While everyone else is busy speculating about the potential significance of Microsoft’s new mobile contender, the Kin, I just discovered last night that I am much more interested in the content of their new ads, namely Portland’s March Fourth Marching Band, who’ve been repping it for the Northwest Contingent of the 1-5 Circus Scene since 2003, and who performed at an independent music festival I helped produce back in 07 (pictured above doing just that, and below, adding some cool for Microsoft):
Last night, in a special election to replace the late Senator, Ted Kennedy, my home state of Massachusetts elected its first Republican to the senate since 1978, Scott Brown.
Massachusetts has never elected a Republican senator during my lifetime. I’ve never known anything but Democrats (except for one Governor, once), from my home state my ENTIRE LIFE. It’s always been other states that voted Republican. Red states. Far away. Where rich families would inevitably end up like the Bushes. Not the Kennedys. And it’s not even like the Bay State is all uber liberal, vegan hipsters or anything — Massachusetts is very much a working class kind of place — it’s just that we’ve always been Democrats, and that’s that. Even New York, which is by and large perceived as the liberal bastion of the East Coast is really only Democratic in the City. Massachusetts has never had the “upstate” vs. “downtown” battle. The first shots of the American revolution were fired in the suburbs, after all, and as a first generation immigrant from the USSR, growing up in Boston since the age of six, the Bay State’s staunch Democratism has always had a sort of romance to it. Like, of course, there would be a unified sense of responsibility to uphold Democracy’s legacy here, kind of thing, in its New World cradle and all.
The realization that there was a maddening political divide tearing up the rest of the country didn’t even cross my radar until I was in college. Once I grew up and actually started to understand the polarizing nature of partisan politics, looking back on Massachusetts with that new perspective I think I just sort of assumed that my state was somehow smarter than the rest (all those college kids aside). We’d found a good thing, and we were sticking with it. We could not be tempted.
More a unifying sense of civic pride and responsibility than icky fundamentalist ideology, Democrat isn’t just how Massachusetts votes voted, it’s a part of our cultural identity. Like the Red Sox. Which is why the idea of a Republican winning the senate race in Massachusetts is just completely insane to me. It’s like imagining Boston throwing a parade down Comm. Ave. to celebrate the Yankees winning the World Series. I can’t even compute how this could happen. (Though, Jon Stewart explains it below, rather well).
In the 1972 Presidential election, Nixon won by a landslide. It was the second biggest electoral vote margin in United States history. Nixon got the majority of votes in 49 states. His opponent, George McGovern, could only get one: Massachusetts. A year later, Nixon’s VP, Spiro Agnew, resigned after being charged with bribery, extortion, and tax fraud. And the year after that, Nixon resigned in the face of impeachment over the Watergate Scandal. That was when wiseasses from the one state McGovern carried started sporting bumper stickers that read, “Don’t blame me. I’m from Massachusetts.” A sentiment that was more recently revived as “Don’t blame me. I voted for Kerry.” That’s just how Massachusetts is. Or… was.
Regardless of wherever else I’ve lived or been, Massachusetts has felt something like an insurance policy: No matter how crazy things got elsewhere, I could always go back to Blue. Until now, when the election of the first Republican senator in over 3 decades is an event so monumentally unimaginable, it shakes the whole foundation of what I’ve known as a lifelong institution.
The 7.0 peak from the Haiti earthquake indicated by a seismic analyst at the Caltech Seismological Laboratory. (AP Photo/Damian Dovarganes)
On Tuesday, January 12, I went into a meeting at 3:00pm PST, and when I came out, about an hour and a half later I quickly discovered that something had happened in Haiti during those 90 minutes of radio internet silence. As everyone in the connected world now knows, a 7.0 magnitude earthquake (the worst in 200 years) hit Port-au-Prince, the capital of the small Caribbean country. Twelve aftershocks greater than magnitude 5.0 followed, destroying basically a third of the entire city, displacing millions, and killing possibly thousands more.
The badly damaged presidential palace – the center portion formerly 3 stories tall. (REUTERS/Eduardo Munoz)
Displaced residents sleeping in the street after the earthquake.
