Tag: culture

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The selfie trap

Selfie culture and mindfulness

Fresno Bee, January 8, 2016

  • Examining the tyranny of the selfie
  • Selfies are signs of narcissism, exhibitionism
  • Mindful absorption is a key to happiness

Selfies are everywhere. Celebrities snap them. Popes and presidents have taken them. And dumb criminals record their own crimes.

Democratic presidential candidate Hillary Clinton, at left on screen, shoots a selfie with supporters after a town hall meeting on Jan. 4, 2016, at NewBo City Market in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.Hillary Clinton recently lamented what she called the “tyranny of the selfie.” Voters want selfies with candidates – and don’t really care much about the issues. Somehow we think that if we get an awkward picture of ourselves, we’ve accomplished something.

Selfies are not without risk. Dozens of people have been killed or injured trying to get the perfect selfie. A student fell to her death recently in the Philippines while attempting a dramatic selfie from a rooftop.

In order to take a selfie, you have to turn your back on the action. This is obviously dangerous. It is also symbolic. The selfie combines narcissism, voyeurism and exhibitionism with disengagement and distraction.

Our narcissism is obvious. We want badly composed close-ups taken at arm’s length. And we send them out to the world.

Our culture encourages us to believe that if it is not recorded, it is not valuable. We are voyeurs, obsessively watching other people do things – on TV and online. We are also exhibitionists, shamelessly displaying ourselves to the world.

Very little remains private in the age of voyeurism and exhibitionism. Sexting has democratized pornography. It is quite common for people – including teenagers and an occasional politician – to exchange naked photos.

Even apart from the naughty stuff, there is something awry in a culture where everything is done with and for the camera. One problem is that we often think that if we’ve taken a picture, we’ve done our part.

Students in my classes no longer take notes. Instead they take pictures of what is projected on the overhead. But taking a picture is no substitute for taking notes – or for thinking.

Here is a New Year’s resolution: to remain thoughtfully focused on the moment without fumbling with our phones.

Human beings are happiest when we are immersed in activity. A happy life involves mindful engagement with the world. Folks who are fully engrossed in the world often forget to take a picture of it.

Sure, the moment will pass. If you don’t take a picture, you might forget it. But the recipe for happiness it to let this moment blaze in all its glory, then move on and find joy in the next. The happiest people lead busy lives, which rarely leaves time to look back at their own selfies.

Happiness is not captured in a selfie and exhibited online. Happiness is an ongoing activity. Happiness is not something we are; it is something we do. Happiness does not come from watching others or ourselves; it comes from doing things.

Happiness, like love and learning, requires engaged activity. If you want to be happy, get busy doing good things. If you want to learn something or love someone, be focused, engrossed and aware.

Some traditions advise that enlightenment comes from learning to do nothing. The world’s contemplative traditions maintain that serenity is found in silent stillness. Meditation calms the mind and helps us focus.

Attentive absorption in the present is a cure for the distracted frenzy of our selfie-snapping world. To be mindfully engaged with what we do and those we do it with, we need to look at them directly instead of mugging for the camera.

Meditation and other contemplative practices aim to cure us of our obsessive focus on ourselves. It is difficult to image a Zen master picking up a phone in order to record nirvana. It is also difficult to imagine Jesus posing for a selfie with his disciples.

Enlightenment, love and ethics are antithetical to the narcissism and disengagement of our age. Ethical engagement is not undertaken with an eye to the camera. And a picture is often worth much less than careful attention to the moment and those we love.

We take pictures of ourselves doing things in order to prove to others (and to ourselves, I suppose) that we are having fun. But turning your back on the action to prove that it’s fun breaks the spell of the moment.

Here is some advice from the sages: Be mindful in your deeds. Learn from stillness. Love without reserve. And if you must take a selfie, watch your step.

Read more here: http://www.fresnobee.com/living/religion/article53799895.html#storylink=cpy
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Contemplating the arts

Take time to contemplate the arts in this trivial digital age

Fresno Bee September 6, 2014 

Poetry, philosophy, literature and art are uniquely human activities. Other animals play, sing and even dance. But no other animal contemplates its own existence.

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Philosopher Contemplating Death

In our quick digital era, one wonders whether there is time for contemplation. Speed and multitasking can undermine focus needed to study a poem, observe a work of art or digest a philosophical insight.

Our digital tools give us unprecedented opportunity to explore the humanities. We can download the great works of literature and philosophy and carry them with us in phones and tablets. We can publish our own reflections with the click of a mouse. Art works are easily copied and forwarded.

