"The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis."
Dante Alighieri
For those of you not aware (oh, how few you are), I'm a fairly avid computer gamer. On one of my more regular online games, we ended up in a discussion about war crimes, history and the fact that 'the winner writes history'. The particular context was (as is so often the case) World War 2, and it came about due to someone using the phrase 'the good guys won'. Obviously, being the argumentative sod that I am, I contended the statement (and was backed up by a few other helpful people) on the grounds that, whichever side had won, they'd have called themselves the good guys.
That all said, my post is not actually about victor's justice. Rather, it is about what occurred later on in the discussion. I noticed that, in quick succession, a pair of comments followed one another: firstly, "democracy is a good form of government" (paraphrased); followed swiftly by "but what can I do about [insert issue here]?"
I thought this was a particularly interesting dichotomy. On the one hand, we have the confident assertion that democracy is the 'best' form of government. Leaving aside both the ambiguity of the word 'best' (which, I admit, I can't guarantee was used) and the relative merits and demerits of democracy, I decided that I was most interested by the fact that the second statement could be used by someone who believed the first statement.
Democracy can be defined in many ways, most of which depend on exactly how cynical you are. The more optimistic could call it 'rule by the people', whereas the more cynical (such as myself) could call it 'rule by mass idiocy'. Nevertheless, the core ideal of democracy is that the individual person should be able to control the actions of his government.
Now, if you subscribe to the idea that democracy is better than dictatorship, but believe you cannot change the path of your democracy, I pose to you the following question: Why have the democracy? After all, under the democracy, you can't change the decisions your ruler(s) make, so why pretend that you can? At least, in a dictatorship, the dictator has no leg to stand on if he makes an error: the decision was always his. In a democracy, it is quite possible for errors to be blamed as much on the people as they are on the leader, despite the ridiculousness of such a situation.
For democracy to be anything other than dictatorship by another name, it requires those who are part of the democracy to participate. When I say participate, I do not simply mean vote: I mean that those in the democracy must actively engage in the political process. They must form their own opinions and beliefs, and act accordingly. If the electorate does not do this, then the democracy is nothing more than dictatorship by collective assent.
So, to any of you out there who value your Western ideals of 'freedom' and 'democracy', but just vote Labour because your dad does, or don't vote because you're lazy, or just in general fail to interact with the world in a political fashion: it's time for you to decide. Do you want to be politically active, and keep your democracy? Or would you rather just lie there on your sofa? Either way, you need to decide.
Opinions? As usual, let me know.
Lukasa
NB: The above does not mean I exclude the idea of an 'abstinent vote'. What I exclude is the idea that people should vote (or not vote) without thinking. I believe that not voting can be a valid expression of your democratic rights: it says that you believe that none of the candidates is good for the country, and refuse to settle for 'the lesser evil'. At least you took the time to form your opinion.
Monday, 8 September 2008
Thursday, 4 September 2008
All Along The Watchtower
Hello again. Excuse the extremely long absence: I've always been a fairly flighty character, and as a result I've taken what could be considered an 'extended unannounced leave of absence' from blogging. All of that said, a comment by a friend at a party has caused me to get back into the whole thing, and so the few of you still paying any attention to it will get the dubious pleasure of reading my craziness once again.
Let's launch straight into it: what is it about internet communities that are so appealing to people? I'd love to say that I've been pondering this issue for days, but frankly, it has only recently occurred to me as a question thanks to Shamus Young at Twenty Sided. That said, after watching the long video (embedded at the end), it had raised some very important questions.
It has always been an important part of my 'knowledge' regarding self that Human Beings are inherently social creatures. This is not to say that we are collectivist, like ants, but that we rely on our social support structures. We are not truly Human Beings without the important and complicated frameworks of modern society. Humanity is more than simply a body. Don't assume that I subscribe to some notion of the 'soul': instead, I refer to the Terry Pratchett idea of human beings requiring stories to remain human. In his words, Humanity is where "the falling angel meets the rising ape", and he has something of a point.
The problem increasingly comes in a modern society with so much interconnectedness that the individual is increasingly being eroded. Simply using Google allows you to potentially find out an awful lot about a single person, and the more skilled you are at using it, the more you can find out. In a world like this, what does the word 'privacy' mean? After all, using what you find out on the internet, you could quite conceivably find out more that isn't strictly within the public domain.
