iPhones and Blackberries and PDAs, oh my!

To whom it may concern, Dear Sir/Madam, From the desk of yours truly, and thank you.

This past week I spent with people porting the aforementioned technological goods, and I – your humble writer and voice of cynicism – could not help but be struck with envy. Clearly I must have one of these gadgets of networking sorcery. The alchemy of reality and projection must be complete for me, oh mine, my dear dear readers. Sincere thanks for indulgence upon my drivel.

As I sat – in silence, at Meeting, this morning – a slight vibration was felt upon my thigh. Pondering only a few possible causes for this disturbance, I quickly deduced that I was neither a) in dire straits for a mad dash to the loo, b) in preparation for an isolate case of spontaneous combustion (localised, solely, to my left thigh), nor c) being devoured as I sat by locusts. Rather, dear kind readers to whom I am falling upon the graces of, I bemused that my mobile phone was a-rat-tat-tattling against my leg.

How odd, this, that I should be receiving a message on a Sunday morning. And how, moreover, peculiar that it should so be happening in a room where normally reception is cast to the dogs! And – oh, dear readers, this is where it gets good – how even more peculiar that it should not, in fact, be a message, but rather an incoming call.

Delight of delights, I truly am loved! Normally I would be indignant, irked, irritated, even, at such an event, but oh no, dear dear despots of drivel, a thousand times, no! I was delighted, for at this time, in the sweet, technologically deprived solace of silence, I realised the wariness of my ways. How foolish of me to partake in a Luddite activity. For it is surely the better that I am approachable at all times, that I be contactable at the quietest of quiets of my life, that I drop all silence for the rattling noise of society, and am drawn back to earth from the lofty endeavours of a wish-thinking community.

And so, dear readers, I encourage, entreat, exhort you to go out and procure for yourselves a technological dependency. Better yet, buy two or three of these goods so as to partition – further – your life into a neatly categorised, and ordered existence of acquaintance, colleague, friend, and family. How silly to consolidate one’s life into merely one apparatus.

And, moreover, let us petition for further technological advancements. The distress caused I, you humble narrator, during this time of deduction of causation must surely be avoided in future times. Why must I have been bemused by vibration? I ought to merely know what is causing what at all times, and not by an external source.

The tommyrot of our times must be heeded at all times.

I implore you, Twitter, to invest in a microchip which is inserted injected and infected intravenously into our autonomic nervous systems just so that all the world can see how many times a day I shit, piss, and rave based off of my enheightend vitals.

Imagine the voyeuristic rush, treasured troupers of technological haberdashery, of knowing that others could be informed by tweets of your innermost secretive bowel movements, ulceration, and, I suppose if one must, thoughts and musings?

No more need to lock up our souls; set fire, once again, to your spirits, but not of a natural way, no no! Rush out and demand connection at all times! Vote, vindicated vestige of volition, vote with your mighty dollars, pounds, euros and rupees, for developmental despotism due by other denizens! Enslave yourself to the constancy of communication to all your companions! Invest, invest in the future of incessant indications.

I long for the day of molar-implant telephones. I hunger for bone marrow-microchips. I thirst for intravenous internet. And oh!, dear readers, how I lust for thought projection implants. No need to waste my time, energy, and breath communication via opening and flapping my mouth, no no; I dream of a day when all my thoughts can be projected at will unto the masses of those surrounding me in my social-network.

I burn for investment in the networking facilities of myspace, facebook, twitter, blackberries, iPhones, text-messages, txt-sp33k ;^), bebo, and more! I DEMAND MORE!

Yorke was wrong. They won’t lock you up if you tell speak the reality. They’ll ignore you and get on with it. Better yet – they’ll call you beckoning.

Many thanks, Cordial welcomings, Take a bow, We’re wallowing in our own shit and we don’t care.

‘yours’

Hegemony: An Analogy

The word ‘hegemony’ can be defined as, ‘Leadership, predominance, preponderance; esp. the leadership or predominant authority of one state of a confederacy or union over the others’ (Oxford English Dictionary). Its roots are from the Greek ηγεμον [hegemon] meaning ‘leader,’ and viewed under these two definitions can be seen as a good thing. Nations, corporate bodies, movements – all of these need leaders.

The darker side of hegemony, however, is that it does not just fall within the niceties of leadership. As the OED points out, hegemony is authority of one over others, and this one word should not be glanced at and forgotten. Whereas democracy or co-operative movements express leadership amongst others, hegemony takes a step further towards a de-levelling of the field, so-to-speak. Hegemony, then, requires an exertion of power, and this exertion creates a more powerful and a less powerful.

Now, sometimes a more powerful and a less powerful arise from nature. In biology this is called survival of the fittest, and is the basic tenet of Darwinian evolutionary theory. Sometimes, however, hegemony arises less from nature, and must rely on other tools like coercion or convincing. Some hegemonic relationships require two corporate bodies of like power to be segregated from within; that is to say, to do it to themselves.

