Louisville v. Southern Miss – I’m not entirely sure why, but this sounds like a really interesting game to watch, I suppose largely to see Charlie Strong's team in action, though also because this seems like it could be an exciting game. I hope it was Strong not wanting the job at Florida that led to that institution hiring Will Muschamp, because otherwise it seems inappropriate. This is also a first-day game, which means that two of my top three are among the three first-day games. I guess it's really downhill after that. [Correction on this one: It wasn't a first day game. Somehow I got it in my head that it was while I was writing up the list, and then I forgot to double-check it later.]
4. Michigan State v. Alabama – Frankly, the only reason this is so high is because I received my Masters degree from Michigan State and, thus, I follow their sports teams. Having Alabama as an opponent makes the game remain interesting (as opposed to if this was Arkansas or Florida or something), since Nick Saban was the head coach at MSU when I was a student there. As an MSU fan, I’m worried that Alabama could blow out the Spartans. That’s largely based on historically being used to MSU being just good enough to get my hopes up and not good enough to fulfill them. This year’s team, though, has been different (or else they’d be 7-5 or 8-4 right now), so maybe that will come through in the bowl game, too.
5. Nevada v. Boston College – I watched the Nevada-Boise State game, and Nevada looked outstanding. They are what make this game very worth seeing. This game almost ends up lower because BC does little for me, though. With a different opponent, this would challenge for the top spot.
6. Utah v. Boise State – I’m interested in watching Boise State again, as I’ve found them exciting all year. I keep getting the feeling, though, that Boise State will blow Utah out, which drops this game a bit in the rankings.
7. Miami (OH) v. Middle Tennessee State – Of all the teams that made bowl games this year, Miami of Ohio is the only one I’ve seen live (when they played at BGSU in November). That pushes this game up from what would otherwise be a few slots further down. Still, both teams sound interesting to watch.
8. Illinois v. Baylor – Again, the Fresno State-Illinois game helps make this interesting. So does Baylor’s Robert Griffin.
9. Troy v. Ohio – This sounds like it could be a really close, and thus exciting, game. I’m sure very few lists have Frank Solich’s current team’s game higher than his old team’s game, but mine does.
10. Syracuse v. Kansas State – Syracuse has been a complete surprise in returning to the land of being decent. Kansas State has been up and down. Altogether, this sounds like two teams I’d like to watch play each other.
11. Wisconsin v. TCU – Watching TCU sounds like a lot of fun, but with Wisconsin as their opponent, this loses a lot of its luster. What keeps this appealing is that I’d love to watch the Horned Frogs blow out the Badgers. If that starts happening in the game, it’ll only get better as the game goes on.
12. Washington v. Nebraska – Only Washington makes this interesting, as I kind of like watching them—and not just because of Jake Locker. A game featuring Nebraska against a lot of other bowl teams would fall down the list considerably, even if Bo Pelini yelling at refs is kind of entertaining.
13. Penn State v. Florida – This just feels like a middle of the road kind of game. I guess it’s kind of interesting that it’s Urban Meyer’s last game before retirement, not Joe Paterno’s, and that’s what gets it up this high.
14. Hawaii v. Tulsa – This sounds kind of interesting, but watching Hawaii play in Hawaii always drops the appeal of a bowl game for me. This matchup elsewhere might inch up higher on this list.
15. Auburn v. Oregon – All three of the rankings to which I link above rank this game number one, but I see it a bit differently. I'm interested in seeing Oregon because what I have seen of them is exciting. However, Auburn does absolutely nothing at all for me. Oregon-TCU would be much higher on the list—probably in the top five. With Auburn, this game is just three spots above the middle of the pack, and that’s all Ducks.
16. Northwestern v. Texas Tech – This, like Penn State-Florida, seems like a middle-of-the-road kind of game. Fifteen years ago, my interest in watching Northwestern as it finally became good would have gotten this a higher ranking. Today, I’m kind of bored of them, and Texas Tech doesn’t do much for me.
17. Maryland v. East Carolina – This is a real middle-of-the-road kind of game, and it’s also where my interest level for games on this list starts taking a real turn toward getting really less interested.
18. NC State v. West Virginia – This game might be kind of interesting, but I’m not sure. It’s the game about which I’m the most unsure of my interest level, which is why it seems like a perfect fit for the exact middle of this list.
19. Toledo v. Florida International – Watching Toledo piques my interest somewhat, but FIU piques almost none, so this ends up just below being smack dab in the middle of the pack.
20. Missouri v. Iowa – I don’t mind the idea of watching Missouri, but Iowa makes this really gravitate toward the unwatchable side. And that’s not just my Spartan grudge against Iowa talking. I mean, I could actually handle the Hawkeyes beating the Spartans because I expected it, but then when they couldn’t hold on to beat Ohio State, and thus they cost the Spartans a trip to the Rose Bowl, they showed that they’re a bunch of ding dongs. But besides that, the Hawkeyes kind of bore me.
21. Michigan v. Mississippi State – I’m not particularly interested in watching the Wolverines (I wonder if you can guess why …), but Mississippi State makes this slightly more interesting.
22. Air Force v. Georgia Tech – Things are really starting to get significantly more boring here. These teams don’t do much for me.
23. Arizona V. Oklahoma State – Ho hum. This is only this high because the stuff below it is even less appealing. At least the idea of watching either of these teams doesn't make my skin crawl.
24. Miami (FL) v. Notre Dame - Can I wake up now? With Randy Shannon still as the Hurricane coach, I'd have a little more interest, but now, good night …
25. Oklahoma v. Connecticut – If you make this OU/Stanford, OU/Wisconsin, or OU/Virginia Tech, it would compete for the bottom of the list. Only the idea of watching Connecticut makes it palatable.
26. Virginia Tech v. Stanford – ZZZZZZ
27. North Carolina v. Tennessee – Major ZZZZZZ
28. SMU v. Army – I’m going to talk about this game and game number 29 together, because they’re very similar. I have nothing against Army or UTEP, but SMU and BYU actually bring big-time negative points to the table in terms of watchability.
29. BYU v. UTEP – See game 28.
30. Clemson v. South Florida – Oh my god is this getting painful …
31. Florida State v. South Carolina – Maybe I might be interested … No, I’m not …
32. Pittsburgh v. Kentucky – You wouldn’t believe what I just saw the paint on my wall do …
33. Central Florida v. Georgia -- I'm seeing a pattern with three of the last four games. Apparently, college football in Florida does little for me.
34. Texas A&M v. LSU – If game number 30 sounds painful, this sounds like more prolonged and intense contact with that pain. Additionally, I have no interest in fueling this whole “Mad Hatter” Les Miles narrative.
35. Arkansas v. Ohio State – This is unequivocally, absolutely the least interesting matchup of the lot. I couldn't care less about either team or a game between them. Ugh …
Friday, December 17, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Remembering Bob Feller
Word has been circulating since last night that Hall of Fame major league baseball pitcher Bob Feller passed away last night. As is to be expected, Feller's death has been met with a cacophony of tributes and memorials, like this one, this one, and this one, among a ton of others. I'd like to add my own to the chorus.
While I did not grow up a Cleveland Indians fan, I grew up in Cleveland Indians country. Well, it was largely Cleveland Indians country and largely Cincinnati Reds country, with a smattering of Tigers and Cubs fans here and there, and proudly oddball types who rooted for other teams, like me, the Mets fan, and my best friend while growing up, who was a Pirates fan. The local radio station, though, was a Cleveland Indians affiliate, so there was considerable identification with the Cleveland team in town. I imagine in large part because of this, Cleveland pretty much became my favorite American League team. This was also aided by the fact that I could feel for the disappointments of Indians fans--something that studying the Brooklyn Dodgers only made more pronounced.
So, of course, given that I was a big baseball fan and that I grew up in Cleveland Indian land, I knew very well all about Bob Feller. And so, getting the chance to meet and talk baseball with Bob Feller was a highlight that I can still recall pretty vividly.
It was in the spring of 1995, and I was attending, along with my dad and a family friend, a conference commemorating the 100th birthday of Babe Ruth, held at Hofstra University. In addition to us academic types, the conference featured a lot of media members, like Dick Schaap and John Steadman, and ballplayers, including Robin Roberts, Enos Slaughter, Phil Rizzuto, Roy White, Ryne Duren, Ron Blomberg, and a whole lot of more that aren't in the list that's just coming off the top of my head as I write. Bob Feller was also in attendance at the conference, and during one social event, I ended up standing right next to him, so I introduced myself, told him it was a pleasure to meet him, and struck up conversation about that year's Cleveland Indians team. I remember Bob saying that he thought the lineup was very good but the pitching was a little suspect. Of course, the pitching, though indeed a little suspect, held out, and that would end up being the year the Indians finally made it back to the World Series for the first time since 1954, when Feller was still playing for the team.
It's apparent from many things Feller has said that he and I have disagreed on a lot of things, like how to view Pete Rose's candidacy for the Hall of Fame, how to view contemporary ballplayers and how to view the military, how to view Muhammad Ali, and whom to support in the 2008 presidential election. Indeed, I think Feller and I have very different ways of seeing the world that are very much reflected in these differences in opinion. That said, there are moments of agreement between Feller and me (though I'm sure that at least in part we did not arrive at those positions in the same ways). For example, Feller was as early as the mid-to-late 1950s a critic of baseball's labor structure. Also, Feller, who is white, barnstormed with black ballplayers before major league baseball integrated in the late 1940s.
In the end, I'm not going to celebrate Feller as a patriot, a saint, or anything like that, as so many tributes are doing. Feller, like me, and like all of us, was a product of his times and his cultures, and I'm not going to gloss over disagreements I have with him or limitations I think exist in the opinions he has offered, nor am I going to overemphasize the things about which I agreed with him as if they constitute some kind of greatness. What I will say is that Feller was an outstanding baseball player--in my mind (and I know the minds of many others) one of the greatest pitchers of all time--and a person who seemed pretty down to earth ... at least down to earth enough to think nothing of engaging in a conversation about his specialty with a 22-year-old no-name like me.
While I did not grow up a Cleveland Indians fan, I grew up in Cleveland Indians country. Well, it was largely Cleveland Indians country and largely Cincinnati Reds country, with a smattering of Tigers and Cubs fans here and there, and proudly oddball types who rooted for other teams, like me, the Mets fan, and my best friend while growing up, who was a Pirates fan. The local radio station, though, was a Cleveland Indians affiliate, so there was considerable identification with the Cleveland team in town. I imagine in large part because of this, Cleveland pretty much became my favorite American League team. This was also aided by the fact that I could feel for the disappointments of Indians fans--something that studying the Brooklyn Dodgers only made more pronounced.
So, of course, given that I was a big baseball fan and that I grew up in Cleveland Indian land, I knew very well all about Bob Feller. And so, getting the chance to meet and talk baseball with Bob Feller was a highlight that I can still recall pretty vividly.
It was in the spring of 1995, and I was attending, along with my dad and a family friend, a conference commemorating the 100th birthday of Babe Ruth, held at Hofstra University. In addition to us academic types, the conference featured a lot of media members, like Dick Schaap and John Steadman, and ballplayers, including Robin Roberts, Enos Slaughter, Phil Rizzuto, Roy White, Ryne Duren, Ron Blomberg, and a whole lot of more that aren't in the list that's just coming off the top of my head as I write. Bob Feller was also in attendance at the conference, and during one social event, I ended up standing right next to him, so I introduced myself, told him it was a pleasure to meet him, and struck up conversation about that year's Cleveland Indians team. I remember Bob saying that he thought the lineup was very good but the pitching was a little suspect. Of course, the pitching, though indeed a little suspect, held out, and that would end up being the year the Indians finally made it back to the World Series for the first time since 1954, when Feller was still playing for the team.
It's apparent from many things Feller has said that he and I have disagreed on a lot of things, like how to view Pete Rose's candidacy for the Hall of Fame, how to view contemporary ballplayers and how to view the military, how to view Muhammad Ali, and whom to support in the 2008 presidential election. Indeed, I think Feller and I have very different ways of seeing the world that are very much reflected in these differences in opinion. That said, there are moments of agreement between Feller and me (though I'm sure that at least in part we did not arrive at those positions in the same ways). For example, Feller was as early as the mid-to-late 1950s a critic of baseball's labor structure. Also, Feller, who is white, barnstormed with black ballplayers before major league baseball integrated in the late 1940s.
In the end, I'm not going to celebrate Feller as a patriot, a saint, or anything like that, as so many tributes are doing. Feller, like me, and like all of us, was a product of his times and his cultures, and I'm not going to gloss over disagreements I have with him or limitations I think exist in the opinions he has offered, nor am I going to overemphasize the things about which I agreed with him as if they constitute some kind of greatness. What I will say is that Feller was an outstanding baseball player--in my mind (and I know the minds of many others) one of the greatest pitchers of all time--and a person who seemed pretty down to earth ... at least down to earth enough to think nothing of engaging in a conversation about his specialty with a 22-year-old no-name like me.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Strawberry Fields Forever
Today marks 30 years since John Lennon was shot and killed. I remember hearing the news as an eight-year-old kid back in 1980. More vividly, though, I remember six and a half years later, when my family, while on a vacation to San Francisco, went to a wax museum that included a figure of Lennon. In a response that I didn't realize I would see, my mom cried when she saw the wax figure of Lennon, and she said, "I can't believe he's dead."
I suppose I didn't realize my mom would respond like this for two reasons. First, I didn't realize how much my mom identified with Lennon and the Beatles. Growing up, I heard the Beatles a lot at home. My parents had a number of their albums. I loved the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band film made with Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees. We sang things like "Yellow Submarine" in my family often. My dad had a Beatles songbook from which he would play songs on his guitar. I associated much of this with my dad, though. Rock music was much more of my dad's thing, and so I hadn't realized that John Lennon might be so important to my mom as well.
Second, I didn't realize how significant Lennon was in general. I certainly knew that it had been big news when he was shot, and I certainly knew that the Beatles were typically considered the biggest pop music act ever. I didn't, though, realize how deep of a connection many people like my mom felt to Lennon and the Beatles until I saw my mom tearfully mourning Lennon six and a half years after he died.
Today, as I read stories and see headlines commemorating John Lennon on the 30th anniversary of his death, I'm brought back time and again to that image of my mom in the wax museum. I imagine my mom's death earlier this year plays a part in this. I also believe, though, that that memory would not have stayed with me for more than two decades had it not been something I associated with John Lennon and his death anyway. It's something I've thought of in connection with Lennon since it happened.