On the other hand, the internet community provides a different kind of privacy: privacy by numbers. While a person isn't strictly anonymous, it is a challenge to pick one person out of a crowd. And the internet is the biggest crowd ever gathered: hundreds of millions of people all using the same tools, for different ends. This presents one of the greatest defenses against intrusion into your privacy: probability. It's impossible to watch everyone, so you may not be being watched.
Anyway, my task for you, readers is simple. I want you to watch the video, and I want you to decide what you think, both of YouTube, and of online communities in general. And then I want you to hit the comment button, and tell me.
Enjoy,
Lukasa
Let's launch straight into it: what is it about internet communities that are so appealing to people? I'd love to say that I've been pondering this issue for days, but frankly, it has only recently occurred to me as a question thanks to Shamus Young at Twenty Sided. That said, after watching the long video (embedded at the end), it had raised some very important questions.
It has always been an important part of my 'knowledge' regarding self that Human Beings are inherently social creatures. This is not to say that we are collectivist, like ants, but that we rely on our social support structures. We are not truly Human Beings without the important and complicated frameworks of modern society. Humanity is more than simply a body. Don't assume that I subscribe to some notion of the 'soul': instead, I refer to the Terry Pratchett idea of human beings requiring stories to remain human. In his words, Humanity is where "the falling angel meets the rising ape", and he has something of a point.
The problem increasingly comes in a modern society with so much interconnectedness that the individual is increasingly being eroded. Simply using Google allows you to potentially find out an awful lot about a single person, and the more skilled you are at using it, the more you can find out. In a world like this, what does the word 'privacy' mean? After all, using what you find out on the internet, you could quite conceivably find out more that isn't strictly within the public domain.
On the other hand, the internet community provides a different kind of privacy: privacy by numbers. While a person isn't strictly anonymous, it is a challenge to pick one person out of a crowd. And the internet is the biggest crowd ever gathered: hundreds of millions of people all using the same tools, for different ends. This presents one of the greatest defenses against intrusion into your privacy: probability. It's impossible to watch everyone, so you may not be being watched.
Anyway, my task for you, readers is simple. I want you to watch the video, and I want you to decide what you think, both of YouTube, and of online communities in general. And then I want you to hit the comment button, and tell me.
Enjoy,
Lukasa
Monday, 23 June 2008
Sunday, 1 June 2008
Carl Sagan: Pale Blue Dot
Not much from me, just a video. Possibly my favourite video of all time. RIP Carl Sagan. RIP.
Friday, 30 May 2008
Never Is Enough
I find that I'm always at my most thoughtful (some would say soppy) late at night, when everyone around me is asleep and I appear to have the world to myself. Of course, when I'm at home, this is a lot earlier than when I'm at uni, but that's beside the point. What's important is that in these quiet times, when the only noise around me is the whirr of a computer fan and the silent noise of trees, I'm able to think with a degree of clarity, and perhaps melancholy, that I'm not really able to access at any other time.
I was always a dramatic person, in all senses of the word: I enjoyed (and still enjoy) acting, and was also careful to surround myself with drama. In this way, secondary school was very good for me, as there is no way to guarantee drama like shoving a thousand hormonal teenagers into half a square kilometre. I spent about 6 years in various different places, but all of them had the same vibe, and in that 6 years I learnt a lot that interests me, and a bit that's important to me. Now, if you don't mind me preaching for a little while, I'd like to elaborate a little on one of the second.
I am, and always have been, a geek. By all possible standards of the word, I was a major, major geek. Computer literate before anyone my age that I knew, my primary school called upon me to solve tech problems, before the called upon a staff member. I was academically sound, particularly strong in mathematics and science, and I wasn't particularly interested in sport. Jesus, I had a bloody telescope.
This didn't change as I grew up (the geekiness, not the telescope). However, it reached a point where I realised that there was something about my geekiness that was not necessarily an asset, socially speaking. I discovered that many people did not, in fact, enjoy science that much, and particularly did not take kindly to my science test scores. In essence, it occured to me that maybe, in order to get people to like me, it would be a sensible idea to dumb down.
