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(12/12/10 11:57pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>What does it mean to owe someone for past wrongs — to be expected to give compensation?
Is it simply a relationship between two entities, or can it be extended
to be a relationship between vaguely defined societies and randomly
labeled
categories?
When I think of the word ‘compensation’ in this context, I think of a
situation in which a clear wrong has been committed by one person or by a
set of entities acting against another.
I do not think of a situation in which the one owing compensation is not the one blamed for the wrong.
Thus, if someone on campus were to steal my bike and sell it for parts, I
might expect the thief to pay me a sum equivalent to the value of the
bike, if apprehended.
I would certainly not expect the other residents of my building to pay me the same sum if the thief were not found.
In past years, the American government has apologized for many of its elapsed policies and actions.
Some of these apologies, such as one by Secretary of State Hillary
Rodham Clinton for the inhumane 1940s syphilis experiments in Guatemala,
are quite emotional and evoke intense reactions on all sides.
And yet, if an apology is a kind of small compensation, it is unclear to
me where Clinton stands in relation to those adversely affected. Is she
the spokesperson for the government as a whole?
If so, are we considering the government as all its divisions acting in tandem?
That doesn’t sound like the American government to me and certainly not after decades of transfers of power.
In a similar vein, rationales for affirmative action policies are often
given in terms of ‘compensatory measures’ — those who innocently or
knowingly benefited from discriminatory policies in the past owe redress
to those who suffered.
Thus, treatment in candidacy selection for particular minority groups is
rationalized and often based (though, to be fair, not only) on a very
thin logic of reparation.
The issue is even starker here: Who stands up in the relationship of
wronged to wicked? Are they entire racial groups? What could possibly be
more arbitrary?
I find it hard to get behind any cultural trend or program that has at
its heart the selective preference for one illogical category of people
over another.
I find it hard to not immediately find fault with such inequality
wherever I find it, despite its superficially laudatory intentions. But
that is beside the point.
The point, regardless of the legitimacy or effectiveness of affirmative
action policies, is that the specific logic of compensatory measures
does not hold when there is no one to blame but an amorphous idea of
skin color and advantage.
I have no issue with the individual desire to apologize for a wrong that
one did not commit — perhaps Clinton’s act of contrition can be put
under these terms.
But the apologetic should realize the very act of apologizing on the
part of one who is not responsible obscures the need for apology on the
parts of the ones who are responsible.
Compensation is a tricky concept — one that only retains its meaningfulness when it is not over-used or used inappropriately.
We should realize that when true compensation cannot be acquired from
those who have wronged us, it is not positive to acquire it elsewhere
just
because we can.
E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(12/10/10 12:20am)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>I like to think. I don’t always come up with an answer, but I still like to think, to ponder, to really dig inside an issue and try to work my way out again. But I’ve never liked to debate. To converse, yes. Even to converse when the other party thinks quite differently from me. But I’ve never liked the kind of debate in which both participants wind up feeling the need to condense their thoughts into manageable missiles.When I joined the IDS to write an opinion column, it was a challenge to myself to learn how to represent what I think in a way that could pass for debate without having that unfortunate quality of being reactionary and abbreviated beyond recognition or reason.Some might say I haven’t met my own challenge, but I hope some would say I have.The world of news media and immediate commentary can be a world where ideas are lost in the background of sound bite and rejoinder. What is particularly sad about that fact is that the news media, the blogosphere and the ability to share one’s thoughts without censorship are what should be driving our modern society to have more ideas, not fewer.You may say I’m a dreamer, but I sometimes like to think that I’ll log onto a news website one day and see the 3,000 comments be about 3,000 different ways of seeing things — and 3,000 realizations that one’s own way is not the only way.I sometimes like to think that a comment board could get actual philosophical work done and change politics through a conversation that changes minds.But somehow, today’s news media are not like that dream. They’re festering pots of polarization and reaction with only a few lights of reason in the whole mess.They’ve lost that power of connection of minds and substituted it with cockfights instead.Maybe it’s a naive sentiment, but I’ve always wondered exactly how millions upon millions of people could have only two or three sides which they considered worth defending. That’s a kind of convergence I don’t think I understand.So maybe that is the hallmark of the Internet age: a bottlenecking effect, such that only the masses of people who think alike get to have their ideas broadcasted. But I don’t think that’s a fair characterization of what instantaneous media can do.There is also potential for something more revolutionary, something more satisfactory. There is potential for everyone getting their ideas broadcasted and for broadcasting new ideas that are seeking an audience that has never thought of them before.That is what I always expect to see, like some excited child on Christmas morning, every time I read the comments section of an interesting article in The New York Times or the IDS. That’s what I expect — new ideas, well-thought-out ideas, ideas that have the power to change or add ever so slightly to what I think. I never expect a cockfight. But that’s usually what I find. E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(11/11/10 10:13pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender issues have been very palpable recently, leading to increased news coverage and public discourse about sexual orientation and related civil rights concerns.The one word that seems to come up over and over in reaction to this newly amplified dialogue is the strangely ambiguous word “agenda.”In a recent New York Times article discussing responses to efforts to augment school curricula with lessons on tolerance for homosexuality and other non-traditional orientations, the following idea was quoted: “Liberals and gay rights groups are using the antibullying banner to pursue a hidden homosexual agenda.”Likewise, online IDS commenters have several times echoed this