On memes, language, and the myth of simplicity.

The thing about thinking in systems is that every aspect of...pretty much everything...becomes just a piece of this larger dynamic entity.  Nothing is clean.  Nothing is untouched.  Nothing, unfortunately, is simple. There is no facet of life that cannot be viewed as not only a reinforcement of, but also symptomatic of, a larger system.  This means that even those things we take for granted are constantly being manipulated--and are manipulating--our reality.

An anecdote:  A friend of mine posted something on Ye Olde Facebook about plutocracies.  The general idea was that so many "democratic" societies have become plutocracies--systems of governance wherein the wealthy exert the most power and control.  One person in particular inspired all kinds of responses, but we'll start with the first bit: she questioned the point of the post.

She actually made a good observation: memes, while amusing as all hell, allow us to perpetuate the myth of simplicity. Our growing dependence on memes as a method of creating a sense of solidarity (or exposing those who lie outside of our particular bubble) erases the grey areas, the complexity.  It reduces any problem to a simple line of causation, ignoring the myriad factors that affect--and are affected--by that one problem.  But the nature of a meme is that it is short and sweet.  It packs a visual punch, makes an amusing, possibly ironic observation, and that's it.  While it might inspire further thought, it does not necessitate it, and its brevity doesn't spark much more discussion unless there is disagreement. And then, even the disagreement is often in the form of another meme or smug quip. There really isn't a point.  Any impact they have on reality is completely illusory, marked by "likes" and comments from the ever-agreeable choir.  In some cases...most, really...it just doesn't matter.  But some of these memes are addressing serious issues, and the fact that complex issues are being reduced to a  single phrase to the general public means that we're not thinking about them when it comes to things like voting, either.  How many memes have we seen endorsing the legalization of weed, for example?  How many have we seen seriously considering the vast and broad number of pros and cons that might arise from such a massive cultural shift?  Instead we align with ideas and people based on simple answers to incredibly complex questions.  

But more, what I saw was this:

This same individual also asserted that in order to really, truly change this alleged system of plutocracy, one needed to focus one's energies on creating that world one wants to see.  Essentially, she was talking about, I don't even know...manifesting a true democracy out of sheer thought?  That all people who are not benefited by the current system should somehow have the ability and/or resources to quietly combat it?

In a way, the problem here is really a function of the meme thing.  It's a simple answer: people should simply focus on the changes they wish to manifest, rather than complaining about them or being bogged down by them.  But while that is a lovely sentiment, there is an inherent contradiction in this idea: If you agree with the premise that the power structure in this society has shifted disproportionately to favor and protect the wealthy, and that the wealthy, in turn, have used the system to reinforce their power, how can you possibly believe that the impoverished and disenfranchised should be able to have any effect on that system?  At all?  Ever?  How could they?

See, a system that actively disempowers the poor will, by its very nature, support the basic idea that the poor are poor for their own reasons--either that they don't work hard enough or aren't smart enough or whatever.  There is no room in that thought system for the variety of reasons that contribute to keeping the poor, poor--or for keeping the wealthy, wealthy.  There is no room for the analysis of the real mechanisms at play.  Those beliefs manifest in the language we use when we talk about wealth and poverty in this country, and it happens so frequently that we don't even necessarily recognize what we're really saying.

To wit: this person was not being intentionally hypocritical.  She really believes that the way things are are a problem.  She also believes that people should be able to work through or rise above or fight the powers that be.  This "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" thinking is so very American, and it is so culturally ingrained it is nearly impossible to dismantle it for those who truly believe it.  We are, for better or for worse, a society that treasures individualism above all, and while this is a unique and, in many respects, enviable aspect of American culture, it has its down sides. We just don't talk about them.  It's too complicated.

But we've reached a point where playing ostrich just isn't working.  We have to start having the conversation about what things aren't working anymore.  We need to start asking why.  And more than that, we need to start figuring out some solutions.

The growing popularity of memes as a sort of shorthand for commenting on complex issues is dangerous because it limits the conversation to a simple agreement or disagreement with whatever quip is posted at any given time.  The individual posting the meme merely reacts and passes on another's thought without having to put anything of themselves into the sharing (although, of course, many do--although, it becomes clear from reading the comments that many do not read--or comprehend--the points made in such introductory passages, swept up by the tidy, memetic comment that follows).  Thus, the conversation is merely set by the narrow parameters of the meme, itself.

Instead, if we're going to continue to use social networking (and it does, indeed, seem as though facebook is here to stay), let us use it as a place to truly exchange ideas, to explore beliefs, and to facilitate open, respectful discussion, not just clever, one dimensional commentary.

And, you know.  Cat pictures.

9/11 museum reaction.

I could make this a piece more fitting with the goal of this blog, but sometimes emotions are too raw to apply logical analysis.  Sometimes things just need to be said and heard for what they are.  This is one of those times.


One beautiful September day, some thirteen years ago, something unthinkable happened.  The entire country stopped, held its breath, struggled to integrate what was happening on television, on the radio, via phone, with what we generally consider "reality".

There was this...dreamlike quality...to everything after the attacks.  We fumbled through, those of us who didn't lose anyone in specific.  We quietly thanked...whoever...that no one we knew or loved was on that plane or in that building, but at the same time, we were surrounded by people who did know someone who was there, in the air, on the ground, in a building.  So to say that we were unaffected was merely a comfort, a lie we told ourselves.  But it was a lie that we needed, because the unimaginable horror of what the victims went through, what the first responders went through, what their families would always have to live with...we couldn't even imagine.