(REUTERS/Eduardo Munoz)
People looking at earthquake victims lying on the street, Wednesday, Jan. 13, 2010. (AP Photo/Lynne Sladky)
And those are some of the less disturbing images of what’s going on.
Scrolling through the photo essay I know I got just a small inkling of the immense devastation in the already impoverished country, but then came shots of something that struck me as even more profound:
Venezuelan rescuers loading medical equipment onto a plane heading to Port-au-Prince, on January 13, 2010 at the Simon Bolivar international airport in Caracas. (JUAN BARRETO/AFP/Getty Images)
British Search and Rescue teams preparing to leave Gatwick airport, West Sussex to provide assistance to relief and rescue teams in Haiti. (CARL DE SOUZA/AFP/Getty Images).
Taiwan rescue teams standing by at the fire department in Taipei as they prepare to head to Haiti. (SAM YEH/AFP/Getty Images)
Los Angeles County Fire Department urban search and rescue team loading equipment before traveling to Haiti to help with rescue efforts (REUTERS/Gus Ruelas)
Rescue dogs awaiting departure for Haiti at the Torrejon military airbase in Torrejon de Ardoz, Spain. (AP Photo/Daniel Ochoa de Olza)
It’s like stills from the third act of a Roland Emmerich movie, except it’s not. This is the future, now. Decry globalization all you want, but to me this is the true significance of the word. A tragedy in a place of no real political or economic interest, can literally overnight mobilize the aid and compassion of the entire world. According to TechCrunch, within just a few hours of the earthquake the Obama administration set up a special number and got the major U.S. carriers on board to allow people to very easily donate $10 to the Red Cross to help with the relief effort. By January 14th, 2 days after the earthquake, the program had raised over $5 million from over a half million different mobile phone users, with donations said to be coming in at the rate of $200,000 each hour. Haitian-born musician Wyclef Jean’s Yele Haiti Foundation has also been running its own text donation drive, and by Thursday had raised another $1 million, According to ABC News. Albe Angel, founder and CEO of Give On the Go, the company helping process the Yele Haiti donations, said, “Never has so much money been raised for relief so soon after a disaster. This is a watershed moment. It’s historic.”
It’s also intensely futuristic. Six years ago, when natural disaster struck Indonesia, what’s happening in 2010, in the support effort for Haiti simply did not exist. Even by 2008, text donations raised by charities only amounted to $1 million total. Yele Haiti got that in one day.
If what’s happening in the Haiti relief effort is accelerated, then the current situation between Google and China is basically prophetic. At almost the same time as the earthquake struck, the following was posted on the Official Google Blog:
Like many other well-known organizations, we face cyber attacks of varying degrees on a regular basis. In mid-December, we detected a highly sophisticated and targeted attack on our corporate infrastructure originating from China that resulted in the theft of intellectual property from Google. However, it soon became clear that what at first appeared to be solely a security incident–albeit a significant one–was something quite different.
First, this attack was not just on Google. As part of our investigation we have discovered that at least twenty other large companies from a wide range of businesses–including the Internet, finance, technology, media and chemical sectors–have been similarly targeted. We are currently in the process of notifying those companies, and we are also working with the relevant U.S. authorities.
Second, we have evidence to suggest that a primary goal of the attackers was accessing the Gmail accounts of Chinese human rights activists. Based on our investigation to date we believe their attack did not achieve that objective. Only two Gmail accounts appear to have been accessed, and that activity was limited to account information (such as the date the account was created) and subject line, rather than the content of emails themselves.
Third, as part of this investigation but independent of the attack on Google, we have discovered that the accounts of dozens of U.S.-, China- and Europe-based Gmail users who are advocates of human rights in China appear to have been routinely accessed by third parties. These accounts have not been accessed through any security breach at Google, but most likely via phishing scams or malware placed on the users’ computers.
We have already used information gained from this attack to make infrastructure and architectural improvements that enhance security for Google and for our users.
We have taken the unusual step of sharing information about these attacks with a broad audience not just because of the security and human rights implications of what we have unearthed, but also because this information goes to the heart of a much bigger global debate about freedom of speech. In the last two decades, China’s economic reform programs and its citizens’ entrepreneurial flair have lifted hundreds of millions of Chinese people out of poverty. Indeed, this great nation is at the heart of much economic progress and development in the world today.