In situations like this, one corporate body will realise their ability to exert the like-power they have over the other group. Here, again, rises the word ‘over’ rather than ‘amongst.’ To be truly hegemonic, the power that exerts must then convince the opposing (now suppressed) corporate body to comply. Once the compliance has settled, the roots of hegemony can begin to burrow deeper and deeper.

Let us take, as example, a similar sounding word: the hedgerow. Consider a flock of sheep. A shepherd will construct a hedgerow to contain his flock. I do not know if those reading this have dealt with sheep, but I will take the time to inform that they are stubborn beasts. As such, they do not take too kindly to being hedged in. This, being a problem to the shepherd, will require him to convince the sheep that the hedge is best for them. If the hedge can settle for one to two generations of sheep, the flock will have bred complacency. The flock will soon assume that the hedge has always been there, and, thus, the hedge is best.

The best way a shepherd can accomplish this is to aid in the breeding of complacency. If a shepherd places a bull sheep from another flock, raised with and accepting towards hedges, in with his flock, he can begin to breed complacency. The bull will be dominant enough to breed with the flock; the bull will be compliant enough with the shepherd’s wishes.

The irony about hegemony lies in the convincing. The shepherd convinces the sheep that it is for their own good that they are hedged in. The irony is that it is the shepherd who requires the sheep, not vice-versa. That is to say, the ‘leader,’ the ηγεμον, the more powerful, is – in fact – less powerful than the opposing corporate body. In ironic humour, this means that the convincing involved in hegemony is as much towards the ‘more powerful’ as it is to the ‘less powerful.’ The ‘less powerful’ need to be convinced that the hedge is for their own good, that the ‘more powerful’ are in fact more powerful, and that the ‘more powerful’ are looking out for the benefit of the, so called, ‘less powerful.’ The ‘more powerful,’ which is but a dubious title at this point, need convincing of the same elements. I shall, from here till the end of this essay, entitle the ‘more powerful’ the ‘shepherds,’ and the ‘less powerful’ the ‘sheep.’

To further the irony of the situation, the sheep aid in the hegemonic process. They do this through breeding compliance and through accepting the convincing arguments of the shepherds. Why should they not? The shepherds supply them with something they convince the sheep they need, and this word taps so deeply into the psychological recesses of sheep (not to anthropomorphise too far). The need, of course, is a fabricated one; it is, in fact, a desire, which is marketed as need. After two generations of the convenience of the hedge, the sheep begin to breed not only compliance, but complacency; this complacency, in turn, causes them to desire the hedge.

Allow me to become a fair bit more contentious, and use a less metaphoric analogy in favour of a real-life example happening all around us. The oil industry began by demonstrating the convenience with which life could be lived within the hedge of a dependency upon them. This is to say: the shepherds constructed a hedge for ‘their’ sheep. The sheep – that is, you and me – accepted this convenience as being utterly, and totally perfect. We then began working within the hedge, up to the limits of the hedge. We have lived so abundantly and voraciously that we are now beginning to consume the hedge itself; we are reaching peak oil, and not slowing in our consumption. Having been so inculcated to enjoy the hedge, this is causing panic amongst some of the sheep. Like good shepherds do, they are moving in with pacifying coos, and beckoning calls.

The fact remains that if enough sheep were to realise the potentiality to break free from the hedge, the shepherds would be unable to survive. The shepherd requires the sheep, remember, not vice-versa.

The extraordinary act of being ordinary.

The loudness of silence is a terrifying thing. When one is left alone with one’s thoughts, when all auxiliary noise is stripped away, when distractions have finally been turned off, one is left with nothing more than one’s own self. This, in my mind, takes an incredible act of courage, of bravery. And I believe it makes for a rather adventurous time. Neither of these words are inherently the other; neither of them may be fully separated from the other. Both of them contain two elements: a Doing element, and a Being element. We can say: ‘He had an adventure,’ or, ‘She did a brave act.’ In like fashion, we can say: ‘She is adventurous,’ or, ‘He is brave.’ A wise friend recently said to me: ‘“Acting” isn’t “Being” in my book.’

Neither of these words just randomly popped into my head. Advices & Queries 1.27 of the Quaker Faith and Practice opens with: ‘Live adventurously. When choices arise, do you take the way that offers the fullest opportunity for the use of your gifts in the service of God and the community?’ Now – neuter this however you want; include or remove the word ‘God’ if it’s too contentious for you. I enjoy being contentious, as well as God itself, and so I leave that word in. If we look to this, though, we find that living adventurously is akin making the most of a situation; it is about maximising what is given to one. It specifies not whether the situation is glamorous, exotic, or of high regard or esteem. It merely connotes that adventurous people give of themselves to their utmost in response to a call.