sentiment, addressing what they think is a hidden — or not so well hidden — pro-gay agenda pushed by me and other members of the opinion staff.What exactly constitutes a homosexual agenda? A ‘pro-gay agenda’ is a bit more accurate in its description, but it remains unclear whether we’re supposedly supporting rights or orgies. The very idea of a hidden homosexual agenda reeks of serious, archaic misconceptions about what it means to be gay, such as the sadly popular idea that it has some infectious component transmittable by idea or physical contact. Or worse, that just like terrorists, there are somehow sleeper cells of homosexuals in every corner just waiting for the right moment to ambush and convert one’s children.Other quotes from the New York Times article include a genuinely alarmed mother at a school board meeting who feared the new tolerance curriculum would “promote acceptance of the homosexual lifestyle,” and a further critic who stated the curriculum was immoral in that it would “promote homosexual lessons.” Over and over, religious opponents to the new curriculum reiterated the crux of their argument against the new tolerance instruction was simply this: “Christians don’t want schools to teach subjects that are repulsive to their values.” First of all, acceptance is kind of the point. If that’s all there is to this supposed agenda, then I’m glad to be being accused of furthering it. Second, I have to admit that I wasn’t aware that you had to take a course to be gay. I mean, really, what on earth is a homosexual lesson? Irrational fears certainly seem to peek out from beneath many of the critical accusations. And third, last time I checked, Christianity and tolerance were definitely supposed to go hand in hand. What ever happened to that?Now, I’m not the first person to stand up and say that getting stuck in an argument isn’t the way to go about changing things — that pushing an agenda isn’t the same as having a conversation. And yes, some gay rights groups might suffer from the kind of repetitiveness that leads to ineffectiveness. However, standing up for civil rights during an era in which they are being challenged is not a hidden agenda — it’s a very openly-held principle in the minds of many Americans, including myself. It’s not the only thing on my mind. Certainly not. But it is one thing that is, and should be, clear as day in its solution. There’s no training needed; there’s no knowledge of history needed; there’s no understanding of scientific concepts needed. There is only the realization that no matter how politically charged the idea of gay rights becomes, it always comes down to just one thing in principle: Do we believe in equality, or don’t we?E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(11/04/10 9:43pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>With the kind of interdisciplinary major that I chose to pursue, I get told quite often in some pernicious tone that art and science are indisputably at odds with one another. But what, I wonder, does that even mean? Is it just the habit of rhetoric on all sides — or do people truly intend to suggest the existence of some unbridgeable intellectual chasm?I’m not a fan of the unbridgeable or the irrationally posited.The methods of the arts and the sciences are perhaps separate from one another when taken and categorized in one bold, sweeping gesture. But, on closer examination, (which is the mark of both art and science!) the gradient of method among and between such disciplines is far more fluid than any polarized set of categories might indicate.I am just one person — not a divided being who takes Apollo with her to neuroscience and leaves Dionysus at home to baby-sit the next photography project. Sitting in class, I sometimes wonder if there is a single artist in the world who would not be struck by the complex and simple beauty of a Golgi stain.In earlier columns, I have spoken briefly about the role of rhetoric in maintaining and feeding political schisms. Rhetoric is once again perhaps to blame.For every discipline, we pioneer a new vocabulary and filter out the would-be scientists, sculptors and philosophers according to their grasp of the language. We judge those ‘would-bes’ largely, or sometimes entirely, on their ability to know how to insult outsiders and reconstruct age-old arguments of who’s who and who’s best. We forget what it means to have an idea — pure and simple.We begin with a heuristic. We begin with the thought that if we tape off a finite piece of the world to understand and apply a chosen and well-honed method, perhaps we have a better chance of someday comprehending the nature of it all. We begin by necessity of doing something doable.But what do we end with? We end with a society in which artists and scientists cannot converse with one another without flinging metaphorical excrement.I do not mean to say that this is universal, but it is certainly prevalent. It is certainly a distinct mark of every interdisciplinary student’s experience with learning. And it doesn’t stop at the broad categories of art and science. It exists even within seemingly intact disciplines themselves at the level of factions and philosophies.I do not know if I have the solution. But I think that, in a sense, I am the solution — I and every persistent student who is willing to learn the rhetoric and speak the rhetoric well enough to go beyond it and try something different. Perhaps life really does get along best when it’s broken down into manageable categories and methods and ways of speaking. But, if so, the awareness of the short-cuts is paramount. Without that awareness, all of our intellectual discourse will be ultimately reduced to an abridged version of its own potential.E-mail: cmcglasson@indiana.edu
(10/28/10 9:12pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>These days, it can be hard not to hear statistics about rates of culturally influenced “phobias” such as homophobia and Islamophobia in the news — especially with recent controversies such as those surrounding the death of Rutgers student Tyler Clementi or the comments made by news analyst Juan Williams on “The O’Reilly Factor.”When faced with such statistics, it can be hard to understand the first-person experience of being the target of prejudice. Particularly, it can be deceptively easy to think of statistics as “low” or showing a trend toward acceptance when the reality of being faced with the hatred and bias of the people behind those seemingly low statistics can be overwhelming.Take, for example, the following hypothetical: You live in a university town in the Midwest. You’re gay. If we’re being generous and saying that 90 percent of the population at large is not homophobic, we’ll say that in the relatively liberal university town in which you live, 99 percent of the population is not homophobic.That gives us one seemingly measly percentage point of phobic prejudice. Doesn’t sound like a lot, does it? But keep following.You walk to class every day holding hands with your significant other. You pass, let’s say, approximately 200 people. Of those 200 people, at least