the need for discourse

Recently, I found myself discussing with a third party a friendship that I have with somebody whose political views are very different from my own. I can't remember my exact phrasing, but after describing how much I liked this person, I added the caveat-- "... oh, but we don't discuss politics." Along these lines, an unabashedly liberal friend was recently explaining to me that she doesn't interact much with 'hard core conservatives', because it only serves to frustrate her. We were both, I suspect, employing exaggeration. Nevertheless, there is some truth behind these statements, and I find it troubling.

At a very basic level, surrounding ourselves with only like-minded people seems antithetical to personal growth and to having an open, evolving mind. Engaging, earnestly and sincerely, with those who disagree with us allows us to see things from different perspectives, learn about the limits and problems with our views, and occassionally change our opinions. In other cases, our views can be made richer and stronger by having actively worked through challenges to them.

It's hardly a contentious notion that one will have more thoughtful, well informed ideas if one interacts with people with whom one disagrees. Nor is it particularly contentious that our ideas are more likely to stagnate if we surround ourselves with people who share our points of view. This feels intellectually lazy and unproductive. In his new book, Going To Extremes, Cass Sunstein argues that the threat posed by intellectual self segregation is actually much worse than this. Drawing on real world examples, and on studies in behavioural and social psychology, he makes the following point: when a group of like minded people engage in discussion on an issue about which they generally agree, the group will usually end up coming to a stronger, more extreme view than the average individual came into the discussion with. This makes sense, when we consider that one is likely to hear new arguments that support the same basic view, and have his own arguments reinforced. In the absence of credible challenges to the group's prevailing point of view, indivuals are likely to get an inflated sense that their view is 'right', and this, I think, is a dangerous thing.

I first considered the notion of mob mentality studying To Kill a Mockingbird in high school English. While probably an extreme example, there is a parallel. It does feel like we're embracing an intellectual 'mob mentality' when we choose to close ourselves off from people with differing views. Lost in a crowd of the like-minded, we can dispense with the inconvenience of questioning our positions. Inevitably, this will cause us to make decisions that are not warranted on merit.

College facilitated this discourse in a unique way. First and foremost, I spent four years living in close quarters with people from a wide variety of backrounds and ideological perspectives. Many of these people became close friends, and inevitably, many of them were different from me. Beyond this, the notion of classwork explicitly encourages this kind of discourse. Students are made, formally and informally, to challenge their views and defend them with rigour. In a post-college life, it is much harder to facilitate this discourse. The classwork is gone, and we interact with far fewer people on a day to day basis. Moreover, we naturally tend to socialize with people with similar perspectives. Freed from assigned coursework, we choose to read books that reinforce our views.

So what are the solutions? Public spaces and public forums can help. It is an unfortunate paradox that developed societies like ours, with such emphasis on free speech, tend to be so fixated on private life. Some of it comes down to us as individuals. We need to make the decision to cultivate relationships with people who disagree with us, to read books that challenge our beliefs, to engage in active public intellectualism. We'll all benefit from leaving our comfort zones.

Easier said than done.

mj

r.i.p.

doing good and doing well

When I was in high school, our principal would often claim that the school intended to educate boys capable of "doing good and doing well." I always regarded the phrase cynically, as a sort of moral tax paid by an institution with a long history of privileged alumni doing well. In retrospect, the dedication of our faculty to instilling this notion clearer to me than it was at the time. In any case, we heard the phrase often enough to not ever give it serious thought, or consider its implications on our own lives.

Societal barometers for success seem heavily tilted towards the doing well, as opposed to doing good. Even the simple phrase "(s)he has been very successful" implies financial success. While we do often celebrate people who make major, public impacts in public service, we don't necessarily appreciate the people working in public service every day without making the news. In the US, the emphasis on doing well is made all the more salient by the fact that so many politicians come from business backgrounds, and are held fairly captive by corporate interests. There is often a subtext that a business background somehow makes a politician more credible on account of their 'real world experience.' Implicit here is the idea that working for the public good is less 'real.'

Is there an expectation that educated, intelligent people ought to use their ability to enrich themselves? From another perspective, when thoughtful people make the decision to 'earn a good living', are they falling short of a moral standard? Perhaps one's ambition should be to focus on contributing positively to the world, rather than on doing well for one's self. Cynics cite examples like those of Bill Gates and of Warren Buffett. These are people who, because of their vast financial success, have been able to do far more good than if they'd dedicated their lives initially to "doing good." Still, these are obvious outliers, and it seems dubious to build an argument from them. Ultimately, people need to make a choice about how to spend their lives, and it ought to be something that is personally meaningful.

I've wondered myself whether I should be doing more to improve the world I live in. On the other hand, while it may be an admirable thing for people to dedicate their lives to public service, maybe it's enough to engage with these issues as a citizen, even if it isn't the focus of your work and livelihood. The reality is that those working for most non-profit institutions, teachers, often struggle to make ends meet. The challenge is even more daunting when one thinks about having a family. So it could be unreasonable to expect everybody to think about doing good in their career-- certainly, I think it is a step too far to call it any kind of moral obligation.

Still, I think doing good ought to enter the decision process, and this demands that we change the way we think about success. Meaning and purpose are important, and I've been thinking about these issues with respect to my own career decisions, past and future. I'd encourage you to do the same--

melanin vignette

Georgia Anne Muldrow is a neo-soul / r&b / hip hop artist from LA . She creates some very cool pieces that are on balance very dense and layered. Many of her songs are short and concentrated, rapidly introducing and exploring a single auditory theme or idea. Vignettes of songs.

LIsten to this one and let me know what you think--

the sound of silence

Person A: “I love the Paris metro.”
NKW: “Paris METRO.”

Person B: “The UN building is one of my favorite places in the city.”
NKW: “Ah yes, the UN building.”

It is a peculiar habit of mine to repeat phrases and words when I hear them spoken to me. Recently, a friend pointed this bizarre habit out to me and thought it was funny. I’ve been vaguely aware of my tendency to do this, but haven’t really thought about where it might come from or what it might mean before. I have some ideas.

At a very basic (and mostly subconscious) level, I think I use this device as a way to fill perceived voids in conversation. When I am with most people, silence makes me uncomfortable, and I think this is a reaction to that discomfort. The action is akin to nervous rambling—another occasional tendency of mine. I think this discomfort stems from some very fundamental and important questions.

Am I connecting with this person?
Am I interesting?
Do I have anything meaningful to contribute to the dialogue?
Are we engaging one another?
…

The irony is that thoughtless repetition of a simple phrase is meaningless, and doesn't constitute any sort of engagement with or connection to the other person. While this is apparent on reflection, I think the tendency comes from a reflexive place rather than a thoughtful one, and is much like a nervous tic. In particular, I think this urge is strong when I am drawn to somebody on an instinctive, primal level that I may not fully grasp. In this case, there is a subconscious desire to justify this pull ex-post-facto on more traditionally 'rational' grounds such as an explicit intellectual connection or a shared interest.

This effort to synthesize meaning is itself probably misguided. Tangible connections to others cannot be fabricated, and even if they can be encouraged, the mindless repetition of a simple phrase certainly doesn't advance this goal. Obliquely, this also brings to mind the notion that we often listen to others with an intention of crafting our response. Instead, we should really try to hear the other person. In this way, accepting silence can enhance conversation.

It takes some fortitutde to acknowledge that one might simply have little to share with somebody on a given topic, and it takes faith to realize that this is OK. Perhaps we ought to simply enjoy being with people, and listening to people. After all, can language even begin to describe the nature of human connection?

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