In the same fashion, I find it all too ironic that Advices & Queries 1.17 should end with: ‘Do not allow the strength of your convictions to betray you into making statements or allegations that are unfair or untrue. Think it possible that you may be mistaken.’ Through this passage, there is an element of caution which must be exercised as equally as adventurousness. Being either brave or adventurous requires a balance. The balance between living adventurously (A&Q 1.27) and being cautious (A&Q 1.17) is one which must be struck in any given situation. Handling this balance in the minute, day to day experiences requires acts of bravery.

The real reason these two passages are on my mind was because a fellow Quaker shared today that when her children were younger, she didn’t like telling them ‘No.’ Instead, she would say, ‘We’ll see.’ What this quickly taught the children was not that they couldn’t have whatever it was that they were asking for. What it taught them was twofold. First, that ‘We’ll see,’ coming from mom, meant ‘No.’ Second, that mom does not like to say ‘No.’ But this does not shock me, nor do I belittle my Friend for it, for I too am the same way. I don’t like saying, ‘No,’ for the same reason as her; saying, ‘No,’ even to a child as a parent, takes bravery.

The two elements ‘adventurous’ and ‘brave’, in the situation above, are linked. To live adventurously, to make the most of her life, my Friend needs to be brave. No matter how ‘mundane’ her life may have appeared, there was an adventurous and a safe way to live it; one does not require bravery and the other does. My life is no different. I look back on what other people would consider the most ‘adventurous’ tasks I have completed. I have lived in three countries outside that of my homeland: the USA. I have lived in India, China, and the UK. All three of these excursions have been heralded as ‘adventures’, and I think this has to do largely with the fact that they were perceived as ‘exotic’. But ‘exotic’ and ‘adventurous’ are not the same; simply consider the example of an ‘exotic dancer’ and tell me if you would consider that an adventurous lifestyle. I do consider these three excursions as adventures; but the state of being adventurous came within them through instances where I was forced to be brave. I am not of the persuasion that getting on a plane requires a remarkable amount of bravery, only a remarkable amount of money.

Perhaps the most elucidative example is that of China. Actually, physically going to China took what I perceive to be little bravery on my part. It took loads of money. It took loads of paperwork. It took loads of bureaucracy. It took loads of time. But actually getting there took little bravery. In fact, I can reflect on my decision and conclude that it could even be seen as an act of cowardice to have gone, and to not stay in America: a nation whom I was unhappy with at the time. Once on the ground, the minute, mundane, non-‘exotic’ events required huge amounts of bravery on my part. Telling an employer, ‘No, I will not do this task’ took more bravery than actually going to China. It was during times like this where I believe I truly lived adventurously.

Living adventurously, then, is not synonymous with living a series of adventures. Living adventurously is synonymous with living bravely. Both of these require being authentic and transparent. Becoming somebody else when in differing situations is neither adventurous nor brave, unless one is an actor in a play. But acting is not life, and the actors I have seen whom I esteem the highest are those who bring characters to life through their brave, and adventurous portrayals. I am of the persuasion that these vibrant portrayals are only so because these actors are authentic and transparent in them, towards them, and through them.

If being brave consists of assertion in the minute, day to day experiences, perhaps being adventurous can be seen as being brave on a large scale. Being brave and adventurous, however, do not come from thin air. I am of the persuasion that they come best from accepting one’s strengths and weaknesses. This process is one which, for me, has required much patience. Sometimes the Quakers are chided for taking too long to make a decision. Caution is equated to passivity in many minds, but this simply is not true. Perhaps being brave or being adventurous is the process of being assertively cautious, of being authentically audacious.

‘To whinge or not to whinge; that is the question.’

It is spring, with its wonderful rains, brilliant skies, and the high-pitched whirring of revising machines working fervently. In every nook and cranny of every library, café, or public space British students are doing two things: revising and whingeing. These two actions seem to be completely inseparable. The more one revises, the more one whinges; the more one whinges, the more one has to revise.

Should this shock us? We all know that whingeing is a British national pass-time, closely following getting ridiculously pissed. These two pass-times arise in any given order, sometimes with getting pissed preceding the process of whingeing, sometimes with whingeing leading to getting pissed. Currently, the whinge around me is to the tune of exams and revisions.

Now, I have no sympathy for this revision-based whingeing. To explain why, let us analyse exams and their usefulness. I see exams as being primarily useful for five reasons.

First: They serve as a useful tool for demonstrating memory. In the real world, memory is what it is ultimately all about. Who, what, where, when, why, and how – only the empirically observable really matters. Memory, however, can be dangerous, as is demonstrated by some of the people who remember that the US declared ‘War on Terror’ numerous times, and who speak out against the current military actions. This leads me to the next point of exam usefulness.

Second: In the real world, thinking is not a requirement. Spouting facts, yes; thinking, no. It does not matter what you think, less even about what you feel, about the empirically observable facts; it only matters that you’ve memorised them and that you can regurgitate them. Moreover, it is better if you regurgitate them sans-emotion, and sans-processing. Not only that, but it is better if you can regurgitate them under the usefulness of point three.