So I adapted. I adapted and I learnt. I learnt how to hide the scientific interest, how to hide my enjoyment of videogames, how to hide the fact that I could while away several hours by absorbing myself in Lord of the Rings or 1984 or whatever book came my way. I also learnt that, in the absence of being good-looking, I had to rely on other traits: I fell back on sarcasm and sympathy.
The more astute among you will have realised where I'm going about this, but I'll be clear about the matter anyway: I'm referring specifically to the phenomenon of 'labelling'. Also known as stereotyping, this particular phenomenon is well known, and is best illustrated in the highly shallow world of secondary school. Now, before you quickly hit the 'home' button in an attempt to escape, let me clarify. I'm not going to preach about how labelling is some horrible thing that we should all avoid. This is not my high horse, and I'm not going to pretend that this little blog will fix the ills of the world; and furthermore, I'm not trying to get revenge on anyone I feel may have victimised me in the past. All I want to do is point out the few things I've learnt about labels:
1) They will define you.
People don't like this one much. People prefer to gloss over the issue, prefer to say "Oh no, I would never be so rash as to stereotype someone". Despite this, it happens every day. Consider the panicky white woman who crosses the road when the black kid is walking down the street. She may not actually be racist, frankly, but the stereotype of troublemakers has a depressingly black label attached to it. So she sees a black kid walking towards her, and makes a cognitive leap.
It happens when you let people know a little about yourself. "I play Dungeons and Dragons". In their head, a whole set of conclusions are leapt to from this point: he's shy, he's reclusive, he's good with numbers, he's a virgin, girls never talk to him, etc. "I like going out": he's a drunk, he's promiscuous (a great word, by the way), he's an idiot, he's talkative and he's not a hard worker. Whenever you have a form that includes the big box with the title "Tell us a bit about yourself", what it's really saying is 'Please help us put you in a box'.
2) You can choose them.
Strangely, this one is not hit upon so often. But in reality, there is very little preventing the vast majority of people being able to pick any of the labels they want. I went for sarcastic and nice because I was those things anyway, but if I wanted to become the popular, loud guy, I could have done that too. In some ways, this mitigates the affect of number 1: at least you can choose what conclusion others will jump to.
3) They don't matter.
They don't. Not a jot. It took me way too long to realise that, actually, it didn't matter whether people thought of me as 'the nice guy' or 'the geeky guy'. The only people who were going to rely on those labels were those who didn't know me very well, and frankly, those people are not very high up on my list of "People whose opinions I give a shit about". Anyone I spent any iota of time with will know that there is more to me than that, and that perhaps I shouldn't be judged on what I immediately appear to be. What's worse is that I only realised that in year 12. What a fool I am!
But for those of you still in education, let me add this conciliatory note: anyone who doesn't care about you, will be gone. I am currently in touch with 7 people from my secondary school (I counted my phonebook), and I don't feel like I should be in contact with more. These 7 people were not necessarily my closest friends in school, either, but in hindsight, they were probably my best ones: after all, they're the only ones still making an effort, a year later, to put up with my bullshit. And what more can I ask for than that?
I was always a dramatic person, in all senses of the word: I enjoyed (and still enjoy) acting, and was also careful to surround myself with drama. In this way, secondary school was very good for me, as there is no way to guarantee drama like shoving a thousand hormonal teenagers into half a square kilometre. I spent about 6 years in various different places, but all of them had the same vibe, and in that 6 years I learnt a lot that interests me, and a bit that's important to me. Now, if you don't mind me preaching for a little while, I'd like to elaborate a little on one of the second.
I am, and always have been, a geek. By all possible standards of the word, I was a major, major geek. Computer literate before anyone my age that I knew, my primary school called upon me to solve tech problems, before the called upon a staff member. I was academically sound, particularly strong in mathematics and science, and I wasn't particularly interested in sport. Jesus, I had a bloody telescope.
This didn't change as I grew up (the geekiness, not the telescope). However, it reached a point where I realised that there was something about my geekiness that was not necessarily an asset, socially speaking. I discovered that many people did not, in fact, enjoy science that much, and particularly did not take kindly to my science test scores. In essence, it occured to me that maybe, in order to get people to like me, it would be a sensible idea to dumb down.
