When I consider the impact that websites like Facebook and MySpace have brought upon society, I am not convinced that our present generation can fairly evaluate the level of positive or negative change experienced. Consider the cultural change of the late 1960's. The rebellion against authority, to some, signaled a decline of western civilization. Yet as time passed and adjustments were made, America managed to assimilate that idealism and move forward.
With respect to the internet and social media, the technology has really done nothing more than create an easier means of gathering. Now you don't need to go to someone's house or a rally, you can simply make a comment and your 300 or so friends can engage you in dialogue.
So while these can appear as nothing more than an opportunity to have someone look at us, we should be careful not to confuse the ease of something with a new vice.
Where we might find problems is in how we process this wealth of information. For example, in reviewing the "info" of friends (and friends of friends) I am able to see their success based on relationships and\or occupation. Naturally I may compare this to my life and evaluate myself and the decisions I have made.
Now in the past this may have been something, on such a grand scale, that I would have dealt with through a class reunion or a holiday party. However, what Facebook (to use a specific example) allows me is immediate access to even more standards of success. It would not be a reach to state that someone with low self esteem might find such information and indictment of their own failures. In turn, others may be comfortable enough with self and feel sincere joy for their friends or they may see this virtual relationship as a means of networking so to improve their condition.
A great question will always be that which asks to what extent our humanity is eroded or complemented through technology. Advertisers know that persistent imagery through pictures or language can persuade the person to make a specific choice. How different is it to see hundreds of people writing of how much money they make or posting pictures of all the events they go to?
In the end we are accountable for knowing our weaknesses and choosing a world in which they do not control us. Maybe it isn't a good idea to accept every friend request. Maybe we should unfriend those who post links and opinions which cause stress or animosity. The attention we think we're getting can never replace the negative impact which might be pushing us towards failure.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
How We Process
One thing we should all come to expect from elections is the increased level of hatred and ignorance which is conveyed by citizens across the political spectrum. The "my party" mentality is exhibited in the mantra to "vote the party line", which in itself implies a level of absolutism that should offend. Though masked as an ideological difference, the very idea that a political party, which is framed by a specific dogma, has the ability to solve the problems society presents may be the single most deceptive aspect of their pitch.
When ad campaigns focus their attention on qualifying someone as an "Obama Liberal" or a "Tea Party Conservative", the expectation is that the observer will correlate the phrase to a preconceived notion of the individual or group and subsequently your decision will not be made based on information supplied but distinct experiences and preconceived notions. When we fall for such a tactic we find ourselves lost as our decision is not based on the idea but on the presumption of the idea.
I found a post from 2007 by a Maria Binz-Sharf that referenced a talk on human information processing at the Columbia Business School. The speaker was a Thomas Mussweiler from the University of Cologne. Binz-Sharf writes:
However, not all situations warrant an immediate reaction and it is those times, in which a more academic or cognitive approach is prudent if not responsible. For example, we don't succeed in college by our first experience of the text or idea. We evaluate what is being said, we look at alternate options and then formulate an opinion or response. The key is being able, to the best of our ability, to defend the position while being sympathetic to the counter argument. If I learned anything from my philosophy professors it is that.
Going back to the election, how then are decisions being made? If we are asked to judge a candidate through a narrow lense, how informed and accurate (and accurate is used very loosely here) can that decision be? Liberal, conservative, religious, democrat, republican, those terms don't really mean anything until we approach the idea. And even then it becomes a matter of understanding how the idea is to be applied.
Here is where the processing of information becomes our tipping point. If the scope is narrow then our understanding of cause and effect is narrow. For example, liberal idea A and conservative idea B, though appearing mutually exclusive, actually compliment each other to the extent that they address potential scenario K, O and W. The exclusivity, if we're not careful, is assumed based on nothing more than an association fallacy.
Politics were a convenient example as we just experienced the mid-term elections, but the idea of processing came about from a day spent sitting, talking at the St. John's Town Center. Manner of dress, a look or a physical display is observed and the mind tries to qualify the participant. A specific example that fascinated were drivers as they approached cross walks. Some waved the pedestrian by with such aggressiveness that they almost seemed bothered. I couldn't help but wonder what the driver saw the pedestrian as and therefore how they were processing this impediment to their destination.
