Take Back the Right: Why Liberals Should Reclaim Common Social Institutions

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My undergraduate was degree was officially in anthropology. I studied, among other things, the various institutions human beings have created for themselves, as well as various kinship ties, symbols, language, etc. These socio-cultural phenomena are as old as humankind, as old as Homo sapiens. So I must ask, why should these be the sole domains of the more conservative, Right-leaning factions of American society? Why has the right wing hijacked, so to speak, these institutions, and why don’t liberals speak up and reclaim them?

Take the institution of family, for example. Everyone comes from a family, and everyone belongs to a family, and a majority of people go on to have their own family, in whatever shape or form. Family is the oldest form of kinship ties since the advent of Homo sapiens. Throughout history, families were the basis of economic systems, and strove to maintain their continuity in order to pass on their wealth. Marriage was meant to support family ties, often uniting rivals or uniting wealth. Religious epics and tales were written about families: Cain and Abel as well as Abraham and Isaac in the Bible, or the Hindu Mahabharata (5 brothers’ fight to keep their kingdom), for example. Even larger than a family is the institution of a clan or a tribe; once again, these served a similar purpose as the family, and provided an identity to people in a given geographical area.

Somehow, however, in our extremely individualistic society, the Christian Right managed to claim the family as their rallying point. It became their domain, their political and religious motive. They managed to polarize those on the left, characterizing them as self-serving individuals outside of the institution. The liberals, in turn, began to identify family only with conservatism, with extremists, and with the oppression of women. With the advent of birth control in the 60s, many women fought for the right to enjoy their sexuality without procreation as a consequence. This was a necessary step; however, it gave more fuel to the fire for the conservatives to claim the family as their own. By linking sexual pleasure and freedom with individualism, rather than linking them with the natural human experience, sexuality was dichotomized at odds with family values—-unless, of course, one was extremely religious and expected to their numerous children.

But what of all of the family-oriented people who support a more tolerant society? The people who vote left of center, but would rather be at home with the kids instead of at the office over time? The people who are so committed to serving humanity both on a personal level through their family, and on a social level through politics, social work, activism, etc.? Just look at the Obama family: the President’s late, great mother Ann was a huge influence in his life, and she was committed to his well being, as were his grandparents who helped raise him. President Obama himself has often spoken of the importance of his own wife and children, and of the necessity of men serving their role as fathers, given his own father’s absence. Michelle Obama’s mother lives with her daughter’s family in the White House as the “First Granny” who attends to her granddaughters. The Kennedys are another such example—-a veritable clan rather than just the family, they are involved in all manner of political, social, and environmental activism. On a less grand scale, think of all the 60s activists who married and had children, and still continue today in towns like Ann Arbor or Berkeley or Cleveland to attend city council meetings, work with disabled children, teach, or fight for clean water. It is these individuals who go unrecognized by the media and our cultural zeitgeist. We only realize they are there when they have to leave the meeting early to pick up their child from tennis practice. Let’s not forget that America’s greatest activist/“rabble-rouser”, Noam Chomsky, married his childhood sweetheart when young and they were together for 60 years before she died.

Religion is often considered the domain of the Right. We have been conditioned to associate family values with religion. We know of the (Irish) Catholic families, Mormons, Zionist Orthodox Jews, fundamentalist Christians, traditional Muslims, etc., and their large families. Somehow, as a society, we have come to believe that having a larger family equates with more commitment to a family. There could be a grain of truth in this, as it is inevitably more difficult to have a career and to raise five children than to have a career and raise two. But what of the proverbial Indian doctor and Democrat who spends all of his or her free time helping the kids with homework? The Asian-American social worker whose parents come to visit for a month at a time? The gay African-American man who takes in his sister for a while when she is going through a transition? Think of all the working parents who would love to have a much longer maternity leave, and even a paternity leave if the office will grant it, in a society that touts “family values” but does very little to foster them. This is one of the great hypocrisies of American society: it is not a child- or family-friendly culture at all. The very Republicans who seem to speak loudly about family values are the ones who do the least to foster appropriate social policies.

And then there are also quintessentially American symbols that have become associated with the Right. As a friend pointed out once, the flag is one such example. If we see a flag waving in front of somebody’s house, in America we tend to associate it with extreme patriotism, conservatism, Republicanism. Again, we have to ask why? In the tiny nation of Denmark, I saw Danish flags flying everywhere, and I doubt that the entire country is rapidly jingoistic. Flags have been in existence before the Common Era and have been used for a wide variety of purposes: battle, royalty, to represent a particular group of people, and even for prayer—-in the mountainous kingdom of Bhutan, I recall visiting a mountain pass decorated with hundreds of prayer flags, and in the fog, it was a very mystical experience. Flags have been used at sea, for communication across great distances (think semaphores), as banners used as a rallying point for a particular social cause. They are used as a symbol, an emblem, a visual representation of an idea that does not require words. Flags alert us to something—-fire, perhaps, or in the modern world, a particular type of e-mail! But somehow, once again, the American conservatives have claimed this basic human institution, as though they are the sole purveyors of sentiment for our country.