This could be a golden age of philosophical reflection and poetic insight. There are hidden backwaters of the Internet where poetry, philosophy and art flourish. But much of the mainstream flows in another direction. The Internet deluges us with foolish factoids, meaningless memes, pornographic pictures and vicious videos. The rising tide of trivia can easily sweep us away.

Our attention is divided by the pace and flow of information. Even conversation suffers: We text instead of call. We dread the spiraling buffer sign and multitask while we wait. Our attention bounces along among scattered bits of quickly moving data.

Speedy multitasking is not all bad. In some cases, a brief text is all you need. When you only want data, a quick download is great. The trivia passing through our gadgets can be surfed and skimmed.

But careful, slow and deliberate attention is important. Life’s most meaningful moments deserve our time and undivided attention: falling in love, giving birth, growing old, dying. Unhurried, sustained reflection is a mature human ability, as is the ability to listen, read and think.

It takes time and concentration to understand Shakespeare or Plato or Picasso. Deliberate, undivided effort is needed to write a poem, construct an argument or analyze a work of literature. The same intellectual skill is needed in the sciences, in law and in other fields. But the humanities are unique in forcing us to slow down, breathe deeply and contemplate.

Shakespeare once compared his love to a summer’s day. That’s a fact (download Sonnet 18 and you’ll see). But what does it mean? Summer days are slow and luxurious. Unfortunately, beauty fades, as does summer. Is there hope? Shakespeare hints that poetry holds beauty in place against the ravages of time.

Does the Internet also preserve us against swift-footed time? You could post Shakespeare’s sonnet on your website along with your other pictures and memes. But copying and pasting is not understanding. Meaning cannot be downloaded. There is no app for insight.

Good poetry is precise. Haiku can be inspiring. Shakespeare’s sonnets are 140 syllables long. Concise communication is a useful art. But we’ve shaved this down to tweets of 140 characters. And we’ve compressed the time we need to reflect upon the meaning of things, while filling the void with data.

Data transfer is to thinking as sex is to love. Human beings could exchange DNA in a quick genetic data dump. But love is much more than this. Love is a mysterious communion of souls haunted by a whiff of eternity. It involves contemplation: You linger, savor and dream about your beloved.

The same is true of poetry, philosophy and other attempts to fathom the human spirit. Lingering, savoring, dreaming and contemplating are the modes and moods of the humanities. Through them we rise above the manic din of data exchange and hover for a moment in defiance of swift-footed, devouring time.

Our electronic exchanges are like quick splashes of water that run off dry land without sinking in. Philosophy, poetry and the arts are stickier, gentler and denser. When given time and attention, they provide deep irrigation for the human spirit.

It is not surprising that the value of the humanities is best expressed in metaphor. Metaphors force us to slow down and think. It is not enough to simply state that the humanities are valuable in themselves — that’s a fact to be posted, tweeted and repeated. We also need to see that poetry, philosophy and art provide an oasis of contemplation in a desert of data.

Read more here: http://www.fresnobee.com/2014/09/05/4107180_ethicstake-time-to-contemplate.html?rh=1#storylink=cpy

 

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Calendars, Politics, Religion, and History

Culture has deep influence on Easter

Fresno Bee, April 18, 2014

Political and religious histories give shape to our lives. Holidays like Easter remind us of the deep influence of culture. The power of culture extends even into the way we organize and count time.

Consider the mystery of the date of Easter. The Easter date is determined according to an arcane system, which links the phases of the moon and the occurrence of the vernal equinox. This is based upon the ancient calendar for calculating the celebration of Passover. The Easter dating system, codified in the fourth century, continues to influence us. Secular spring break is linked to this ancient notion of ritual time.

To complicate matters, western and eastern churches celebrate Easter according to different calendars (although they converge this year). Eastern churches rely on the Julian calendar, named after Julius Caesar who instituted it. That calendar does not properly calculate leap years. Over millennia, it slowly became untethered from the solstices and equinoxes. Western churches updated their calendars in the 16th century under Pope Gregory XIII.

Popes and emperors determine how we keep time. Two of our months are named after Roman Emperors. July is named after Julius Caesar. August is named after Augustus. And our calendar is the Gregorian calendar, named after Pope Gregory.

Our seven-day week appears to reflect the Judeo-Christian creation story: God labored six days and rested on the seventh. But the Genesis story is not the only source. The names of the days of the week commemorate the seven ancient planetary gods: Moon, Sun, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. Saturday is named for Saturn, Sunday for the Sun and Monday for the moon.

The English names for the other days of the week reflect the names of Germanic gods. For example, Thursday is named for Thor. This trace of paganism in our calendar is a reminder that our culture is an impure mixture.