While discussing this, my friend Josh spoke of how he marveled at the inherent complexity of the human being. In reflecting upon his comment I find it more appropriate than when he initially said it. How we process can be correlated to a lie and how entangled one gets when lying. The difficulty in not only making a decision but then making that next decision is contingent upon how informed the first choice was. If, like a lie, there is no depth of understanding then confusion prevails and we eventually become overwhelmed by choices for which we are unprepared.
As Binz-Scharf furthered noted, "I kept asking myself how the way we process information relates to how we search for it." This seems to me the integral first step. Am I looking to disprove or prove and if so am I approaching it with a bias. For example, is the pedestrian walking slowly across the street on purpose (i.e. it is a personal attack towards me)?
An old mentor once told me that if you go into a debate with the thought that you have nothing new to learn then there is no reason to engage your opponent. I can't imagine a more difficult task we are then asked to complete: Take the time to formulate the opinion only to hold it open to change. Yet isn't that the very nature of learning?
When ad campaigns focus their attention on qualifying someone as an "Obama Liberal" or a "Tea Party Conservative", the expectation is that the observer will correlate the phrase to a preconceived notion of the individual or group and subsequently your decision will not be made based on information supplied but distinct experiences and preconceived notions. When we fall for such a tactic we find ourselves lost as our decision is not based on the idea but on the presumption of the idea.
I found a post from 2007 by a Maria Binz-Sharf that referenced a talk on human information processing at the Columbia Business School. The speaker was a Thomas Mussweiler from the University of Cologne. Binz-Sharf writes:
Mussweiler went on to talk about various factors that influence the comparisons we make, most importantly the standards we employ for comparing information. His experiments used a technique called “priming” to activate certain standards – for example, subjects were asked to judge a trait in a person. The result shows that priming a trait concept (such as aggressiveness) will induce the subject to judge the target person according to that trait. In other words, once activated, standards are spontaneously compared to the target person.We shouldn't be so naive as to expect us to remove "priming" from how we approach the world and the people we experience in the world. Doing so would eliminate a basic element of survival. We are obligated to discern a person or situation based on observable elements and in doing so can react in a manner which might ensure safety or success.
However, not all situations warrant an immediate reaction and it is those times, in which a more academic or cognitive approach is prudent if not responsible. For example, we don't succeed in college by our first experience of the text or idea. We evaluate what is being said, we look at alternate options and then formulate an opinion or response. The key is being able, to the best of our ability, to defend the position while being sympathetic to the counter argument. If I learned anything from my philosophy professors it is that.
Going back to the election, how then are decisions being made? If we are asked to judge a candidate through a narrow lense, how informed and accurate (and accurate is used very loosely here) can that decision be? Liberal, conservative, religious, democrat, republican, those terms don't really mean anything until we approach the idea. And even then it becomes a matter of understanding how the idea is to be applied.
Here is where the processing of information becomes our tipping point. If the scope is narrow then our understanding of cause and effect is narrow. For example, liberal idea A and conservative idea B, though appearing mutually exclusive, actually compliment each other to the extent that they address potential scenario K, O and W. The exclusivity, if we're not careful, is assumed based on nothing more than an association fallacy.
Politics were a convenient example as we just experienced the mid-term elections, but the idea of processing came about from a day spent sitting, talking at the St. John's Town Center. Manner of dress, a look or a physical display is observed and the mind tries to qualify the participant. A specific example that fascinated were drivers as they approached cross walks. Some waved the pedestrian by with such aggressiveness that they almost seemed bothered. I couldn't help but wonder what the driver saw the pedestrian as and therefore how they were processing this impediment to their destination.
While discussing this, my friend Josh spoke of how he marveled at the inherent complexity of the human being. In reflecting upon his comment I find it more appropriate than when he initially said it. How we process can be correlated to a lie and how entangled one gets when lying. The difficulty in not only making a decision but then making that next decision is contingent upon how informed the first choice was. If, like a lie, there is no depth of understanding then confusion prevails and we eventually become overwhelmed by choices for which we are unprepared.