two will glare with unmasked disdain.In a semester, you encounter around 160 glares. In a year, that makes 320 hurtful moments. And that’s if you only walk outside on school days.What does that add up to in a lifetime? I don’t have the numbers, but I’ll estimate that it’s more than an insignificant amount of perceived hatred.The hypothetical isn’t perfect; they never are. But maybe it gives you a taste of what it means to think of statistics in the first person.Maybe you have features that are commonly associated with the Middle East. Maybe you wear your hair tied up in a headscarf. Maybe you just happen to be reciting your Arabic lessons while waiting for a flight.In a given day at the airport, you might pass 1,000 people. If 10 percent of the population is Islamophobic, that’s 100 glares in just one day. And believe me, that’s an understatement of what really happens.Statistics are not first-person experiences. They often struggle to even correlate with them, much less explain or predict them.Statistics of things such as homophobia and Islamophobia might seem low at first glance, but the number of people that any given person encounters day to day can make such low percentages as 1 percent and 10 percent add up astonishingly fast in terms of experience. When you include the psychology of dealing with the sheer relentlessness of repeated moments of dejection, you might even come a little closer to understanding what it means to be gay or to be Muslim in a society such as ours that has a “small” percentage of cultural phobia.So before you find yourself impressed with the idea that 90 percent of America is tolerant, think of what that 10 percent can mean for a person who has to face prejudice every day.E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(10/21/10 10:46pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>I often find myself in situations where my own ignorance of certain political issues comes to the forefront. In such moments, I oscillate between embarrassment that I lack necessary facts and pride that I lack wholly unnecessary prejudice.Take, for example, my original experience with the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy. In my ignorance of politics, when I was in my early teens and first heard of the policy, I was fairly convinced that the article must be some sort of horrific joke or archived material from the 1950s.Finding out the reality of the policy much later, I thought the seeping discomfort of missing or neglecting the importance of a major concern. But at the same time, I thought the simultaneous, simple pleasure that I, at least, did not have to say that I was one of those who fell prey to the idea that the issue could be thought of in terms of “group cohesion,” rather than very basic rights of equality.In today’s reactionary politics, I think there is something to be said for the innocence that comes from ignorance of party lines and agendas. And yet, it is against my scientific nature to tout “ignorance” on any subject without giving some stipulations first.Which leads me to the question: What forms of ignorance can be seen as suitable to the political dialogue, and what forms can be seen as harmful?To begin with, let’s consider the appropriate form — the form that maintains lack of prejudice or preconceived attitude. There is a sense in which one who is “ignorant” in this way carries with them always a higher likelihood of innovation and unique ideas — of “thinking outside the box.” With bipartisanship more of a myth than a method these days, the ability to think outside the proverbial boxes of “right” and “left” can be an exceedingly powerful skill.On the other hand, there is a darker ignorance which is precisely the cause of the continued existence of political polarization: the inability or unwillingness to consider unbiased, non-partisan evidence. This is the ignorance of political rhetoric — of the pet phrases and stock ideas of one’s political affiliation which are not tested but believed. It is the ignorance of repetitive phrasing and lack of growth.But what differentiates these forms of ignorance? Surely it is not simply that one is good and the other bad.Perhaps it is the self-awareness of the state itself. One who is ignorant and knows of their own ignorance can be constantly in the act of seeking knowledge and of eliminating ignorance where it prevents a specific aim. One who is ignorant not only of the facts themselves, but also of their own ignorance to these facts, can only ever be in the act of maintaining a mental status quo.It is the first kind of ignorance which is mobile — which admits and then flushes out its own faults — which keeps in mind always that it can decide otherwise when new evidence arises. It is the second kind of ignorance that is incapable of hearing new evidence and finds itself perennially stuck in rhetoric. I think political dialogue could use a bit more of the first and a bit less of the second.E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(10/19/10 11:15pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>At times, reading headlines can be dangerous to one’s sanity. The sheer number of things said in this day and age is incredible — and it’s no surprise that many of those things are simply ignorant, hateful or misinformed. Take a half hour out of your day to peruse the cyber-sphere, and you’ll see all kinds of xenophobic and homophobic sentiments rear their ugly heads. People will also see the usual number of suspects with no training in economics spouting what they’re sure is the best advice for dragging us out of a recession they don’t understand.It can be a little overwhelming and maybe even bring you close to considering curbing certain laws of free speech when the consequences for those listening become so palpable. When we hear stories of funerals picketed and lives ruined by the cruelty of small factions, it’s easy to say that something must be done to prevent it from happening again.And yet, I personally find it very hard to come to the conclusion that prevention should be mandated in the form of law, especially given the political repercussions of such laws, both in our own history and in the world today.Just this week, I came across an interesting article in the Nieman Report’s edition about foreign reporting describing the joy, hilarity and hardship of teaching journalism in post-Soviet bloc countries. Despite their enthusiasm, students are often bewildered by the notion that governments can be criticized and thoughts contrary to public opinion voiced. As I read, I found myself thinking about what a unique experience it is to grow up with a media that fosters individual opinion — to be able to measure what you might say about politics based on legitimacy and strength of argument rather than legal consequences.Despite its familiarity, that is no small thing. And yes, perhaps it allows for and even creates the mass of opinion that is not always sensible and certainly not always well thought out or rationally defensible. But if I’m putting bigotry and idiocy on the scale against freedom of expression as