Friday, December 28, 2012

Thursday, December 27, 2012

Modern Racism

I want to start by saying that I think there is less racism in the world than there has ever been, more tolerance, more acceptance of diversity. I think this is continuing and will continue as people get to meet more people from different backgrounds. But I want to talk about racism and how it is evolving. I'm going to be talking about race in the USA, since that is what I am most familiar with but I think humans are humans around the world and similar circumstances produce similar results.

For a start I think the number of people who are now consciously racist, the people who think that based on their race they are superior to other races, is small in the USA. What I mean by this is if asked a direct question about race a solid majority of people in the USA will reply that they are not racist. It is now taboo in the USA to be racist.

However, there is an all-pervasive awareness of race in the USA. I remember this being perhaps the biggest culture-shock for me when I came here at 18. I had grown up in an essentially all-white culture where race as a concept was absent because race as an issue was non-existent. I was shocked to discover that in the USA there is a different culture with a different dialect, different clothing, different music based on skin color. The stereotypical stand-up comedian routine is black guys do things this way and white guys do things a different way. I think this cultural difference linked to race is now where racism is based in the USA.

What is going on now is that the majority of Americans have been taught through their cultural experiences to associate black, urban culture with crime, violence, and drug-use. A great example is the contrast between how Barak Obama and his ex-pastor, Reverend Wright are viewed by people. Barak Obama is not considered a threat because he dresses like an executive, talks like an executive, doesn't use a standard "black" dialect. He seems like an extremely tanned white guy. But his ex-pastor wears African-inspired outfits (in an African-inspired church), and has the dialect, cadence and volume to his speech more associated with urban black men. The actual words that Mr. Wright spoke are only inflammatory if you read just three of them and ignore the rest, it's the tone and the look that is frightening.

But you don't have to be black to be part of this frightening culture (although it certainly helps), there are thousands of young, white men wearing the uniform

This is where we are in the USA today. There is a culture that is associated with crime, violence and fear and that culture is also associated with black people.  This association is so well established that it operates at an unconscious level.  Black men are followed around in stores by security guards more than white men.  Ask a judge if he is racist and he will reply that he isn't, but black men are convicted of the same crime at a far higher rate than white men.  You are probably somewhat racist in this manner even though you would be outraged at the idea.  Take this test and find out, I am a bit racist even though I hate the idea that I am.  By the way, while black people also have implicit bias, these biases can be for or against black people.  This sort of racism will only disappear when the associations based on culture disappear. 

This doesn't mean that black people should pretend to be white, but rather that race shouldn't enter in the equation.  When a young, black man has the same chance of liking and dressing like Green Day as Jay Z, when there is no Black Entertainment Channel, or Ebony magazine then this implicit bias will be dramatically reduced.  This doesn't mean that the change in culture has to go one way, but I think it already often goes from being black culture to being white culture (how many white guys starting playing the blues?  How many black guys started playing heavy metal or punk?)

For me the big question is when the formal recognition of differences in race should disappear?  At the moment it is said that we should talk about race and the consequences in our society.  At some point it will become important that we don't talk about race.  At the moment there are significant differences in opportunity for different races from health care to education to business opportunities and these differences probably still require government intervention.  At some point this intervention should stop, because it differentiates based on race, it is racist.  This dissolution of recognition of differences can't wait until everything is equal.  For a start, in a capitalist society things cannot be equal.  Secondly, such a recognition at some point will do more harm in promoting a racist separation than it will do good in attempting to equalize opportunity.  I don't think that time is now, but probably parts of this should start happening soon.

I have two extra points; one being that a reduction in racism doesn't necessarily mean a reduction in discrimination, the poor are becoming a group thought of as inherently inferior in character, the other being that I have started writing a post on this topic several times over the years but have stopped before publishing.  I am so aware of the dangers of this subject that I have been loathe to take the risk of writing about it, after all, I am a white man.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Unitasking

Unitasking is the obverse of multitasking, just doing one thing at a time.  The word needs to be used now because multitasking (an acceptable word now on spell check) is so ubiquitous.  The original concept of multitasking was that you could get more done by doing multiple things at once.  The gaps between steps in one task could be filled by steps in another.  This sounds completely reasonable and the concept has spread so that it will be quite common to have someone at work interrupt an e-mail to talk on the phone while checking something on their desk..

This multitasking concept has spread beyond the office so that it seems that if we aren't sleeping many of us are multitasking most of the time.  People talking on a cell phone in a park, watching tv while surfing the internet and having a conversation.  People seem now to be bored if just a single thing is happening.  It has now reached the level that while having dinner with people I have had people texting to people.