Third: Time constraints are a natural, non-imposed mode of life. Time, amongst other things, is empirically observable. We, as humans, most certainly did not create it. Thus, we, as humans, most certainly did not create the imposition of time constraints. They exist; get used to it.

Fourth: Exams are a great assessment of a teacher’s ability as well. As was painfully evident from the ‘No child left behind’ act in America, poor teachers teach poorly. Teachers who are not able to enhance the ability to memorise are poor teachers. Teachers who encourage the ludicrous, and dangerous, act of thinking are horrid human beings as they serve to the detriment of our workforce. Remember, it is about the memorisation of empirically observable facts that is important, not the thinking about them.

Fifth: Lastly, exams are a great assessment for funding. If a teacher is a poor teacher, students will memorise less. If students memorise less, exam scores will lessen. Naturally, we cannot let the poor teacher go unpunished! The logical conclusion to this is to dock the funding of the school which made the mistake of employing the poor teacher

Yet, in spite of all of this, my British counterparts are still whingeing. I suppose, then, that outlining the usefulness of exams is not enough. Something ought to be done, if only to quiet the masses. I can conceive of six simple suggestions.

Firstly: Increase the number of exams. As I hope to have demonstrated in the points above, exams are great all around. To prevent whingeing, more exams should be administered. This is for the simple logic that if students do not have time to whinge, they won’t whinge. If one is too busy darting from exam to exam, they won’t have time to stop and whinge to those of us who are actually of benefit to society.

Secondly: Increase the length of exams. I do not mean the duration of them, but rather the breadth of topics covered. This will show that students have memorised more, which is clearly what schooling is all about. This will prevent whingeing as it will be marketed as a benefit to the student. Consider the simple fact that a job only wants a pawn who has memorised loads of stuff. Memorising and being tested on more of said stuff will make students more useful pawns. It will increase their chances of a job, and thus, they should stop whingeing.

Thirdly: Decrease the intellectual requirements (difficulty) of exams. I add that bracketed clarification as I realise ‘intellectual requirements’ contains nine syllables, and I am advocating the lessening of difficulty. As the second point above shows, thinking is not actually important. And as points four and five showed, poor testing schools ought to lose money. If we decrease the difficulty, alongside making the exams cover more material, we present the world as it really is: a whitewashed veneer. We make more malleable and usable pawns. We run less of a risk with people actually thinking, which is both dangerous and useless to society and business. Lastly, if exams are easier, students will score higher, and schools run less of a risk of losing money.

Fourthly: Concurrent to these previous two suggestions, I suggest that we decrease the allowed time for exams. Since time constraints are completely natural, it is best to prepare for the worst. Less time to complete a task demonstrates one’s ability to handle snap-judgements without thinking of the long-term effects of one’s actions. This is what serves businesses best. Also, insofar as I can tell, the British will stop whingeing if they don’t have to work as long. This is what we call the British ‘work ethic’: less time of actually having to work is better.

Fifthly: To aid suggestion four’s claim about the British ‘work ethic,’ I propose to offer tea breaks within the lessened time constraints of exams. As seen above, even though time constraints are natural, the British desire to complete as little as possible in that time. Moreover, despite time constraints being natural, a prolific amount of tea-breaks is more natural.

Sixthly: Do away with any subject which may even hint at thinking. This is including (yet not limited to): the arts, music, philosophy, religion, the humanities, or the softer sides of psychology, anthropology, history, and the sciences. Under the restrictions imposed by the first five suggestions, thinking will no longer be tolerated. It is time consuming, and since it is dangerous to business, and thus society, it is best to do away with it, altogether. Only those topics which require and foster the memorisation of empirically observable facts will be tolerated. They are the only thing which actually services business, and, ultimately, what is best for business is best for humankind.

I hope that my suggestions will be heeded. Ultimately, I am out to make for a whinge-less society. In doing so, I hope equally to offer students what they really need for the forthcoming work world. In the time being, those whingeing about exams, do take time to consume tea. Equally, omega-3 fatty acids are good for thinking. Get at least 8 hours of sleep on nights preceding exams, as your brain needs to re-energise its depleted neurotransmitters. Good day, and good luck.

The 59th Street Bridge Post

The opening lines of Simon and Garfunkle’s folk song resonate with my latest musings from Meeting. ‘Slow down/You’re moving too fast/You got to make the moment last.’ This year has been full of lessons in patience for me. Patience is an incredibly difficult trait to assimilate, and I’m no longer convinced that it is only because I’m ‘American’ – despite what my European counterparts will tell me. I’ve been informed, nicely as well as rudely, that America’s lack of history longer than 300 years is the root of its peoples’ impatience. I’ve met my fair share of impatient Europeans, however, and this post is not about who monopolises an entirely human trait. In no way am I a ‘patient person.’ In no way do I consider myself to have mastered this difficult, albeit necessary, trait. Rather, I see patterns. The pattern I’ve seen consistently throughout this year has been lessons in patience.