Though I was alive for eight years at the same time as Lennon, just as I was not fully aware of his significance then, I also was not aware of the many things outside of music that Lennon did, particularly the many political and social movements with which he aligned himself. I would learn that stuff very soon after the experience in the wax museum. It was, after all, that very summer that my interest in pop music blossomed, as I began following the pop charts diligently. By the next summer I was practicing on a bass guitar, reading and collecting books on popular music, and even occasionally buying Billboard magazine. I was quickly learning much more about not just Lennon and the Beatles, but also Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, the Doors, the Who, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, and so on, discovering more and more about both their musical contributions and their social and political significance. While I would eventually give up the dream of becoming a pop star (well, maybe not entirely ...), this interest became foundational for what would become my career studying and teaching about popular culture. My involvement with Tunesmate, built out of the bonding that my college roommate, who founded the site, and I developed through a mutual interest in pop music, is a clear manifestation of this (and, of note, I've posted about Lennon there today as well). I am, at least in part, who I am today because of the influence of Lennon and the Beatles, among many other music and popular culture artists, just as I am who I am today because of my mom, my dad, teachers, nuns and priests, relatives, and other specific individuals who have influenced my life and my interests.
And I think a continuing effort to become more aware through self-reflection has helped me understand these influences and interests much more fully. That self-reflective awareness rests at the heart of my understanding of knowledge and education. It also rests at the heart of my understanding of democracy. I think we grow closer to a vibrant, functioning democracy the more we willingly examine ourselves; seek out nuanced and complex understandings of things; admit the limitations of our own "faiths," "truths," and "knowledge"; and emphasize more what we don't know rather than what we think we do. My mom's reaction to the John Lennon figure allowed me to do some of that reflection. Remembering that experience today while reading and thinking about John Lennon is allowing me to do even more.
And that seems to be consistent with what John Lennon stood for. While I tend to hear about "Imagine" most in discussions of favorite songs by the Beatles and/or John Lennon, my favorite Beatles song is "Strawberry Fields Forever." One of the lines says, "Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see. It's gets hard to be someone, but it all works out. It doesn't matter much to me." I've always read the line as a critique of that kind of living, as if we are not supposed to live with eyes closed, misunderstanding everyone and everything else. My sense is that Lennon stands for quite the opposite of that kind of life. His was a life of seeking awareness, understanding, hope, and acceptance, not blindess, misunderstanding, and the oppressions toward which these can lead. And it's by keeping that in mind, in conjunction with my memory of my mom in the wax museum, that I choose to remember John Lennon today.
I suppose I didn't realize my mom would respond like this for two reasons. First, I didn't realize how much my mom identified with Lennon and the Beatles. Growing up, I heard the Beatles a lot at home. My parents had a number of their albums. I loved the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band film made with Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees. We sang things like "Yellow Submarine" in my family often. My dad had a Beatles songbook from which he would play songs on his guitar. I associated much of this with my dad, though. Rock music was much more of my dad's thing, and so I hadn't realized that John Lennon might be so important to my mom as well.
Second, I didn't realize how significant Lennon was in general. I certainly knew that it had been big news when he was shot, and I certainly knew that the Beatles were typically considered the biggest pop music act ever. I didn't, though, realize how deep of a connection many people like my mom felt to Lennon and the Beatles until I saw my mom tearfully mourning Lennon six and a half years after he died.
Today, as I read stories and see headlines commemorating John Lennon on the 30th anniversary of his death, I'm brought back time and again to that image of my mom in the wax museum. I imagine my mom's death earlier this year plays a part in this. I also believe, though, that that memory would not have stayed with me for more than two decades had it not been something I associated with John Lennon and his death anyway. It's something I've thought of in connection with Lennon since it happened.
Though I was alive for eight years at the same time as Lennon, just as I was not fully aware of his significance then, I also was not aware of the many things outside of music that Lennon did, particularly the many political and social movements with which he aligned himself. I would learn that stuff very soon after the experience in the wax museum. It was, after all, that very summer that my interest in pop music blossomed, as I began following the pop charts diligently. By the next summer I was practicing on a bass guitar, reading and collecting books on popular music, and even occasionally buying Billboard magazine. I was quickly learning much more about not just Lennon and the Beatles, but also Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, the Doors, the Who, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, and so on, discovering more and more about both their musical contributions and their social and political significance. While I would eventually give up the dream of becoming a pop star (well, maybe not entirely ...), this interest became foundational for what would become my career studying and teaching about popular culture. My involvement with Tunesmate, built out of the bonding that my college roommate, who founded the site, and I developed through a mutual interest in pop music, is a clear manifestation of this (and, of note, I've posted about Lennon there today as well). I am, at least in part, who I am today because of the influence of Lennon and the Beatles, among many other music and popular culture artists, just as I am who I am today because of my mom, my dad, teachers, nuns and priests, relatives, and other specific individuals who have influenced my life and my interests.
And I think a continuing effort to become more aware through self-reflection has helped me understand these influences and interests much more fully. That self-reflective awareness rests at the heart of my understanding of knowledge and education. It also rests at the heart of my understanding of democracy. I think we grow closer to a vibrant, functioning democracy the more we willingly examine ourselves; seek out nuanced and complex understandings of things; admit the limitations of our own "faiths," "truths," and "knowledge"; and emphasize more what we don't know rather than what we think we do. My mom's reaction to the John Lennon figure allowed me to do some of that reflection. Remembering that experience today while reading and thinking about John Lennon is allowing me to do even more.
And that seems to be consistent with what John Lennon stood for. While I tend to hear about "Imagine" most in discussions of favorite songs by the Beatles and/or John Lennon, my favorite Beatles song is "Strawberry Fields Forever." One of the lines says, "Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see. It's gets hard to be someone, but it all works out. It doesn't matter much to me." I've always read the line as a critique of that kind of living, as if we are not supposed to live with eyes closed, misunderstanding everyone and everything else. My sense is that Lennon stands for quite the opposite of that kind of life. His was a life of seeking awareness, understanding, hope, and acceptance, not blindess, misunderstanding, and the oppressions toward which these can lead. And it's by keeping that in mind, in conjunction with my memory of my mom in the wax museum, that I choose to remember John Lennon today.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
The Politics of Thanks
Earlier this fall, I started watching the new NBC television program Outsourced, particularly because I wanted to see if episodes or segments of it would be useful for some of the classes I teach, especially International Communication. After the first episode or two, I didn't like it, feeling that it was relying on all-too-easy stereotypes of people from both India and the United States. I kept watching, though, and the show has grown on me. In fact, the opening of the most recent episode, "Temporary Monsanity," impressed me a bit with a discussion of Thanksgiving that occurs among the main characters, challenging some of the historically dominant ideas about the meaning of Thanksgiving and articulating questions about the consequences of the history of interaction between Europeans and Native Americans. The show raised nothing particularly new that hasn't been said before by various individuals and groups who have critiqued Thanksgiving, but it did articulate them in a very public, mainstream way, which I think illustrates something significant. I'm not sure that I would have seen this kind of discussion on a primetime NBC show twenty years ago.
I ended up talking a little bit about the clip not only in my International Communication class, but also in my Political Communication class on Monday. I brought it up in the Political Communication class largely because it shows that holidays are political. The meanings of holidays, the traditions that surround holidays, the practices in which people engage on holidays, and even what is designated a holiday and what is not all involve the processes of inclusion, exclusion, and marginalization that I argue are fundamental to politics.
Recently, I've seen many examples in which, given the insensitivity of the idea of Thanksgiving as a time to remember Europeans and Native Americans celebrating together, various individuals, groups, and institutions have chosen to divorce the holiday from the historical narrative and to focus the meaning of the holiday on a more general sentiment that it is good to have a day to be thankful for what one has, which often blends well with the idea of getting together with family, since family is often considered something to be thankful for.
I find this move to change the meanings of Thanksgiving reasonable enough. There would seem to be some merit to the idea of a day to be thankful, and it does mean at least some level of recognition of the insensitivity of the historical narrative toward Native Americans. Yet, that said, this practice is not without significant limitations. Notably, while recognizing the insensitivity of the historically dominant narrative, this view chooses to brush that narrative aside rather than engage it. In the process, issues involving exclusion and marginalization of Native Americans remain unarticulated and, to a significant extent, further removed from rather than addressed in public discourse. Additionally, articulation of the holiday as a day of giving thanks, even when not explicitly invoking the historical narrative of European-Native American interaction, more subtly reinforces that narrative by generalizing out from one perspective on that history of interaction--that of the Europeans who could be thankful for the privileges they have gained as they interaction has proceeded. In other words, by making the holiday a general one about thanks, the process of decontextualizing the holiday reinforces the perspective of the group whose experiences are being generalized for everyone, to the exclusion and marginalization of those groups whose experiences are not being articulated. Even though this kind of generalizing of the holiday's meaning might seek to be sensitive, it ends up reinforcing and extending the exclusion and marginalization of non-dominant voices and perspectives.
Given this, I think it is useful to articulate alternatives to the dominant meaning of this holiday as a day of "thanks." With that in mind, I choose to articulate this holiday as a day of "mourning." This holiday marks the 40th anniversary of the first National Day of Mourning, which was held near Plymouth Rock, Massachusetts, to remember the grief and loss that Native Americans have experienced in connection with European interaction. Just like the historically dominant narrative of the Thanksgiving meal between Puritans and Indians, this narrative can be articulated as a way to think about U.S. history. (Indeed, I would argue that this narrative is a more valid and valuable one than the Thanksgiving meal one.) And just like that historically dominant narrative, the sentiments associated with this narrative can be generalized. So, I choose to consider the consequences of European expansion for Native American civilizations, and I choose to generalize the meaning of today as "mourning" instead of "thanks," recognizing that with mourning comes an element of thankfulness for the time one has had with whom and what one mourns--a thankfulness that, at least to me, feels more properly contextualized when articulated as one aspect of mourning.
I ended up talking a little bit about the clip not only in my International Communication class, but also in my Political Communication class on Monday. I brought it up in the Political Communication class largely because it shows that holidays are political. The meanings of holidays, the traditions that surround holidays, the practices in which people engage on holidays, and even what is designated a holiday and what is not all involve the processes of inclusion, exclusion, and marginalization that I argue are fundamental to politics.
Recently, I've seen many examples in which, given the insensitivity of the idea of Thanksgiving as a time to remember Europeans and Native Americans celebrating together, various individuals, groups, and institutions have chosen to divorce the holiday from the historical narrative and to focus the meaning of the holiday on a more general sentiment that it is good to have a day to be thankful for what one has, which often blends well with the idea of getting together with family, since family is often considered something to be thankful for.
I find this move to change the meanings of Thanksgiving reasonable enough. There would seem to be some merit to the idea of a day to be thankful, and it does mean at least some level of recognition of the insensitivity of the historical narrative toward Native Americans. Yet, that said, this practice is not without significant limitations. Notably, while recognizing the insensitivity of the historically dominant narrative, this view chooses to brush that narrative aside rather than engage it. In the process, issues involving exclusion and marginalization of Native Americans remain unarticulated and, to a significant extent, further removed from rather than addressed in public discourse. Additionally, articulation of the holiday as a day of giving thanks, even when not explicitly invoking the historical narrative of European-Native American interaction, more subtly reinforces that narrative by generalizing out from one perspective on that history of interaction--that of the Europeans who could be thankful for the privileges they have gained as they interaction has proceeded. In other words, by making the holiday a general one about thanks, the process of decontextualizing the holiday reinforces the perspective of the group whose experiences are being generalized for everyone, to the exclusion and marginalization of those groups whose experiences are not being articulated. Even though this kind of generalizing of the holiday's meaning might seek to be sensitive, it ends up reinforcing and extending the exclusion and marginalization of non-dominant voices and perspectives.
Given this, I think it is useful to articulate alternatives to the dominant meaning of this holiday as a day of "thanks." With that in mind, I choose to articulate this holiday as a day of "mourning." This holiday marks the 40th anniversary of the first National Day of Mourning, which was held near Plymouth Rock, Massachusetts, to remember the grief and loss that Native Americans have experienced in connection with European interaction. Just like the historically dominant narrative of the Thanksgiving meal between Puritans and Indians, this narrative can be articulated as a way to think about U.S. history. (Indeed, I would argue that this narrative is a more valid and valuable one than the Thanksgiving meal one.) And just like that historically dominant narrative, the sentiments associated with this narrative can be generalized. So, I choose to consider the consequences of European expansion for Native American civilizations, and I choose to generalize the meaning of today as "mourning" instead of "thanks," recognizing that with mourning comes an element of thankfulness for the time one has had with whom and what one mourns--a thankfulness that, at least to me, feels more properly contextualized when articulated as one aspect of mourning.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
The Daily Narrative
I've added a new website to the Links of Interest on this website. It's to H. L. "Bud" Goodall's blog, "The Daily Narrative." His analysis of cultural and political narratives on the blog is outstanding and well worth the read.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
This Is the Liberal Media?
If you haven't seen Bill Maher's critique this past week of Jon Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity/Stephen Colbert's Rally to Keep Fear Alive, here's a link to it, but it looks like HBO is being very diligent in getting all copies of it removed from the Internet. So, that link may not work for much longer after I post this. Try, though, to find it if you can. It's about a six minute clip, and it is very good at indicating the problem with suggesting that U.S. politics features an extremist left and an extremist right that are equally empowered and problematic.
Maher's reation echoes much of my own reaction to Stewart's rally. While fundamentally this sounds like a cool idea that can both make a political point and provide comic relief at the same time (and there certainly appear to have been times that it did this), Stewart lost me most on two accounts. First, in the days leading up to the rally, he argued that this was not political. Simply put, that's pretty impossible at this point, and it is just as preposterous a statement as Glenn Beck's argument that his rally a couple months ago was not political. Based on their public personas, which are highly built in political discourse, neither Beck nor Stewart can construct public events that can be divorced from those political identities. Both, at least in their public life, have already been defined as political. So, the claim of being not political is disingenuous from either. Indeed, in both instances, this is a rhetorical ploy to try to persuade people that what they have to say transcends politics because if people believe you are not politically motivated, they might be more likely to be willing to listen to and consider your message. Additionally, as my political communication class can tell you, the statement that one is not political in and of itself is a political statement.
Typically, Stewart is, as Jeffrey P. Jones has written, more real than the "real" news because, among other things, he acknowledges his own constructedness in ways that other news programs don't. However, with this case, he's given up some of the credibility by not acknowledgeing his event as political.
Secondly, amid his summary of what the rally was all about, Stewart stated, "Not being able to distinguish between real racists and Tea Partiers, or real bigots and Juan Williams or Rick Sanchez, is an insult, not only to those people, but to the racists themselves who have put in the exhausting effort it takes to hate." Now, I think I get his point. While talking about how the media overdramatize everything, he's using this among other examples of how discourse in the United States focuses on these extreme and sweeping characterizations and categorizations. As he says just before this, "If we amplify everything, we hear nothing." In other words, it would be nice to have more nuanced, articulate, and reasoned accounts of things than the screaming drama that we get in the news. When it comes, then, to the specific issue of racism, he appears to be suggesting that if we lump out-and-out bigoted people with people who say or do things that are racially insensitive, we are making an error in judgment and statement. I suppose this is not a bad sentiment, but it misses the boat where racism is concerned. There already is the more precise language for discussing racism for which Stewart appears to long. Namely, it's what are called overt racism and inferential racism. Overt racism is when something is out-and-out racist, like the Ku Klux Klan or over-the-top stereotypes of racial and ethnic groups. Inferential racism is when the things one does are not explicitly about marginalizing or excluding based on race, but these things ultimately reinforce a system that maintains those kinds marginalizations and exclusions. (For more on these concepts, see Michael Omi's essay "In Living Color: Race and American Culture." For the example that I usually use in class to show inferential racism, see the case of Thomas Benya, where the school board, in deep ethnocentric fashion, failed to recognize that the style of dress they were imposing on Benya is a cultural heritage that they are assuming to be superior to Benya's Native American heritage.) Stewart's statement fails to reflect a deep representation of what racism is. Racism is not simply prejudice against or even exclusion based on race. Rather, it's a system that exists in society whereby power relations based on race are developed, maintained, and reinforced. It's not enough simply to call out the out-and-out racists. Really fighting against racism also asks us to look at how the very structures of society, the very ways we do things, and the very ways that people think reinforce racial oppression, exclusion, and marginalization. The kinds of things Stewart says are not racist actually do perpetuate racism. When this is not acknowledged, racism is reinforced and more fully entrenched. To get what I think Stewart wants, one needs to recognize the different forms of racism, not dismiss many instances of racism as not involving racism.