We launched Google.cn in January 2006 in the belief that the benefits of increased access to information for people in China and a more open Internet outweighed our discomfort in agreeing to censor some results. At the time we made clear that “we will carefully monitor conditions in China, including new laws and other restrictions on our services. If we determine that we are unable to achieve the objectives outlined we will not hesitate to reconsider our approach to China.”
These attacks and the surveillance they have uncovered–combined with the attempts over the past year to further limit free speech on the web–have led us to conclude that we should review the feasibility of our business operations in China. We have decided we are no longer willing to continue censoring our results on Google.cn, and so over the next few weeks we will be discussing with the Chinese government the basis on which we could operate an unfiltered search engine within the law, if at all. We recognize that this may well mean having to shut down Google.cn, and potentially our offices in China.
The decision to review our business operations in China has been incredibly hard, and we know that it will have potentially far-reaching consequences. We want to make clear that this move was driven by our executives in the United States, without the knowledge or involvement of our employees in China who have worked incredibly hard to make Google.cn the success it is today. We are committed to working responsibly to resolve the very difficult issues raised.
So basically, after discovering a Chinese security breach, Google, a multinational corporation, is now essentially sanctioning the Chinese government either with the threat of uncensored access to information for its citizenry, or otherwise, with a withdrawal from the market altogether. Not to be left behind, the Secretary of State of an actual government, Hillary Rodham Clinton, has issued the following statement:
We have been briefed by Google on these allegations, which raise very serious concerns and questions. We look to the Chinese government for an explanation. The ability to operate with confidence in cyberspace is critical in a modern society and economy. I will be giving an address next week on the centrality of internet freedom in the 21st century, and we will have further comment on this matter as the facts become clear.
Once again, Cyberpunk predicts the future, one in which multinational corporations replace governments as centers of political and economic power. Though in this case, in a particularly literary twist of cyberpunk fate, the multinational corporation in question (which is, itself, actually made up of hackers — the erstwhile anti-establishment protagonists of the genre), whose informal corporate motto is “don’t be evil,” is wielding its might by imposing a threat of increased access to information against a totalitarian regime. It’s enough to make William Gibson suddenly seem like a contemporary satirist rather than a science fiction writer. But, then again, Cyberpunk stories have also been seen as fictional forecasts of the evolution of the Internet, describing a global communications network long before the World Wide Web entered popular awareness, and that hasn’t necessarily led us into a dark dystopia…. yet.
In the meantime, though, what it has done, is allow us to become more united as humans, on a global scale. Jay Smooth articulated the underlying sentiment driving the response behind the Haiti relief effort on his Illdoctrine vlog: “We, as human beings, have a responsibility to act.” A century ago, the situation in Haiti would have been considered a Haitian crisis. A decade ago it would have been an “international” crisis. Now, it is simply, immediately, instinctively a human crisis.
Welcome to the future.
Ways to help Haiti:
Donate $5 to Wyclef’s Yele Foundation by texting YELE to the number 501501
Donate $10 to the American Red Cross by textingHAITI to the number 90999
This was a question an old friend asked me while visiting in L.A. We’re both from Boston, where most people have never heard of Reggaeton. And I hadn’t either, until I moved to Southern California.
A form of urban music that became popular with Latin American youth in the early 1990s, and, after mainstream exposure in 2004, spread to North American, European and Asian audiences. Reggaeton blends the West-Indian music influences of reggae and dancehall with those of Latin America, such as bomba, plena, salsa, merengue, latin pop, cumbia and bachata as well as that of hip hop, contemporary R&B, and electronica, combined with rapping or singing in Spanish. While it takes influences from hip hop and Jamaican dancehall, it would be wrong to define reggaeton as the Hispanic or Latino version of either of these genres; reggaeton has its own specific beat and rhythm, whereas Latino hip hop is simply hip hop recorded by artists of Latino descent. Reggaeton’s origins represent a hybrid of many different musical genres and influences from various countries in the Caribbean, Latin America and the United States. The genre of reggaeton however is most closely associated with Puerto Rico, as this is where the musical style became most famous, and where the vast majority of its current stars originated.