It is understandable that, during the post-World War II period and the 1950s, America sought to avoid all the pitfalls seen in Europe and in other parts of the world such as totalitarianism, communism, fascism, the prohibition of free speech. America was reacting to severe European nationalism, but instead, it created a ridiculous sort of nationalism of its own. Our nationalism cannot be based on fear and exclusion; nor should it be based on a foolish lack of historicity and a usurping of institutions, symbols, and phenomena that have served humans since the beginning of our existence. So let this serve as a call to liberals and those who do not lean politically to the right. Wake up, liberals! Reclaim your basic human institutions, liberals! Let’s not make “family”, “religion”, “the flag”, and other words dirty words in our vocabulary. Let us not let the silly connotations of these words created by the Right affect our own true understanding of these words that have mattered for millennia. Let us use our intelligence to attack the ignorance of the Right.

American Optimism: Our Country’s Most Distinguishing Characteristic

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There is much to criticize about America; have no doubt about that. I cannot solve all of society’s ills, nor even begin to comment on all of them. I cannot address them all in my lifetime. I cannot express everything that needs to be said about a nation that is part superpower, part developing country. America is indeed fraught with problems.

To name but a paltry few: the wrong industries are privatized (healthcare for one, and that will merit a separate post); lawyers have too much power and therefore create a culture of fear that affects our economics; middlemen, such as stockbrokers or any sort of financial agents feed off of necessary transactions and therefore charge exorbitant fees to customers; access to healthcare and quality education is still tragically unequal; the right wing controls religion, patriotism, and social issues; “family values” is a joke, for adequate maternity/paternity leave, affordable childcare, and child-friendly facilities are virtually nonexistent; civil liberties go to such extremes that our government and social institutions are often prevented from being able to care for people’s well-being; corporate culture dominates so much of the business world; developers have all too much power and get away with all sorts of environmental and urban atrocities; unions, though begun with noble goals, get out of hand and create unreasonable demands on any given financial system; ridiculous Puritanism coupled with excessive lechery prohibit a healthy expression and understanding of sensuality and sexuality in American culture; an obsession with money and work clashes with basic fundamentals of health (how many sick people or injured have to drag themselves to work out of fear?); racism still exists on subtle levels; the sexual revolution has been just that—-sexual—-and women still in many cases do not get equal rights or at least respect from men outside of the bedroom.

That take away all of these negatives in American society, strip all of these extremes and unethical behaviors away, and at the bottom of it, there exists a wonderful culture and people. Gloria Steinem once made a remark that America was the greatest living social experiment, or something to that effect, and one cannot help but feel that she had a good point. Ours is a country with an arguably unparalleled diversity, diversity that often shocks visitors from other countries and, inadvertently, biases our minds when we visit homogenous countries that seem “racist.” A Jew might live across the street from Hindus whose neighbors are Polish Catholics and whose friends down the block are a secular Turkish Muslim married to an atheist (my childhood). Those fortunate enough to live in urban areas might eat cereal for breakfast, pad thai for lunch, and gnocchi from the trattoria for dinner.

We have a genuine openness that stuns foreigners, trusting optimism that says “yes” rather than “no.” Our society is built on the premise that mobility and self-betterment are okay, that there is no shame in these things. (Recall the scorn heaped by the British upper classes on the self-made, enterprising Middletons). The American spirit is a can-do one, a spirit with a minimum of suspicion. Yes, in certain areas of the country—-usually regions with strong community ties in the interior, or in small towns—-there is a sense of jealousy against those who try to get ahead. But generally speaking, success is greeted positively in America, especially when compared with how it is viewed in other parts of the world.

Even romantically, as Americans, we want a happy ending. We want the guy to get the girl at the end of the movie. We women want to have the career *and* the husband. We want the nice wedding reception at the vineyard. We have a certain “teleology” (as a friend of mine put it) with romantic relationships. This is often in stark contrast to the very rationalistic, social welfare cultures of Northern and Western Europe where many couples don’t feel the impetus to have their relationship recognized by the state, and don’t need marriage as a means of economic fulfillment since one’s needs are taken care of by the government. “We are happy as we are” many of them might say, and there is no arguing with that. A number of Americans feel the same way as well. But romance is one of the oldest, and most fundamental human impulses and marriage one of the oldest institutions—-why shouldn’t it “lead somewhere”??

We want to move forward as a culture, we are always moving forward, and certainly sometimes this can be less than a positive. Look at the stress levels of Americans compared to those of people in other developed nations. Look at the waste we create in our highly consumerist society. Look at the shallowness of our popular media in the age of Kardashian Kulture. Again, we have to add these things to the list of our society’s ills. There are many countries that come out ahead of the United States on indices of quality of life, and it’s not often hard to see why.

But our optimism will always include awareness; there are always those who want things in our country to grow sustainably, so to speak. We don’t have stigmas against trying. Our educational system fosters an openness of thought even from an early age, and the older I get, the more I realize how special this is. Criticize what you will about the United States, but you cannot justifiably criticize her optimism. Those who don’t believe it can only be considered the worst kind of skeptics.

Happy 237th Birthday, America!