Attending Meeting with the Quakers has been one of the most major ways in which I’ve been taught the valour of patience. Not only in the most obvious form of sitting for an hour in silence, which is, in itself, incredibly trying I think for anyone. To sit in silence – in the hopes of stillness – truly forced me to reconcile the discomfort I have with my own skin. It’s an incredibly demanding thing in our times to not be bombarded with stimuli, and when all distractions are stripped away there is nothing left but oneself to interact with. Moreover, when one is prompted to share, it is to be consistent within the time of meeting. All members are invited to share if they feel prompted, but inextricably linked to this is the process of waiting. ‘Words must be purified in a redemptive silence if they are to bear the message of peace. The right to speak is a call to the duty of listening.’ (Advices and Queries §2.12). Quakerism is so deeply rooted in silence and patience that it permeates the rhetoric. The Quakers can be chided for their subtlety, but I rather enjoy the simplicity of the rhetoric. It has forced me to become more attentive, which, through instilling patience, I feel has allowed me to improve my listening, which has in turn aided the ability to respond.

Academia, perhaps the most overtly time-consuming aspect of my day-to-day life, has been another prime arena for the fostering of patience. In an assignment, a ‘letter to a friend’ I penned: ‘I don’t know if I love academia anymore. I like it when rubber hits the road, and I like DOING things. I know that as a student, it’s the time of your life to jack the car up and watch the wheels spin, to see how it all works, but I need productivity.’ This is, expectedly, rooted in post-1960s American rhetoric, but I feel the metaphor stands. Within academia, especially at a postgraduate level, one must become satisfied with the most minute of progress. Reading, analyzing, and understanding two or three articles or chapters a day has become my standard for a ‘productive’ day. The process takes forever, and without accepting what was once unacceptable I would not have stayed in this course. I thought the process would get better as I started writing, after reading. Writing takes equally as long as reading, if not longer, as now I had to take what was assimilated, and revise it. Once again, learning rhetoric and being forced to reconcile the subtleties of words has been incredibly beneficial. When I can word precisely what I want to say in as minimal words as possible, I know I’ve done well. But learning, engaging, and presenting this rhetoric is not a simple, nor quick process, and academia has become a gladiator-battle with patience for me.

For my dissertation, I realise now, I chose an area whereupon again I would be taught the valour of patience: farming. Simply put, farming takes forever! There is never a short-list of tasks to be completed; the list only gets added to twofold to every item ticked off. For every project completed, there is at least two more items to be added. This, ultimately, means that one cannot dilly-dally; there is work to be done. The flip side to this that, I believe, anybody going into farming has to reconcile is that one cannot work too hard or they will not have energy to go again the next day. This does not just apply to farming, I see now, but life. There will forever be a list of things I will want to complete. If I work too slowly, yes, I will never complete all of these; if I overdo myself, I will burn out before I complete all of these. This is not a fun realisation to reconcile, and I am not sure if I will ever fully accept it.

Naturally, however, I think the realm where I have been taught patience the most is that which makes up life, and makes life enjoyable: people. Conversations, I once thought, are easy, fluid, organic, and required little effort on my part. This was, unfortunately, until I realised that I was not talking with somebody, but rather talking at them. Three-year-olds will play similar games side-by-side, but not actually play with each other; in the same way, I used to manage conversations in this manner. However, I realise now that conversations come about best by both people listening and speaking with each other. But this means that conversations become twice as long, and twice as taxing. In the same way that sustainable food cannot come about immediately, sustainable conversation cannot come without effort.

Interactions and relationships, in themselves, are hard work. I am convinced that they consume more hours per week than a ‘normal’ office job. Like a ‘normal’ office job, though, one does not really leave them at the office, and they therefore take patience. I am of the persuasion that accepting this requires a certain level of maturity, which ultimately comes from humility. But the question I keep running up against, here, is: ‘What is humility?’ In conversation, is it waiting and not saying anything? If so, what of being assertive? I do not believe that humility is the downplaying of one’s self. I am of the persuasion that humility comes from treating oneself as an other. I, certainly, would not speak ill of my friends and call that kindness; why then do I allow myself to speak ill of myself and call that humility? If I am willing to foster others’ needs, why am I unwilling to foster my own needs? I am not of the persuasion, now, that I am actually serving either party through this.

Through this year, and I’m sure it will continue, I am learning that patience ultimately leads to sustainability. If I proclaim to desire a sustainable reality – economically, environmentally, agriculturally, and otherwise – then the necessary predicate to this is the ability to be patient. I see an intrinsic link between being patient, and being silent and still, which I thank the Quakers for. I see a link between silence and stillness, and self-acceptance. Lastly, I see a link between self-acceptance and humility. For all of this to occur, I see a need to re-conceive of time. I am not begging the naïveté to proclaim that any of these predicates come easy. I am, however, of the persuasion that they are necessary.

‘All we are saying; is give hegemony a chance?’