Here’s an example, Daddy Yankee’s “Rompe”:
I’d heard the term, Reggaeton, out at certain parties in L.A., but I didn’t really know what it was until KXOL-FM relaunched in 2005 as Latino 96.3, bringing the Reggaeton format to the airwaves. After a while, I’d been finding myself stopping the dial scan every so often at 96.3 to catch the end of some song even though I couldn’t understand the lyrics. My answer to my friend at the time was that I didn’t think I’d heard it enough to fully like it yet, but I probably would. It didn’t occur to me until my friend pointed it out, that it was a strange way to respond to a question of music taste.
Not too long after I fist started going to raves, back in high school, I discovered Jungle. If you don’t know what Jungle is, it’s a type of electronic dance music which emerged in the mid 1990’s as an offshoot of the UK rave scene. Encompassing drum and bass, oldschool jungle, and ragga, the genre is characterized by fast breakbeats (typically between 160–190 bpm) and heavy sub-bass lines.
Here’s an example, Aphrodite’s “Bomber Style:”
When I discovered Jungle, I had only just gotten into a relationship with hip hop a few years prior, when I started 9th grade at a public, urban high school, and then fallen into the questionable companionship of entry-level rave trance (a la Paul Oakenfold, etc.), so when I first heard this stuff, it sounded way too fuckin’ cacophanous and chaotic and fast and just plain weird. I distinctly remember a time when I just didn’t get Jungle. I didn’t get how to understand it. I didn’t get how to like it. And I sure as hell didn’t get how to dance to it. Then my best friend at the time, who’d been going to raves before I started, and had once been a ballerina, showed me. You just had to move a different way. You had to get onto a different rhythm. And as soon as I figure it out, I started to really like, and then just completely LOVE Jungle. By the time I’d started hearing Reggaeton, I knew from past experience that if I listened long enough to start to understand the sound, I would come to like it.
It turns out the line between being unfamiliar with something, and not liking it is very slim, indeed. In Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking, Malcolm Gladwell writes about how the Aeron chair, which would eventually redefine the entire office chair category, was originally despised and deemed ugly when it was first market tested. The Aeron was a complete departure from the office chair norm, and didn’t mesh with the prevailing cultural proclivities for seating comfort in general (think: La-Z-Boy recliner). But after two years, the Aeron became the most popular chair in Herman Miller history, and the most widely imitated office chair in general. How did something that was once considered ugly become beautiful?
Gladwell writes:
Office chairs in people’s minds had a certain aesthetic. They were cushioned and upholstered. The Aeron chair of course isn’t. There was nothing familiar about it. Maybe the word ‘ugly’ was just a proxy for “different.” The people reporting their first impressions misinterpreted their own feelings. They said they hated it. But what they really meant was that the chair was so new and unusual that they weren’t used to it…. Buried among the things that we hate is a class of products that are in that category only because they are weird. They make us nervous. They are sufficiently different that it takes us time to understand that we actually like them.
The problem with market research is that often it is simply too blunt an instrument to pick up this distinction between the bad and the merely different.
And perhaps nowhere is that nervousness more acute, or that distinction more obscure than when it comes to music.
Much depends on culture. Just as we’re hard-wired to learn a language, but not to speak English or French, our specific musical understanding, and thus taste, depends on context. If a piece of music sounds dissonant to you, it probably has to do with what sort of music you were exposed to growing up, because you were probably an “expert listener” in your culture’s music by about age 6, Levitin writes.
By the time I was six years old, 85% of the music I had heard was classical violin. My mother is a violinist, and when I was younger, performed with many orchestras and symphonies, both in the former Soviet Union, and then in Boston, where I grew up after we emigrated. She has also been teaching violin for longer than I’ve been alive, and as a child the sound violins was so constant and ubiquitous around the house that I developed the capacity, which I retain to this day, to sleep right through an afternoon full of violin lessons going on around me. The other 15% of the music of my early childhood consisted of Russian folk-rock music by the likes of Vladimir Vysotsky (imagine a Russian sort of Bob Dylan — in fact, the genre Vysotsky defined is precisely what Gogol Bordello is currently perpetrating as a zany new indie sound, which I gotta say is pretty freakin’ weird to witness.) I didn’t really start hearing ANYTHING even remotely in the vicinity of contemporary popular American music until I got to the U.S. (by that time I was almost 7), in large part due to the efforts of the Soviet government to achieve that goal.