On a related note, the other day I watched the first couple of episodes of the new NBC show Outlaw, which stars Jimmy Smits as conservative judge Cyrus Garza, who, after some political and personal soul searching, resigns from the Supreme Court to pursue a law practice that takes on controversial cases, often with a sense of expressing some kind of moderate perspective that balances the right-wing ideologies he has practiced with the left-wing ideologies for which his father fought. The show has already been cancelled, and probably rightfully so. While not without merit as a premise, the first episode seemed really contrived (i. e., that a case made it to the Supreme Court without anyone finding particular evidence that was not that hard to uncover), the attempts at building romantic relationships are very weakly developed, and the characters themselves are not as multidimensional and well developed as they need to be for the series to succeed.
The second episode of the series involves SB 1070, the controversial immigration law passed in Arizona this year. In this case, Smits' character's firm agrees to defend a police officer who shot and severely wounded a man whom the officer believed may be an illegal immigrant. The episode offers what could be a very engaging and useful legal, ethical, and philosophical dialogue in that it asks the question of whether the police officer himself should be held responsible in a court of law for injuring this man when the officer was following what the law mandates for him to do by inquiring about the man's citizenship status. At one point, the case hinges on questions of racism (particularly racial profiling), and in the end Smits' character argues that the white police officer believing that the Latino victim walking around late at night may be an illegal immigrant was not racism, but "common sense." This occurs after Smits has, against his co-counsel and to the delight of the prosecution, stacked the jury with a group of people who come from demographics that would be seen as sympathetic to the injured man, not the police officer (e.g., Latino/a individuals, individuals of other ethnic and racial minorities, not middle and upper-class white folks). In the end, the jury decides, based on Smits' argument, that the police officer is not guilty. The idea here is that a "common sense" argument like that offered by Smits can persuade even the most potentially unsympathic jury.
The problem with this episode, though, is that it fails to acknowledge the link between racism and common sense. What is "common sense" is made of what has been accepted within a culture as basic knowledge about and understandings of the world that can be taken for granted as unquestionable. Yet, what is common sense in one culture is not common sense in another, and what has developed as common sense in a culture is highly influenced by the power relations in that culture. More specifically in terms of race, ideas about common sense in the United States--like the style of dress imposed by the school board on Thomas Benya--have been heavily based in white European cultural understandings and traditions, including beliefs about who constitutes a U.S. American person and who does not. As the show relies on this culturally constructed, nebulous idea of "common sense," it fails to recognize the inferential racism that that common sense already involves and, in the process, perpetuates the very racism it suggests we need to be cautious about identifying.
In the end, both Stewart's statement on racism and Outlaw's depiction of what constitutes racism reflect and reinforce rather conservative agendas. They both accept a status quo idea of what constitutes "common sense" and "sanity" that fails to acknowledge or even effectively engage with recognition of the power relations that influence what gets defined as "common sense" and "sanity." As Maher indicates, among other things, in his response to Stewart, "the big mistake of modern media has been this notion of balance for balance's sake--that the left is just as violent and cruel as the right, that unions are just as powerful as corporations, that 'reverse racism' is just as damaging as racism." In the end, you can't equate the effects and meanings of things when there are clear power differences between them. Stewart and Outlaw have both done just that, yet Stewart is generally acknowledged as ideologically tied to the political left; NBC, with its co-network MSNBC, is generally viewed as the most politically left-leaning major network; and as the account at this link and some of the response to it on its discussion board illustrate, Outlaw is apparently considered a show that is over the top in promoting left-wing propaganda.
Unfortunately, if Stewart and Outlaw count as "liberal media," then the real political left has little, if any, media representation. (Perhaps Maher is among the best hopes ...) On the other hand, Stewart and Outlaw help demonstrate just how baseless (and base) the "liberal media bias" idea is. As I've said before, I believe there is a "liberal" media bias, but it's already within a conservative frame, which makes it a moderately conservative bias. As Maher notes, when the right keeps staking a claim further to the right and then demanding to be met "in the middle," the middle is no longer the middle; it's the right. And, in the process, the "liberal" side of the media keeps reinforcing power relations rather than really making progress toward a fuller, more equitable and more functioning democracy.
Maher's reation echoes much of my own reaction to Stewart's rally. While fundamentally this sounds like a cool idea that can both make a political point and provide comic relief at the same time (and there certainly appear to have been times that it did this), Stewart lost me most on two accounts. First, in the days leading up to the rally, he argued that this was not political. Simply put, that's pretty impossible at this point, and it is just as preposterous a statement as Glenn Beck's argument that his rally a couple months ago was not political. Based on their public personas, which are highly built in political discourse, neither Beck nor Stewart can construct public events that can be divorced from those political identities. Both, at least in their public life, have already been defined as political. So, the claim of being not political is disingenuous from either. Indeed, in both instances, this is a rhetorical ploy to try to persuade people that what they have to say transcends politics because if people believe you are not politically motivated, they might be more likely to be willing to listen to and consider your message. Additionally, as my political communication class can tell you, the statement that one is not political in and of itself is a political statement.
Typically, Stewart is, as Jeffrey P. Jones has written, more real than the "real" news because, among other things, he acknowledges his own constructedness in ways that other news programs don't. However, with this case, he's given up some of the credibility by not acknowledgeing his event as political.
Secondly, amid his summary of what the rally was all about, Stewart stated, "Not being able to distinguish between real racists and Tea Partiers, or real bigots and Juan Williams or Rick Sanchez, is an insult, not only to those people, but to the racists themselves who have put in the exhausting effort it takes to hate." Now, I think I get his point. While talking about how the media overdramatize everything, he's using this among other examples of how discourse in the United States focuses on these extreme and sweeping characterizations and categorizations. As he says just before this, "If we amplify everything, we hear nothing." In other words, it would be nice to have more nuanced, articulate, and reasoned accounts of things than the screaming drama that we get in the news. When it comes, then, to the specific issue of racism, he appears to be suggesting that if we lump out-and-out bigoted people with people who say or do things that are racially insensitive, we are making an error in judgment and statement. I suppose this is not a bad sentiment, but it misses the boat where racism is concerned. There already is the more precise language for discussing racism for which Stewart appears to long. Namely, it's what are called overt racism and inferential racism. Overt racism is when something is out-and-out racist, like the Ku Klux Klan or over-the-top stereotypes of racial and ethnic groups. Inferential racism is when the things one does are not explicitly about marginalizing or excluding based on race, but these things ultimately reinforce a system that maintains those kinds marginalizations and exclusions. (For more on these concepts, see Michael Omi's essay "In Living Color: Race and American Culture." For the example that I usually use in class to show inferential racism, see the case of Thomas Benya, where the school board, in deep ethnocentric fashion, failed to recognize that the style of dress they were imposing on Benya is a cultural heritage that they are assuming to be superior to Benya's Native American heritage.) Stewart's statement fails to reflect a deep representation of what racism is. Racism is not simply prejudice against or even exclusion based on race. Rather, it's a system that exists in society whereby power relations based on race are developed, maintained, and reinforced. It's not enough simply to call out the out-and-out racists. Really fighting against racism also asks us to look at how the very structures of society, the very ways we do things, and the very ways that people think reinforce racial oppression, exclusion, and marginalization. The kinds of things Stewart says are not racist actually do perpetuate racism. When this is not acknowledged, racism is reinforced and more fully entrenched. To get what I think Stewart wants, one needs to recognize the different forms of racism, not dismiss many instances of racism as not involving racism.
On a related note, the other day I watched the first couple of episodes of the new NBC show Outlaw, which stars Jimmy Smits as conservative judge Cyrus Garza, who, after some political and personal soul searching, resigns from the Supreme Court to pursue a law practice that takes on controversial cases, often with a sense of expressing some kind of moderate perspective that balances the right-wing ideologies he has practiced with the left-wing ideologies for which his father fought. The show has already been cancelled, and probably rightfully so. While not without merit as a premise, the first episode seemed really contrived (i. e., that a case made it to the Supreme Court without anyone finding particular evidence that was not that hard to uncover), the attempts at building romantic relationships are very weakly developed, and the characters themselves are not as multidimensional and well developed as they need to be for the series to succeed.
The second episode of the series involves SB 1070, the controversial immigration law passed in Arizona this year. In this case, Smits' character's firm agrees to defend a police officer who shot and severely wounded a man whom the officer believed may be an illegal immigrant. The episode offers what could be a very engaging and useful legal, ethical, and philosophical dialogue in that it asks the question of whether the police officer himself should be held responsible in a court of law for injuring this man when the officer was following what the law mandates for him to do by inquiring about the man's citizenship status. At one point, the case hinges on questions of racism (particularly racial profiling), and in the end Smits' character argues that the white police officer believing that the Latino victim walking around late at night may be an illegal immigrant was not racism, but "common sense." This occurs after Smits has, against his co-counsel and to the delight of the prosecution, stacked the jury with a group of people who come from demographics that would be seen as sympathetic to the injured man, not the police officer (e.g., Latino/a individuals, individuals of other ethnic and racial minorities, not middle and upper-class white folks). In the end, the jury decides, based on Smits' argument, that the police officer is not guilty. The idea here is that a "common sense" argument like that offered by Smits can persuade even the most potentially unsympathic jury.
The problem with this episode, though, is that it fails to acknowledge the link between racism and common sense. What is "common sense" is made of what has been accepted within a culture as basic knowledge about and understandings of the world that can be taken for granted as unquestionable. Yet, what is common sense in one culture is not common sense in another, and what has developed as common sense in a culture is highly influenced by the power relations in that culture. More specifically in terms of race, ideas about common sense in the United States--like the style of dress imposed by the school board on Thomas Benya--have been heavily based in white European cultural understandings and traditions, including beliefs about who constitutes a U.S. American person and who does not. As the show relies on this culturally constructed, nebulous idea of "common sense," it fails to recognize the inferential racism that that common sense already involves and, in the process, perpetuates the very racism it suggests we need to be cautious about identifying.
In the end, both Stewart's statement on racism and Outlaw's depiction of what constitutes racism reflect and reinforce rather conservative agendas. They both accept a status quo idea of what constitutes "common sense" and "sanity" that fails to acknowledge or even effectively engage with recognition of the power relations that influence what gets defined as "common sense" and "sanity." As Maher indicates, among other things, in his response to Stewart, "the big mistake of modern media has been this notion of balance for balance's sake--that the left is just as violent and cruel as the right, that unions are just as powerful as corporations, that 'reverse racism' is just as damaging as racism." In the end, you can't equate the effects and meanings of things when there are clear power differences between them. Stewart and Outlaw have both done just that, yet Stewart is generally acknowledged as ideologically tied to the political left; NBC, with its co-network MSNBC, is generally viewed as the most politically left-leaning major network; and as the account at this link and some of the response to it on its discussion board illustrate, Outlaw is apparently considered a show that is over the top in promoting left-wing propaganda.
Unfortunately, if Stewart and Outlaw count as "liberal media," then the real political left has little, if any, media representation. (Perhaps Maher is among the best hopes ...) On the other hand, Stewart and Outlaw help demonstrate just how baseless (and base) the "liberal media bias" idea is. As I've said before, I believe there is a "liberal" media bias, but it's already within a conservative frame, which makes it a moderately conservative bias. As Maher notes, when the right keeps staking a claim further to the right and then demanding to be met "in the middle," the middle is no longer the middle; it's the right. And, in the process, the "liberal" side of the media keeps reinforcing power relations rather than really making progress toward a fuller, more equitable and more functioning democracy.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
A Race to the Top Twenty Years Ago
As a chart aficionado in my high school and early college years, I was following closely, complete with subscription to Billboard, as Vanilla Ice's "Ice Ice Baby" became the first rap single to top the Hot 100 singles chart--a feat it accomplished 20 years ago today. That distinction could easily have gone to MC Hammer for "U Can't Touch This" a few months earlier but for a marketing decision made by Capitol Records. Since this occurred, I have always wondered about the role race played in the situation, particularly as the events reenacted a history of white artists appropriating black popular music.
Reflecting on this, I wrote an entry on Tunesmate today that I encourage you to read for more of the story.
Reflecting on this, I wrote an entry on Tunesmate today that I encourage you to read for more of the story.
Monday, November 1, 2010
La Vida De Los Muertos
In the Catholic Church, today is All Saints' Day, meant to commemorate those individuals who have already died and gone to heaven. Tomorrow on the Catholic calendar will be All Souls' Day, which recognizes those individuals who have died but who remain in purgatory, awaiting entrance into heaven. In Mexico, today and tomorrow also comprise El DÃa de los Muertos (The Day of the Dead), on which people remember and pray for loved ones who have died.
Today also marks two weeks since one of my dogs, Nellie Fox, a beagle-dachshund mix whom my wife and I rescued from the pound in 2002, passed away. Nellie took suddenly sick on the weekend of October 16-17. What seemed like a possible stomach ache or potentially passing illness on Sunday, October 17, escalated in the early morning of October 18. My wife and I rushed Nellie to a local emergency vet at 2:30 in the morning. This would turn into a trip for specialized care in Michigan about an hour and a quarter away. What was a furious and panicked drive north, when it seemed like Nellie could die at any moment, became hopeful, when she made it, the doctors stabilized her, and then they planned for surgery. When my wife and I left to head back home around 1:00 p.m., we knew the surgery might provide bad news in the form of cancer, but we also had hope. Nellie was awake, lucid, and stable when we left her. A little over an hour later, she was gone. During preparation for surgery, Nellie's heart gave out and the doctors were unable to resuscitate her.
I have felt pretty devastated by the loss of Nellie Fox, particularly since my wife and I had been getting her regular blood tests and checkups. Nellie's death has also extended a series of deaths that have hit my wife and I over the last few years. In May 2007, our chihuahua-terrier mix, Turbo, passed away after kidney failure. A year to the day later, my wife's mom died of a brain aneurysm. Then, this past May, my mom died of pancreatic cancer. Indeed, the very weekend that Nellie Fox became outwardly sick, I had gone to Indianapolis to commemorate my mom. A family friend, "Uncle" Dick McGowan, and his son, Cassidy, made an altar for my mom as part of the El DÃa de los Muertos display at the Indianapolis Art Center.