In our news this multitasking has taken effect to such an extent that there will be a piece of the screen with actual people on it, but also a ticker moving along the bottom, a piece of news above that, and then pop-up ads or news in one corner.  While watching an interview three other things are available for your attention.

Multitasking intuitively sounds like a good idea.  We are given all sorts of tools in which to increase and improve our multitasking.  We should be able to increase our level of productivity, enjoyment, and education  we should be able to essentially live more.  The problem is that multitasking doesn't really work that well.  People who focus on what they are doing right now are happier at that moment than people with multiple foci.  A person solving a puzzle from start to finish will be happier than someone solving a puzzle with the tv on and stopping to check their e-mail.  They will also be more productive with that task.  You will get more done if you solve a puzzle, then check your e-mail, and then watch tv than trying to do them all at the same time.

Multitasking also has longer term problems, it becomes addictive, and like most addictions life without multitasking can seem bleak, as if we are missing something.  I know I feel this way quite often.

Unitasking is simply focusing on one thing.  If you are doing dishes then focus on doing dishes.  If you are planning a party focus on the planning until the planning is done.  If you are walking then notice where you are rather than thinking about something else (I am terrible at this.)  I am making a conscious effort to increase my amount of unitasking.  As with all things I will succeed to an extent, and fail to an extent.


"Texas, where optimism goes to die."

The title of this blog post is a quote from my darling wife and not a sweeping statement.  I am sure there are lots of optimistic people in Texas.  It was a quote from about two weeks ago when she did not get a job for which she was more qualified than the recipient of the job in the areas that were described in the job description.  Apparently those responsible for hiring wanted someone with a different set of qualifications than those published. While there are probably good reasons for hiring such a person and for advertizing for a particular position, this didn't prevent disappointment.

The reason for the sweeping statement is because this feels like the latest in an uninterrupted line of disappointments. When coming down to Houston we had a number of hopes for the situation, perhaps hopes isn't strong enough as they were more like expectations.  We expected to make money in Houston, my darling wife's salary is larger than the cost of living as long as nothing goes wrong.  Enough things have broken that we have actually lost money.  My darling wife was promised a position that wasn't given, and expected to rise the one level to a new, nationally marketable position (the one to which she just applied).  We expected that the work environment would be more pleasant than the office in Portland, which seemed dysfunctional and political, but entirely the reverse is true.  We thought there would be excitement and interest in what we assumed to be essentially a different country but what we have found is not excitement but largely contempt for our human environment.  We even were excited by the idea of tropical weather, to find two straight years of unusually intense heat and severe drought.

Our hopes and expectations have all been dashed.  We have now reached a situation where it seems that optimism in Texas is simply a method to produce disappointment.  We are both describing ourselves as, "Done."  Apathy has descended upon us both. I have stopped learning Spanish, mostly stopped playing music, and writing this blog has been infrequent.  I take a lot of naps, play a lot of video games, and drink a lot of beer.

On the other hand I live in a lovely house where I can sit by the pool sipping cocktails looking up at palm trees rippling in the wind.  We are not worried about imminent hunger, shelter, health care and all the other necessities.  I eat well, sleep in a comfortable bed, and have access to the most wonderful informational tool ever devised. My marriage is fantastic.  I am very hopeful and optimistic about humanity as a whole.  I think my life is overall getting better rather than worse (effective treatment for a mental illness will do that).  Taking the time to count my blessings results in a hell of a lot of blessings.

Buddhists talk about bliss being the death of the ego and the removal of all desires.  Scientific research into happiness shows that optimism makes you happier than pessimism.  Hope is the ground upon which all worthwhile activity is built.  People are complicated and happiness is complicated and the paths to it are varied.  I think a healthy way to live is to have hope and optimism, but understand that a lot of the time you will be disappointed, but that disappointment is a transitory thing that can be ameliorated by a different viewpoint. 

This is another cycle, a theme of mine, as I described here. I've been "done" before and it will go away.  I will be at peace, serene, happy again.  I will invent new and different hopes, and some of them will be dashed.  Iit would be nice if it happened in a place where optimism doesn't die.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

My Greatest Regret

Like all sane people I am not a fan of regret.  The most that can be said for regret is that it can possibly teach you how to make better decisions in the future.  Particularly silly is the regret that came about through no action of your own.  Disappointment for something over which you had no control is an entirely wasteful emotion.  So naturally my greatest regret is something that was beyond my control.