All of this makes one wonder whether we know what we are doing when we commemorate these ancient stories. Does it make sense to celebrate a Christian holiday like Easter on a day named after the Sun in a calendar with Roman imperial residue?

Things could be different. Christians might like to rename the days of the week to purge the calendar of pagan elements. Secularists might want to update the calendar and make it more rational. Is there a good reason for seven-day week that is not connected with ancient theology?

A scientific calendar would fix our odd 12-month year and its irregular number of days per month. A more rational system would make each month exactly four weeks long. We would then need 13 months (plus one day) to complete a 365-day year. (Do the math and you’ll see!). But perhaps superstitions about the number 13 would prevent that.

In the 1790s French revolutionaries attempted to rationalize the calendar. They created a 10-day week, along with a decimal system for clocks. The revolutionaries also introduced a decimal system for measuring other things, which eventually became the European metric system.

Unlike the metric system, decimal calendars and clocks did not catch on. Some traditions are apparently woven too deeply into the fabric of our experience. It is difficult to imagine a week without a Thors-day or Easter not falling on the Sun’s day.

We inherit a cultural matrix of meaning, language, traditions and symbols. Although our cultural inheritance is not permanently fixed, it does form a nearly immovable background for our lives. Imagine how difficult it would be to change our calendar or time-counting methods.

However, the Easter season reminds us of the possibility of freedom and a new future. The Hebrews escaped from Pharaoh during Passover. Jesus escaped from death at Easter. Whether these stories are true or not, one cannot deny the transformative power they symbolize. This includes the most radical change in counting time: the move from B.C. to A.D. Imagine the difficulty of the cultural shift that led from Roman paganism to Christianity.

We are captive to the great cycles of objective time. The motions of the planet — the equinoxes and lunar phases — are all beyond our control. But human beings give meaning to these changes and create a cultural world that is as real as the stars themselves

Read more here: http://www.fresnobee.com/2014/04/18/3884398/culture-has-a-deep-influence-on.html#storylink=cpy

 

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Dan Brown’s ‘Inferno’ raises ethical questions

Dan Brown’s ‘Inferno’ raises ethical questions, reminds us to appreciate the humanities

June 14, 2013

Would you be willing to destroy half of humanity in order to save the human species from going extinct? Would it be acceptable to involuntarily sterilize people in an effort to prevent overpopulation? Those are the central questions of Dan Brown’s new novel, “Inferno.”

Brown’s novel is fun summer reading that poses troubling ethical questions. It is also a reminder of the value of the humanities. The villains in Brown’s novels are zealots. In “The Da Vinci Code” the bad guys were religious fanatics. In this novel, the villains are mad scientists. The hero is a tweedy humanities professor who loves art and poetry.

While “Inferno” isn’t great literature, it inspires appreciation for art, poetry, philosophy and history. It celebrates the skills learned in the humanities: to learn to read carefully, to think broadly and deeply and to understand the symbols and cultural artifacts that surround us.

Brown’s villains are coldly inhumane: They think population control can be justified by simple mathematics. There are too many people, so something must be done. This idea is rooted in Machiavelli, the Renaissance theorist who warned that teeming population would inevitably be purged. Terrorists are often Machiavellian in thinking that the end justifies the means. Machiavellian idealists treat human beings as things to be manipulated and quantities to be calculated rather than as persons to be valued and loved.

Study in the humanities teaches us to be wary of Machiavellian schemes. Philosophers have long warned that nothing straight can be constructed from the crooked timber of humanity. We are not wise enough or virtuous enough to engineer reality or impose final solutions.

The humanities remind us that uncritical certainty is linked to hubris. Human beings achieve moments of profound insight and sparkling beauty. But these moments do not last forever. Indeed, they are often undone by the zealots and idealists who insist that they know how to save humankind from itself.

Brown’s novel is set in Italy. It celebrates the art of the Renaissance. Great art reminds us of the power of human genius. But history warns us against taking ourselves too seriously. Before the Renaissance, the Greeks and Romans also created luminous works of genius. The cycles repeat. Saviors come and go. Civilizations rise and fall. Each generation is plagued by its own narcissism, thinking that its creative genius is unique and unprecedented.

But historical awareness should make us wary of that sort of narcissism. A sense of history should make us modest in assessing the value of our own ideals. It should also inspire skepticism toward those who propound simple technological solutions to complex human problems.

So what can we do about the population problem? A solution requires something more than science and technology. Purely technical solutions — such as forced sterilization — would work on a population of rodents or insects. But human beings are not pests to be controlled. We inhabit a world of spirit and ideas. We hope, we dream; and we create art, literature and philosophy. We also love.