The Razor’s Edge: A Collection of Unlikely Philosophers

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I recently reread W. Somerset Maugham’s The Razor’s Edge, and this time, I truly understood what makes it a classic and a work of genius, despite its evident flaws. The book is, at its core, the story of a group of friends and a couple of relatives (as told by a rather elusive narrator) whose primary concern centers around the seemingly aimless Larry Darrell whose primary is “to loaf.” However, his loafing also includes a spiritual quest to find a greater meaning in life than being invited to elegant parties, making lots of money, having a lucrative job, or marriage. He is the object of, first, ridicule, then great worry, as his spiritual quest seems to lead to an apathy for the more pragmatic and necessary matters of life. Larry also appears unable to form deep attachments with people, probably the result of the early loss of his parents coupled with his experiences in the First World War, where he saw death all around him and his dear friend killed. It was Larry’s quest that jumped out at me most profoundly the first time I read the book; however, this time, I was able to better understand that all of the characters are on some sort of quest of their own, however mundane and non-spiritual. It is not so easy to pass judgment on the other characters or to laud only Larry for being more “deep” than the others. For the sake of argument, I present some additional perspectives.

Larry cannot stand the bourgeois—-no, that is not the proper word, for the characters are from the elite upper classes—-moneyed, convention-driven atmosphere of his social circles. His friends are not necessarily old money, but they are not necessarily nouveau riche either. The adults’ goals are to see their children married well and prosperously settled; this is as much for maintaining a lifestyle as it is for social image. Larry is engaged to the beautiful and desired Isabel, who at first glance seems to be merely a bubbly socialite. But Larry’s desire to loaf and not have a concrete goal that he is striving towards is his ultimate downfall: Isabel’s eyes, a man must have a sense of direction with regard to his work in order for a marriage to work.

Isabel is, indeed, a woman who desires money and position, but her desires are not based on merely following convention. She has thought through her point of view, her *philosophy* of marriage, even (if one can indulge in that word) and has made up her mind to break off her engagement to Larry. This is absolutely heartbreaking to Isabel and, to some degree, Larry. We see that Isabel is not shallow, though her choices may seem to be; this is evidenced in long passages with the narrator (a sort of doppelgänger for Maugham himself) in which she discusses her concerns in detail. She thinks through things and has her reasons for doing what others might regard as selfish, but she tries as best as she can to understand Larry. If she cannot truly understand him, then she is at least sympathetic. Letting him go is not easy for her, but she is wise enough to realize that he has a particular quest. She is a stronger woman than the reader may realize.

Isabel is by nature curious, and even mildly reflective. She wants to talk to the narrator about her decisions. She wants to go “slumming” to see the seedy nightlife of Paris, so as not to be stuck in her usual circles, but unfortunately this decision the puts another woman in Larry’s life. She is the counterpart to Larry the Philosopher: where Larry questions and then chooses to remain abstract, unattached, and searching, Isabel questions and then chooses that which is concrete, connected, and certain. Her marriage to Gray Maturin is fundamentally a successful one, though she is still madly in love with Larry. Even her motives, as explained to the narrator at the end, for preventing the marriage of Larry and Sophie are carefully thought out; she made a decision to destroy one person (Sophie) in order to save another person (Larry) in the long run.

Elliott, Isabel’s uncle, is undoubtedly the most snobby and shallow individual in the book. His self-worth is based on the approval of others in the upper echelons of society. He lives or dies for invitations to swanky soirées, has very particular opinions on romantic matches and marriages, and spends lavishly on homes and clothes. He passes judgment harshly on others, and seems to rather loathe himself. And yet, at his core, he is a good ol’ Midwestern boy who is close to his family and wants the best for them. When Isabel and Gray suffer from the stock market crash, he sets up a new life for them in Paris. He is continually trying to introduce those close to him into high society for their benefit, in order to foster their social mobility. Elliott is an unabashed social climber—-he makes no bones about it. His ultimate goal is to be recognized by society and by the church. Though he ultimately felt that the former, he succeeds at the latter.

One last example of unlikely philosophers is Gray Maturin and his father Henry. Henry loses his fortune due to his innate nobility: as Maugham writes, “instead of letting [his clients] take a loss, he supported their accounts out of his own pocket… he could never hold up his head again if the little people who trusted him lost their all.” Shortly after, he dies. Gray takes over the business, tries to make good, but he also suffers. Depressed and suffering from debilitating headaches, he still remains the ever-devoted, loving husband and father. He appreciates the beauty of nature, as Isabel describes one such scene when they were out at their plantation, and is overall the most kindhearted character in the book, as we only see his goodness (and his bulk!) described throughout. He is open to healing, as Larry teaches him to cure himself of his headaches. In the end, Gray is eager to return to America and to get back to work. He is always glad to see Larry, his old childhood friend, even though his wife has always desired him and was once engaged to him. We never see Gray’s motives and we seldom hear him speak in the novel, but we are left with the impression that he is a man of integrity, a good heart, and character. He, too, has made certain choices as to how to live his life, and generally seems to be at peace with them.

These are but a few examples of the philosophical threads that flow through this flawed yet brilliantly insightful novel. The true signs of a classic, in my opinion, include tremendous insight into human nature, the ability to view and analyze the work from a multiplicity of points of view and analyze (gender, class, social commentary, philosophy, etc.), and to find new meaning in it when read at different stages in one’s life. We need more novels like this, that get us to think about the fundamental questions of human nature and how we choose our life philosophies.