As I have been reflecting on these deaths over the last two weeks, I have found some comfort in the idea of El DÃa de los Muertos. The idea of celebrating, remembering, and engaging with the dead seems too overlooked in the culture that dominates United States society. Too often, people die, and the world seems to move on without pause, without consideration, without reflection, and sometimes even without sympathy. My wife commented on this when her mom died, I've felt it with the deaths of Turbo and my mom, and I'm feeling it as strongly as ever with the death of Nellie Fox. More time spent engaging with the dead, holding the things that they loved, focusing on vividly remembering the times we shared with them, and doing things that recall or honor them seems like a very spiritually useful and rewarding thing to do, not just for those of us still alive, but also for those who have died. Indeed, "un dÃa" seems too little. "Una semana," "un mes," and even "un año" seem too little as well. So, I am proposing to spend and dedicate much more of my life for the dead--"mi vida para los muertos." I've already begun by making sure that I eat a banana--one of Nellie Fox's favorite foods--every day, thinking of Nellie when I do it.
On a related note, in a week and a half I will join millions of other people in going to the movie theater to watch the new Harry Potter film, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1, which depicts the first part of the seventh and final novel in the series. The morning of the day it opens, my "Reading Harry Potter" class, which I am teaching for the third time now this fall, will undoubtedly discuss it (though restrain ourselves somewhat for those who haven't seen it yet). I begin that course with an essay by C.S. Lewis called "Meditation in a Toolshed." In that essay, Lewis discusses the importance of both "looking at" and "looking along." He says we must both "look at" things, by examining them from outside of their perspectives, and "look along" things, by seeing the world from inside their perspectives. He argues that both are valuable for understanding the world. While we do a considerable amount of "looking at" in the Harry Potter course, I also consciously try to make sure that we "look along" Harry Potter, discussing what a perspective from inside the Potterverse offers the world. Among such things, the Harry Potter series, including to a large degree that seventh and final tale, offers us some ways to comprehend and come to terms with death--deaths of loved ones, deaths of people we do not know well, and deaths of ourselves. In the book Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Albus Dumbledore tells Harry that "the true master [of death] does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying" (720). This comes six years after Dumbledore, in the first book in the series (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone) tells Harry that "to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure" (297). It seems to me that looking along these ideas asks us to take stock of death more fully in life, not necessarily charging into death, but accepting death and seeking to find greater communion with our own mortality.
So much of the struggle with death comes from fears--fear of the unknown, fear of loss of one's self, fear of pain, and so on--and I have held these fears of death strongly throughout most of my life. But with my mom, my dogs, my mother-in-law, others I have known who have died, and the ideas presented by J. K. Rowling in mind, I seek a change in how I live life, embracing the dead more fully as part of my life, living with death instead of attempting to forget or deny its existence. I've only begun this new adventure, and I do not know where it will take me as I live it, but I also realize that I do not need or want to know, for that would not be in the spirit of living and walking with death. And realizing that does seem to organize my mind and my life quite a bit.
Today also marks two weeks since one of my dogs, Nellie Fox, a beagle-dachshund mix whom my wife and I rescued from the pound in 2002, passed away. Nellie took suddenly sick on the weekend of October 16-17. What seemed like a possible stomach ache or potentially passing illness on Sunday, October 17, escalated in the early morning of October 18. My wife and I rushed Nellie to a local emergency vet at 2:30 in the morning. This would turn into a trip for specialized care in Michigan about an hour and a quarter away. What was a furious and panicked drive north, when it seemed like Nellie could die at any moment, became hopeful, when she made it, the doctors stabilized her, and then they planned for surgery. When my wife and I left to head back home around 1:00 p.m., we knew the surgery might provide bad news in the form of cancer, but we also had hope. Nellie was awake, lucid, and stable when we left her. A little over an hour later, she was gone. During preparation for surgery, Nellie's heart gave out and the doctors were unable to resuscitate her.
I have felt pretty devastated by the loss of Nellie Fox, particularly since my wife and I had been getting her regular blood tests and checkups. Nellie's death has also extended a series of deaths that have hit my wife and I over the last few years. In May 2007, our chihuahua-terrier mix, Turbo, passed away after kidney failure. A year to the day later, my wife's mom died of a brain aneurysm. Then, this past May, my mom died of pancreatic cancer. Indeed, the very weekend that Nellie Fox became outwardly sick, I had gone to Indianapolis to commemorate my mom. A family friend, "Uncle" Dick McGowan, and his son, Cassidy, made an altar for my mom as part of the El DÃa de los Muertos display at the Indianapolis Art Center.
As I have been reflecting on these deaths over the last two weeks, I have found some comfort in the idea of El DÃa de los Muertos. The idea of celebrating, remembering, and engaging with the dead seems too overlooked in the culture that dominates United States society. Too often, people die, and the world seems to move on without pause, without consideration, without reflection, and sometimes even without sympathy. My wife commented on this when her mom died, I've felt it with the deaths of Turbo and my mom, and I'm feeling it as strongly as ever with the death of Nellie Fox. More time spent engaging with the dead, holding the things that they loved, focusing on vividly remembering the times we shared with them, and doing things that recall or honor them seems like a very spiritually useful and rewarding thing to do, not just for those of us still alive, but also for those who have died. Indeed, "un dÃa" seems too little. "Una semana," "un mes," and even "un año" seem too little as well. So, I am proposing to spend and dedicate much more of my life for the dead--"mi vida para los muertos." I've already begun by making sure that I eat a banana--one of Nellie Fox's favorite foods--every day, thinking of Nellie when I do it.
On a related note, in a week and a half I will join millions of other people in going to the movie theater to watch the new Harry Potter film, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1, which depicts the first part of the seventh and final novel in the series. The morning of the day it opens, my "Reading Harry Potter" class, which I am teaching for the third time now this fall, will undoubtedly discuss it (though restrain ourselves somewhat for those who haven't seen it yet). I begin that course with an essay by C.S. Lewis called "Meditation in a Toolshed." In that essay, Lewis discusses the importance of both "looking at" and "looking along." He says we must both "look at" things, by examining them from outside of their perspectives, and "look along" things, by seeing the world from inside their perspectives. He argues that both are valuable for understanding the world. While we do a considerable amount of "looking at" in the Harry Potter course, I also consciously try to make sure that we "look along" Harry Potter, discussing what a perspective from inside the Potterverse offers the world. Among such things, the Harry Potter series, including to a large degree that seventh and final tale, offers us some ways to comprehend and come to terms with death--deaths of loved ones, deaths of people we do not know well, and deaths of ourselves. In the book Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Albus Dumbledore tells Harry that "the true master [of death] does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying" (720). This comes six years after Dumbledore, in the first book in the series (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone) tells Harry that "to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure" (297). It seems to me that looking along these ideas asks us to take stock of death more fully in life, not necessarily charging into death, but accepting death and seeking to find greater communion with our own mortality.
So much of the struggle with death comes from fears--fear of the unknown, fear of loss of one's self, fear of pain, and so on--and I have held these fears of death strongly throughout most of my life. But with my mom, my dogs, my mother-in-law, others I have known who have died, and the ideas presented by J. K. Rowling in mind, I seek a change in how I live life, embracing the dead more fully as part of my life, living with death instead of attempting to forget or deny its existence. I've only begun this new adventure, and I do not know where it will take me as I live it, but I also realize that I do not need or want to know, for that would not be in the spirit of living and walking with death. And realizing that does seem to organize my mind and my life quite a bit.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Apparently, Some Still Think Greed Is Good ...
Today, the Wall Street sequel hits theaters. Apparently, the "Greed is good" philosophy articulated by Gordon Gecko 25 years ago still has its ardent admirers. For a perfect case in point, see this opinion piece by Yaron Brook and Onkar Ghate on CNN.com.
On the one hand, I do have to give Brook and Ghate some credit. Many folks whom I see arguing for the advancement of the free market seem to act as if it is this wonderful, idyllic haven that allows for total freedom, which would include the freedom for individuals to develop their own moral codes. These proponents either fail to grasp or fail to mention that the free market system does set up a moral code--one of competition, adversarial relations, and the acquisition of profit, property, and capital. In a sense, these folks focus on the "free" part of "free market" without acknowledging the "market" part. At least Brook and Ghate publicly admit that the system contains and coerces people to follow a moral code.
On the other hand, Brook and Ghate are not as forthright as they could or really should be in discussing that moral code. Namely, they celebrate the industrialists of roughly 100 years ago for the progress that they produced, and they argue that big-money capitalists of the present day should be celebrated for making so much money, not for giving it away. In the end, they argue that "Science, freedom and the pursuit of personal profit -- if we can learn to embrace these three ideas as ideals, an unlimited future awaits." Unfortunately, they leave out that that future, while perhaps unlimited to some, is very limited to many. That time period of big-money capitalism that they celebrated also produced significant wealth gaps, exploitation of labor, and the foundations for the kinds of hegemonic control of middle and working classes that occurs today. Contemporary economic conditions and relations appear to reinforce quite readily many of those same kinds of things, with the kinds of anti-labor, unquestioning of business and capital attitudes to which so many of us have become socialized to subscribe; the continuing and increasing wealth gaps that occur both in the United States and around the world; and the many ways that business organizations hold control over people's everyday lives, both at work and in their leisure time. That emphasis on pursuit of personal profit--i.e., the idea that a society of individuals motivated by self-interest--not only reinforces, but expands the inequities already built into the system. Those who have power, capital, and authority have much fuller, greater, and more extensive opportunities to increase those things than those who don't. Thus, we get incredible wealth gaps. We also see, in the process, how oppressions on the basis of race, gender, religion, ability, and other forms of social identities are perpetuated and advanced by the very economic system that purports to espouse opportunity, as those with capital and power can use that to gain more capital and power, while those with less (e.g., women, non-white folks, non-Christian folks, non-wealthy folks, etc.) do not have such opportunities.
Meanwhile, Brook and Ghate leave out a really significant part of the equation--luck. Folks like ex-baseball executive Branch Rickey have been fond of saying, "Luck is the residue of design." There probably is some truth to that in that the more well-designed a plan is, the more contingencies it takes into account, and thus the more it can prevail through adverse situations or be in position to take advantage of serendipitous developments. On the other hand, as humans who are very limited in our capacities to see and know, we must depend on luck regardless of our designs. A poorly timed natural disaster, the development of a sudden debilitating health condition, unforeseeable incompetent or malicious actions by others, or any number of other situations can bring down even well-laid plans. Additionally, there is the element of being able to have the knowledge and foresight to design well in the first place. This involves the concept of cultural capital, as theorized by Pierre Bourdieu, which is cultural knowledge that a person who has can use to gain opportunities within a cultural system. I can work really hard and plan (i.e., design) really meticulously, but if I don't have the cultural capital to know how to take advantage of the system, it likely won't do me a lot of good. As so many of us are not raised in situations in which we can gain that knowledge as we grow up and then are so busy trying to make ends meet as adults that we don't have the requisite time to learn it once we have grown (or we're not allowed access to it based on some discriminating factors within the system), we end up unable to set up good designs and, thus, see pursuit of personal profit come to fruition--or at least as full of fruition as those who have already been given advantages.
In the end, as Brook and Ghate indicate, capitalism does invoke a moral code. It does not ultimately, though, seem to be one that's particularly consistent with a fuller, more working democracy. And, regardless of what they claim, the only "unlimited future" that I see awaiting in the system Brook and Ghate espouse is one for the advantaged, lucky few.
On the one hand, I do have to give Brook and Ghate some credit. Many folks whom I see arguing for the advancement of the free market seem to act as if it is this wonderful, idyllic haven that allows for total freedom, which would include the freedom for individuals to develop their own moral codes. These proponents either fail to grasp or fail to mention that the free market system does set up a moral code--one of competition, adversarial relations, and the acquisition of profit, property, and capital. In a sense, these folks focus on the "free" part of "free market" without acknowledging the "market" part. At least Brook and Ghate publicly admit that the system contains and coerces people to follow a moral code.
On the other hand, Brook and Ghate are not as forthright as they could or really should be in discussing that moral code. Namely, they celebrate the industrialists of roughly 100 years ago for the progress that they produced, and they argue that big-money capitalists of the present day should be celebrated for making so much money, not for giving it away. In the end, they argue that "Science, freedom and the pursuit of personal profit -- if we can learn to embrace these three ideas as ideals, an unlimited future awaits." Unfortunately, they leave out that that future, while perhaps unlimited to some, is very limited to many. That time period of big-money capitalism that they celebrated also produced significant wealth gaps, exploitation of labor, and the foundations for the kinds of hegemonic control of middle and working classes that occurs today. Contemporary economic conditions and relations appear to reinforce quite readily many of those same kinds of things, with the kinds of anti-labor, unquestioning of business and capital attitudes to which so many of us have become socialized to subscribe; the continuing and increasing wealth gaps that occur both in the United States and around the world; and the many ways that business organizations hold control over people's everyday lives, both at work and in their leisure time. That emphasis on pursuit of personal profit--i.e., the idea that a society of individuals motivated by self-interest--not only reinforces, but expands the inequities already built into the system. Those who have power, capital, and authority have much fuller, greater, and more extensive opportunities to increase those things than those who don't. Thus, we get incredible wealth gaps. We also see, in the process, how oppressions on the basis of race, gender, religion, ability, and other forms of social identities are perpetuated and advanced by the very economic system that purports to espouse opportunity, as those with capital and power can use that to gain more capital and power, while those with less (e.g., women, non-white folks, non-Christian folks, non-wealthy folks, etc.) do not have such opportunities.
Meanwhile, Brook and Ghate leave out a really significant part of the equation--luck. Folks like ex-baseball executive Branch Rickey have been fond of saying, "Luck is the residue of design." There probably is some truth to that in that the more well-designed a plan is, the more contingencies it takes into account, and thus the more it can prevail through adverse situations or be in position to take advantage of serendipitous developments. On the other hand, as humans who are very limited in our capacities to see and know, we must depend on luck regardless of our designs. A poorly timed natural disaster, the development of a sudden debilitating health condition, unforeseeable incompetent or malicious actions by others, or any number of other situations can bring down even well-laid plans. Additionally, there is the element of being able to have the knowledge and foresight to design well in the first place. This involves the concept of cultural capital, as theorized by Pierre Bourdieu, which is cultural knowledge that a person who has can use to gain opportunities within a cultural system. I can work really hard and plan (i.e., design) really meticulously, but if I don't have the cultural capital to know how to take advantage of the system, it likely won't do me a lot of good. As so many of us are not raised in situations in which we can gain that knowledge as we grow up and then are so busy trying to make ends meet as adults that we don't have the requisite time to learn it once we have grown (or we're not allowed access to it based on some discriminating factors within the system), we end up unable to set up good designs and, thus, see pursuit of personal profit come to fruition--or at least as full of fruition as those who have already been given advantages.
