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BBC News alerts us to the research of Steve Taylor:
time is related to how much "information" someone is taking in from the world around them.
...
He also gives credence to the proportional theory, which is that as we get older, a year is a smaller part of our life as a whole, so seems to pass quicker.
To them it's the "proportional theory", to us, it's the toilet roll hypothesis.
Much as one despairs at the current climate of legislation-forced equality (the law is not the only anvil on which to forge a happy and integrated society that fosters equality - indeed, it's not really one at all), we are making more and more progress as a planet along the path against meaningless discrimination. Yes, there's a long way to go, but we can be pleased, surely, with the progress we have made.
There is, however, one bastion of discrimination that remains; that, indeed, flourishes. It's the elephant in the pastel-shaded, comfy-sofa and water-cooler clad room of political correctness. It's the most basic, natural form of discrimination and plays a hugely significant role in the lives of almost every one of us. Yep, you guessed it: looks.
That's right. You can't control what you look like, but you can bet that if you're 'no oil painting', you'll be immediately restricted when it comes to finding a sexual partner - which is probably the single most important scientific and emotional quest of the human being. But it doesn't stop there. As if that weren't bad enough, you're likely to encounter problems even if you don't want to pursue a career as a model or date a good-looking person: you may have difficulty forging friendships, embracing current fashions, appearing confident and being taken seriously as a public figure.
So, shock-horror, the character playing 'Ugly Betty' on the Channel 4 TV series isn't actually that ugly. In fact, she's quite a looker. If I was an ugly actor, believe me, I'd be bloody furious - but I'm not an actor, so it's just mildly irritating. Is the media so scared of non-stunners that they can't even cast ugly people into ugly roles? Are we so weak and sex-obsessed in the western world that we're willing to let it go - to grin seedily at the bikini-clad women and male torsos on the advertising hoardings? Well, for the ugly people amongst us, the answer may well be yes - cos it's the only time you're ever going to see something as fit as that, there's no danger of it invading your bedroom now, is there?
So perhaps there is room for legislation here. Perhaps the government needs to take the initiative. It isn't right that ugly people don't get the same opportunities with the opposite sex as attractive people - so let's make discrimination against ugly people, on grounds of looks, illegal. That would shake up the advertising industry, and would make your Saturday night disco a little more interesting too.
I can imagine it now - the policeman stopping the gorgeous leggy blond as she leaves the nighclub: 'Do you recognise this man, madam?' 'Er, no...' 'Well he may be an ugly bastard but he made several advances towards you on the dancefloor this evening, we have it on CCTV. You rejected them all, which means you're in contradiction of the Non Picturesque Persons Discrimination Act, 2007. Would you mind following us down to the station?'
One Saturday before Christmas I was stood on the Docklands Light Railway platform at Bank station when a lanky man rounded the corner onto the platform carrying a can of Special Brew and sporting an assortment of short-term facial injuries. He smelt strongly of alcohol and promptly approached me and initiated a conversation, which I tried to nonchalantly ‘go with’, confident that I’d find a way out without embarrassing myself in front of the other passengers or appearing offensive. It wasn’t going too well though, and before long he asked me where I was going.
I panicked, shot a boomerang glance at the tube map, and lied. 'London City Airport' I said.
‘Catching a plane are we? You don’t have any luggage’, he replied. What? These idiots aren’t supposed to have comebacks – secondary inane questions related to the first. Shit. What do I say now?
‘No, I’m just going to book a ticket’, I said – ha, gotcha, I’d recovered.
‘Why don’t you just go onto a computer and book your ticket online, isn’t that much cheaper?’ He’d cornered me again.
‘Well, I’ve actually already booked my ticket, but I have changed my plans and need to go to the ticket office at the airport to sort out my new arrangements – it’s quite complicated and I’d rather do it face-to-face than online or on the phone’, I replied.
He left the airport issue at that. But it wasn’t enough to see him off: the man, and his bad smell, was hanging around like, er, a bad smell.
As it happens, I did get rid of him rather smartly. He was still attempting a two-way conversation with me when a train arrived – but not the one I wanted (the DLR branches out into two lines and I needed the other branch). I stepped onto the train with him nonetheless, waited for the beeping noise that signals the imminent closure of the doors, and stepped off again, conjuring a moment of faux-realisation that I was on the wrong train. Nice one – off my friend went the other side of the glass train windows, Special Brew in hand, and I resisted the urge to offer him a cheeky Bon Voyage wave.
I’ve since thought about that brief encounter. Within fifteen seconds of conversation, I had concocted an elaborate lie about having booked at ticket to fly from London City Airport and having to subsequently travel to the airport to organise the changing of the booking in person because of its complexity. But this wasn’t all my doing. My disadvantaged friend had coaxed the story out of me. I had been outmanoeuvred by a drunken, irrational and confused vagabond who had forced my one little lie into a veritable pack of lies – a fictional trip abroad that had encountered planning problems. He had made me a liar; had forced me to deceive him and those around me – for there were the other passengers, whose slow-motion scarper had taken them to a safe distance to listen, but not participate. Did they see through my lies too? Did they pick up on the luggage thing straight-off like he did?