Brown’s “Inferno” borrows its title from Dante Alighieri’s famous poem about hell. Dante was a romantic whose poetry was inspired by Beatrice, a beautiful woman he loved from afar. Dante recounts that his love for Beatrice kindled a flame of charity that moved him to forgive everyone, including his enemies. Love transforms us, making us ethical and inspiring work of creative genius.

The population problem is driven by sex. Machiavellian technologists may argue that sex should be subjected to mathematical control. But the humane solution is to find a way to transform sex into love — to broaden and sublimate the sex drive in ways made possible by art, literature, religion and philosophy.

People need to be educated and empowered to control their own bodies and reproductive lives. But we also need to be reminded that there is more to life than mating and reproducing.

Technology without humanity can easily become heartless. The study of the humanities cures that sort of spiritual sterility. And it reminds us to beware of zealots offering quick fixes for deeply human problems. The humanities won’t save the world. But they remind us about those works of love, genius and beauty that make humankind worth saving.

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Weighing in on the wicked waste of the West

Fiala on ethics: Weighing in on the wicked waste of the West

By Andrew Fiala

Fresno Bee, Friday, May. 31, 2013 | 06:15 PM

As citizens of Fresno vote on how we manage our garbage, it’s a good time to reflect on the ethics of trash. Our waste-disposal habits have changed and they will evolve further.

My grandparents burned garbage and yard waste in an incinerator. My grandfather also smoked cigars and was fond of dirty language. He would have laughed at recycling. Although filthy language is still around, smoking and burning have given way to recycling bins and smoking bans. We’ve come a long way.

The new frontier in the ethics of garbage is the issue of quantity. Americans generate more than 4 pounds of garbage per person per day — well over 1,200 pounds per person per year. That’s the highest per capita garbage production rate in the world. The World Bank recently predicted that at current rates of development, the global garbage volume will nearly double in 15 years to more than 2 billion tons of garbage per year. Is there an ethical obligation to reduce the amount of garbage we create?

Some reduction would be easy. American trash includes hundreds of billions of disposable cups and plastic bags. Those cups and bags are single-use items; we use them once and throw them away. Plastic bags have been subject to special criticism. They deteriorate into small plastic bits, polluting the oceans. The bags blow loose from garbage bins and landfills, prompting some to call them “urban tumbleweed.” Some cities have banned them. The California Senate just rejected a bill proposing a state-wide ban.

Some may think that we are entitled to produce as much garbage as we can pay for. Is there a right to make garbage? Should the affluent be proud of their profligate trash production? Imagine a rich man gazing smugly at his overflowing garbage bin, thinking that its fullness signifies a life well lived. If that image is absurd, that’s because we’re not proud of waste.

The higher path may be the one strewn with the least amount of garbage. Some books and websites tout zero-waste lifestyles. Advocates of trash-free living brag that they no longer need to take out the garbage. And they view waste production as, well, trashy. Perhaps there is something indecent or tacky about creating lots of garbage. Perhaps in the future, we’ll be ashamed to ask for a single-use cup or a plastic grocery bag. And we’ll proudly display our reusable mugs and cloth shopping bags.

Social norms regarding trash disposal have progressed. Litterbugs and trash burners are subject to fines and social disapprobation. As of yet, there is no social penalty for filling your garbage can to the brim. No one views it as rude, obnoxious or selfish to pile up mass amounts of garbage. But as the population grows and the dumps fill up, we may come to be ashamed of the sheer quantity of our refuse.

One difficulty here is that it is not clear exactly who is harmed if you generate excessive garbage or who is benefited if your bin is empty. The harms and benefits of trash production are abstract, concerning ecological and economic issues. But the ethics of garbage may involve a more personal issue of spiritual hygiene.

The old saying that cleanliness is next to godliness points toward the need to minimize waste. The goal of reducing trash may be part of a broader ascetic discipline, which wants to eliminate spiritual garbage. A trash-free lifestyle might also condemn filthy language, scummy thoughts and dirty jokes. It might also warn against wasteful extravagance.

But you can’t live without generating a bit of waste. And sometimes a dirty word is the right word. The key is balance and moderation: to produce the right amount of garbage at the right time. The ancient Greeks revered Hygeia, the goddess of sanitation and hygiene. Hygeia also represented harmony and health.

Garbage-free abstinence is extreme. A devotee of moderation may still wonder, however, whether our prodigious garbage production isn’t a sign of imbalance and dis-ease. As our trash bins bulge, are we happy, healthy and harmonious?

Perhaps saintly beings can live purely, without trash. The rest of us struggle every day to keep our language clean, our minds out of the gutter and our garbage cans from overflowing.