a whole, freedom of expression always wins.Maybe it’s too big of a dose of optimism in today’s fashionably fatalistic world, but I think costs and benefits should be weighed before hasty conclusions are reached about the dangers of letting people speak their minds. If listening to stupidity and hatred is the price I have to pay to get to have a dialogue with that small percentage of people whose ideas can make a positive difference, I’m willing to pay it. And when the consequences are more dire than just a bad day, that doesn’t change the fact that the alternative of inhibited free speech is more dangerous.If anything, maybe we should use this lovely free speech that we have to brainstorm original solutions that don’t involve revoking rights.E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(10/07/10 10:45pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>I found an old Modern Library copy of Charles Darwin’s “Descent of Man” in a bookstore the other day, and it instantly gave me a feeling of delight and elation. Old books by great thinkers can do that.I was also reminded of controversy and ignorance and the whole spectrum of the debate about the idea of evolution. But I won’t address that here; quite frankly, I have no interest in the kind of defensiveness and anger that such pointless debates engender.Rather, I want to address the sheer beauty of the idea itself.Until Darwin, humanity was cut off from the world ontologically. Superiority and isolation came just from the title of “human being.” There was an ultimate divide between the experience of being human and the vast continuum of living beings that existed outside of that experience. The connection a person might spontaneously feel to the earth and to the creatures of the earth was unjustifiable.Imagine walking through the woods and beginning to feel that insistent intuition that everything is in sync and that life is unfolding not only around you, but also within you and with you. Imagine the power of realizing that such an intuition is historically and scientifically accurate.Darwin gave us our natural narrative — a narrative that had been obscured by abstract and mythology-laden philosophies. He gave us a history of what it means to be human and a small way of beginning to understand that history — a way that can complement and even shed light on what we dream up. In one theory, he handed us an entire universe of inter-connectedness. He gave us a shared heritage, not only with one another, but with the most minute forms of life. With Darwin, no child should ever feel lonely. He or she, quite literally, bears within his or her own body, her or his own genes, a connection with the whole of the earth. That is not something that is relevant only for the scientific field of biology. That is something that could perhaps even cure great ills of discontent and sadness in our society today if it were properly understood. The mind-set of wonder should never be underestimated in its clout for change.And that is precisely the mind-set that Darwin gives us: wonder. Wonder at the glory of the earth, which we watch in its environmental changes while considering what responsibility is ours. Wonder at the abilities and the minds of small creatures as we try and determine if those minds are capable of the kind of suffering that prevents us from using humans in their place in labs. Wonder at the nature of being human as we question whether or not violence is inherent to our way of life.Connection and wonder are easy things to bypass in daily business as we rush from one thing to the next without stopping. But what Darwin teaches us is invaluable, in these times and in all times: There is nothing we are not connected with and nothing we should not look at with wonder.E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(10/01/10 12:39am)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>There is a well-known quote from the Dalai Lama on a poster on my wall. It reads: “World peace must develop from inner peace. Peace is not the absence of violence. Peace is the manifestation of human compassion.”I have woken up to that quote every morning for months and wondered whether or not I agree with it. The first sentence I find adequate, if conventional. Certainly, there is an individual role in peace that is not frequently treated in politics. The second sentence I find likewise agreeable. Dichotomies such as that of peace and violence are rarely useful.It is the third sentence that I find myself coming back to. “Peace is the manifestation of human compassion.” It is that word, “compassion,” that I wonder about. Precisely what is compassion?Etymology tells me it has something to do with the Latin roots ‘com’ and ‘pati’, which imply a definition of compassion as togetherness in suffering. The popular understanding of the word adds in an element of individual, first-person concern — of worry for the other’s condition — that the Latin stems leave out. However, I doubt anyone would argue with this definition of compassion at first glance.This leaves me wondering: If compassion requires an element of suffering, does the Dalai Lama mean that in a world without suffering there can inherently be no peace?When I think of the core concept, “passion,” it does not immediately conjure up images of disease and torture and horror. It conjures up something more representative, something more holistically human. It conjures up all powerful emotions and actions — both suffering and ecstasy.And yet, why do we then limit the definition of compassion to suffering?Passion has grown etymologically to include both concepts of intense good and intense ill. Why not compassion also?Think of the quote again with this new understanding in mind. Peace is the manifestation of the capacity of human beings to feel together, in tragedy and in triumph. The effort for peace is then no longer the duty of some sad-sap conscience, but the ability of a biologically granted consciousness of the states of minds of others.In fact, the closer we get to a science of compassion, the more the evidence points away from the popular notion of suffering producing an emotional response in the viewer.Take, for example, a subset of neurons in the primate brain known as mirror neurons. Discovered only a few decades ago, these neurons fire (to put it very simply) both during action and during observation of that same action being performed by another. Such synchronicity is far more profound than mere pity.We in the Western world, in our plastic castles and our shiny cars, sometimes forget how little pity means and how ridiculous it is for us to cling to our consciences out of discomfort rather than understanding. The kind of compassion that really matters — that finds itself embodied in whatever peace we have — is not merely a compassion of suffering, but a compassion of the entire spectrum of human experience, including joy.And that is an idea that I can agree with, an idea that the Dalai Lama eloquently expressed: Peace is the manifestation of our connections to each other and our ability to intuit what it means to be “other”.