The Artist in America

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If the “business of America is business,” as has been so famously said about this nation, then it is no wonder that artists do not feature in the general vocabulary and Zeitgeist in our culture. Artists are seen as something peripheral, errant, irresponsible. Art is something to be done “on the side,” for it is rare to find the artist who makes his or her living through his or her craft. Artists feature among the uninsured in this country, or the underinsured, because certainly there must be a high risk for a self-employed with paint artist who stands in front of a canvas all day (note sarcasm here). The National Endowment for the Arts seems to be in a perpetual state of doom due to spending cuts as well as censors who fear the visual portrayal of depravity. Certainly, there are fellowships and MacArthur awards and grants given to creative folk, but generally these do not sustain the artist, who must seek funds from multiple sources or undesirable jobs. And yet, oddly, we have one of the finest museums in the world—-the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York—-and stunning collections in equally stunning museums and private collections around the country. Many museums were really founded upon a given collection by a wealthy individual or family. And given our ethnic and social diversity, we have probably the widest range of types of art on display and for sale in the United States. Want to invest in modern Native American? Check. John Singer Sargent portraits? Check. An installation of gigantic slabs of metal by Richard Serra? Check. You want it, we got it. And how many millions of people around the world own an iconic silver laptop or iPod with that familiar white fruit logo? Don’t forget—-it’s as American as Apple!

But we must go further and examine the mentality of our culture and why art, artistry, and aesthetics are not part of our daily vocabulary. Even people who are well educated and prosperous might simply be too pragmatic to appreciate that which is abstract and inexplicable. It doesn’t “make sense” to many people, it is “too emotional,” or, worst of all, “weird.” We do not come from a culture where there was an Oscar Wilde in our past, or huge movements in our daily culture that supported aestheticism and beauty. “Art for art’s sake” seems like a wasteful mentality to our practical, Anglo-Saxon values. Writing a folk song about a flower might seem “sappy,” and in no other country can you actually buy clothing from a category called “business attire.” Everything has to serve a purpose, because time is money, and marketing studies have calculated every last color detail down to the Pantone wheel as to what will sell best. In a culture that is so calculated and precise, there is very little room for the imprecise, the imaginative, the dreamy, or the ephemeral. When we have so many social problems and inequalities to solve—-very necessary tasks, indeed—-how can we afford the luxury of artistic pleasure?

America, since its inception, has valued a sense of justice, fairness, intelligence, hard work, equality, individualism, optimism, efficiency, and wealth. And ironically, those qualities are what can make a great artist. The artist needs the drive to succeed, the discipline to work hard, a uniqueness of vision, the funds to obtain the materials, and the boldness to ask the world for the compensation he or she deserves, is due. And the artist also needs supporters of the arts, in audiences, visitors to galleries, and scholars like Maxine Greene or Camille Paglia who bridge the gap between thought and the arts. We need the Steve Jobses and David Kelleys of America to link stunning form with necessary function.

And most of all, we need children. We need the child in each of us, the child that still exists even in the most boring office worker in his or her cubicle, the child that once experienced such joy in dipping a brush in red tempera paint, mushing Play-Doh between her hands, or spending hours hunched over a notebook with a pencil in his hand. We need to encourage everyone to keep the creative child as a part of our lives, and to express that naturally art-loving side of ourselves, especially as the world becomes more and more technology-oriented. To quote the inimitable Oscar Wilde, “Art is the only serious thing in the world.” If only more people lived that philosophy.

The Need for a National Writer?

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In countries all over the world there is a person or people who represent the collective conscious or Zeitgeist of the nation. S/he is a national figure, a symbol, an icon who is a great source of pride for her/his people. In these countries or cultures, the writer serves a different purpose, than writers usually found here in the U.S. The role of these writers is to create works that are much more than stories of dysfunctional relationships, romance, or barely-disguised memoirs: s/he voices an opinion of the masses, articulates the ideas of the whole. Sometimes the writer is not currently living, but rather a long-revered figure in the nation’s history. Her or his works are read and studied at school or at university; s/he is immortalized in a statue in a great public square or in a museum; or, s/he is a heroic figure that dares to speak out against the authorities—-and sadly pays the price.

Very often these writers are not the product of a literature department nor do they hold a degree in writing. They have not drawn upon a lot of conventional fiction writing techniques, and they probably haven’t attended book discussion groups (in the American sense), though they have most likely sat for hours on end in cafes discussing literature and their favorite writers and philosophers with their peers. Very often, they are individuals who have been involved in fields outside literature—-politics, diplomacy, labor, comparative linguistics, philosophy, journalism, activism, medicine, et cetera. Vaclav Havel, is just one such example: a renowned playwright who was politically active, he peacefully led the Velvet Revolution that separated the Czech Republic and Slovakia when he was President. Octavio Paz was a Mexican diplomat who served in India (his marvelous In Light of India serves as a testament to his time there). And the heroic Chokri Belaid led the Arab Spring movement in Tunisia before his untimely death: he was a lawyer and a poet.

Often, the work of these great writers takes on a political tone or is highly allegorical. I once had the great fortune to see Salman Rushdie speak, and what impressed me so much about him was the clear aim of his art to serve as the intersection between literature and society. One need only read his brilliant (and underrated) Shalimar the Clown to appreciate the political history of India and the Partition (with British and American involvement) cleverly disguised as a love story. In the same breath, one could naturally include Orhan Pamuk’s Snow, which is a love story set in the backdrop of modern Turkey and its issues of fundamentalism vs. secularism.