Anyway, the point is, the music that I was acculturated to became wholly irrelevant in the new culture I found myself in just at the moment when I had become an “expert listener.” When everything sounds dissonant, nothing sounds dissonant. Not any more dissonant than anything else, anyway. I suspect, much in the same way new languages become a lot easier to learn if you’d had to learn a new one when you were little, new music sounds and genres, for me anyway, are a lot easier to learn to understand, and ultimately appreciate because of this history. It’s why the question “What kind of music do you like?” has always made me uncomfortable. I have watched as other people draw on instantly accessible answers, but for me, sentences like “I like hip hop” or “I like electronic music,” have become learned responses, like fragments memorized from a phrase-book for emergencies in a foreign country. The answer to that question is never really about what kind of music you happen to find structurally, acoustically, or thematically appealing, anyway. No, what that question is actually asking is: “What kind of music do your friends like?”
As Walker writes:
It’s the “social” theories of music-liking that get most of the attention these days: systems that connect you with friends with similar tastes, or that rely on “collaborative filtering” strategies that cross-match your music-consumption habits with those of like-minded strangers. These popular approaches marginalize traditional gatekeepers; instead of trusting the talent scout, the radio programmer or the music critic, you trust your friends (actual or virtual), or maybe just “the crowd.”Pandora’s approach more or less ignores the crowd. It is indifferent to the possibility that any given piece of music in its system might become a hit. The idea is to figure out what you like, not what a market might like. More interesting, the idea is that the taste of your cool friends, your peers, the traditional music critics, big-label talent scouts and the latest influential music blog are all equally irrelevant. That’s all cultural information, not musical information. And theoretically at least, Pandora’s approach distances music-liking from the cultural information that generally attaches to it.
One of my co-workers, a married dude, loves the Calvin Harris station on Pandora, which is basically straight up Gay House (that’s Gay House as in the music genre, not the epithet). Were the station defined by its cultural information, as opposed to strictly by sound, it’s much more probable he’d simply assume this wasn’t for him, and not venture any further. Which, as Walker writes, raises some interesting questions:
Do you really love listening to the latest Jack White project? Do you really hate the sound of Britney Spears? Or are your music-consumption habits, in fact, not merely guided but partly shaped by the cultural information that Pandora largely screens out — like what’s considered awesome (or insufferable) by your peers, or by music tastemakers, or by anybody else? Is it really possible to separate musical taste from such social factors, online or off, and make it purely about the raw stuff of the music itself?
What Pandora’s system largely ignores is, in a word, taste. The way that [Pandora founder Tim] Westergren might put this is that it minimizes the influence of other people’s taste. Music-liking becomes a matter decided by the listener, and the intrinsic elements of what is heard. Early on, Westergren actually pushed for the idea that Pandora would not even reveal who the artist was until the listener asked. He thought maybe that structure would give users a kind of permission to evaluate music without even the most minimal cultural baggage. “We’re so insecure about our tastes,” he says.
(Or as Gladwell might put it, “nervous.”)
While his partners talked him out of that approach, Westergren maintains “a personal aversion” to collaborative filtering or anything like it. “It’s still a popularity contest,” he complains, meaning that for any song to get recommended on a socially driven site, it has to be somewhat known already, by your friends or by other consumers. Westergren is similarly unimpressed by hipster blogs or other theoretically grass-roots influencers of musical taste, for their tendency to turn on artists who commit the crime of being too popular; in his view that’s just snobbery, based on social jockeying that has nothing to do with music. In various conversations, he defended Coldplay and Rob Thomas, among others, as victims of cool-taste prejudice.