(09/24/10 12:09am)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>In my last column, I discussed a trend toward the fear of appearing prejudiced (particularly against other cultures or religions) which permeates much of the discourse on international events. Such a fear, as the column implied, can lead to placid treatments of issues which would otherwise see passionate debate and rejoinder. Here, I would like to explain what I feel is the most healthy attitude toward differences in culture. What can, in many cases, prevent or lessen the fear that surrounds the idea of “difference:” the attitude of humor.First of all, I believe that all cultures are inherently arbitrary, often irrational and usually hilarious. I believe that not only are these defining qualities of culture, but also that these are often the qualities that make culture interesting and beautiful.And yet, in the general opinion, at least, it is considered somehow insensitive, immoral or perilous to point out these qualities, particularly in a way which garners laughter.To insinuate that another’s culture is a cause for humor is branded as ethnocentrism or racism or any number of other “isms.” To insinuate that one’s own culture is a cause for humor is taken as a rejection or a disloyal denunciation of that culture.But such insinuations are not dangerous, or, at least, they certainly shouldn’t be. The awareness of the ridiculousness of many cultural traditions — including those practiced in one’s own culture — can be an extremely useful cognitive tool. In a sense, humor provides one of the sole perspectives through which one can maintain an eye that is both critical and open-minded.Humor is inherently adapted to pointing out the irrational; it’s a way to ask the members of a culture to assess their own history and motivation and better identify and understand the tenets of their own systems.And yet, humor, unlike the sort of moralizing that is frequently used as a social critique, carries with it no implicit assumption of rightness or wrongness.The attitude of humor, perhaps, skews a vision of certain cultural traditions toward the irrational in order to have abundant material for lampooning. For this reason, it is clearly hazardous to academic objectivity for cultural scientists to use humor as their main guide.However, it is certainly better for the average citizen than the combination of fear of prejudice, true prejudice and simple incomprehension that is the common attitude toward cultural differences.For the sake of a less flammable world, culture must be taken out of the fire of politics and treated for the hilarity and beauty it possesses.And once this attitude of humor is established, it will free us to look at those things which are not humorous and are difficult to find humorous by their very nature — those things such as genocide and honor killings and oppression of women — as something other than mere “cultural difference.”In this way, the initial attitude of humor and its subsequent natural transformation into horror can serve as the intuitive line between that which should be recognized as cultural peculiarity and that which should be condemned as inhumane.E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(09/15/10 9:26pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>Over the past week, I’ve heard a lot of opinions about the Quran burning controversy, but somehow I don’t think I’ve heard much of what seems to me to be the most obvious reaction: people are actually killing over this? That’s a sad statement about people.I’ve heard condemnations of every angle: Damn that pastor guy Mr. Jones for his public desecration of a sacred object, damn the news media for making such a hullabaloo, damn international leaders for not acting sooner or stronger, even damn the Internet for being so gullible to hot news. Now, regardless of the truth or idiocy of some of these perspectives, there seems to be one missing. What ever happened to the condemnation of irrational, reactionary violence?Protests and attacks in Afghanistan and (primarily) other countries in the Greater Middle East have led to the death and injury of dozens, if not more. Now, burning the Quran is not exactly a laudable action, but it is (at least) within the legal rights of the man who does it. Killing another human being is not a legal right.So, why on earth do international news sources not seem to find it necessary to comment on the absolutely repulsive nature of the acts that have followed this controversy? Perhaps they do so in the manner of pointing out the international implications — which is, quite simply, more of a way to condemn Mr. Jones (or to say nothing at all) than it is to condemn the perpetrators of violence.In my mind, there are three possible reasons for this.The first is mere familiarity. Violence in the Middle East, and particularly violence aimed at Westerners, is nothing new. International papers are riddled weekly with accounts of similar protests with similar death tolls. But, I wonder, when does violence ever become too common to deserve comment?The second reason is akin to the idea of “walking on eggshells.” Perhaps it is simply that the situation in the Middle East is so fragile that no news source wants to risk the responsibility of inciting violence by condemnation of that same violence. And yet, it seems to me that there may be inherent logical flaws to this. Again, I have to wonder, since when is it okay to bow down before violence and stifle rightful criticism?The third reason is perhaps the most interesting and common. It is the simple, but often damaging, desire to avoid looking prejudiced. Americans (and even news outlets) seem to live in fear of somehow accidentally insulting the Muslim faith. And, certainly, there are those who level such insults intentionally. But others simply look at situations such as the recent violence in Afghanistan and feel compelled to keep silent in deference to the slight possibility that such acts are spiritually warranted, or that to say they are not is to deny a religion its tenets. But violent acts committed in the name of a particular god do not necessarily reflect on the religion itself or the more peaceful practitioners of it. The sooner we are able to see that distinction, the sooner the rhetoric of violence will shed its daintiness and be able to condemn that which needs to be condemned.Violence should never beget violence, but it should also never beget silence.E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(09/15/10 9:25pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>The phrase, “I’m just paying my dues,” is one of the most frequently evoked on a college campus. The students half-asleep utter it to their friends when they wake up hung-over after a night of partying to attend lecture. Professors utter it to one another when they look at budget cuts and realize their salary is half of their colleague’s. But what does it mean to pay one’s dues? Does it mean to simply defer immediate pleasure in payment to a system set up long before one’s self? Does it mean to accept unhappiness in the hope of future happiness? It means both of these things, perhaps.It means, nearly always, to have a present feeling that is something of disappointment or boredom or frustration in the face of a power perceived to be greater or of more importance than one’s self.This greater thing is sometimes a structure, a process that is set to be followed and has been followed for many generations. The power of the institution. But, I wonder, is this structure giving as much as it takes? Is it worth unhappiness simply to have a path already laid out before oneself without effort? Some might argue that it is not simply the path, but also the fruition of the path: the happiness that awaits somehow prearranged at the end. The internship, the degree, the job offer, even eternity itself in some belief systems.Whatever the cost of the dues to be paid, the results are promised to alleviate all the annoyance of the paying.But I take issue with these ideas. I take issue with the assertion that success must always be preceded with suffering. Granted, there are many successful people who have fought tooth and nail for their right to success. But to say that this fight is simply a known expenditure is to lessen its value and its emotional weight. To say that all people must “pay their dues” is to draw equivalencies between the poverty-born millionaire and the bored business student in a mathematics class or the man in the McDonalds who hates his life and does not change it.