In short—-the Great Writer in other countries and cultures is more than a writer who has trained in writing and (perhaps) literature. S/he has a broader perspective on life that filters into her/his works. S/he is a (wo)man of letters.

Shrewd readers would immediately note that these are the types of writers who are awarded the Nobel Prize. This is absolutely correct, though there are many writers of this ilk who are not Nobel Laureates, such as Isak Dinesen or George Orwell, or Bulgarian/Macedonian writer and revolutionary Georgi Pulevski who wrote before the advent of the prize. And those same readers might raise the issue that, to define a culture by a writer, to use a writer as an icon or symbol of a culture, there must be a strong sense of nationalism. A sense of nationalism that harkens back to the 18th and 19th Centuries, when many European nations emerged and defined themselves culturally and politically. This is impossible to do, they might say, in a country like America, which is based on pluralism, diversity, multiculturalism, and a multitude of viewpoints ranging from class to race to gender to sexual orientation to region. We can barely agree on whom to elect as President; do we really think we can find a writer who represents all 315 million of us?!

All of this is true and well said. Can we actually have a National Writer who speaks for all (or many) of us? Is this actually plausible? We do have a Poet Laureate, but this is a relatively new phenomenon, and the sad truth is that only a tiny handful could name him or her (it is currently Natasha Trethewey, and I confess I had to look it up!) Literature is not necessarily a part of our culture, though we have countless excellent writers, scholars, poets, and the like. There are few American Nobel Laureates in Literature. If I had a dollar for every time someone lamented that Philip Roth has been neglected by the Nobel Academy, I would be wealthy: Roth’s tremendously prolific output and intelligence do not mean that he is a global, socially-conscious writer with a vision for humanity. We generally do not sit together outside of academic/scholastic or formal settings discussing Emerson and Thoreau, Zora Neale Hurston, or Mark Twain. So why even try to unite ourselves by the word?

Perhaps there is another reason why we do not seem to have national literary figures who cross disciplines and serve as more than entertainment (other than those who are interested in literature): our culture is very individualistic—-writers are not often encouraged to speak out for causes beyond themselves—-and insular, unaware of what happens elsewhere in the world. We do not have a sense of scope. Our literary culture does not draw upon other traditions, does not take frequently into account what is happening with writers elsewhere in the world. Our curriculum does not heavily feature literature from other countries, though we do have great diversity in our own tradition. We are a monolingual culture in terms of the common culture, and being a polyglot is a rare thing in the United States. It does not encourage (as a whole, there are always numerous exceptions) the plumber to become a playwright, an economist to write free verse, the housewife to write political theater.

But let our individualism and enterprising spirit serve to educate us, then. Let it lead us to explore writers (either in the original language or translation) from other nations and cultures. Let it allow us to form groups (such as the wonderful Stanford Alumni Book Discussion Group of San Diego) where people discuss fiction and non-fiction with an astounding range of viewpoints and knowledge of history, geography, and politics. Let it lead us to hear talks with visiting writers from overseas, or, if we are in a more isolated part of the country, to watch them online. It is time we really involve ourselves in the literary cultures and sensibilities of other nations.

The Need for the Natural Sciences

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I just read an interview with the legendary Dr. Jane Goodall in the latest issue of the Sierra Club’s magazine and I felt simultaneously inspired and nostalgic. As a child, I grew up watching nature documentaries about her and other great naturalists and anthropologists, watching shows like “Nature” and David Attenborough’s “Life on Earth,” thinking that the world when I became an adult would be filled with people and a culture that loved nature, that put nature first. I loved my rock collections as a little girl, loved watching the bunnies in our yard, loved how my mother would point out birds in the ditches alongside the road. (Not surprisingly, my undergraduate degree was in Anthropology: Social Sciences, with a strong biological grounding.)

Sadly, I have found that it is not true, due to the advent of the Internet and an emphasis on the computational and mathematical sciences that have ensued. Everybody owns a smartphone, but how many people own a plant or belong to a nature organization or observe birds in the trees? Everybody wants to get rich quick not from dealing with plants or biology, but from the latest app or platform or computer technology in Silicon Valley. Think of all the expressions we have for people who are interested in nature, some more pejorative than others: “granola,” “tree-hugger,” “Nature Boy,” “eco freak,” et cetera. Technology and computer science are more quantifiable; they give us easier-to-classify results, quantitative data, can be understood by people all over the world with a minimum of common language. None of these are bad things, to be sure. The problem comes in that we are not putting nature first. We as a society are not deifying or idolizing (or at least putting as central) nature. Our natural world is looked on as somehow irrelevant or taken for granted. Surely that grass will grow and that squirrel is cute; now, gimme my Starbucks and I’ll send you a text. Look at the way universities have phased out natural science departments, as well as undergraduate requirements. The money is in computers, to be sure, because computers generate money and opportunities for money. It’s easier to shut your kid up with a DVD or iPad, but can you also get them to count the different varieties of birds in the yard?

Our hope lies in our future, in cultivating the love of nature in the very young. But, some might argue, children naturally gravitate toward nature. So then, let us revise our statement and say that is important to MAINTAIN the love of nature as children grow up into adults with other priorities. Should anyone think this is frivolous, I would direct him or her to numerous peer-reviewed studies by eminent scientists that point to the hard evidence of the tragedy of global warming and the shocking rise in natural disasters. We need to see ourselves as part of nature, and as mere keepers of nature for future generations.