Obviously, I do not agree with the bastardisation of John Lennon’s famous chant from 1969. Various readings, films, and discussions have prompted this entry. I begin with an excerpt from the film Easy Rider:

George: You know this used to be a hell of a good country. I can’t understand what’s gone wrong with it.

Billy: Everybody got chicken, that’s what. We can’t even get into a second-rate hotel – I mean, a second-rate motel, you dig? They think we’d cut their throat. They’re scared.

George: They’re not scared of you. They’re scared of what you represent to them.

Billy: Man, all we represent to them is somebody who needs a haircut.

George: Oh, no. What you represent to them is freedom.

Billy: Freedom’s what it’s all about, man!

George: Oh yeah, that’s right – that’s what it’s all about. But, now, talking about it and being it – now, that’s two different things. It’s real hard to be free when you are bought and sold in the marketplace.

Silence as they smoke marijuana.

George: Well, now, don’t you go telling nobody that they’re not free. Because then they’ll have to get busy killing and maiming a whole lotta’ people to prove to you that they are. They’re going to talk to you and talk to you and talk to you about individual freedom. But they see a free individual, it’s going to scare them.

Now, two dangerous elements arise from this dialogue. One is included, the other is missing. The first dangerous element is hinted at by yours truly, and explicitly outlined by Noam Chomsky in numerous sources. Stephen Colbert has tirelessly reminded us that ‘Reality has a well-known liberal bias.’ Be that as it may, I would like to share some of it. What Chomsky outlines in his book Hegemony or Survival: America’s quest of global dominance, is the simple fact that America has not not been involved in a ‘conflict,’ ‘struggle,’ or ‘liberation movement’ since WWII. Korea, quickly followed by the Bay of Pigs, quickly followed by Vietnam, hark strongest in our memories. These were, however, clearly justified: America was ceasing the spread of ‘evil’ communist ways.

Chomsky begs the question: What about the lesser known ones: aiding Pinochet’s coup (ironically, on 11 September 1973), Nigeria, Nicaragua, Somalia, and the first two ‘Gulf Conflicts?’ What, moreover, about the even lesser known ones: East Timor, Indonesia, or the numerous invasions of Grenada, Guinea, Colombia, and Bolivia under Reagan? Tangentially – why is it that these strike more familiar in our minds, even, than when Vietnamese and Thai troops overthrew and imprisoned Pol Pot, the ruthless Cambodian militant, which was unsupported (militarily or politically) by the Carter administration? During the Vietnamese-Cambodian conflict America vetoed the UN volley to remove power from the Khmer Rouge in favour of the Vietnamese-Cambodian alliance.

This all strikes me heavily in the closing statement by George. Don’t dare go telling people that they’re not free – they will subsequently prove it to you that they are. I am not begging naïveté, as Chomsky may through his rather slanted approach; it is not solely America that will actively impress dominance over others to prove their freedom. Numerous vile, dictatorial, and totalitarian states have been erected, and hegemony is as old as is the homo sapiens. It is my belief that this comes at the second dangerous element sorely lacking from the Easy Rider dialogue, and (arguably) from the hippie movement as a whole: responsibility.

George notes that what people are afraid of is the confrontation to a ‘free individual.’ What I challenge here is that the ‘free individuals’ he is speaking of – that is, Captain America and Billy – are not living responsibly. They’re living absolutely free, having sold cocaine to fund their excursions getting high and motorcycling across the southern states. They are responsible solely unto-themselves. In one of their escapades, they visit a communal farm, similar to one which I have lived on. Every member of the farm works so that all members of the farm progress multi-laterally. The two soon leave this farm, noting, ‘I just gotta’ move on, man. We just gotta’ keep moving on.’

I fully agree with George that, ‘It’s real hard to be free when you are bought and sold in the marketplace,’ and so I am not advocating a complete reversal of the Captain America and Billy lifestyle. Locking up and locking down into a comfortable niche which serves and services solely oneself and those similar to oneself is no more responsible than jet-setting across the country funded by drug money. A balance must be struck between these two. A level of accountability must be held to both parties, who ought to strive after an increased level of personal responsibility.

I do not see the benefit in such radical stances as those of Chomsky or Coulter. I do not see the benefit in either solely Captain America or the good ole’ boys they come across. There are beneficial traits to both; when clinging to these traits too tenaciously means sacrificing intersubjectivity and the ability to recognise positive traits in the other, then I am no longer a fan. Kierkegaard notes this level of ‘living religiously’ – that is, above ethics. Ethics, a law or code of conduct, not actualised, internalised, and able to be toyed with is only slightly more responsible than what he would call the preceding level: the aesthetic; living for oneself and one’s selfish desires: Billy.

Sartre and Heidegger, rightly, demarcate a difference between Being-for-itself and Being-for-others. American hegemony, Captain America, and Billy, these are serving unto-themselves and they are paradoxical at their source: at the same time that they need to be personally responsible, they perceive themselves to only need to be responsible to their persons. Responsibility is only so when it considers the events and exigencies of all parties. Through Being-for-others, individuals are able to exist and to hold others accountable.