As Binz-Scharf furthered noted, "I kept asking myself how the way we process information relates to how we search for it." This seems to me the integral first step. Am I looking to disprove or prove and if so am I approaching it with a bias. For example, is the pedestrian walking slowly across the street on purpose (i.e. it is a personal attack towards me)?
An old mentor once told me that if you go into a debate with the thought that you have nothing new to learn then there is no reason to engage your opponent. I can't imagine a more difficult task we are then asked to complete: Take the time to formulate the opinion only to hold it open to change. Yet isn't that the very nature of learning?
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The Story and a Man's Funeral
I drove down to Winter Park, FL with my wife and mother to attend the funeral of a friend's father. The name is not important to you so I won't mention it. Giving a name to the person won't cause you to feel any greater sympathy for those who mourn him. It will only serve to give title to a stranger, much like understanding a story from its title.
So better served am I to tell you what he did. He was a reputable lawyer in Winter Park, FL with more ties to the community than kudzu on a South Carolina hill. He fathered two children and was married to a beautiful and proper southern woman for 57 years. His collegiate life saw him get a degree from both the University of Georgia and the University of Florida.
His business sense allowed him to make decisions which furthered his career and overall quality of life. He was well liked and well respected, a man whose word was enough. Apart from his family, his most prized efforts were related to his faith and the rewards reaped by the community churches from this love. That he proudly served his country in the USAF must be a close second as his funeral echoed voices calling each to our attention.
I did not attend the viewing because I do not like them. Call it a weakness or simply a preference, but that final memory is not what I desire. The dead look dead and no artist can change that. In my past I've seen a 19 year old who I used to baby sit and the father of a close friend, posed and decorated to give their best side: that of being alive. It is the ghost of the child’s potential lost and that father's cancer beaten body which keeps me away.
So we left on Monday morning, with all of nature giving her best to bring joy to the moment. It was a Baptist funeral so I suffered through the usual references to Christ and eternity. I respect the faith and I understand why it is done, but I would simply rather hear about the man who died.
There were brief notes of his wit and confidence, and those made me both laugh and smile. That his faith was so prominent may explain the crisp joy that washed through the room along with the rays of sunlight through well kept glass. It was refreshing.
The casket was draped in the American flag, which would eventually be given to the widow at the gravesite. The flag's colors stood out against the white washed walls and common colored pews. We would follow casket and flag roughly 200 yards, where they would then be separated.
It was once we left the church that it all became poetic. The church stood inside what one might consider a country club and therefore flanking the church was a golf course. In order to walk from the church to the cemetery you had to pass one of the holes: I believe it was number three.
Moving through the sun and shade we walked along the street and past the tee box of hole number three. Sitting in the golf cart was a man and a woman, I'd guess mid-twenties. He appeared to know the sport as he surveyed the straight shot, not minding the people and cars passing behind him. Though there were two sets of clubs I did not see her hit, nor did I see her even attempt to leave the cart. Maybe being with him on this day was enough.
Coming in view of the final act, we could see the pallbearers pulling the casket from the hearse with the remaining family standing around it, still not exhibiting any visual signs of suffering. There was the usual green tent which protected the family, preacher and casket from any of the elements. We stood a bit back, almost too far to hear any words spoken.
While two Air Force representatives folded the flag that topped the casket, a train could be heard in the distance, blowing its horn as if to announce the arrival of a new soul. Sun, clouds and wind seemed to alternate their presence as if to view the final act before this man's body was lowered to its fate.
The only break in the order was a required second attempt at getting the flag to its final shape. I could not see where the fault was but it did not matter. Participants waited, as if relishing even more time to be in the moment.
Once folded the flag was brought over to the bugler, so he could honor the memory with a stirring and tight rendition of Taps. Apart from the tree frogs who chattered amongst themselves, giving us brief moments of respite while they caught their breath, everything on earth seemed attentive to the now.