“I’m just paying my dues” is just a colloquial way of saying, “I’m unhappy and I don’t know why but since everyone else is, it must be a fact of life.”Somehow, it seems too simplistic to suggest that people take control of their own trajectories. But, maybe that is exactly what needs to be said.Unhappiness in life is not a given. It is perfectly possible to enjoy every stage of a college career — and those who don’t are in the wrong degree path. It is perfectly possible to have the job one wants, the friends one wants, the life one wants.There is no critical mass of frustration after which Disney paradigms take over and woodland creatures do one’s daily chores. To be happy always requires the effort and attention of the present and is not guaranteed by any path or institution.And for those things in life that really are unavoidable — budget cuts, sleepy days, stubbed toes — it is perfectly possible to weigh the pros and cons and be done with it once and for all: no complaining. A job where you feel underpaid or a job elsewhere. Morning classes or no morning classes. Shoes or no shoes. Pick one and enjoy it.And, for all our sakes, don’t pretend that your own unhappiness is written into the fabric of the universe.E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(04/21/10 9:38pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>…and why you won’t convince me otherwise with platitudes:First, I am an idealist.I see absolutely no validity to the statement “The world is simply not like that.” The world is what we make it. Surely, there are things that do not hinge on our actions and decisions — but that is no excuse for dejection or ignorance. To face the world regardless of our own small space within it is the ultimate measure of who we are. Second, I believe in equality.I don’t accept doctrines that assign values to men and women at birth without their consent. I favor the sort of morality that gives a person the opportunity to become great based on his or her own talents and methods — not a prescribed morality of arbitrary rules and discrimination.Third, I believe the inclusion of the phrase “pursuit of happiness” in the Declaration of Independence was the best idea our founding fathers ever had.To say that happiness is a moral pursuit is not childish, nor is it “selfish.” There is a subtle truth to the idea that the world’s happiness as a whole is most easily achieved through individual means, whether this is culturally sanctioned or not. Consider this: is it more attainable for one person to have in their charge the fulfillment of exactly one person or of six billion and counting?Fourth, I put my trust in human ingenuity.There is nothing more beautiful to me than the mind in action, enacting transformations on the world. It is something unique about our species — not necessarily qualitatively so — but certainly quantitatively.Fifth, I refuse to bow my head before human suffering.I do not accept the doctrine that the world cannot be better. I hold hope the world is capable of functioning without systematic harm — and that the ideas of humanity can release that capability.Sixth, I am absolutely amazed by human consciousness.The first time I picked up an Ayn Rand novel, I wasn’t reading about economics or politics or even philosophy. I was reading about humanity — about the qualities of mind that characterize our daily interactions and the phenomenal power of the ability to think.Seventh, I believe in true altruism.I find utter delight in the happiness of others. I also find utter devastation in the thought that the man volunteering next to me might have been forced to do so or might be acting out of guilt rather than inherent pleasure.Finally, I believe one can consider a text on an intellectual level without relying on the absolute qualities of the author.I don’t give a damn whether or not Ayn Rand embodied her own philosophy. The words are not only hers; they are also mine. I read them; I consider them; I measure them; and I contemplate them where I believe they are important.There are those who like to think they understand an idea if they know the politically correct terms in which to insult it.But I challenge you all to think something out of the ordinary and truly consider the things that are so often rejected without assessment. If you cannot do that, you have no right to say you have read Ayn Rand.E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(04/07/10 9:45pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>Often times in life, we find ourselves under the grip of that old question: Was it fate, or was it my own skill? Did something internal about my self contribute to the whole situation, or was I just swept along with the suddenly favorable seas?No matter the situation, I know certainly that many of us are blatantly biased toward the former answer. Psychologists and lay people agree: We like the idea that our own excellence is a product of free will.But I wonder: What if the circumstances changed? What if the question was not fate or skill but, instead, fate or incompetence? Did something internal about my self contribute to my own downfall, or was I just at the hands of something more powerful?Suddenly, it seems, the bias changes. Suddenly, the majority are apt to put fate down as a final reason and utterly disregard their own ability to affect their own lives.In some ways, I know the rationale for such justifications. It is a comfort, perhaps, to lay responsibility on the shoulders of another more indefinite force. And yet, that can’t be the whole story. Why is it so much more comforting to think fate has the upper hand whenever we fail? Personally, I find the whole idea utterly backwards.When I look at the pieces of my life of which I am not particularly proud, I do not find fate a comforting prospect. Fate is the ultimate trap — releasing responsibility into thin air and removing every possibility for positive change.I find the answer of incompetence oddly reassuring. It is something true about my self that I can comprehend. It is not an imaginary force but something tangible and stable.What is more, it is something I can grasp and manipulate into new potential. It gives me comfort precisely because it gives me control.Perhaps people no longer like to admit they are fond of control, but I find control to be a unique and wonderful faculty. We simply have the metaphors all wrong. Control is not the omnipotent man-deity. Control is simply the pilot, who is, as ever, in a constant battle with gravity and all sorts of technological hiccups.When we forget what it means to have a pilot, we forget one of the most fundamentally beautiful things about our human nature: we are conscious and aware. We receive feedback from our environment, and we enact our will on the world. To say otherwise is to deny the self entirely.Fate