Certainly, readers must appreciate the irony that I am blogging about this subject in front of my computer instead of being outdoors, and I must also confess that I do own an iPhone and various techno-gadgets. But these are not central to my life. To me, Mother Nature is top priority, the phenomenon for which I have the most respect. It is not a simple of issue of saying technology is bad and nature is good; in fact, we can forge links between the two (think Bjork’s Biophilia projects). Rather, to put it in Buddhist terms, it all starts in the mind, in our intentions, and there are a lot worse things to put in the center of our lives.

In the Spirit of NPR’s 50 Great Voices

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NPR did a brilliant series on 50 great voices they chose from among some of the greatest artists in the world.  Naturally, there were many omissions, much to the chagrin of some listeners.  Being a singer myself, this inspired me to simply riff on the NPR program, to simply comment on, in an unscientific, completely random way, what it is we might find appealing or unique about a particular singer or artist, what makes each artist so unique?  Each type of voice conveys something, each style of performance (and very often it is just that, a performance or a stage persona) evokes certain emotions in the audience, and it just might be fun to talk about it in detail! 

Here is a list—-purely for fun—-of some well-known, well-loved performers, in no particular order:

 

-Mick Jagger.  That unmistakably guttural voice, leering, taunting, daring the listener to accept the lure to go to bed!  Jagger is unabashedly uninhibited, sexual, unhinged both as a vocalist and as a performer.  The famous strut, like a proud rooster, is all bravado and confidence.  And yet one never feels a dark or hard edge to Jagger’s sexuality—-he always seems to do it with a wink and a smile, a modern-day Don Giovanni with a warmly remorseless “Oh, baby, just had to do it, and I ain’t got no regrets” demeanor that has made him a legendary ladies man well into his 6th decade.

-Bjork.  Like a force of nature, like the wind.  Her voice comes from deep in her soul, and there is a particularly primal quality to it at its core, something she is expressing for us that we all feel at the very depths of our being.  It can be caressing as well, sweet, tender, and soothing, but it never loses its deeply affecting quality.

-Robert Plant.  Indeed the Golden God from the days of Zeppelin who has aged into an ever-evolving artist.  In his Led Zeppelin heyday, Plant whined, moaned, screeched and lamented with such passion that numerous people speculated that his (and his band members’) talent was not human, but unearthly, even demonic.  Plant is music itself, and whatever form his musicianship takes—-hard rock, ballads, rockabilly, Celtic, ethnically-influenced—-this musical chameleon is nothing but convincing.  He is a gifted musician who is (if you have seen him live) also very graceful, a hard-core musician who also happens to be a brilliant performer.  There are those who feel his tenure with Led Zeppelin was his best work, but Plant refuses to stagnate and always moves forward.

-Madonna.  To be eponymous signifies a lot—-that one stands on the trade of one’s given name.  Madonna is not sexy but sexual.  The distinction comes in that she is too aggressive to be desired.  Have no doubt that she is in control; she calls the shots.  But let her.  Has any artist ever captured your imagination so well?  Has any artist gone through as many incarnations (the exception being, perhaps, David Bowie)?  Is anyone a better chameleon?  Madonna is not about music: she is about pushing boundaries and getting you to think/see/feel in different ways.  Not to mention that she is a gifted dancer, a woman of boundless physical energy.  Madonna is an extremely clever businesswoman too; again, this boils down to her being in control, for she knows how to get things done.  There is indeed a vulnerable side to her, but what we love best is her strength.

-Pavarotti.  A voice like melted butter, a voice that never broke but simply flowed, flawlessly, with no chinks in his technique.  It was a warm voice, effusive and throbbing, expansive, just as the man himself became vastly more expansive in his later years.  The classic Italianate tenor sound, an expressive sound that always moved the listener.  He had you in the palm of his hand, he had you there.

-Sinatra versus Tony Bennett.  Is it fair to compare the two?  Both are (well, were, in Sinatra’s case) unique artists who have contributed greatly to jazz and popular music.  But a comparison is warranted simply for examining the differences between the two.  Sinatra is cool; there is a slight aloofness that lets you know he is the star, and he has his people.  Crisp, clean diction, a smooth voice, and a legendary personality that is associated with iconic people and places:  New York, Las Vegas, Hollywood, Kennedys, the Rat Pack, et cetera.  Sinatra was the consummate performer, equally famed for his acting, and was also known for his unsavory connections to the Mafia and other shady dealings.  But one cannot dispute his iconic status, culled from his involvement in so many facets of American life.

            Tony Bennett is, by contrast, associated with warmth.  He left his heart in San Francisco, and you truly believe him when he sings it.  He is known primarily for his singing (though he is a very accomplished painter), a sense of welcoming the listener and embracing you:  we don’t quite sense the aloofness from the audience in the way we do Sinatra.  There is always a smile, and a lack of a sense of the sinister, no matter his transgressions (like drug addiction).  After a lull in his career, Bennett was able to reinvent himself, so to speak, by embracing the younger generation of listeners and musicians.  His willingness to change and grow has always served him well, and though approaching 90, Bennett’s has proven that he will keep on singing and delighting generations of fans.