In the end, as Brook and Ghate indicate, capitalism does invoke a moral code. It does not ultimately, though, seem to be one that's particularly consistent with a fuller, more working democracy. And, regardless of what they claim, the only "unlimited future" that I see awaiting in the system Brook and Ghate espouse is one for the advantaged, lucky few.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Douche and Turd
Recently, fed up with my choices among Democrats and Republicans, I became associated with Dan La Botz's campaign for the Senate from the state of Ohio. La Botz is running as the Socialist party candidate for the Senate seat. As part of that involvement, I was introduced to and I signed the Petition for Inclusive Senate Candidate Debates in Ohio. This evening, I and others who signed the petition received an email message from Bruce Winges of the Akron Beacon Journal. This was the text of his message:
The Ohio News Organization generally follows the structure used by the Commission on Presidential Debates, which allows for only the major-party candidates to debate. The logic is sound: In a television debate format, when time constraints limit the number of questions and answers to be heard, it is of the utmost importance that voters hear from the two candidates who are clearly the front-runners for the office. While we have and will continue write about third-party candidates when warranted, including them in debates limits Ohioans' ability to hear answers from the top candidates on issues critical to the state's future.
I wrote back tonight, nearly immediately after receiving Mr. Winges' message. This was the text of my response:
Dear Mr. Winges,
Thank you for your response to the Petition for Inclusive Senate Candidate Debates in Ohio. While I understand the logical argument that you have articulated, and it is, as you claim, "sound" from a particular perspective, it is not universally sound. Indeed, this is the logic of privilege and oppression--a logic that many, myself included, would not characterize as "sound." By this logic, those who have great advantages in society are given the opportunity to further those advantages for the simple reason that they have the advantages in the first place. In the process, to quote an old line, "the rich get richer and the poor get poorer." Given, to echo your word, how critical this debate is, at a moment when the state, the country, and the world are witnessing a very significant set of crises that includes deep economic recession, environmental destruction, and escalation of significant and at times violent political animosities, among other things, there would seem to be no better time than now to include alternative voices to the two major parties--the very parties who have played significant roles in orchestrating the set of critical circumstances that we now face. If the Tea Party movement has shown us nothing else, it should illustrate that people on all sides of the political spectrum are not happy with the status quo of the two-party oligarchy. By not allowing alternative voices, particularly out of an argument based on the front-runner status of the Democratic and Republican candidates, you effectively help keep a pair of already aristocratically-endowed organizations in power. The debate becomes the latest in the long line of practices that hand over the reigns (pun entirely intended) to these parties through a process known as kingmaking whereby the political elites along with the heavy cooperation of media institutions, as well as cooperation of other institutions, have extremely high influence over the choices, proposals, and ideas available during an election--often to the point of determining these very things.
Additionally, this kind of practice constitutes exactly the kind of critique that candidates like Dan La Botz bring to table--namely, that the system of capitalism, with its emphasis on profit-making and the acquisition of capital, plays a significant role in reproducing power and equity differences, in diminishing the possibilities for a fuller and more effectively working democracy in which as many voices as possible can be heard, and in perpetuating the kinds of circular logical claims from within the system that keep people from getting real opportunities to see, express, or disseminate critiques that dmonstrate the problems incurred by the sytem of capitalism itself. This is what is called false consciousness and what is called hegemony in a nearly perfect nutshell, perpetuating the curtain over the eyes of the electorate, using appeals to justify unearned power differences so that the electorate--especially those of less privilege--accept these power differences, and keeping the country from finding a fuller democracy.
While I understand the argument that this is just following industry practice, I do not accept that argument. Indeed, as part of classes on culture and communication that I teach, students and I examine exactly how industry practices in all kinds of fields--especially, when we examine popular culture, within media industries--perpetuate status quo relations that perpetuate oppression. Relying on an argument of standard industry practice utilizes the kind of circular logic of oppression that is emblematic of capitalism--the kinds of circular logic to which I alluded above. Frankly, I am disappointed in your use of such a transparently flawed argument, and I urge you and your colleagues on the Ohio News Organization to reconsider your decision.
Sincerely,
Raymond I. Schuck
Bowling Green, Ohio
When I teach the class on political communication at Bowling Green State University, which I am doing this semester, during the first week we watch the episode of South Park from 2004 titled "Douche and Turd." In many ways, issues raised within the episode seem to relate quite readily to the above exchange. As I hope my response to Mr. Winges above conveys, I think there's more to it than what the episode of South Park suggests; however, I think the episode provides a useful starting point for discussion of concerns with the contemporary two-party system of politics in the United States. Those are exactly some of the concerns that these Ohio Senate debates will fail to address by only including the Republican and Democratic candidates.
The Ohio News Organization generally follows the structure used by the Commission on Presidential Debates, which allows for only the major-party candidates to debate. The logic is sound: In a television debate format, when time constraints limit the number of questions and answers to be heard, it is of the utmost importance that voters hear from the two candidates who are clearly the front-runners for the office. While we have and will continue write about third-party candidates when warranted, including them in debates limits Ohioans' ability to hear answers from the top candidates on issues critical to the state's future.
I wrote back tonight, nearly immediately after receiving Mr. Winges' message. This was the text of my response:
Dear Mr. Winges,
Thank you for your response to the Petition for Inclusive Senate Candidate Debates in Ohio. While I understand the logical argument that you have articulated, and it is, as you claim, "sound" from a particular perspective, it is not universally sound. Indeed, this is the logic of privilege and oppression--a logic that many, myself included, would not characterize as "sound." By this logic, those who have great advantages in society are given the opportunity to further those advantages for the simple reason that they have the advantages in the first place. In the process, to quote an old line, "the rich get richer and the poor get poorer." Given, to echo your word, how critical this debate is, at a moment when the state, the country, and the world are witnessing a very significant set of crises that includes deep economic recession, environmental destruction, and escalation of significant and at times violent political animosities, among other things, there would seem to be no better time than now to include alternative voices to the two major parties--the very parties who have played significant roles in orchestrating the set of critical circumstances that we now face. If the Tea Party movement has shown us nothing else, it should illustrate that people on all sides of the political spectrum are not happy with the status quo of the two-party oligarchy. By not allowing alternative voices, particularly out of an argument based on the front-runner status of the Democratic and Republican candidates, you effectively help keep a pair of already aristocratically-endowed organizations in power. The debate becomes the latest in the long line of practices that hand over the reigns (pun entirely intended) to these parties through a process known as kingmaking whereby the political elites along with the heavy cooperation of media institutions, as well as cooperation of other institutions, have extremely high influence over the choices, proposals, and ideas available during an election--often to the point of determining these very things.
Additionally, this kind of practice constitutes exactly the kind of critique that candidates like Dan La Botz bring to table--namely, that the system of capitalism, with its emphasis on profit-making and the acquisition of capital, plays a significant role in reproducing power and equity differences, in diminishing the possibilities for a fuller and more effectively working democracy in which as many voices as possible can be heard, and in perpetuating the kinds of circular logical claims from within the system that keep people from getting real opportunities to see, express, or disseminate critiques that dmonstrate the problems incurred by the sytem of capitalism itself. This is what is called false consciousness and what is called hegemony in a nearly perfect nutshell, perpetuating the curtain over the eyes of the electorate, using appeals to justify unearned power differences so that the electorate--especially those of less privilege--accept these power differences, and keeping the country from finding a fuller democracy.
While I understand the argument that this is just following industry practice, I do not accept that argument. Indeed, as part of classes on culture and communication that I teach, students and I examine exactly how industry practices in all kinds of fields--especially, when we examine popular culture, within media industries--perpetuate status quo relations that perpetuate oppression. Relying on an argument of standard industry practice utilizes the kind of circular logic of oppression that is emblematic of capitalism--the kinds of circular logic to which I alluded above. Frankly, I am disappointed in your use of such a transparently flawed argument, and I urge you and your colleagues on the Ohio News Organization to reconsider your decision.
Sincerely,
Raymond I. Schuck
Bowling Green, Ohio
When I teach the class on political communication at Bowling Green State University, which I am doing this semester, during the first week we watch the episode of South Park from 2004 titled "Douche and Turd." In many ways, issues raised within the episode seem to relate quite readily to the above exchange. As I hope my response to Mr. Winges above conveys, I think there's more to it than what the episode of South Park suggests; however, I think the episode provides a useful starting point for discussion of concerns with the contemporary two-party system of politics in the United States. Those are exactly some of the concerns that these Ohio Senate debates will fail to address by only including the Republican and Democratic candidates.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
More Big Brother Thoughts
Last week, I posted some thoughts on the current season of Big Brother. Two days later, on the telecast on Thursday, August 26, the same kind of issue that I had addressed came up again. In this instance, when Matt was evicted from the house, during his post-eviction interview with host Julie Chen, he referred to fellow houseguest Britney as a "succubus." Instantly, Chen told Matt to "keep it clean." Matt responded by saying that the FCC allows the word, to which Chen suggested that that didn't mean it should be said on this telecast.
On the one hand, this draws attention to the inappropriateness of using some terms. So, in a way it addresses my point from my previous post. On the other hand, it does so in a way that doesn't really address the issue. Rather than simply stating that using the word is inappropriate under the same kind of "family programming" veneer that's been used on previous episodes, Chen could have allowed Matt his use of the word and then challenged his use of it, pointing out how it is derogatory toward women and how it reinforces the system of sexism in United States society.
With that in mind, I see this as a missed opportunity that ends up reinforcing the same kinds of things I brought up last week. As I mentioned, I'm very much for the liberalization of language use. To do otherwise keeps people from actually discussing and dealing with problems. In this case, Matt's use of a derogatory word is called out as inappropriate without explanation of why it might be inappropriate. All this reflects and teaches is a dictatorial kind of rule--i.e., "Don't do this because I said so." In the end, that doesn't address the systematic oppression of women that this term, along with other terms that continue to be allowed like "bitch" and "ho," reflects. In fact, given how much patriarchy has historically given the same kind of "just because" reasoning when women have attempted to challenge gendered oppression, it can be argued that this kind of treatment of use of "succubus" reinforces oppressions of many kinds (including gender) by reinforcing the idea that those with less power should not do or say things simply because those in power tell them not to, regardless of the legitimacy or illegitimacy of the reasons that those in power have for what they have commanded others to do or not to do. That, to me, seems like a very dangerous lesson--a lesson of brushing problems under the rug rather than dealing with them that leads society little of anywhere but continued hegemony, as the powerful maintain and grow their power because attention has been deferred from looking at the ways that power works, particularly as it works in oppressive manners.
I don't necessarily blame Chen here. She's asked by CBS and the producers of the show to fulfill a role within certain social and industry expectations. She's in a position where she could address the bigger issue of oppression, so it's disappointing that she doesn't. She's also, though, in a role where she could easily be dismissed should she articulate things that CBS or the show's producers don't like. Media companies, media industries, and the folks that own and run these institutions have a much higher degree of culpability. Of course, CBS is also subject to a bigger game of hide and don't seek, which is particularly acute for them since they were the network that received heavy fines by the FCC after the "wardrobe malfunction" in the Justin Timberlake/Janet Jackson performance during the 2004 Super Bowl. So, it is political and economic systems and institutions that are creating this kind of situation. And that just seems to suggest all the more fully that we need greater and fuller analysis and critique of the system of capitalism that sets many of the rules for life in the contemporary U.S. world. Of course, with these same institutions and systems developing even greater and greater influence over schools, media, and other educational experiences on all levels, that critique becomes even tougher to express and sustain.
And, as this occurs, to quote F. Scott Fitzgerald writing 85 years ago, "so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." Perhaps, though, I should be quoting George Orwell's 1984. After all, the show does take its name from that book, and the social critiques offered by that book seem to apply so readily to the whole situation.
On the one hand, this draws attention to the inappropriateness of using some terms. So, in a way it addresses my point from my previous post. On the other hand, it does so in a way that doesn't really address the issue. Rather than simply stating that using the word is inappropriate under the same kind of "family programming" veneer that's been used on previous episodes, Chen could have allowed Matt his use of the word and then challenged his use of it, pointing out how it is derogatory toward women and how it reinforces the system of sexism in United States society.
With that in mind, I see this as a missed opportunity that ends up reinforcing the same kinds of things I brought up last week. As I mentioned, I'm very much for the liberalization of language use. To do otherwise keeps people from actually discussing and dealing with problems. In this case, Matt's use of a derogatory word is called out as inappropriate without explanation of why it might be inappropriate. All this reflects and teaches is a dictatorial kind of rule--i.e., "Don't do this because I said so." In the end, that doesn't address the systematic oppression of women that this term, along with other terms that continue to be allowed like "bitch" and "ho," reflects. In fact, given how much patriarchy has historically given the same kind of "just because" reasoning when women have attempted to challenge gendered oppression, it can be argued that this kind of treatment of use of "succubus" reinforces oppressions of many kinds (including gender) by reinforcing the idea that those with less power should not do or say things simply because those in power tell them not to, regardless of the legitimacy or illegitimacy of the reasons that those in power have for what they have commanded others to do or not to do. That, to me, seems like a very dangerous lesson--a lesson of brushing problems under the rug rather than dealing with them that leads society little of anywhere but continued hegemony, as the powerful maintain and grow their power because attention has been deferred from looking at the ways that power works, particularly as it works in oppressive manners.
I don't necessarily blame Chen here. She's asked by CBS and the producers of the show to fulfill a role within certain social and industry expectations. She's in a position where she could address the bigger issue of oppression, so it's disappointing that she doesn't. She's also, though, in a role where she could easily be dismissed should she articulate things that CBS or the show's producers don't like. Media companies, media industries, and the folks that own and run these institutions have a much higher degree of culpability. Of course, CBS is also subject to a bigger game of hide and don't seek, which is particularly acute for them since they were the network that received heavy fines by the FCC after the "wardrobe malfunction" in the Justin Timberlake/Janet Jackson performance during the 2004 Super Bowl. So, it is political and economic systems and institutions that are creating this kind of situation. And that just seems to suggest all the more fully that we need greater and fuller analysis and critique of the system of capitalism that sets many of the rules for life in the contemporary U.S. world. Of course, with these same institutions and systems developing even greater and greater influence over schools, media, and other educational experiences on all levels, that critique becomes even tougher to express and sustain.
And, as this occurs, to quote F. Scott Fitzgerald writing 85 years ago, "so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." Perhaps, though, I should be quoting George Orwell's 1984. After all, the show does take its name from that book, and the social critiques offered by that book seem to apply so readily to the whole situation.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Big Brother is Watching Out for the Whole Family
I don't normally watch the television show Big Brother. Other than a few moments here and there in which I've happened across it and a couple times in the last two years when I put Big Brother After Dark on with no sound for something on television while I was working, I have never paid attention to the show, and I've certainly never become invested in the show in any way before. However, I am watching Big Brother this season because I know one of the contestants. Ragan Fox, with whom (as I've mentioned on this blog before) I went to graduate school, is on the show this summer. So, I'm watching.