So I adapted. I adapted and I learnt. I learnt how to hide the scientific interest, how to hide my enjoyment of videogames, how to hide the fact that I could while away several hours by absorbing myself in Lord of the Rings or 1984 or whatever book came my way. I also learnt that, in the absence of being good-looking, I had to rely on other traits: I fell back on sarcasm and sympathy.
The more astute among you will have realised where I'm going about this, but I'll be clear about the matter anyway: I'm referring specifically to the phenomenon of 'labelling'. Also known as stereotyping, this particular phenomenon is well known, and is best illustrated in the highly shallow world of secondary school. Now, before you quickly hit the 'home' button in an attempt to escape, let me clarify. I'm not going to preach about how labelling is some horrible thing that we should all avoid. This is not my high horse, and I'm not going to pretend that this little blog will fix the ills of the world; and furthermore, I'm not trying to get revenge on anyone I feel may have victimised me in the past. All I want to do is point out the few things I've learnt about labels:
1) They will define you.
People don't like this one much. People prefer to gloss over the issue, prefer to say "Oh no, I would never be so rash as to stereotype someone". Despite this, it happens every day. Consider the panicky white woman who crosses the road when the black kid is walking down the street. She may not actually be racist, frankly, but the stereotype of troublemakers has a depressingly black label attached to it. So she sees a black kid walking towards her, and makes a cognitive leap.
It happens when you let people know a little about yourself. "I play Dungeons and Dragons". In their head, a whole set of conclusions are leapt to from this point: he's shy, he's reclusive, he's good with numbers, he's a virgin, girls never talk to him, etc. "I like going out": he's a drunk, he's promiscuous (a great word, by the way), he's an idiot, he's talkative and he's not a hard worker. Whenever you have a form that includes the big box with the title "Tell us a bit about yourself", what it's really saying is 'Please help us put you in a box'.
2) You can choose them.
Strangely, this one is not hit upon so often. But in reality, there is very little preventing the vast majority of people being able to pick any of the labels they want. I went for sarcastic and nice because I was those things anyway, but if I wanted to become the popular, loud guy, I could have done that too. In some ways, this mitigates the affect of number 1: at least you can choose what conclusion others will jump to.
3) They don't matter.
They don't. Not a jot. It took me way too long to realise that, actually, it didn't matter whether people thought of me as 'the nice guy' or 'the geeky guy'. The only people who were going to rely on those labels were those who didn't know me very well, and frankly, those people are not very high up on my list of "People whose opinions I give a shit about". Anyone I spent any iota of time with will know that there is more to me than that, and that perhaps I shouldn't be judged on what I immediately appear to be. What's worse is that I only realised that in year 12. What a fool I am!
But for those of you still in education, let me add this conciliatory note: anyone who doesn't care about you, will be gone. I am currently in touch with 7 people from my secondary school (I counted my phonebook), and I don't feel like I should be in contact with more. These 7 people were not necessarily my closest friends in school, either, but in hindsight, they were probably my best ones: after all, they're the only ones still making an effort, a year later, to put up with my bullshit. And what more can I ask for than that?
Saturday, 12 April 2008
Do schools kill creativity?
Imperial Creed linked a video in his comment on my previous post. It's an excellent video, and I thought that, rather than let it languish on the sidelines, I should make it easier to see. Thus, here it is:
Friday, 11 April 2008
Gifted
For quite a while now I've been wondering what exactly it is people mean when they say someone is gifted. I think the main reason I've wondered about this is because I've spent most of my life being put in that category.
I know this sounds conceited, but really, it's simply an observation. When I was in Melbourne, I was more or less the only white middle-class person in my year group, which was only 30 strong anyway. I knew more about computers than my teachers, and I was (depressingly) on excellent terms with the vast majority of the teaching staff. All in all, I was more or less a model student.
This theme was broadly repeated throughout my life. What is more weird is that I always suspect that people thought I did better than I actually did. I remember scoring good, but not amazing, GCSE results, and having everyone be really surprised. At the time, all I could think was: "I told you I wasn't that good."
I think the reason I find this strange is that I was always told I was good at something. People would say, "You're so good at Maths", or physics, or whatever. But from my perspective, I don't think that's quite true. What I was good at was learning.