I suppose that is the defining memory of that day, of the next year, really: just...keep going.  Nothing's changed.  Even the president told us to not alter our daily routine--it was imperative that things went on as usual.  Normal.

But there was nothing normal, not anymore.

I found a book at my mother's house, What We Saw, stories from journalists reporting on that day.  This was, oh, maybe four or five years after the fact.   I saw the pictures again, remembered sitting with my housemates at Smith, watching tv, first thinking the girl across the hall was watching action movies again, hearing her say "...This is CNN...this is real."   Remembered the numb repetition "It has to be an accident...somebody just fucked up...", remembered trailing off as we watched  the second plane hit.

I slid off of the bed where I was reading, curled into a ball, crying uncontrollably until well after the sun went down and the room went dark.  I had no words, just this silent scream in my head.

For years, I've watched people cringe when a plane was too low.  Or the skies too silent.  Beautiful September days would forever carry a sense of foreboding, and somehow, the most beautiful days have become the most terrifying--a terrible trigger, because what was stolen that day was the easy peace of a perfect fall day, ripe with the promise of a new school year.

It's gotten better in the past few years--there are more of us who have only a vague recollection, those who were too young to really understand, or too young even to know.  But I maintain, as I have since that day, that we are a nation of survivors, and that most of us are suffering from a kind of culture-wide ptsd.  We didn't mourn.  Some of us went to a blind anger, and honestly, that was probably the healthiest response.  The rest of us just tried to keep going, and moved from numb to slightly less numb.

So.

The unveiling of the new 9/11 museum.

I understand that there's this sense that we need to remember.  But honestly, are we going to forget?  And isn't there something a bit... I don't know...crass...about bringing people down into the foundation of a collapsed building to view the melted remains of fire trucks, of charred clocks stopped at 8:50 or 9:05, of recordings of voicemails from doomed spouses?

I understand, too, that the argument could be made that it's for those who weren't there, who are too young to remember.  But doing it this way, full of shock value and intentional triggers, cheapens and dismisses the experience of those of us who were affected, who were there.

I suppose I could pull out one systems thing to say.  We've become a society that does things simply because we can, without spending all that much time asking whether or not we should.


Update: I found this article on Buzzfeed of all things, and it sums up what I was getting at far more eloquently, and from the perspective of someone who lost his sister.  Be sure to click the link to view the gift shop.  Yes.  Gift shop.

A quickie: responding to Katie Couric's thoughts on sugar consumption and rising levels of diabetes.

Today, Katie Couric went on the Daily Show and talked up her new documentary, Fed Up.  It pointed out the chilling fact that because of the amount of sugar in the American diet and the resultant levels of diabetes and obesity, we are now looking at the first generation of kids who will have shorter lifespans than their parents.  

Now.  This is, of course, terrible.  We've known for decades that they typical American diet is unhealthy.  We've had much suspicion (which is, I believe, addressed and confirmed in her film) that information regarding recommended daily dosages of sugar are manipulated, and that the companies who produce our food are far too involved in the "scientific" communities that attempt to study them.  (I say "scientific" because any community that is, essentially, owned by a company that produces the subject of their testing is going to have a conflict of interest.  Its research is not, then, purely scientific--hence, "scientific".)

Anyway.  Her suggestion was that it costs less to cook some chicken and vegetables than to buy fast food.  She also recommended that people take a calculator to the grocery store so that they can figure out how much sugar is really going to be consumed by their families.  

So.

What she doesn't discuss? The growing number of low income families who are, for a variety of reasons, disproportionately at risk for these illnesses. How working parents might not have the time or the skill to cook healthy meals for their kids. Food deserts. Stress and cortisol levels. The effects of genetically modified foods. 

The answer to increasing levels of diabetes and obesity is not as simple as "cook chicken and vegetables at home instead of eating fast food."  I wish it was.  

Ignoring the complexity here carries some frightening consequences. There is the obvious: the trend of demonizing the poor and shaming the overweight--both of which do nothing to help the issue, but sure makes people feel better about themselves.  

More importantly, these simple answers prevent us from reassessing and reforming the systems that perpetuate the problem in the first place.  

hi there.

I started this blog as a safe place to explore an antidote to the kind of limited thinking that I see as having a tremendously negative effect on virtually all aspects of life.  It will be, hopefully, a place to develop a new kind of thinking and a new way of looking at problems.

I've tried instigating these conversations on Facebook, in classes, with friends--but the very nature of these conversations is that they are open ended, and people tend not to like that. There seems to be a general sense that if we can't come to some kind of conclusion at the end of a conversation, it's a waste of time.  This is a hallmark of limited thought--it is static.  It abhors grey areas.  It requires simple, solid answers to nebulous, complicated questions. It rewards incompetence, because incompetence only looks in one direction, avoiding any conflicting data that might, god forbid, complicate the issue.  

Here, I'll try to do the exact opposite.  I'll attempt to point out complexities, no matter how uncomfortable or difficult it gets.  Instead of asserting my expertise, I will do my best to embrace the process of learning.  I will engage, as often as I can, in a dynamic analysis:  one that dwells in greys, one that attempts to find balance by exploring complexity instead of avoiding it.  

I won't always be successful.  But that's ok.