The landscape was immaculate and the decorations were perfect. No part of the score was off key and every actor fulfilled their role with expertise. I wondered what must the golfers and greens keepers think of us, or if they thought of us at all. Surely this was common to them and every sound or movement, from person or nature, was nothing more than an unnamed thing: Or just a thing with the name "funeral".
But isn't that the problem with a story? You can't appreciate it without hearing the words and experiencing how it constitutes the world. Just saying its title affords me nothing beyond associating the words with my experiences which may not bear any resemblance to the world between birth and death.
It is never just a thing: it is always a story.
So better served am I to tell you what he did. He was a reputable lawyer in Winter Park, FL with more ties to the community than kudzu on a South Carolina hill. He fathered two children and was married to a beautiful and proper southern woman for 57 years. His collegiate life saw him get a degree from both the University of Georgia and the University of Florida.
His business sense allowed him to make decisions which furthered his career and overall quality of life. He was well liked and well respected, a man whose word was enough. Apart from his family, his most prized efforts were related to his faith and the rewards reaped by the community churches from this love. That he proudly served his country in the USAF must be a close second as his funeral echoed voices calling each to our attention.
I did not attend the viewing because I do not like them. Call it a weakness or simply a preference, but that final memory is not what I desire. The dead look dead and no artist can change that. In my past I've seen a 19 year old who I used to baby sit and the father of a close friend, posed and decorated to give their best side: that of being alive. It is the ghost of the child’s potential lost and that father's cancer beaten body which keeps me away.
So we left on Monday morning, with all of nature giving her best to bring joy to the moment. It was a Baptist funeral so I suffered through the usual references to Christ and eternity. I respect the faith and I understand why it is done, but I would simply rather hear about the man who died.
There were brief notes of his wit and confidence, and those made me both laugh and smile. That his faith was so prominent may explain the crisp joy that washed through the room along with the rays of sunlight through well kept glass. It was refreshing.
The casket was draped in the American flag, which would eventually be given to the widow at the gravesite. The flag's colors stood out against the white washed walls and common colored pews. We would follow casket and flag roughly 200 yards, where they would then be separated.
It was once we left the church that it all became poetic. The church stood inside what one might consider a country club and therefore flanking the church was a golf course. In order to walk from the church to the cemetery you had to pass one of the holes: I believe it was number three.
Moving through the sun and shade we walked along the street and past the tee box of hole number three. Sitting in the golf cart was a man and a woman, I'd guess mid-twenties. He appeared to know the sport as he surveyed the straight shot, not minding the people and cars passing behind him. Though there were two sets of clubs I did not see her hit, nor did I see her even attempt to leave the cart. Maybe being with him on this day was enough.
Coming in view of the final act, we could see the pallbearers pulling the casket from the hearse with the remaining family standing around it, still not exhibiting any visual signs of suffering. There was the usual green tent which protected the family, preacher and casket from any of the elements. We stood a bit back, almost too far to hear any words spoken.
While two Air Force representatives folded the flag that topped the casket, a train could be heard in the distance, blowing its horn as if to announce the arrival of a new soul. Sun, clouds and wind seemed to alternate their presence as if to view the final act before this man's body was lowered to its fate.
The only break in the order was a required second attempt at getting the flag to its final shape. I could not see where the fault was but it did not matter. Participants waited, as if relishing even more time to be in the moment.
Once folded the flag was brought over to the bugler, so he could honor the memory with a stirring and tight rendition of Taps. Apart from the tree frogs who chattered amongst themselves, giving us brief moments of respite while they caught their breath, everything on earth seemed attentive to the now.
The landscape was immaculate and the decorations were perfect. No part of the score was off key and every actor fulfilled their role with expertise. I wondered what must the golfers and greens keepers think of us, or if they thought of us at all. Surely this was common to them and every sound or movement, from person or nature, was nothing more than an unnamed thing: Or just a thing with the name "funeral".
But isn't that the problem with a story? You can't appreciate it without hearing the words and experiencing how it constitutes the world. Just saying its title affords me nothing beyond associating the words with my experiences which may not bear any resemblance to the world between birth and death.
It is never just a thing: it is always a story.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)