Part of me was curious as to how the conversation would have proceeded if this super-sleuth had continued his interrogation. Under the pressure of the public gaze, how long could I have kept it up before one of my lies caught up with me? But in reality, under the veneer of this slice of espionage glamour on the underground, I felt stupid. After all, I didn’t have to lie. Why couldn’t I be honest with the man in the first place? Why do I so often do this? Lie when asked simple, innocent questions by strangers? (A ‘can I help you sir?’ in a department store I almost always greet with a ‘no, I’m OK thanks’ even if I am in a rage that I can’t find what I’m after). What are the implications of such casual lying when considering how the day could have panned out – a terrorist incident, a crime at Bank station? But hang on, this guy was invading my privacy. Why should I have told him where I was going that morning? After all, I’m not telling you.
This is very much the thin end of an enormous wedge. It was immoral but harmless lying – which even some ‘huge’ lies can be. After all, it’s far less immoral to lie about having been at the cinema when you were in fact bludgeoning a lifelong adversary to death down a back alley than it is to, let’s say, earn a lot of money for lying to an entire generation about what they should view as culturally valuable. Perhaps that’s one to tackle in On Dishonesty (2).
Andrew and Anthony have raised some interesting issues about creativity; I hope this will add to and spark further debate.
Creativity is the new buzz word in education. Just have a look at the Governments site http://www.ncaction.org.uk/creativity/whatis.htm which is trying desperately to promote a particular notion of creativity in the National Curriculum. This is how creativity is defined:
"First, they [the characteristics of creativity] always involve thinking or behaving imaginatively. Second, overall this imaginative activity is purposeful: that is, it is directed to achieving an objective. Third, these processes must generate something original. Fourth, the outcome must be of value in relation to the objective"
This could be read as a really positive idea, in that it emphasises notions of purpose and of value (might this solve the problem of 'worthiness' that you mentioned Andrew?), it's not just creativity for creativity's sake. In this respect, and with regards to secondary education, i think that the promotion of this conception of creativity may actually solve some of the problems of prescriptivism that has dogged the National Curriculum since it emerged in 1999. In fact, the government seem to be back-pedaling a little, and rightly so. To quote David Stevens in" The Art of Teaching Secondary English" (2004:London, Routledge)
"‘The best writing is vigorous, committed, honest and interesting’, wrote Cox, famously, in the prelude to the first version of the National Curriculum for English (DES 1989) – before equally famously deciding with his committee, that such qualities could not be fitted in to the imposed structure of the curriculum being formed."
The NC document is notorious for applying too many standards and criteria which act to suppress individualism and freedom of expression, particularly in writing. But does the above redress the balance or just impose unnecessary criteria on creativity?
Perhaps any form of creativity could be seen more as 'rehersal' than 'performance', particularly in younger age groups. I think in this sense it can have a place without having to produce anything of value. Just the freedom and environment with the right encouragment may allow children to explore methods of thinking and of producing that just can't be 'taught', and they need opportunities to try and fail many many times. That's my opinion anyway. Perhaps you need to practice being creative in order to be good at it, and to produce results that have "value".
Take a novelist like Haruki Murakami. His method is to pour ideas out onto paper without any restrictions imposed by planning or structuring the text formally. To quote him:
"If you know beforehand “I want to say this or that”, then the structure naturally begins to become oppresive and to interupt the spontaneous flow of the story...Basically, I believe in the inner power of the human being." (in Jay Rubin, 'Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words', Vintage:2005)
This seems to me to be as good a definition of pure 'creativity' as any, just the contents of the mind channelled through the imagination and transformed into fiction. But of course this is not as easy as it sounds, and perhaps accounts for why Murakami is, in my opinion, rather hit or miss as a writer. But the point is that the good stuff would not be allowed to materialise without the bad stuff too, it's just a consequence of the method. And this kind of approach needs to be encouraged more, i feel. Being able to take risks is vital too, without any fear of failing to produce something valuable.
Riding home on the DC metro and it's 5pm so all push and shoves, hardly space to stand with a bag and not enough room to open it and get a book out, so content to look over some shoulders and see what everyone else is up - no Dan Brown, today.
Chappy on my left is reading a non-descript work of fiction, slightly smaller than a penguin, looks fairly old; and he's nearing the end of it! There can only be about 3 pages left and he's licking his lips with anticipation almost unable to turn those pages quick enough and find out the conclusion.