I realised this in year 13. For some reason, anything that was put in front of my I would soak up. I'd write it down, do a couple of exercises, and then it'd be there. And I spent a long period of time confused by the fact that people didn't seem to catch on as quickly as I did. This also meant that I failed to develop a work ethic, and really, this is true amongst all gifted students. The question is: how gifted are you?
I ask this for one simple reason. When I got into highschool, I became friends with another of those 'gifted' types, who've had that label thrown at them all their life. And there's no denying, he was bright. And, like me, he had an awful work ethic. Chatty and easily distracted, we were horrible for most teachers, even though they barely had to teach us.
The difference is, come A-levels, I still did well. I walked into the exam having under-prepared, and came out of it having done far better than I had any right to do. He walked in, and came out with a D.
I was truly staggered. Here was someone who had performed amazingly well at every moment up until the actual test, and then he tanked. I was truly, truly shocked. And it put a lot in perspective for me. As it turns out, there eventually comes a time when raw talent won't carry you through any more. This differs from person to person, but eventually one has to realise that you simply aren't good enough to do this without help any more.
The problem, of course, lies in the treatment of 'gifted' children. It is incredibly difficult to integrate them into the standard strata of education, because if you do they will become bored and lazy due the fact that they will never be challenged. Conversely, remove them from the usual education system and they will lose their ability to reconcile their talents with those who lack them. The number of times I've seen 'gifted' students berate their colleagues for failing to recognise something ("It's so obvious, how can you not see that?") is almost uncountable, and it more or less boils down to a failure to understand that other people's minds may not work in the same fashion to yours.
Sadly, it's a tricky balance. What are your opinions of the 'gifted'? And, for that matter, of the 'entitled'? Let me know.
I know this sounds conceited, but really, it's simply an observation. When I was in Melbourne, I was more or less the only white middle-class person in my year group, which was only 30 strong anyway. I knew more about computers than my teachers, and I was (depressingly) on excellent terms with the vast majority of the teaching staff. All in all, I was more or less a model student.
This theme was broadly repeated throughout my life. What is more weird is that I always suspect that people thought I did better than I actually did. I remember scoring good, but not amazing, GCSE results, and having everyone be really surprised. At the time, all I could think was: "I told you I wasn't that good."
I think the reason I find this strange is that I was always told I was good at something. People would say, "You're so good at Maths", or physics, or whatever. But from my perspective, I don't think that's quite true. What I was good at was learning.
I realised this in year 13. For some reason, anything that was put in front of my I would soak up. I'd write it down, do a couple of exercises, and then it'd be there. And I spent a long period of time confused by the fact that people didn't seem to catch on as quickly as I did. This also meant that I failed to develop a work ethic, and really, this is true amongst all gifted students. The question is: how gifted are you?
I ask this for one simple reason. When I got into highschool, I became friends with another of those 'gifted' types, who've had that label thrown at them all their life. And there's no denying, he was bright. And, like me, he had an awful work ethic. Chatty and easily distracted, we were horrible for most teachers, even though they barely had to teach us.
The difference is, come A-levels, I still did well. I walked into the exam having under-prepared, and came out of it having done far better than I had any right to do. He walked in, and came out with a D.
I was truly staggered. Here was someone who had performed amazingly well at every moment up until the actual test, and then he tanked. I was truly, truly shocked. And it put a lot in perspective for me. As it turns out, there eventually comes a time when raw talent won't carry you through any more. This differs from person to person, but eventually one has to realise that you simply aren't good enough to do this without help any more.
The problem, of course, lies in the treatment of 'gifted' children. It is incredibly difficult to integrate them into the standard strata of education, because if you do they will become bored and lazy due the fact that they will never be challenged. Conversely, remove them from the usual education system and they will lose their ability to reconcile their talents with those who lack them. The number of times I've seen 'gifted' students berate their colleagues for failing to recognise something ("It's so obvious, how can you not see that?") is almost uncountable, and it more or less boils down to a failure to understand that other people's minds may not work in the same fashion to yours.
Sadly, it's a tricky balance. What are your opinions of the 'gifted'? And, for that matter, of the 'entitled'? Let me know.
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