There are plenty of things to comment about in connection with the show. The kinds of things that the competitions emphasize, the relationships between the houseguests and CBS as a network, and the ways that the producers edit and present the footage to produce the show are all ripe for examination. Among all of this, one particular situation has caught my attention.
A few weeks ago, when host Julie Chen asked Ragan what it was like to be taped to a wall in one of the competitions, Ragan responded by joking that that's just a typical Friday night for him. Immediately, Chen moved on, citing that this is "family" programming. In another episode, when another of the contestants--Rachel--cursed when frustrated during a competititon (and had this censored out by the network), Chen told her to "keep it clean." Clearly, then, the producers of the show hope to present this as "clean," "family" entertainment during the 8:00 primetime block, and they see joking about one's night life (I'm assuming especially for an openly gay man to be the one doing the joking) and using certain kinds of language as inconsistent with that image.
Given that, it's telling what does seem okay for "good, clean" programming. Notably, numerous guests have referred to women repeatedly and consistently as "bitches," while a group of guys who call themselves "The Brigade" have used the phrase "bros, not ho's" to declare their loyalty to their all-male alliance. Apparently, then, derogatory references to women--and the misogyny that comes with it--have become "clean," "family" programming on CBS. To me at least, that sounds a lot more damaging than vague allusions to sexual exploits on a Friday night and words like "fuck" and "shit," which don't directly attack people as these other terms do.
Now, we might argue that in fact the show is countering misogyny by depicting the users of the terms "bitch" and "ho" in unflattering lights, perhaps using this to convey the idea that using these terms is damaging and/or inappropriate. However, one look at message boards in places like this seems to suggest that that's not the kind of message a lot of people get from the show. Rather, there appears to be a lot of buying into use of these terms as okay.
I tend to be all for the liberalization of language use. I think we could use a lot more openness in terms of what can be publicly discussed and how it can be publicly discussed. I've argued things along those lines on this blog before. The allowance of terms like "bitch" and "ho" on network television has become part of that liberalization process. Twenty or thirty years ago, we wouldn't have heard these things on primetime network television programming. Yet, we need to be cognizant of the way that this process proceeds. Namely, it's telling what choices media programs and organizations make about what is now considered "okay" and what remains considered "inappropriate," particularly given how much footage from the Big Brother house is left out in the editing and arranging processes for the actual episodes that air. And it's telling what ideologies--in this case ideologies regarding gender--these choices promote and reflect. In this case, Big Brother sure seems to be suggesting that mistreatment of women, loyalty among men against villianized women, and verbal abuse of women are meaningful and acceptable aspects of regular and appropriate family life. The producers of the show choose what they want to portray to viewers, and these choices seem pretty misguided.
There are plenty of things to comment about in connection with the show. The kinds of things that the competitions emphasize, the relationships between the houseguests and CBS as a network, and the ways that the producers edit and present the footage to produce the show are all ripe for examination. Among all of this, one particular situation has caught my attention.
A few weeks ago, when host Julie Chen asked Ragan what it was like to be taped to a wall in one of the competitions, Ragan responded by joking that that's just a typical Friday night for him. Immediately, Chen moved on, citing that this is "family" programming. In another episode, when another of the contestants--Rachel--cursed when frustrated during a competititon (and had this censored out by the network), Chen told her to "keep it clean." Clearly, then, the producers of the show hope to present this as "clean," "family" entertainment during the 8:00 primetime block, and they see joking about one's night life (I'm assuming especially for an openly gay man to be the one doing the joking) and using certain kinds of language as inconsistent with that image.
Given that, it's telling what does seem okay for "good, clean" programming. Notably, numerous guests have referred to women repeatedly and consistently as "bitches," while a group of guys who call themselves "The Brigade" have used the phrase "bros, not ho's" to declare their loyalty to their all-male alliance. Apparently, then, derogatory references to women--and the misogyny that comes with it--have become "clean," "family" programming on CBS. To me at least, that sounds a lot more damaging than vague allusions to sexual exploits on a Friday night and words like "fuck" and "shit," which don't directly attack people as these other terms do.
Now, we might argue that in fact the show is countering misogyny by depicting the users of the terms "bitch" and "ho" in unflattering lights, perhaps using this to convey the idea that using these terms is damaging and/or inappropriate. However, one look at message boards in places like this seems to suggest that that's not the kind of message a lot of people get from the show. Rather, there appears to be a lot of buying into use of these terms as okay.
I tend to be all for the liberalization of language use. I think we could use a lot more openness in terms of what can be publicly discussed and how it can be publicly discussed. I've argued things along those lines on this blog before. The allowance of terms like "bitch" and "ho" on network television has become part of that liberalization process. Twenty or thirty years ago, we wouldn't have heard these things on primetime network television programming. Yet, we need to be cognizant of the way that this process proceeds. Namely, it's telling what choices media programs and organizations make about what is now considered "okay" and what remains considered "inappropriate," particularly given how much footage from the Big Brother house is left out in the editing and arranging processes for the actual episodes that air. And it's telling what ideologies--in this case ideologies regarding gender--these choices promote and reflect. In this case, Big Brother sure seems to be suggesting that mistreatment of women, loyalty among men against villianized women, and verbal abuse of women are meaningful and acceptable aspects of regular and appropriate family life. The producers of the show choose what they want to portray to viewers, and these choices seem pretty misguided.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
More Stupid Baseball Nicknames
A couple of years ago, I blogged about the ridiculousness of the trend of baseball nicknames following on the heels of A-Rod in which people combine part of the player's first name and part of the player's last name. I also suggested where this might lead, with Albert Pujols becoming "A-jols" and Pat Neshek becoming "P-Nes."
Well, I saw another one last night, calling Rockies' outfielder Carlos Gonzalez "CarGo." Obviously, there are a few different puns that can work with this name, but the same can be said for "V-Mart" for Victor Martinez and "Man-Ram" for Manny Ramirez. In the end, they all seem inspid. Yet, they seem to prevail.
And if that's the case, then I'm still hoping that Kevin Youkilis has a relative named Frank or Fred or something who makes it to the major leagues and provides one of these nicknames that actually has some appeal.
Well, I saw another one last night, calling Rockies' outfielder Carlos Gonzalez "CarGo." Obviously, there are a few different puns that can work with this name, but the same can be said for "V-Mart" for Victor Martinez and "Man-Ram" for Manny Ramirez. In the end, they all seem inspid. Yet, they seem to prevail.
And if that's the case, then I'm still hoping that Kevin Youkilis has a relative named Frank or Fred or something who makes it to the major leagues and provides one of these nicknames that actually has some appeal.
Monday, July 19, 2010
To the Left, to the Left ...
How about if we start out with a bit of Beyoncé ...
A few years ago I came up with the following philosophy about contemporary U.S. politics: Most Republicans are jackasses, most Democrats are dumbasses, and most third-party and independent candidates try to be smartasses. And when you've got a bunch of asses, what they produce is a bunch of crap.
It was an attempt to be pithy, though more recently I'm thinking it may be too crass and generalized. It certainly suggests some things about my own ideological assumptions. That said, I still think there is something to the basic sentiments it's trying to suggest, and I think a recent situation involving Sarah Palin is a good example of this.
Apparently, Palin made a series of attempts on Twitter to comment on the proposal to build a mosque near the World Trade Center site in Manhattan. In the process, she said "refudiate," which is not actually a word. Some on the left have picked this up as a reason to make fun of her, suggesting or implying once again that this is further evidence that she is quite intellectually challenged.
Now, I am far from a fan of Palin. I think she has been embarrassing in her lack of eluctionary abilities, her apparent lack of even fundamental knowledge of things about which she speaks, and her continued use of simple rhetorical constructions that lack merit, consistency, and coherence. So, I can understand frustration that she has become a prominent political figure in this country. On the other hand, I think focusing energy on her use of "refudiate" is silly, petty, and actually damaging.
I make speaking mistakes all the time. Few, if any, people don't. In fact, during the 2008 election, when folks pointed out the many articulation flaws of Palin, many individuals on the right and in the media would then suggest how Joe Biden isn't perfect either, with reference to gaffes he made. This always frustrated me because making speaking blunders here and there differs significantly from consistently being unable to articulate much of anything with coherence. The former is entirely forgiveable as part of being human; the latter is typically a sign of incompetence. Joe Biden, I believe, fit the former; Sarah Palin, on the other hand, has consistently seemed to fit the latter. Perhaps she will improve. She may gain understanding of issues, learn the nuances of positions, and develop her elocutionary skills. Indeed, an appearance with William Shatner on The Tonight Show a while back actually impressed me. In the meantime, I believe that many of her recent statements and comments show that she still has a long way to go.
And this, I think, gets me back to the political philosophy with which I began. That philosophy called Republicans "jackasses" because so many of them seem so willing to use anything to gain and maintain power. They're effective at it, and they can be downright ruthless about it, not seeming to care about the consequences or consistency of the rhetoric they espouse. As conservatives, they also have power already on their side. The rhetorical concept of burden of proof suggests that in a debate the burden of proof lies with the party trying to challenge what is already assumed. Those arguing from what is already assumed enjoy the privilege of resting on that assumption until it is challenged enough to be questioned or overturned. Conservatism, by definition, has this power of assumption, and conservatives today quite readily use it, even when the things they say are ultimately inconsistent and incoherent.
Meanwhile, when Democrats get power or get good opportunities to use power, they screw it up over and over again. While freely admitting that this is tied to my own ideological leanings, I tend to think that the left has better ideas. No one's ideas are perfect, but when weighed rationally and with nuance, I think generally the left's arguments tend to have more depth. Indeed, that's actually something Republicans play up, though in a different way, with anti-intellectual rhetoric about leftist elites. In other words, pointing out logical inconsistencies and articulating nuanced positions become devalued, as if doing these things constitutes a problematic view of the world and a means of oppressing other people. Notice, though, that I say "the left," not "Democrats" when I mention these ideas. Two reasons account for this. One is that I think that for the most part the Democratic party in this country isn't really on the left politically. The second is that many of the Democrats I hear don't really go about making arguments for good ideas or don't go about doing it effectively, so I can't group them here. In other words, they're dumbasses.
Making fun of Sarah Palin seems like another instance in which Democrats and others reinforce that assessment. And, ultimately, I think it plays right into the hands of the likes of Sarah Palin and her supporters. Picking on instances like this provides fuel for Palin to continue to identify herself as a victim of the left and of the "lamestream" media, as she likes to call it. (And, by the way, I would argue that the media does have a liberal bias, as so many claim, but I would add the caveat that it's a liberal bias within what is already a conservative frame, which makes it essentially a moderately conservative bias.) Palin does have a long pattern of consistent inability to articulate herself that suggests a lack of competence. Maybe in some way using the word "refudiate" reflects that, but it's such an easy, everyday kind of blunder to make that I don't think it's a big deal, and I don't think a big deal should be made of it. There are plenty of much more potent examples to use to show Palin's apparent lack of competence that the argument does not need examples like this to make that case. To do so seems like it aids the narrative that she (along with her political advisors) has constructed for herself, and it allows her and her supporters to shift attention from the actual content of her statement, which I think is very problematic and the much more important issue here, to her image as victim of the media and the left.
Palin may be incompetent when it comes to solutions and complex explanations of contemporary social, political, and economic issues. She may be becoming more competent as she is learning more about those issues. She appears to be relatively competent at promotion and public relations, recognizing an audience to which she appeals and finding a way to keep appealing to it. Certainly, both of these types of competence play roles in contemporary U.S. politics. I think, though, engaging more with the ideas she promotes as much as possible would be the much more effective and much more humane path for the left. Perhaps, though, that's the problem with the contemporary left. In Ancient Rome, Cicero called rhetoric the combination of eloquence and wisdom. Perhaps the left needs to learn how to focus more fully on consistently stating any wisdom it has in more eloquent terms to make their statements more impenetrable from the anti-intellectual attacks of the right. Petty squabbling over use of the pseudo-word "refudiate" seems anything but this. Indeed, it makes one look like many Democrats look of late (i.e., like a "dumbass") or look like an elitist who engages in attacks on other people's lack of cultural capital as a means of humoring herself/himself (i.e., like a smartass). And whether it's Palin levelling it against Muslims or her detractors levelling it against her, I'm tired of all of the crap.
A few years ago I came up with the following philosophy about contemporary U.S. politics: Most Republicans are jackasses, most Democrats are dumbasses, and most third-party and independent candidates try to be smartasses. And when you've got a bunch of asses, what they produce is a bunch of crap.
It was an attempt to be pithy, though more recently I'm thinking it may be too crass and generalized. It certainly suggests some things about my own ideological assumptions. That said, I still think there is something to the basic sentiments it's trying to suggest, and I think a recent situation involving Sarah Palin is a good example of this.
Apparently, Palin made a series of attempts on Twitter to comment on the proposal to build a mosque near the World Trade Center site in Manhattan. In the process, she said "refudiate," which is not actually a word. Some on the left have picked this up as a reason to make fun of her, suggesting or implying once again that this is further evidence that she is quite intellectually challenged.
Now, I am far from a fan of Palin. I think she has been embarrassing in her lack of eluctionary abilities, her apparent lack of even fundamental knowledge of things about which she speaks, and her continued use of simple rhetorical constructions that lack merit, consistency, and coherence. So, I can understand frustration that she has become a prominent political figure in this country. On the other hand, I think focusing energy on her use of "refudiate" is silly, petty, and actually damaging.
I make speaking mistakes all the time. Few, if any, people don't. In fact, during the 2008 election, when folks pointed out the many articulation flaws of Palin, many individuals on the right and in the media would then suggest how Joe Biden isn't perfect either, with reference to gaffes he made. This always frustrated me because making speaking blunders here and there differs significantly from consistently being unable to articulate much of anything with coherence. The former is entirely forgiveable as part of being human; the latter is typically a sign of incompetence. Joe Biden, I believe, fit the former; Sarah Palin, on the other hand, has consistently seemed to fit the latter. Perhaps she will improve. She may gain understanding of issues, learn the nuances of positions, and develop her elocutionary skills. Indeed, an appearance with William Shatner on The Tonight Show a while back actually impressed me. In the meantime, I believe that many of her recent statements and comments show that she still has a long way to go.
And this, I think, gets me back to the political philosophy with which I began. That philosophy called Republicans "jackasses" because so many of them seem so willing to use anything to gain and maintain power. They're effective at it, and they can be downright ruthless about it, not seeming to care about the consequences or consistency of the rhetoric they espouse. As conservatives, they also have power already on their side. The rhetorical concept of burden of proof suggests that in a debate the burden of proof lies with the party trying to challenge what is already assumed. Those arguing from what is already assumed enjoy the privilege of resting on that assumption until it is challenged enough to be questioned or overturned. Conservatism, by definition, has this power of assumption, and conservatives today quite readily use it, even when the things they say are ultimately inconsistent and incoherent.