Which all made me think of Toilet Rolls
Charcoal drawing: "Metro Subway, Washington, DC" by Javier Gil (40 x 26 inches)
Like the formula for beer goggles that Anthony posted a while ago, I wonder if one could calculate a similar formula for rudeness; whether - if you like - it could be proven that the more money and power one obtains, the ruder one becomes.
Last night I was finding my seat at a concert to discover that someone was sitting in it - a critic with a broadsheet daily newspaper who I will not name. I said, 'I think you are sitting in my seat', to which she replied, 'no I'm not, this is my seat'. 'G13 is my seat, here, as it says on my ticket' I offered. Her reply, 'but I'm a critic', was ringing in my ears all night. How can anyone who is trusted with the responsibility of providing an opinion on the world premiere of a significant new work compose such an ignorant, irrelevant and rude comment?
After a few minutes of protestation during which she blamed everyone in the building for the fact that she had parked herself in the wrong seat without ever looking me in the eye, this delightful character moved to the seat which had been assigned to her. I'm not sure I'll bother reading her review.
Is it me, or are there too many important people with this attitude? When will the nice guys get a break? And is it just in the arts that people behave like this? Please - put me straight!
From How to become a Libertarian:
Libertarianism is the hottest philosophy on the internet! Many famous people are libertarians, including John Stossel and Dave Barry. It seems like everyone is becoming a libertarian, and now you can, too! The answer lies in several simple steps, which anyone can learn.
Thanks to Rachel for the pointer.
This is for Philosophy geeks only: Laurence Goldstein, Professor of Philosophy at Hong Kong University (fact-checking please - there is a site that claims that he's moved to Birmingham but no records of that there...), ex-student of Liverpool University, has written a re-creation of Wittgenstein’s Ph.D viva. Nicely cross-referenced to many sources, it is an entertaining read, if not a bit dismissive of the Tractatus.
Mariana left a comment in my post on Christopher Hitchens saying:
Are you sure your criticisms aren't sometimes unwarranted? Or offensive?
This, for instance, is rather offensive:
"In the same way that being religious severely limits your claims of sensibility, so too does being nationalistic."
The comment on religion comes whilst I'm thinking about these issues alot, and on consideration I would like to alter my position.
By definition, religion implies some form of irrationality: belief in supernature, and devotion to the existence of constructs external to human reason/understanding. If you think that something is true because it is, then you're unlikely to be able to form a useful theory as to why it exists.
The lesson of the Enlightenment, is that every time we have replaced notions of God with an understanding of causal mechanisms, physical bodies and chemical elements we have advanced. To know that famine is usually the result of Communist planning, and not the decision of God is important. Copernicus was useful.
I get frustrated when I talk to people willing to extend their power of intellect to broad fields, but refuse to questions issues of religion. Often, a belief that is unflinching restricts the power of reason, and rational thought.
Religion limits sensibility
That said, religious people are not being irrational. I like to describe myself as a "lapsed atheist", on the grounds that I've always wanted to consider myself to be open minded with all my beliefs up for grabs.... but whenever things like this happen I realise that by any definition of religion, I'm a practising, believing adherent. My friends will often question my sensibilities when discussing issues relating to Everton, and I don't resent that. I have beliefs that others might not share, but I believe them, and they give my hope, inspiration and joy.
Being Religious does not necessarily limit an individuals sensibility
On Wednesday I have my first class on "Economics of Religion and Culture", with Prof. Laurence Iannaccone. He has pioneered the field of Economics of Religion, a subfield of economics that applies rational choice reasoning to religious issues. I thank Mariana for prompting me to write this article, (which amends my position), and acts as full disclosure of my opinions prior to taking the course. I will be more than happy to report any change of opinion, or further clarification from having completed it!
...He must, so to speak, throw away the ladder after he has climbed up it...Tractatus, 6.54
People complain about the mathematisation of economics. The same dissatisfaction was expressed by 20th philosophers when their subject became highly technical and mathematical. These complaints are usually made by two kinds of people - on the one side, by people who understand the limitation of mathematical modeling, via some hard work and having understood the mathematics employed; others raise the same complaint because they cannot see the connection between maths and deductive reasoning.
While Coase's plead for economists to observe the real world more carefully (after that, go-ahead and formulate mathematical models!!!) is sincere and illuminating, we hear over and over again, from younger scholars or non-academics, that maths is irrelevant in economics. I will leave you with Deirdre McCloskey's The Secret Sins of Economics - it's entertaining and even-handedly illustrates the importance of maths in economics, or any inducto-deductive enquiry:
So mathematics, too, is not the sin of economics, but in itself a virtue. Getting deductions right is the Lord’s work, if not the onlywork the Lord favors. Like all virtues it can be carried too far, and be unbalanced with other virtues, becoming the Devil’s work, sin. But all virtues are like that.Don't throw away the ladder before you have climbed up it...
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