‘I’m terribly sorry, sir – I’m not trained to press a button.’

Whilst I wish that the quote above was manufactured by yours truly, I cannot claim that and remain honest. I went into the café attached to a local museum. I wanted a coffee. In many places in the UK, here, coffee comes at the press of button. Espresso, latté, cappuccino, americano, and mocha all come from the same machine, the same crystalline, and the same spigot. These machines require one to work at the minimal level of filling the machine with the required powders (coffee crystals, whitener, or chocolate) at intermittent times, placing a cup (or other receptacle) below the spigot, and depressing the corresponding button to the expressed desired drink.

These machines are provided, maintained, and operated by a separate agency from the museum.

So, as I said, I went in to the café, hoping for that quick caffeine-fix, and arranged myself at the counter at the head of a non-existent queue. The café is, truth be told, only a small counter across from the museum admissions counter. The jovial woman who serves the coffee was not there, so I waited for a short while. Soon enough, a young woman came over from the admissions saying,

‘I’m terribly sorry sir – there’s no-one here today to serve the coffee.’

Only mildly frustrated, I soon rationalised the acceptability of this. A pound saved is a pound earned, after all. I was contented enough to just leave, accepting that I would not be having coffee this afternoon before seminar, when she added,

‘I’d do it myself, but I’m not trained.’

I stopped in my tracks, musing about this statement. Not trained? The machine takes merely placing a cup beneath it and depressing a button. Perhaps you have to clean it at the end of the day, but that cannot consist of more than just running – already supplied – piping hot water through the spigot. Hell – this model has a ‘tea’ setting which would dispense hot water for you. Not wanting to belabour this young woman, per se, I turned and wryly asked,

‘You can’t just press a button for me? I’ve got exact change.’

‘Oh no – I can work the register fine. I’m just not trained to serve the coffee. They’re a different company from the museum.’

I looked back and forth incredulously between the young woman and the button clearly marked Coffee.

‘You’re not trained … to serve … the coffee,’ I eventually managed.

‘I’m terribly sorry, sir – I’m not trained to press a button. Health and safety code.’

I wish that writing could do justice to the absolutely serious tone she was striking to my all-too-snarky one. I was equally concerned with the sympathy with which she added the second statement, as through it justified the preceding one. The truth comes out; it has nothing to do with being trained. You were told not to touch the machine by the health and safety code. Whatever this woman is keen on, serving me coffee is not it. Violating the health and safety code is certainly not it. I turned, feigning sympathy in an ironic fashion, and left.

Now, the British health and safety code has done wonderful things, and passed many beneficial mandates. They have removed all forms of tobacco from pubs and businesses. They have insured that all buildings are multi-capably accessible. They have, however and apparently, stopped persons from depressing pre-set buttons on a machine to dispense caffeinated beverages.

One must receive training to depress a button.

‘Why could this be?’ I ask myself. Perhaps they are afraid the person would dispense hot liquid on their hand, thereby suing both the beverage industry, and the university alike. Perhaps they are afraid the person will not sterilise the machine post-use, thereby causing future infection. Perhaps they are afraid the person will repetitively depress the button incorrectly, thereby increasing their chances of carpal-tunnel-syndrome. Perhaps they are afraid the person might commit an act of terror, poisoning caffeine-addicted university students.

But for whatever the reason, I whole-heartedly support it. There is nothing better the health and safety code writers can be investigating, in search of mine and others’ well-being, than whether a person is certified in ‘button-depression-techniques.’ Clearly, I am in more danger of being improperly served my caffeinated beverage of choice, and consequently falling ill because of it, than I am of being struck by a vehicle in the parking lot. For that matter, I am unquestionably in more danger of the alluded coffee-related fiasco than of the long-term, sustained lung damage due to emissions from said vehicles.

But why stop at the coffee-machines? I think any persons working in any profession requiring the depression of buttons ought to first undergo intensive training in ‘button-depression-techniques.’ Moreover, training ought to be specialised, as there are numerous forms of buttons which require depression. Coffee machines and other vending services may be lumped into one classification, but clearly phones and faxes must be another. Separate from those are the keyboarding, which, for the sake of time, may include ten-key mathematics. Separate, also, are the printer and copier classification. A classification unto itself, however, are the multifarious machines: the phone/fax/printer/copier contraptions. Those, as they require more than one type of button depression, will require separate, specialised training, including, but not limited to, both ‘switching from one type to another’ and ‘inter-button-depression relaxation techniques.’

All persons must be offered, but not required to attend, courses in ‘post-button-depression depression coping-mechanisms.’

There is, however, a difficult ‘limbo’ section here: switches. Not quite a button, not quite a lever – these precarious objects pose a serious, and immanent, threat to our health and safety. Light switches, power switches, fan operators – all these require a very delicate, small lever to be depressed and elevated. Consider the havoc that would be wreaked should the person officially trained in ‘light-switch-operation’ were to fall ill that morning! Clearly, all persons, then, must receive this training.