Meanwhile, when Democrats get power or get good opportunities to use power, they screw it up over and over again. While freely admitting that this is tied to my own ideological leanings, I tend to think that the left has better ideas. No one's ideas are perfect, but when weighed rationally and with nuance, I think generally the left's arguments tend to have more depth. Indeed, that's actually something Republicans play up, though in a different way, with anti-intellectual rhetoric about leftist elites. In other words, pointing out logical inconsistencies and articulating nuanced positions become devalued, as if doing these things constitutes a problematic view of the world and a means of oppressing other people. Notice, though, that I say "the left," not "Democrats" when I mention these ideas. Two reasons account for this. One is that I think that for the most part the Democratic party in this country isn't really on the left politically. The second is that many of the Democrats I hear don't really go about making arguments for good ideas or don't go about doing it effectively, so I can't group them here. In other words, they're dumbasses.
Making fun of Sarah Palin seems like another instance in which Democrats and others reinforce that assessment. And, ultimately, I think it plays right into the hands of the likes of Sarah Palin and her supporters. Picking on instances like this provides fuel for Palin to continue to identify herself as a victim of the left and of the "lamestream" media, as she likes to call it. (And, by the way, I would argue that the media does have a liberal bias, as so many claim, but I would add the caveat that it's a liberal bias within what is already a conservative frame, which makes it essentially a moderately conservative bias.) Palin does have a long pattern of consistent inability to articulate herself that suggests a lack of competence. Maybe in some way using the word "refudiate" reflects that, but it's such an easy, everyday kind of blunder to make that I don't think it's a big deal, and I don't think a big deal should be made of it. There are plenty of much more potent examples to use to show Palin's apparent lack of competence that the argument does not need examples like this to make that case. To do so seems like it aids the narrative that she (along with her political advisors) has constructed for herself, and it allows her and her supporters to shift attention from the actual content of her statement, which I think is very problematic and the much more important issue here, to her image as victim of the media and the left.
Palin may be incompetent when it comes to solutions and complex explanations of contemporary social, political, and economic issues. She may be becoming more competent as she is learning more about those issues. She appears to be relatively competent at promotion and public relations, recognizing an audience to which she appeals and finding a way to keep appealing to it. Certainly, both of these types of competence play roles in contemporary U.S. politics. I think, though, engaging more with the ideas she promotes as much as possible would be the much more effective and much more humane path for the left. Perhaps, though, that's the problem with the contemporary left. In Ancient Rome, Cicero called rhetoric the combination of eloquence and wisdom. Perhaps the left needs to learn how to focus more fully on consistently stating any wisdom it has in more eloquent terms to make their statements more impenetrable from the anti-intellectual attacks of the right. Petty squabbling over use of the pseudo-word "refudiate" seems anything but this. Indeed, it makes one look like many Democrats look of late (i.e., like a "dumbass") or look like an elitist who engages in attacks on other people's lack of cultural capital as a means of humoring herself/himself (i.e., like a smartass). And whether it's Palin levelling it against Muslims or her detractors levelling it against her, I'm tired of all of the crap.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Independence Day: For You and Me, Not Just Some of Us
“Ain’t that America, you and me …”
John Mellencamp, “Pink Houses”
When I attended spring graduation at Bowling Green State University, I was a little disturbed by the extra rounds of applause given to individuals whose military ranks were stated along with their names as they accepted their diplomas (well, the diploma carriers that would later hold their diplomas, anyway …). I did not join the audience in a round of applause that these students received while others did not. Now, despite what the likes of CNN contributor Ed Rollins (I believe very wrongly) suggests about academics simply not liking the military, I did not do this out of dislike for the military. I’m not a fan of violence, but I understand the usefulness for military, and I am quite happy to support the military in that regard. Rather, given that this was not a military ceremony, I did not believe military members should receive extra recognition. To do so, to me, seems to suggest that they’re more important than everyone else. And, frankly, I don’t think that’s true, and I do think that’s a dangerous way to think.
Now, I understand the idea that the military deserve recognition because they put their lives on the line so much more than other people. … At least I understand where that idea comes from. For some members of the military, yes, their jobs do demand this. However, there are two problems with this. While some are, many military are not really in direct danger of losing their lives on a daily basis. Additionally, this situation is not exclusive to the military. Many individuals throughout United States society put their lives in danger in their jobs, and I’m not just talking about firefighters and police officers. Electrical workers, individuals who work with nuclear and chemical waste, biologists who expose themselves to potentially life-threatening diseases and insects as they do research, and many other individuals risk their lives to do their jobs. Furthermore, individuals who have to work despite health conditions because they need the money to support themselves or they need to keep working to maintain health insurance risk the worsening of their conditions—and, thus, risk their lives—everyday. Many people also work additional jobs, take less vacation, and do other things that might lead to health conditions because they need to make ends meet. These people, too, are risking their health and their lives. So, it’s a false dichotomy to suggest that the military risk their lives like no one else does and that they therefore should be celebrated more than other people.
Now, this isn’t to say that we shouldn’t celebrate military members. We have days that we set aside for recognition of military—like Memorial Day and Veterans Day. Additionally, there are military ceremonies produced by military organizations that commemorate military accomplishments. At my mother’s funeral, the military gave a touching salute in commemoration of my mother, as she was a veteran. These are fine times to commemorate what members of the military do. However, that does not mean that commemoration of the military should be associated with everything. I do not think that college graduations are a time to advance military accomplishments above other accomplishments. I do not think that sporting events should be the place to use the military consistently and repeatedly as the means of showing national identity over other means of doing so. I do not think that military expenditures should be virtually ignored in discussions of the need to corral government spending. And I do not believe that the Fourth of July should be a military commemoration.
Does this mean that the military cannot participate in Fourth of July events or other events throughout the year? Absolutely not. By all means, let individuals who identify with the military contribute as such to these events. But these do not seem to be appropriate times to characterize military accomplishments over other kinds of contributions that the many of us give to United States society every day. While the Revolution that began the United States of America certainly had its military components, these did not work alone to produce this nation and the ideals of liberty and equality that the founders of this nation articulated, though they had not yet perfected and we have not yet perfected. These are the ideals that lay at the heart of our continuing mission as a society—the goals toward which we work that provide this country with the potential that makes it worth one’s commitment. And they are the ideals that we celebrate and seek to voice our continuing commitment toward on the Fourth of July. They are, though, as John Mellencamp sang in “Pink Houses,” ideals about “you and me.” We’re all in this together, and to suggest that a select number of us offer more important contributions than the rest of us is not just wrong, it runs counter to those founding ideals. In a word, it’s unpatriotic. If we suggest that academics offer more important contributions than anyone else, then we develop a system of elite aristocracy run by intelligentsia leaders. If we suggest that individuals who own and run businesses offer more important contributions than anyone else, then we develop a different kind of elite aristocracy, this one run by the wealthy and economically powerful. If we suggest that people of a certain religion offer more important contributions than anyone else, then we develop a theocracy. And if we suggest that the military offer more important contributions than anyone else, then we develop a military state. And all of these end results run counter to a democratic society.
The point is that so many of us contribute in so many different ways, and the ideals of democracy would ask us on this, the day to celebrate such ideals, to make sure that we commemorate that diversity, privileging none above the others, none at exclusion to the rest.
John Mellencamp, “Pink Houses”
When I attended spring graduation at Bowling Green State University, I was a little disturbed by the extra rounds of applause given to individuals whose military ranks were stated along with their names as they accepted their diplomas (well, the diploma carriers that would later hold their diplomas, anyway …). I did not join the audience in a round of applause that these students received while others did not. Now, despite what the likes of CNN contributor Ed Rollins (I believe very wrongly) suggests about academics simply not liking the military, I did not do this out of dislike for the military. I’m not a fan of violence, but I understand the usefulness for military, and I am quite happy to support the military in that regard. Rather, given that this was not a military ceremony, I did not believe military members should receive extra recognition. To do so, to me, seems to suggest that they’re more important than everyone else. And, frankly, I don’t think that’s true, and I do think that’s a dangerous way to think.
Now, I understand the idea that the military deserve recognition because they put their lives on the line so much more than other people. … At least I understand where that idea comes from. For some members of the military, yes, their jobs do demand this. However, there are two problems with this. While some are, many military are not really in direct danger of losing their lives on a daily basis. Additionally, this situation is not exclusive to the military. Many individuals throughout United States society put their lives in danger in their jobs, and I’m not just talking about firefighters and police officers. Electrical workers, individuals who work with nuclear and chemical waste, biologists who expose themselves to potentially life-threatening diseases and insects as they do research, and many other individuals risk their lives to do their jobs. Furthermore, individuals who have to work despite health conditions because they need the money to support themselves or they need to keep working to maintain health insurance risk the worsening of their conditions—and, thus, risk their lives—everyday. Many people also work additional jobs, take less vacation, and do other things that might lead to health conditions because they need to make ends meet. These people, too, are risking their health and their lives. So, it’s a false dichotomy to suggest that the military risk their lives like no one else does and that they therefore should be celebrated more than other people.
Now, this isn’t to say that we shouldn’t celebrate military members. We have days that we set aside for recognition of military—like Memorial Day and Veterans Day. Additionally, there are military ceremonies produced by military organizations that commemorate military accomplishments. At my mother’s funeral, the military gave a touching salute in commemoration of my mother, as she was a veteran. These are fine times to commemorate what members of the military do. However, that does not mean that commemoration of the military should be associated with everything. I do not think that college graduations are a time to advance military accomplishments above other accomplishments. I do not think that sporting events should be the place to use the military consistently and repeatedly as the means of showing national identity over other means of doing so. I do not think that military expenditures should be virtually ignored in discussions of the need to corral government spending. And I do not believe that the Fourth of July should be a military commemoration.
Does this mean that the military cannot participate in Fourth of July events or other events throughout the year? Absolutely not. By all means, let individuals who identify with the military contribute as such to these events. But these do not seem to be appropriate times to characterize military accomplishments over other kinds of contributions that the many of us give to United States society every day. While the Revolution that began the United States of America certainly had its military components, these did not work alone to produce this nation and the ideals of liberty and equality that the founders of this nation articulated, though they had not yet perfected and we have not yet perfected. These are the ideals that lay at the heart of our continuing mission as a society—the goals toward which we work that provide this country with the potential that makes it worth one’s commitment. And they are the ideals that we celebrate and seek to voice our continuing commitment toward on the Fourth of July. They are, though, as John Mellencamp sang in “Pink Houses,” ideals about “you and me.” We’re all in this together, and to suggest that a select number of us offer more important contributions than the rest of us is not just wrong, it runs counter to those founding ideals. In a word, it’s unpatriotic. If we suggest that academics offer more important contributions than anyone else, then we develop a system of elite aristocracy run by intelligentsia leaders. If we suggest that individuals who own and run businesses offer more important contributions than anyone else, then we develop a different kind of elite aristocracy, this one run by the wealthy and economically powerful. If we suggest that people of a certain religion offer more important contributions than anyone else, then we develop a theocracy. And if we suggest that the military offer more important contributions than anyone else, then we develop a military state. And all of these end results run counter to a democratic society.
The point is that so many of us contribute in so many different ways, and the ideals of democracy would ask us on this, the day to celebrate such ideals, to make sure that we commemorate that diversity, privileging none above the others, none at exclusion to the rest.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Let's No Mets
I've oftened contended that part of being a Mets fan is taking pride in how much the team can really suck. Back in 2003, when the Detroit Tigers threatened to break the Mets' record of 120 losses, I actively rooted for the Tigers to win 5 of their last 6 to finish with 119. I didn't want the Mets to lose the record. I also have a measure of pride when I speak of "The Worst Team Money Could Buy" that finished behind the expansion Colorado Rockies and Florida Marlins in 1993. And, I'm proud that the Mets are the franchise that has the longest history without a pitcher throwing a no-hitter. It sounds like, from the comments in today's column by Danny Knobler about the Mets no no-no tradition, I'm not alone in thinking about Met fandom in this way.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Headline: Top Players Other Than Federer, Nadal, and Williams Sisters Will Play at Wimbledon!
The first few lines of the story titled "Federer draws tough road for Wimbledon defense" on CBSSports.com state the following:
Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal face challenging paths to set up another Wimbledon final. Serena and Venus Williams also face potential pitfalls before another all-sister title match.
Six-time champion Federer and Nadal -- the only man to beat him at Wimbledon in the last seven finals -- were both handed tricky draws Friday for the grass-court Grand Slam tournament.
Let's see. We know, since it states these groupings could face off in the finals, that Federer and Nadal are on opposite sides of the bracket and that the same can be said for Venus and Serena Williams. Okay, but then, doesn't make the rest of this pretty much self-evident? Inevitably, folks like Andy Murray, Novak Djokovic, Jelena Jankovic, Francesca Schiavone, and all of the top players (at least all of them playing in the tournament) were going to be on one side of the draw or the other. The Williamses, Nadal, and Federer will all have to face "potential pits," "challenging paths," and "tricky draws." So, um, what's the point?
Oh, I know ... let's just state things in dramatic terms for the sake of drama, even when the things being said are inane and/or preposterous. And that, my friends, I would contend is one of the biggest problems with news reporting today.
Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal face challenging paths to set up another Wimbledon final. Serena and Venus Williams also face potential pitfalls before another all-sister title match.
Six-time champion Federer and Nadal -- the only man to beat him at Wimbledon in the last seven finals -- were both handed tricky draws Friday for the grass-court Grand Slam tournament.
Let's see. We know, since it states these groupings could face off in the finals, that Federer and Nadal are on opposite sides of the bracket and that the same can be said for Venus and Serena Williams. Okay, but then, doesn't make the rest of this pretty much self-evident? Inevitably, folks like Andy Murray, Novak Djokovic, Jelena Jankovic, Francesca Schiavone, and all of the top players (at least all of them playing in the tournament) were going to be on one side of the draw or the other. The Williamses, Nadal, and Federer will all have to face "potential pits," "challenging paths," and "tricky draws." So, um, what's the point?
Oh, I know ... let's just state things in dramatic terms for the sake of drama, even when the things being said are inane and/or preposterous. And that, my friends, I would contend is one of the biggest problems with news reporting today.
Monday, April 26, 2010
House Rebuilt
As people who know me well know, I'm a pretty big fan of the television show, House, M.D. Indeed, I even have a research paper on the show that's currently in (and, actually long overdue for) development. (The plan is to have it finished in early summer ...) As a fan, I can also appreciate some creative reworkings of the theme song for the show that have appeared on YouTube. Check out the following:
This one sets clips from the show to the theme song from the 1980s' hit show St. Elsewhere. It needs some work, particularly in making sure to have clips throughout and not to use clips with production crew and actor names randomly popping up, but it still seems to capture the feel of St. Elsewhere's opening montage while setting it to House, M.D.
This one reworks the theme song and opening montage to House, M.D. as Homer [Simpson], M.D.
This one reworks the theme song and opening montage as an opening to Spongebob Squarepants.
And, finally, this one uses the music that ends each episode of House, M.D. to rework the opening montage for an animated version of the show.
This one sets clips from the show to the theme song from the 1980s' hit show St. Elsewhere. It needs some work, particularly in making sure to have clips throughout and not to use clips with production crew and actor names randomly popping up, but it still seems to capture the feel of St. Elsewhere's opening montage while setting it to House, M.D.