He likes to tell a story about a Pandora user who wrote in to complain that he started a station based on the music of Sarah McLachlan, and the service served up a Celine Dion song. “I wrote back and said, ‘Was the music just wrong?’ Because we sometimes have data errors,” he recounts. “He said, ‘Well, no, it was the right sort of thing — but it was Celine Dion.’ I said, ‘Well, was it the set, did it not flow in the set?’ He said, ‘No, it kind of worked — but it’s Celine Dion.’ We had a couple more back-and-forths, and finally his last e-mail to me was: ‘Oh, my God, I like Celine Dion.’”
This anecdote almost always gets a laugh. “Pandora,” he pointed out, “doesn’t understand why that’s funny.”
Much as cultural information attaches to music, music attaches information to culture. Piggybacked like parasites onto unwitting sound-waves are all manner of cultural and identity definitions. The “What music do you like?” question is also intended to be responded to as: “What scene are you in?” After all, you don’t just like hip hop or punk or emo, you ARE hip hop or punk or emo. And even with mainstream artists, saying you’re a fan of Garth Brooks or Adam Lambert or Muse or Jay-Z is more than simply giving an example of the sort of musical style you enjoy, it’s an admission of your cultural affiliation, of your individual and social identity.
As Walker writes:
The cliché that our musical tastes are generally refined in our teens and solidify by our early 20s seems largely to be true. For better or worse, peers frequently have a lot to do with that. Levitin recalled to me having moved at age 14 and falling in with a new set of friends who listened to music he hadn’t heard before. “The reason I like Queen — and I love Queen — is that I was introduced to Queen by my social group,” he says. He’s not saying that the intrinsic qualities of the music are irrelevant, and he says Pandora has done some very clever and impressive things in its approach. But part of what we like is, in fact, based on cultural information. “To some degree we might say that personality characteristics are associated with, or predictive of, the kind of music that people like,” he has written. “But to a large degree it is determined by more or less chance factors: where you went to school, who you hung out with, what music they happened to be listening to.”
Basically, what “scene” you were in. And social groups tend to very easily become self-selecting, especially online. In a recent NPR story, “Facebook, MySpace Divide Along Social Lines,” social media researcher danah boyd talks about the findings she’d first brought to light two years ago on the way the online social world is dividing up — just like the real world — into self-segregated communities: “The fact is that young people, and for the most part adults as well, don’t really interact online with strangers. They talk to people they already know. And when you have environments in which people are divided by race, they’re divided by class, they’re divided by lifestyle, when they go online, those are also who they’re going to interact with,” says boyd.
As I have long asserted, myself, from my contrasting experiences in the worlds of independent music and corporate marketing, boyd suggests that one of the reasons so many business analysts are writing off Myspace is because THEY don’t belong to the social groups that use it. “Millions of daily users are still logging in [to Myspace],” she says, “and it’s really interesting how many people in very privileged environments know not a single one of them.”
Not only will the process of polarization tend to play out in virtual communities in the same way it does in neighborhoods, but it seems likely to proceed much more quickly online. In the real world, with its mortgages and schools and jobs, the mechanical forces of segregation move slowly. There are brakes on the speed with which we pull up stakes and move to a new house. Internet communities have no such constraints. Making a community-defining decision is as simple as clicking a link. Every time we subscribe to a blog, add a friend to our social network, categorize an email message as spam, or even choose a site from a list of search results, we are making a decision that defines, in a small way, whom we associate with and what information we pay attention to. Given the presence of even a slight bias to be connected with people similar to ourselves – ones who share, say, our political views or our cultural preferences –
(or our musical tastes)
we would end up in ever more polarized and homogeneous communities. We would click our way to a fractured society.
As the entire web becomes one ever-expanding, amoebic social application, it becomes increasingly harder and harder to “log out” of this cultural segregation that seems built in to the very nature digital space. In a recent New Yorker article on Google, Ken Auletta, writes:
The more “personalized” [the consumer data that Google collects each day], as [CEO] Eric Schmidt said, the better the search answers. “The more we know who you are, the more we can tailor the search results.” [Google co-founders, Larry] Page and [Sergey] Brin often say that their ideal is to devise a program that provides a single perfect answer.