-Sinead O’Connor.  One of the most gorgeous voices ever to grace popular music.  That ethereal sound, the purity of her instrument, a voice that can by turns howl with rage or coo with sensuality.  Her stunning beauty as a young woman complemented her stunning voice, but equally important were her strong opinions and convictions.  Unfortunately, these overshadowed and sabotaged—-quite unfairly—-her artistic career.  Her “outspokenness” against the abuses in the Catholic Church caused her a huge backlash of hatred, and yet she was decades ahead of her time.  Her music is full of religious and symbolic references that are so integral to her work, and yet she is strikingly singular and unique.  As an artist, we admire her not only for her musical talents that make her famous, but also for her social consciousness and her willingness to speak her mind, come hell or high water.

He Had a Dream… For You

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Monday January 21 marked a historic event, the annual commemoration and 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech, as well as the inauguration for the 2nd term of our 1st Black president, Barack Obama, who (as you might expect) gave a wonderful speech with his usual eloquence. Also impressive were the crowds who turned out to see him. People of all backgrounds, races, nationalities. It’s one of the strengths of our country, the tremendous diversity we have. Obama’s speech reflected this, citing various civil rights milestones and promises to ensure that the fundamental freedoms by our Founding Fathers continue to be granted to everyone. These are indeed themes that Dr. King addressed in his famous speech 5 decades ago.

But what of the people who now take freedom for granted? What of those people who have no idea, no clue about the efforts of the valiant civil rights activists who brought about these tremendous changes in American society? In particular, the immigrants who have come here and prospered, the ones who really know very little about Dr. King and his brothers and sisters, without whom they would not be in this country?

Let us first speak in defense of the newly immigrated. Survival is the number 1 priority. Finding a job, finding housing, learning the language (in some cases), feeding one’s family, taking care of the children, adapting to a new culture—-the list goes on. The reasons for which people have immigrated to the US are as diverse and varied as the citizens of this country. In some cases, it is politics. In others, economics. Perhaps some people are joining their families, whereas others are leaving their families behind. Even after decades, sometimes immigrants have not adapted well, and still struggle with life in the United States, missing their homelands and all they have left behind. Sometimes this process continues for more than one generation, as the children inherit the difficulties of their parents.

These are all extremely valid and important issues in the life of an immigrant, things that cannot be denied. But are these things mutually exclusive from maintaining a grateful attitude and having a healthy curiosity about the history that enabled so many people to immigrate to the United States? What I attack is apathy: apathy that is born of ignorance, blind prejudice against particular racial groups (read: Black/African-American), insularity, sticking only to one’s kind, and a sense of entitlement. You think the civil rights movement was simply something that happened 50 years ago? Something to give you a day off from school or work, and something for the kids to learn about at school? Think again.

Especially if you are a non-white, prosperous immigrant, living in your wealthy suburb or ethnic enclave—-Fremont, California, perhaps, or Houston, Texas, or Flushing, New York—-riding to the shopping mall or your ethnic grocery in your large SUV or luxury vehicle, going to your house of worship, spending hours at your office earning a six-figure salary, gathering with your friends and watching the latest video clips from your home country, YOU HAVE EVERY REASON TO BE GRATEFUL TO THE CIVIL RIGHTS MOVEMENT. Do you know anything about the Selma to Montgomery marches that now enable you to have the right to vote (if you actually vote at all)? Are you aware that Martin Luther King Jr. was influenced by the great Mohandas K. Gandhi when he led African-Americans in acts of civil disobedience? Do you know that “colored” people had to drink from separate water fountains, as you sit sipping your latte at your Starbucks surrounded by people of all nationalities? As you fight to get your child into a great public school or university so you don’t have to pay exorbitant private fees, are you aware that the Little Rock Nine had to be escorted by the National Guard to enter their school that was newly desegregated? How about those white Freedom Riders who risked their lives for people of a different color, because they felt the call of justice so strongly? As you debate about whether or not to return to your home country because it is prospering too, and you can have daily maid service, do you know that there were strict immigration quotas in the 1960s to avoid “too many of your kind”? And as you angrily scold your son wearing baggy pants with the crotch hanging down to his knees in “ghetto style,” do you stop for a moment to think how much your existence is owed to the Civil Rights Movement, to all the African-Americans who fought, sacrificed, endured hardship, and even lost their lives so that yours could be comfortable?

We might still be light years off with accomplishing all the goals that the Civil Rights Movement set out to accomplish. We might still be dealing with discrimination, prejudice, harassment, and a whole host of racially based evils. But it is of utmost importance to live mindfully as immigrants, to take just a moment out of the day to practice gratitude for those who have paved your way. Martin Luther King, Jr. had a dream—-and you are living it.

(And yes, those baggy pants with the crotch down to the knees are most unbecoming. Even Dr. King would have said so.)

Is There Any American Classical Music?

/ The Women of Letters / 1 Comment

In summer 2011, I had the privilege of attending a master class in voice at the Mozarteum music academy in Salzburg, Austria.  I was immersed in a different language, a different culture, and, more specifically, a different musical culture.  I had gone with a certain set of expectations as to what I would learn; little did I know that those expectations would be completely thwarted and that my perspectives shifted.