"Do what you love" is almost universal advice.  There has been only one activity to which I had unstinting love, and that is playing football.  There is lots of evidence that the masters of an activity get to that point by performing the activity for 10,000 hours or more.  Between the ages of 5 and 10 the minimum amount of hours I had played football were, by my calculations, 1,300.  That's an hour a day, five days a week.  I played at every single break at school, in fact I was one of those children who would walk to school while practicing.  I would try to get to and from school without picking up the ball or letting it go into the street.  I loved playing football, it was something of which I never became tired, I just wanted to play and play and play.

I was good at it too, really good.  I played with my school team three years younger than the oldest children (a small seven playing with ten year olds), captained the team a year later and we won our division.  In my last year in primary school I was selected for a district team, a selection of the best players from schools in the area.  A fond memory I have is of playing in a school playground and being on a team that was just much better than the other side, to the point that the opposition were simply being dispirited.  I switched sides and the goals just mounted until we were winning.

I am sure that my parents didn't notice.  At the time English football was a working class pastime surrounded by the risk of violence.  Middle class families didn't spend much time with football, while in England I went to see one football much, England versus Wales at Wembley stadium.  Looking at the records I must have been nine years old (I remember the score was 0-0), but it was quite an intimidating atmosphere.  We didn't watch football on television and I think my mother came and saw one game I played (although I may be confusing that with one of the two of my rugby games she attended.)  There were four children and two full, or more than full, time jobs.  Parents in England didn't attend their child's games at the time.  For them this was just a boy playing.

When I turned ten my parents decided we would move to the countryside, and the school was a rugby playing school.  There were no football teams, no coaching, no playing it in PE.  I continued to play every day in my school uniform on asphalt during breaks and lunch.  At points I was actually not allowed to play by my fellow pupils because my team always won.  At about seventeen my peers became too cool to play during breaks and so my participation waned.  Apart from a brief revival in college, that was pretty much it for me and the game that I loved.

I am certain that with the right circumstances I could have been a professional footballer.  I am not saying that I would have been on the best teams, or even close to them, but I know with the opportunity and coaching I could have made a living playing the game I love.  Perhaps I could have actually been really good, who knows?  I know that without that change of location to a different sort of school I would have had a chance at making my living doing the one thing I have loved more than anything else.


Monday, December 3, 2012

Grief Part II

This morning I checked my e-mail and found out that my grandmother, the last of my grandparents, had died.  E-mail is fine, that's how I generally communicate with my family.  I had written a post on grief recently and it seemed appropriate to examine my feelings at this time.  A mind that attempts to be rational must evaluate its predictions with regard to its own state.

In my previous post I had written;

Personally I am bad at grief in that I just don't feel it as much as most people.  What drives me towards misery is a change in my own life, my personal pain is based on selfishness.  When my grandfathers died it didn't really bother me.  I hadn't seen them in a few years, they weren't a big part of my life anymore, they were old and old people die.  My reaction to the deaths of my friends was similarly muted, it was bad news but it didn't drive me into depression.  On the other hand, if my wife left me I would be devastated.  That's just me.  It doesn't make me look good, and I feel a little guilty about it.  So, I want to say that my understanding of grief comes largely from a distance.

However, if I am in proximity to someone experiencing grief I feel enormous sympathy for them.  It hurts me more to see someone grieve than for me to grieve.


How did I do?  Well, I didn't feel very much at all, certainly no inner pain.  I had seen my grandmother twice as an adult, half of the time with her convinced we were not related because of my accent.  At no point did either of us exhibit any sign of particular affection towards beach other.  In fact, I cannot recall either of us liking each other at any stage of our respective lives.  Furthermore, I hadn't seen her in ten years.  Our proximity approached zero.

Most of my reaction was towards the well-being of other people.  My mother has lost a parent and so this probably brings about a fundamental change in her sense of her identity.  No longer is she the daughter of anyone, now she is always the oldest in a family.  No longer is she the primary source of caring for anyone.  There is also a long and profound history of proximity, a shared existence which is no longer there.  My sisters were still involved, and having children of their own are almost certainly more connected to the idea of family.  I don't have any idea how my brother would feel in such a situation.   So, I care that my mother and sisters have lost someone in proximity to them, a family member, and so a change in who they are.

However, I have too further thoughts on the matter.  The first is that I am expected to feel more than this, that there is something wrong with me if I don't, in fact that there is something somewhat disgusting about someone who doesn't automatically care about family.  I wouldn't be surprised at all to discover that the majority feeling about this blog was that I was keeping my true feelings from myself.  I feel a bit of guilt that I don't feel grief, or at least feel the need to approximate it for other people, I don't really want to disturb people at this time.

I went for a walk to examine my feelings and found myself quite quickly thinking about other things with which I may be involved in the near future.