This preoccupation with mathematical efficiencies triggers various alarms. In “The Big Switch,” Nicholas Carr writes that Google would like to store as much information as possible about each individual — what might be referred to as “transparent personalization.” This would allow Google to “choose which information to show you,” reducing inefficiencies. “A company run by mathematicians and engineers, Google seems oblivious to the possible social costs of transparent personalization,” Carr writes. “They impose homogeneity on the Internet’s wild heterogeneity…. As the tools and algorithms become more sophisticated and our online profiles more refined, the Internet will act increasingly as an incredibly sensitive feedback loop, constantly playing back to us, in amplified form, our existing preferences.” Carr believes that people will narrow their frame of reference, gravitate towards those whose opinions they share, and perhaps be less willing o compromise, because the narrow information we receive will magnify our difference, making it harder to reach agreement.
As much as there is a conservative pull within us to seek out the familiar and the safe, the example of Pandora shows there is an equally as great liberal a pull to discover and explore the new (altho that balance may be different from one individual to another). There are already so many social sites and applications being developed to enable the former, what we need now are more UNsocial ones. Applications that offer us the opportunity to discover and explore the new and unfamiliar, applications that allow us to confront diversity, and offer us new ways to expand our tastes and define ourselves.
This is not typically the kind of stuff I write about here, but it is something I feel quite strongly about, and, if nothing else, it makes for a case study in cross-cultural communication — not to mention some interesting neuroscience.
Last week, as the New York Times reported, French President Nicolas Sarkozy addressed the Parliament at Versailles with a withering critique of the burqa as an unacceptable symbol of “enslavement.”
“The issue of the burqa is not a religious issue. It is a question of freedom and of women’s dignity,” Mr. Sarkozy said. “The burqa is not a religious sign. It is a sign of the subjugation, of the submission, of women…. I want to say solemnly that it will not be welcome on our territory.”
Now, I got the link to this article from my cousin, who, it should be pointed out, shares the same history I do. We were not born in the United States, and growing up as first-generation immigrants in America we have spent our whole lives reconciling mixed, often contradictory, cultures. The fact that our families were able to leave the giant labor camp / prison that was the Soviet Union at all, is the result of one of the most successful human rights campaigns in history. So it’s no surprise that our reactions to the news of this French move were resoundingly positive. It was, however, quite surprising (though it retrospect, it shouldn’t have been) to discover many of my American-born friends expressing outright disapproval. I heard everything from straight up calling Sarkozy a “moron,” to the derisive cynicism that “Nothing says freedom like banning the burqa.”
I should hasten to point out here, it’s not that my American-born (liberal) friends are burqa-lovers, by any means, it’s just that freedom of religious expression is a sacrosanct American principle — as well it should be — and messing with it immediately inspires a profound distaste. It would, no doubt, be easier to have the issue of religious expressions be capable of being soblack and white, so absolute, so all or nothing. It would certainly be much simpler, clearer, less offensive or culturally insensitive, if the idea that banning anything could actually bolster freedom wasn’t so contradictory. The reality, however, is that pretty much all freedom depends on the banning of something, and that something is the myriad efforts to deny human rights.
Which is precisely the spectrum that the burqa finds itself on. To clear up any confusion — since, in the predisposition for pursuing starkly-defined edges between black and white, it might seem effective to assume I’m just roundly including ALL kinds of modesty coverings, like headscarves, for instance, in this indictment, I’d like to state that I’m definitely not. A headscarf isn’t anywhere in the same vicinity as this:
The burqa is a full-body ghost-like sheet that covers a woman from head to toe, which Sarkozy, in no way inaccurately, likened to an “imprisonment.” The International Society For Human Rights seems to have drawn the very same analogy in the PSA at the top of this post. There is a good deal that has already been said about the legitimate impediments to health and physical safety that come along with these trappings (apt word, indeed, in this instance), but what makes the burqa an outright violation of human rights in my view is the fact that when a group of people is denied the freedom simply have their face be visible, they are deprived of the most fundamental, basic, human capacity to elicit empathy.
In his book, Social Intelligence: The New Science of Human Relationships, Daniel Goleman writes, “Suppressing our natural inclination to feel with another allows us to treat the other as an It…. Empathy is the prime inhibitor of human cruelty.”