I had expected to absorb the great Austro-Germanic tradition, to be steeped in the city of Mozart, because after all, we in the United States do not have a Mozart.  Nor do we have such deep roots in classical music. The general public in Europe and Austria is arguably more interested in classical music than the American general public.  People might know the words to an opera aria even in a language not their own, or be willing to create radical opera productions because they have seen enough traditional ones to crave something new. Also, classical music in America is plagued with financial difficulties that music in Europe does not generally endure, given that their governments actively fund the arts.  Therefore, the volume and scope of classical music offerings is much greater and lavish than what one can find here in the United States, with the exception of New York city and a couple of other places. Traditionally, royalty and courts have supported classical music, even fostered its development.  So naturally, I assumed that the depth, history, and prominence of classical music in a country like Austria automatically trumped our fledgling American tradition.  After all, when you see Mozart on a chocolate wrapper, you’ve got to assume that these people care!  But my logic was proven only partially correct. After my experience at Salzburg, I came to understand that Austria does indeed have a rich tradition, but I recognized that we also have a distinct musical culture of our own.

Perhaps as Americans we have a complex that our classical music tradition isn’t “good enough” when we compare ourselves to Europeans.  We do not have as long or deep of non-popular or art music in our culture.  And rather than being something that is just a part of our background, classical music here is often an elite phenomenon that is enjoyed by people living more urban areas and/or who are more affluent.  But what is so uniquely American is that the ethnic diversity that is the hallmark of our country is reflected in our classical music. We have deep Italian roots, especially in opera, reaching back to colonial times and including genius librettist Lorenzo da Ponte (think Don Giovanni or Cosi’ Fan Tutte), who was the first professor of Italian at Columbia University; rich, German (choral) traditions so prominently found in the Midwest and Great Lakes regions that are imparted to children in schools from the time they are very young; African-American spirituals and blues traditions that have filtered into our sensibility through compositions and also through the performers, who are often known for their passion, elegance, depth of feeling, and (pardon the horrible cliche’) “soul”; refugee Jews who brought with them their rigorous training in technique, deep knowledge and scholarship, and emotion when they escaped various pogroms or wars and settled into various conservatories, universities, musical ensembles, solo careers, or even Hollywood film studios; and in more recent decades, the influx of Asian musicians who bring incredible discipline to their craft and an unparalleled enthusiasm for excellence, not to mention brilliant artistry (Sarah Chang, anyone?).  Various artists of classical musics from around the world have also inspired the American tradition when they have come here and collaborated with our performers and composers.  And of course, we cannot neglect our good old “Yankee ingenuity” with innovative individuals that have created unique forms and styles of their own.  We have Leonard Bernstein, Philip Glass, and renowned women like Joan Tower and Meredith Monk, to name but a few.

These are, of course, but broadly painted generalizations of our various cultural strands, and I am indeed neglecting numerous others who have contributed to our classical music melting pot.  But the point remains:  America is indeed a powerhouse in terms of classical music.  Certainly in such a huge country there is a wide range of training for aspiring musicians, some of it downright shoddy.  But there is also plenty of world-class education too, preparing the future virtuosos and good, decent, working musicians of tomorrow.  American conservatories and music departments are full of international students and professors—-if this is not a sign of our musical prowess, I don’t know what is.  Our diversity has made our classical music heritage something remarkable, drawing on the strengths of various cultures.

I am now a wiser musician who can certainly appreciate a Mozart, or a Sibelius (visiting his home outside Helsinki and even being allowed to play his piano was a most heartwarming experience!)  But I have learned my lesson through experience, learned how wonderful a classical music tradition we have here in the United States.  And the exciting thing is, it’s only going to grow even more.  It really does take stepping away from your own country in order to appreciate it.

Fighting Fair: Military Technology and its (Mis)uses–Guest Post

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Today, I will comment on something completely different—-politics and power. Some might argue that war and military conflict are inevitable, that warfare has existed since the beginning of humankind, and that rather than try to eliminate it, we must set conventions in order to “fight fair.” Certainly, numerous treaties, conventions, rules, and organizations exist, such as NATO. And yet, there are always those who will choose to violate or ignore the guidelines set by international organizations or national governments. For example, the Ottawa Treaty to ban landmines has not been signed by 40 countries—-including the United States!—-and this has certainly been a point of controversy. This leads us to ask, Why does our foreign policy often not stem from a more comprehensive, international perspective? That is, can the United States not benefit from incorporating other countries’ point of view when making our own security and defense decisions?

I now turn the discussion over to Professor Priya Satia of Stanford University, to share with readers her own thoughts on the matter, and have included a link to her latest article on publicserviceeurope.com
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I am a professor of modern British history at Stanford University. My first book, Spies in Arabia: The Great War and the Cultural Foundations of Britain’s Covert Empire in the Middle East (OUP, 2008), explored the origins of the British “air control” schemes in the Middle East after World War I. It was published just as the United States began pursuing aerial approaches to counterinsurgency in the War on Terror. The British past sheds fascinating light on today’s strategy and its chances for success–that has been my motivation in writing and speaking about drones in recent years. My academic work has also appeared in several edited collections as well as journals such as the American Historical Review, Past & Present, and Technology and Culture. I have also written for popular media like the Financial Times, the Times Literary Supplement, and the Nation. Currently, I am working on a book on the gun trade in the eighteenth-century British empire as a way of understanding the role of the state and war in the industrial revolution.

http://www.publicserviceeurope.com/article/2741/lack-of-public-debate-on-us-drone-programme-is-dangerous

Priya Satia is associate professor of history at Stanford University