should not be a comfort; it should be only another piece of the world in which we — the pilots — must navigate.When we fail, we should be able to assess how we contributed to that failure. And when we succeed, we should be able to stand up and show our success to the world without guilt.E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(03/24/10 9:14pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>When I was a child, watching cartoons on a Saturday morning used to be a unique and stolen pleasure. Today, it makes me sad to see all the strange and backward ideas we seem to be contributing as our creative gift to the next generation.The ever bony Wile E. Coyote reaches his emaciated and dully colored fingers toward the bright and brilliant Road Runner, an epic illustration of malevolence vying for revenge against goodness. It seems the only lesson we are supposed to learn is that there is nothing about Evil that is not accompanied by wrinkles and drab fur and nothing about Good that is not topped off with a shiny yellow crest.I can only hope that such an oversimplified message is as terrifying to you as it is to me. Perhaps we can excuse that little iniquity with the notion that our children learn better from clear cut distinctions and will certainly grow out of them in time.And yet, do we ever really grow out of the initial black-and-white statements of belief we learn as children, or are we forever and always the sages of the logic of false dichotomies?In every introductory psychology course, the first myth that must be dispelled is that of the nature-nurture debate. For hundreds of years, philosophers and scientists alike have been swayed by the easy conclusion of an either/or understanding — genetics versus environment. But such a divided answer is never correct.In a similar way, we cut apart the fields of art and science, teaching students that they must choose their place in one or the other. We call the first creative and the second analytical. We speak of the emotive and the rational as if they are separate. But we are not telling the whole story when we rely on such categories.Unfortunately, I think it might be true that we have a tendency to hold onto those black and white ideas that once marked our childhoods. And even more unfortunately, I think it might be a fundamental danger to our ability to make judgments.To see the world as if everything comes in clearly delineated pairs is not a comprehensive view of reality. For every instant in which a dichotomy is useful, it is also treacherous.When we do not understand the flow between what we call good and evil, we become stuck in our ability to be diplomatic or understand opposition.When we speak of nature and nurture in separate ways, we risk missing all the lessons that can be learned about our humanity by way of understanding their mutual interaction. And when we call art and science the children of two different worlds, we neglect our greatest assets for ingenuity in favor of easier categorization. Perhaps it is time that we learn to celebrate a different framework — a consideration of reality in which concepts are capable of flow and ideas are malleable and subject to frequent reworking with new information. Perhaps, just once, we should see the big picture as it really is — without the illusion of imagined dichotomy.E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(03/04/10 12:04am)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>As the clock hits the 5:30 p.m. mark, I find myself looking around Finch’s Brasserie and wondering where all these people came from. Now sure, Finch’s is pretty high on the list of well-patronized Bloomington restaurants, but I’ve never seen it filled to capacity on a Friday night. Then it hits me: the Michael Pollan lecture. I’m surrounded by people either too principled, or too guilt-prone, to eat at McDonald’s before hearing the bestselling author discuss his theories on good food.There are many things about Finch’s that make it fit the bill: The food is local, fresh and served in portions that can actually fit in the stomach of a normal-sized adult. As I’m flipping through my menu, I notice another popular draw for the restaurant: its association with the Slow Food movement — an international effort that emphasizes local produce and local restaurants.Now, that sounds great and all, but as I’m sitting at the table waiting for a drink, I’m beginning to wonder when and how I found myself in the company of all these food moralists. And why haven’t they sniffed it out yet that I’m not one of them?Sure, I shop at Bloomingfoods. I buy my granola in bulk, and I put organic oranges in my pockets when I walk out the door to class. I eat generic cereal with whole wheat nuggets and flaxseed instead of Froot Loops. I’ve never even eaten at a Burger King.But here’s the thing: I don’t care whether or not the food I’m eating has a ridiculously healthy amount of fiber. I just happen to think whole grains taste better than white-bread.I don’t care whether or not the restaurant I’m supporting is waging an epic battle against the evil corporate mega-giants. I just happen to see a positive correlation between local restaurants and the quality of the food.And I don’t even care whether or not the chicken I’m eating had a happy life on a happy farm with happy friends. I just care whether or not it tastes good. And somehow, the free-range chickens just happen to be extra juicy.I’m proud to be a patron of some of the finest restaurants in Bloomington (and in my opinion, some of the best grocery stores). But I’m absolutely astonished by the stigma of popular morality that comes along with it. Because honestly, I think it’s a much more honorable thing to support a restaurant because of its delicious cuisine rather than its possible associations with activist groups or its ability to keep you squeezed into a spring break bikini.In fact, I think there are very few things a consumer can do that are more honorable than supporting a business based on its pure excellence.So, here’s the answer. Why am I an organic-cereal-bar-loving, bulk-buying hippie of a consumer? Because that’s what my tummy wants to eat.E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(02/17/10 9:52pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>We all like the idea of sequestering an adult world of pain, poverty and confusion. Perhaps it makes us feel a little bit stronger for having come upon it and survived. Perhaps we think it makes us important as the guardians of the underworld. Or perhaps the old sentimentality really is true and we just can’t stand the thought of the inexperienced suffering at the hands of something so cruel as life. But whatever the reasons, one has to wonder at the continuing logic that speaks against telling children the truths of the “real world.”This past week, a pair of incidents in British schools brought such judgments to the forefront. First, there was teacher Andrea Charman, who decided to teach her class about the realities of farming, including the end-of-the-road slaughterhouse for a lamb that the students fostered. Not only did protesters insist that Charman was, in fact, a murderer, they also pointed to her permanent and deep-rooted desire to corrupt and wound the sensibilities of the younger generation.Now, sure, anyone can see that maybe it’s not a great plan to butcher your own pet. But it’s hardly an act of indelible corruption to teach children (many of whom came from farm homes in the first place) about the process behind the food on their plates.Not far from the first episode, a second clash of sensitivities occurred when administrators at Ashcombe Primary School chose to ban Valentine’s Day