This one reworks the theme song and opening montage to House, M.D. as Homer [Simpson], M.D.
This one reworks the theme song and opening montage as an opening to Spongebob Squarepants.
And, finally, this one uses the music that ends each episode of House, M.D. to rework the opening montage for an animated version of the show.
Friday, April 23, 2010
A Victory for Women?
I know I'm a little slow on the uptake on this one, as it's almost two weeks old now, but better late than never, and you all know how life can get busy sometimes ....
Every year I go round and round about watching the Masters. As a fan of golf, I want to watch. The Masters, though, represents privileged elitism in so many ways. While part of it is the lack of female membership at Augusta, there so much more to it than that. (I think Bill Simmons summed a lot of it up nicely last week.) I'm thinking next year I'm going to go back to not watching. I get more and more sickened by the Masters the more I think about it.
This year, I watched a little coverage on ESPN on Friday while working at home, a little on CBS while visiting with my parents on late afternoon Saturday, and a little bit toward the end of the fourth round on Sunday. I probably would have watched the end (I left coverage when the final group had about a hole and a half left), but I had another, more pressing matter to attend to--namely, going to see the musical Wicked.
As I'm sure you know by now, Phil Mickelson won the Masters this year, claiming his third green jacket. And, particularly as a contrast to Tiger Woods' recently uncovered activities, the fact that Phil Mickelson had taken time off the tour last summer to be with his wife and his mother as both battled cancer was played up on the telecast and has been a significant theme in coverage of the event ever since. See, for instance, this column by ESPN's Rick Reilly, as indicative of the kinds of themes and claims that have been occurring. Rightfully, I think, Gregg Doyel at CBSSportsline challenged the extravagant claims of the likes of Reilly. I would agree with what I interpret as Doyel's sentiment. There are some good reasons to applaud and be happy for Mickelson, but let's not exaggerate the claims about his character with blind admiration when we don't really know what goes on his life.
I'm not going to rehash what Doyel says. Please read his article for more. I do, though, want to add something to the conversation, particularly in conjunction with the title--and, thus, the overall tone--of Reilly's piece: "Mickelson's win a victory for women." Seriously, Rick? A victory? I think I understand what Rick is doing, but I think I also understand that this is exactly the stuff that hegemonic power is made of. Where's the victory for women? A privileged man won a tournament full of other privileged men at a golf course that is very heavily built on and steeped in privilege, particularly male privilege in that it continues to lack female membership and took a very public stand against a private call asking it to address that issue by admitting a female member. And this is a victory for women because Mickelson took time off the tour last summer to be with his wife while she was battling breast cancer? Look, I think what Mickelson did was commendable. I also realize that many people (men or women) would not have the financial resources or type of job that would allow them just to take several weeks off like that. My mother is battling cancer right now, and I'm thankful that as a university instructor I have a schedule conducive to making the hour trip to see her fairly often. I also know that (1) I'm lucky to have that opportunity and (2) I'm still not in a position to take off work completely. I think I have it better than a lot of people along those lines. I also recognize I'm privileged to have that opportunity, and I should not take that for granted, particularly when interpreting the actions of others who are less fortunate. Mickelson enjoys even more privilege than I do, and his actions are at least in part the result of his privileges.
And it's on the idea of "privileged actions" that this all goes back to what this means for women. Let's phrase this story this way: A man achieves occupational success in a public arena of activity in which that success is achieved against other men. Indeed, that public arena of activity does not even allow women to be included or to participate. The man also takes care of his wife and his family, as his success in that male-only public arena has allowed him the time and money to provide for and care for them. This is certainly another way to characterize the story of Phil Mickelson. It's also a way of characterizing the story that points out how deeply the entire scenario is built in patriarchy. Saying, then, that Mickelson's win is a victory for women rings rather hollow. Sure, it might bring attention to breast cancer and provides an illustration of a man who did things that suggest care and concern for the most prominent women in his life. Yet, the entire situation patronizes and devalues women as it implies that men should provide for women and that women should accept a system of opportunities that both implicitly and explicitly excludes them and, thus, does not allow them as many opportunities to provide for themselves as it allows for men. Indeed, Augusta National Golf Club and the Masters golf tournament perpetuate a system that positions women to need the care of men. To then celebrate a man for caring for women within such a system does little to advance the cause of opportunities and rights for women. Mickelson's ability to play the role of the caring husband as a contrast to Tiger Woods as the unfaithful husband relies, at least in part, on this system of privilege. Mickelson's actions in winning the Masters exemplify that male privilege. Rather than a victory for women, then, Mickelson's win constitutes a victory for patriarchy, disguised to the likes of Rick Reilly by the attention it places on women in certain ways, though the very ways in which it places that attention on women actually reinforce and perpetuate the system of male privilege. That, in a nutshell, is hegemony--when the things that seem to provide opportunities or "victories" for the oppressed actually reinforce and help perpetuate the system that excludes them.
So, while I like Mickelson, I also see his actions in winning the Masters as privileged, and I recognize them as perpetuating the system of sexism in United States society. In that regard, then, I don't think that he, the many other golfers involved in the tournament, and the many fans of the tournament (myself included) are as "good" to women as accounts like Reilly's might suggest. Now, if Mickelson took another kind of action, like if he used his victory to call for Augusta National Golf Club to admit female members, if he donated a significant portion of his winnings to the National Organization of Women to help their fight against sexism in the United States, or if he did something else along similar lines, then I might be willing to call this a "victory for women."
Every year I go round and round about watching the Masters. As a fan of golf, I want to watch. The Masters, though, represents privileged elitism in so many ways. While part of it is the lack of female membership at Augusta, there so much more to it than that. (I think Bill Simmons summed a lot of it up nicely last week.) I'm thinking next year I'm going to go back to not watching. I get more and more sickened by the Masters the more I think about it.
This year, I watched a little coverage on ESPN on Friday while working at home, a little on CBS while visiting with my parents on late afternoon Saturday, and a little bit toward the end of the fourth round on Sunday. I probably would have watched the end (I left coverage when the final group had about a hole and a half left), but I had another, more pressing matter to attend to--namely, going to see the musical Wicked.
As I'm sure you know by now, Phil Mickelson won the Masters this year, claiming his third green jacket. And, particularly as a contrast to Tiger Woods' recently uncovered activities, the fact that Phil Mickelson had taken time off the tour last summer to be with his wife and his mother as both battled cancer was played up on the telecast and has been a significant theme in coverage of the event ever since. See, for instance, this column by ESPN's Rick Reilly, as indicative of the kinds of themes and claims that have been occurring. Rightfully, I think, Gregg Doyel at CBSSportsline challenged the extravagant claims of the likes of Reilly. I would agree with what I interpret as Doyel's sentiment. There are some good reasons to applaud and be happy for Mickelson, but let's not exaggerate the claims about his character with blind admiration when we don't really know what goes on his life.
I'm not going to rehash what Doyel says. Please read his article for more. I do, though, want to add something to the conversation, particularly in conjunction with the title--and, thus, the overall tone--of Reilly's piece: "Mickelson's win a victory for women." Seriously, Rick? A victory? I think I understand what Rick is doing, but I think I also understand that this is exactly the stuff that hegemonic power is made of. Where's the victory for women? A privileged man won a tournament full of other privileged men at a golf course that is very heavily built on and steeped in privilege, particularly male privilege in that it continues to lack female membership and took a very public stand against a private call asking it to address that issue by admitting a female member. And this is a victory for women because Mickelson took time off the tour last summer to be with his wife while she was battling breast cancer? Look, I think what Mickelson did was commendable. I also realize that many people (men or women) would not have the financial resources or type of job that would allow them just to take several weeks off like that. My mother is battling cancer right now, and I'm thankful that as a university instructor I have a schedule conducive to making the hour trip to see her fairly often. I also know that (1) I'm lucky to have that opportunity and (2) I'm still not in a position to take off work completely. I think I have it better than a lot of people along those lines. I also recognize I'm privileged to have that opportunity, and I should not take that for granted, particularly when interpreting the actions of others who are less fortunate. Mickelson enjoys even more privilege than I do, and his actions are at least in part the result of his privileges.
And it's on the idea of "privileged actions" that this all goes back to what this means for women. Let's phrase this story this way: A man achieves occupational success in a public arena of activity in which that success is achieved against other men. Indeed, that public arena of activity does not even allow women to be included or to participate. The man also takes care of his wife and his family, as his success in that male-only public arena has allowed him the time and money to provide for and care for them. This is certainly another way to characterize the story of Phil Mickelson. It's also a way of characterizing the story that points out how deeply the entire scenario is built in patriarchy. Saying, then, that Mickelson's win is a victory for women rings rather hollow. Sure, it might bring attention to breast cancer and provides an illustration of a man who did things that suggest care and concern for the most prominent women in his life. Yet, the entire situation patronizes and devalues women as it implies that men should provide for women and that women should accept a system of opportunities that both implicitly and explicitly excludes them and, thus, does not allow them as many opportunities to provide for themselves as it allows for men. Indeed, Augusta National Golf Club and the Masters golf tournament perpetuate a system that positions women to need the care of men. To then celebrate a man for caring for women within such a system does little to advance the cause of opportunities and rights for women. Mickelson's ability to play the role of the caring husband as a contrast to Tiger Woods as the unfaithful husband relies, at least in part, on this system of privilege. Mickelson's actions in winning the Masters exemplify that male privilege. Rather than a victory for women, then, Mickelson's win constitutes a victory for patriarchy, disguised to the likes of Rick Reilly by the attention it places on women in certain ways, though the very ways in which it places that attention on women actually reinforce and perpetuate the system of male privilege. That, in a nutshell, is hegemony--when the things that seem to provide opportunities or "victories" for the oppressed actually reinforce and help perpetuate the system that excludes them.
So, while I like Mickelson, I also see his actions in winning the Masters as privileged, and I recognize them as perpetuating the system of sexism in United States society. In that regard, then, I don't think that he, the many other golfers involved in the tournament, and the many fans of the tournament (myself included) are as "good" to women as accounts like Reilly's might suggest. Now, if Mickelson took another kind of action, like if he used his victory to call for Augusta National Golf Club to admit female members, if he donated a significant portion of his winnings to the National Organization of Women to help their fight against sexism in the United States, or if he did something else along similar lines, then I might be willing to call this a "victory for women."
Friday, April 16, 2010
It's Not Easy Being Green
This post definitely needs to begin with a clip from Kermit the Frog.
This past Sunday, my wife and I saw the musical Wicked, which is currently playing at the Stranahan Theater in Toledo, Ohio. The show was awesome. We considered seeing it on Broadway while visiting New York with my wife's sister last summer, but couldn't quite afford it, so we saw Shrek the Musical (which was also very enjoyable) instead. It would have been fun to see Wicked on Broadway, but this show, which is part of its national tour, certainly was wonderful and highly recommendable.
I don't think it's a particularly ruinous spolier to say that Wicked revolves around the social derision and alienation the Wicked Witch of the West (Elphaba) experiences because she is green. Indeed, Elphaba and Shrek have that trait in common in their respective stories. From the beginning people find Elphaba's green-ness not just strange, but scary.
As the story proceeds, it asks the viewer to consider the ways that people who look different are treated. In doing so, it interrogates not only those differences, but also the rhetorical construction of the term "wicked." We learn that Elphaba is not really wicked, just as we learn in Shrek that Shrek is not really mean. As Wicked interrogates what makes someone become seen as wicked, along the way the play also interrogates what makes someone become seen as wonderful, namely in connection with the "Wonderful" Wizard of Oz. (I haven't read the Gregory Maguire book upon which the play is based, though the description of it on Amazon.com, including the characterization of it as "postmodern," would seem to suggest the same theme runs in it as well.)
This seems like pretty good stuff, particularly if folks, including kids, while watching it allow themselves to reflect on this message. In particular, both Wicked and Shrek the Musical seem to offer the message in a way that suggests that difference is something not just to accept, but to celebrate. It's one thing to offer the idea that even though people look, act or seem different from the norm, these people deserve respect and acceptance. That message, though, can still reinforce the norm as a standard by which people are judged and considered. In fact, it can easily turn into a kind of patronizing view of those who are different that still reinforces the idea that most people should still fit the norm and be the same. I think Wicked and Shrek the Musical take this a step further, though, when they suggest that we celebrate and seek difference and diversity. Rather than seeing difference as okay, this view sees difference as vital, cherishable, and desirable. Of course, the inclusion of this message does not divorce these stories from doing some marginalization. For instance, Shrek (both in film form and in play form) is, among other things, ripe for critique of its representation of blackness in the character Donkey. Additionally, among other things, Wicked would seem to warrant critique of its representation of individuals who use wheelchairs. These critiques deserve attention; however, that should also not negate the potential these musicals have for promoting a message of embracing diversity. Indeed, as one song from Shrek the Musical reminds us, "Let Your Freak Flag Fly"!
This all seems to point to the rewarding potential of popular culture. Popular culture can present in popular form ideas that can make us think, make us reflect, make us rethink, and make us change. Seldom, though, do these things occur without analysis and discussion. Popular culture is entertainment, and to a significant extent enjoying intertextual references to The Wizard of Oz, following a well-constructed story, and hearing emotionally powerful songs is enough unto itself. However, popular culture really, I think, often seeks (or at least allows for) more. That "more" only happens when we analyze and discuss it, looking at the messages and themes it offers, looking at the deeper ideas these messages and themes reflect, and recognizing the limitations of these messages and themes as they are told. So, I'd recommend going to see Wicked (or Shrek the Musical) and taking kids, especially as a way to get them interested in theater, but don't just stop at the end of the show. Talk about it, interrogate it, analyze it, and seek to understand its limitations. Despite what so often seems to be a popular sentiment, we can enjoy and critique at the same time. Indeed, I think democracy more fully thrives when we simultaneously do both. And so does popular culture. And so do we.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
BGDB
I'm sure many of us know dodgeball as something we did in high school and junior high school gym class, or we know it as the subject of a certain Ben Stiller/Vince Vaughn film. In recent years, though, a club circuit of college dodgeball teams has developed, along with an organizing association--the National Collegiate Dodgeball Association (NCDA). This year Bowling Green State University was honored to host the NCDA tournament on April 10-11. The tournament drew 13 teams, and Grand Valley State University defeated Central Michigan University in the finals to claim their third straight championship.
I had the opportunity to attend action on Saturday, along with my 10-year-old nephew, whom the BGSU dodgeballers were quite gracious in entertaining at times. If you have a club dodgeball squad around, it really is worth checking out. There's a lot more serious competition to it than the comedic representation offered by Vaughn and Stiller. And it's really exciting as well.
I had the opportunity to attend action on Saturday, along with my 10-year-old nephew, whom the BGSU dodgeballers were quite gracious in entertaining at times. If you have a club dodgeball squad around, it really is worth checking out. There's a lot more serious competition to it than the comedic representation offered by Vaughn and Stiller. And it's really exciting as well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)