Conveniently for us, then, human brains are actually hard-wired for empathy. In fact, damage or malfunction in the neural systems instrumental in allowing us to understand and resonate with someone else’s emotional state happens to be a basic requirement for psychopathic behavior. Clinical psychopaths are actually incapable of reading emotions; their brains simply do not register the meaning of expressions of fear or anguish, for example. Normal, healthy, functioning brains not only understand others’ emotions, they are actually designed in such a way as to induce the witness to internally experience the same emotional state that he or she is witnessing.
For instance, take a look at this face for, like, two-hundredth of a second:
As you do, Goleman explains:
The amygdala instantly reacts, and the stronger the emotion displayed, the more intense the amygdala’s reaction. When people looked at such pictures while undergoing an fMRI, their own brains looked like they were the frightened ones, though in a more muted range.
When two people interact face to face, [emotional] contagion spreads via multiple neural circuits operating in parallel within each other’s brains. These systems for emotional contagion traffic in the entire range of feeling, from sadness to joy.
Moments of [emotional] contagion represent a remarkable event: the formation between two brains of a functional link, a feedback loop that crosses the skin-and-skull barrier between bodies. In systems terms, during this linkup brains “couple,” with the output of one becoming the input to drive the workings of the other, forming what amounts to an interbrain circuit.
Brains loop outside of our awareness, with no special attention or intention demanded. [This] automaticity allows for rapidity. For instance, the amygdala spots signs of fear in someone’s face with remarkable speed, picking it up in a glimpse as quick as 22 milliseconds, and in some people in a mere 17 milliseconds (less than two-hundredth of a second). This [happens] so fast that the conscious mind remains oblivious to that perception.
We may not consciously realize how we are syncrhonizing, yet we mesh with remarkable ease.
Giacomo Rizzolatti, the Italian neuroscientist who discovered mirror neurons, the special class of neurons responsible for this kind of social duet, explains that our innate capacity for empathy allows us “to grasp the minds of others not through conceptual reasoning but through direct simulation; by feeling, not thinking.”
If you really stop to consider the significance of this, it’s pretty astounding. Our capacity to communicate through emotions happens entirely outside the realm of conceptual communication i.e. words. We don’t even need to speak the same language, or be able to TALK at all, for that matter, in order to simply look at someone’s face and personally understand what that person is feeling. As Goleman writes, “Mirror neurons ensure that the moment someone sees an emotion expressed on your face, they will at once sense that same feeling within themselves.” Through seeing another person’s face we experience, as instantly as a reflex, a mutually reverberating state that neuroscientists call “empathic resonance.” And empathy, I’ll write it again: is the prime inhibitor of human cruelty.
Sarkozy talked about the burqa as a tool for “depriv[ing women] of identity.” I see it as something more profoundly sinister. It deprives them not just of individual identity, but of shared Humanity. Our fundamental, human neurobiology depends on others to be able to see our face in order to elicit empathy. It is not the only way, of course, and it’s obviously not tamper-resistant, but it is the most instinctive, moreso even than language. Making someone hide their face is, literally, the oldest trick in the book for denying them empathy. When you can’t empathize, as any psychopath case study will show, you quite literally can’t recognize the other person’s Humanity. When you can’t recognize another person’s Humanity, it becomes a lot easier to be cruel. And when an entire population (oh, say, you know, women) is systematically denied their Humanity, their widespread oppression is inevitable. Thus whether or not your cultural sensitivity allows you to consider the burqa a means of oppression unto itself, it is absolutely part of the cycle that breeds it.
Human rights and religious freedom don’t always go hand in hand as neatly as we would like. Perhaps we might all live in a much better world if the two would just coordinate their priorities, but all too often religion seems to like endorsing things like female genital mutilation or child brides (notice a trend here on whom religion likes to shit on?) When the two don’t go hand in hand, the question that comes up for each of us is, how will we navigate the ensuing grayness? From my own experience, as a beneficiary of people around the world having fought against the oppression of others, there is nothing “moronic” or cynical about standing up for those who are being denied a basic human right, especially when it’s the right to empathy.