traditions as a protection against the harsh feelings that come with first rejections. Teachers emphasized the gloomy and cheerless effects of holiday celebrations, despite sharing their own joyful reminiscences when further probed.Why do adults seem so sure that the very things that didn’t traumatize them as children somehow will traumatize the next generation? Perhaps people overestimate out of a real compassion; however, adults miss the truly important things about the situation when they oversimplify the consequences.Children are resilient members of the same world to which adults belong. There isn’t a magic marker line written somewhere between the world of make-believe tea parties and the world of complex relationships and brutality, as much as we want there to be one.Besides, what is this “real world” we’re all sure is so miserable? Maybe we think it’s a special place just because we live there. Maybe children have known about it all along in a far more sophisticated way than we imagine.Have you talked to any children lately? Their understanding might not be the same as our understanding, but in most instances it is just as thorough. The segregation of generations based on their ability to endure hardship is an invisible partition that cannot be mimicked by real-life events.The truth is, we don’t have all the pain and ignorance of the world wrapped up in neat little bows to be handed out at age 18. If we did, there would be quite a few 18-year-olds all over the planet dropping dead from shock and awe. E-mail: cmcglass@indiana.edu
(02/03/10 10:28pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>With the economic reality of the recession, many universities have begun to question which of their departments are particularly worthy. While it is usually the humanities that take the hardest hit, there are other avenues of question that appeal to the common person.“Why not theoretical physics?” someone might ask. “Human beings are far more affected by the literature they read than by the funny little names scientists keep inventing for invisible particles.”Beyond the ignorance inherent in such a question, the idea remains: does science matter beyond its implications for public policy and the social good? Today’s higher-ups rely on a weird mix of Marxism and utilitarian thought when they speak of funding. They seek sentimental answers as to whether or not an avenue of research will ease the suffering of humanity. They worry about upsetting the social psyche with new instances of radical truth. They insist more and more on a science that panders, rather than one that explores.Are they right? Should science be inextricably stretched out on the table with the welfare system? Personally, I don’t regard that as a practically sound idea, for many reasons.Chief among them is the question of whether or not science can even function within such deconstructive boundaries. It is as if we have lost the capacity to understand the links between inquiry and product.Science does not spring from the ground as a finished cure for human ills; it is a process. It is a system and a set of principles, not a mass-production factory.I am a rabid and uncompromising idealist. When I imagine the beginnings of science, I don’t see a first man miraculously realizing that his favorite root cures his neighbors’ ills. I see a first man, brave in the face of the wilderness, using his mind and his curiosity to create a discourse with the world outside of himself. In fact, I can’t comprehend a single scenario in which the first example could have preceded the second. In order to allow for the advances that benefit human life, empirical discoveries must serve as the principal heralds.Surely, it is easy today to look at seemingly disparate fields like pharmacology and theoretical physics and make claims of priority. Yet, it would be irrational to exhort the idea that pharmacology is the more crucial element to society without understanding the intricate intellectual history that lead to its inception. For many, the argument may be perfectly understandable, but the results too disappointing. They still remember the ills of the day-to-day and cannot help but cling to the idea of imminent release on the public dollar. However, I offer a solution besides the applicable and the medicinal. I offer a solution forgotten by many. I offer passion — passion that begins and ends in scientific sensuality.Perhaps humanity would not suffer so much if it turned its eyes to the world at hand for a few moments and recognized the wonder inherent in perception and inquiry.
(01/21/10 2:18am)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>With the recent publication of Mark Halperin and John Heilemann’s book “Game Change,” Americans everywhere have gotten their first delicious look at the dirty laundry involved in the 2008 election. Unexpectedly, the one exposure with the most news coverage in the past week was not any grimy secret of the current administration but an off-handed and racially charged remark made by Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid.The book cites Reid as saying Obama’s success as a “black” democratic party candidate would come from his “light skinned” appearance and because he spoke “with no Negro dialect, unless he wanted to have one.” On the one hand, it is truly pathetic that a leading member of the Senate would spout such archaic and unworthy comments. On the other, who’s surprised? It is hardly unknown to everyday Americans that racism is alive and well. While Reid’s words are unacceptable from a social perspective, they are unfortunately true in their assessment of public opinion.The surprise comes when one notices where all the news coverage criticism is directed: not at Reid, the author of this childish 1950s sentiment, but at Obama. Critics express their disbelief at Obama’s tongue-in-cheek handling of the situation, arguing that he is consistently missing “teachable moments” and ducking his responsibility to address the nation on important issues.The question arises: In the light of other domestic and international issues, should we expect Obama to focus on race just because he is part black? Would we expect the same from a white leader?Surely, Obama has inherited a unique position for advocating such civil rights concerns. As the first multiracial American president, he shuffles the subject to the forefront without even trying. However, is it truly his duty to use his position as a platform for addressing the issue?I am sure there are many civil rights leaders the world over who would love to be in Obama’s position at this very moment, itching to take up the “teachable moment” reins and usher in a post-racial era. However, I am equally sure that there are myriad lines of economists, health care professionals and anti-war activists who would love to take over, also.While voters can select their candidates based on one-level issues, presidents do not have the same luxury in politics. Rather, presidents must address the nation on a global plane, remembering their first grade teacher’s advice about “picking your battles.”America is undeniably an environment full of racism. Anyone who says otherwise lives in an idyllic world of make believe. But America is many other things, also. It is a country with an economy in desperate need of creative solutions. It is a country chest-deep in questionable conflicts and policies with a unique position to determine the course and characteristics of worldwide war in the future.Obama is not a “black” leader; he is the leader of America. I, for one, applaud him for realizing that remarks made several years ago are considerably less important than the immediate reality of today.