And why limit this to buttons and switches? I think health and safety code must impose limitations and offer training in the proper depression of staplers, door handles, and other hinged objects. And why not continue further from the act of depression? Health and safety code must impose limitations and offer training in the proper techniques of lift and removal. Depressing a button or a stapler is only half the battle, what about the return to normal position? Many a time, I, personally, have injured myself in the retrieval of paper from a stapler, or from over-exuberantly opening a door.

If only we would work preventatively on these issues …

‘To speak is to be able-to-respond; to listen is to be responsible.’

A warm, sunny morning, people gather in silence. Meeting. To come. To sit. To silence. To share. To ponder. To release. To mingle. To leave. Inchoate verbs fuse with practical examples; a canonic narrative interweaves with individual stories via the vernacular. That which is spoken becomes – if only unto that split moment – no longer confined to the realm of that which may be and enters the realm of conceived existence. Vernacular reality.

The speaking comes in prompting, but what prompts? Attending. One speaks in response to that which first has spoken. I sit in silence, Friends all around, as one stands to speak. What prompts them to speak? That ineffable flicker of ‘Light’ – as they’ll share? The prompting that comes without reason, or aside reason at least. The lack of thinking, ‘This is good’ enables the knowing, ‘Good is this.’

She speaks, and I hear discord. I hear dissonance. I hear of people who have been in broken or unstable communication with others. Good conversation has been described to me as, ‘Laying all the cards down openly on the table before playing.’

Our societies will tell us otherwise. It’s – clearly – better to hide your hand, playing sneak attacks or defensive manoeuvres. Another analogy I can think of is playing Scrabble. One can play competitive, and this serves a purpose: enabling a person to grow in the competitive realm. I am of the persuasion that it serves little beyond this. I admit, when I played competitive Scrabble, I became a stronger player of sneak ploys, and board-knotting drops. These games were tense, aggressive, and required numerous drinks interim to be consumed to convince myself – and my partner – that we were obviously enjoying ourselves. Equally matched contenders are still contenders, not allies.

I am also of the persuasion that a congenial game between any two people also serves a purpose. The purpose of this is to teach one to work co-operatively, whereupon all persons advance, and none are left behind. This can be related to communication; this can be related to Scrabble; this can also have the front of improvisation.

Improvisation involves the process of first taking what one has established as rules. In music this is the beat, tempo, metre, key, tone, tune, modes, and the rest. These are established at the onset, these are the bounds of the field of play – the cards are laid out. Once bounded, freedom can ensue. If all players have shared and agreed up front to the rules, and are open to the sharing process, then improvisation is all the freer. Having to ask permission, rather than assuming equal lead and deference, hinders the improvisational process. The first stage can be seen as the ‘doxa’ – the rules, the beliefs; the second stage can be seen as ‘praxis’ – the action, the movement. ‘Practice’ is another word for this, and virtuosos practice with – and off – one another.

Returning to Meeting – my mind having evidently wandered back to prior Scrabble games and jazz – I attend the ministry being shared. That being shared concerns the lack of communication, and pensée therefrom. What could be the cause of such a feeling of shattered dissonance? Communication, cards, Scrabble and jazz – what is the tie, and where does the lack of harmony arise from?

It was these questions that got me to thinking of numerous conversations I have had with mentors past. There are two basic components to a conversation: speaking, and listening. Listening. Are listening and hearing synonymous or merely coincidental? It is a beautiful thing to fully feel heard. Listening is the necessary predicate for hearing, I believe.

‘Listening means closing one’s mouth. Do not let your zealousness to let the other know you’ve heard them overshadow actually hearing them.’

I know this to ring true in my life. Having tasted the immeasurably great feeling of being heard, I am so zealous to pay this feeling forward to as many possible. However, in my doing so, I commit the first fallacy to listening and hearing. I open my mouth in seek of the response to demonstrate my attention. Thus the thought occurs:

‘To speak is to be able-to-respond; to listen is to be responsible.’

If speaking is the ability to respond to a situation in vernacular, then I am convinced that listening is the necessary base from which one jumps from. In jazz, when all are attentive to the other players, improvisation can begin. All persons ‘improvising’ simultaneously only results in cacophony – with the amusing euphemism of ‘free’ or ‘experimental’ jazz. It was told to me that freedom is dependent upon structure. Structure seems imposed, hegemonic. I would phrase it that freedom is dependent upon responsibility.

To be able to respond, then, one must be responsible. I see this second clause shunned as often it serves a person. Is responsibility, perhaps, feared? Or simply such that it takes work? It takes cognisance? Or, perhaps, most frightful in our societies that responsibility and humility are inextricably linked? To be responsible, one may be required to assume the highly realistic stance that one’s point of view may not be the correct one, let alone the only one.