What makes us who we are? Is it the experiences we have, the memories we hold, or the behaviors we display? Is it a combination of these factors? These fundamental questions of identity and self have concerned humans across all cultures for millennia. Psychologist Nina Strohminger at Aeon offers an intriguing answer: moral character. Continue reading
How about this: these days there are no scenes or genres, only “aesthetics.” A scene implies a physical community in physical architectures, and as such is a fatal slur against the URL everspace and its viral lungs. A genre implies limits, intentions, rules, fixity, and—as every itchy-fingered Facebook commenter knows—is a hateful thing. Nothing exists anyways, not really, only names, only hyperlinks, only patterns that work up to a point and then need an upgrade. Backspace your tearful emojis, hypocrites, it’s always been that way; it’s just more obvious now that code flows through our arteries rather than squeezes of blood and other smells. But it’s not homogenous out there and never will be, the online underground and the cultures tapping its magma are built on a vector field that ripples and clumps together, each blob too quick and continuous for your Dad’s rock collection. An aesthetic is not an object, it’s a way of looking, a way of finding beauty and sifting experiences, originating with process and behavior rather than product, or, indeed, a journalist with a butterfly net.
[…] “Aesthetic,” a word that doesn’t prioritize any one particular medium of art and even suggests them all together, is a much more suitable term than “trend” or “genre,” and highly applicable to previous online-underground-led movements like vaporwave and sea punk for which imagery and multimedia is a hugely significant and probably defining factor.
I for one welcome the end of rigidly defined, strictly enforced subcultures — assuming such a thing really existed in the first place. One of the most defining and influential aspects of the Information Age is the widespread access to all sorts of aesthetics, ideas, fashions, styles, and other cultural and intellectual outputs. With so much to command our attention, how else could any individual simply stick to one narrative, idea, or aesthetic preference?
Why keep only to rock music, sports fandom, or comic books when you can have all of the above and then some? Why feel that you need to be part of some cohesive and internally conforming subculture — akin to membership in a formal club with strict rules and guidelines — when you can follow the patterns, practices, and preferences you want based solely on what you genuinely enjoy; social circles built around particular interests need not be mutually exclusive from other activities and interests. There is no reason why loving sports and fitness puts you at odds with nerdier pursuits like video games and science fiction (or why those things should even be the exclusive purview of nerds to begin with).
For that matter, highbrow and low-brow pursuits can sit perfectly comfortably with one another: the idea that one must be a high-class auteur to enjoy orchestral music and Broadway plays is at odds with observed reality. Yes, there are some correlations between one’s class and identity and what one tends to enjoy doing — though that has as much to do with economic barriers to certain activities more than anything — but that is not always the case when people have freer access to the sorts of trends and interests they genuinely would enjoy if they had the time, resources, exposure, etc.
Of course, as usual, it is more complicated than that. People like categories and labels, however much they try to convince others (and themselves) otherwise. By neatly organizing these things, as well as other people and ourselves, we make all the information and stimuli out there easier to manage and keep track of. This is especially salient in an age where we are bombarded by ideas, concepts, designs, and other data all the time.
It is perhaps understandable then that people are threatened by, or even resentful of, perceived outsiders encroaching on their traditional territory: their subculture was fundamental to their identity before the walls began breaking down and the lines blurred, allowing people who once lacked any stock or interest in these activities to take part more easily than before (again, the increasingly mainstream nature of nerd culture is the most recognizable example, but hardly the only one).
Moreover, in the social media context, wherein everyone feels the need to sell or present themselves to a wider network of contacts and friends, listing one’s preferred musical or film genres, political persuasion, or religious adherence is a way to stand out and feel validated. As a social species, we need our peers — from loved ones to even strangers — to have some sort of impression, reaction, or conception of us: as intellectuals, sports fans, artists, blue collar laborers, etc. How will we adjust to the ever-growing circle of social connections to worry about and be accountable to? How will we adapt to the fact that so many previously exclusive and inaccessible things are increasingly available to all?
At this point, I am just expressing a stream of consciousness, so I am sure I missed something. What are your thoughts guys?
We’re accustomed to seeing portrayals of early humans (aka cavemen) as slightly tanned but otherwise mostly European-looking. But a recent study reported in NBC challenges that assumption, finding that as fairly recently as 7,000 years ago, Europeans were dark-skinned as Africans.
A 7,000-year-old European man from a transitional time known as the Mesolithic Period (from 10,000 to 5,000 years ago) whose bones were left behind in a Spanish cave had the dark skin of an African, but the blue eyes of a Scandinavian. He was a hunter-gatherer who ate a low-starch diet and couldn’t digest milk well — which meshes with the lifestyle that predated the rise of agriculture. But his immune system was already starting to adapt to a new lifestyle.
Researchers found all this out not from medical records, or from a study of the man’s actual skin or eyes, but from an analysis of the DNA extracted from his tooth.
The remains of the Mesolithic male, dubbed La Braña 1, were found in 2006 in the La Braña-Arintero cave complex in northwest Spain. In the Nature paper, the researchers describe how they isolated the ancient DNA, sequenced the genome and looked at key regions linked to physical traits — including lactose intolerance, starch digestion and immune response.
The biggest surprise was that the genes linked to skin pigmentation reflected African rather than modern European variations. That indicates that the man had dark skin, “although we cannot know the exact shade,” Carles Lalueza-Fox, a member of the research team from the Spanish National Research Council, said in a news release.
Meanwhile, The Guardian gets to another big, social implication:
Another surprise finding was that the man had blue eyes. That was unexpected, said Lalueza-Fox, because the mutation for blue eyes was thought to have arisen more recently than the mutations that cause lighter skin colour. The results suggest that blue eye colour came first in Europe, with the transition to lighter skin ongoing through Mesolithic times.
On top of the scientific impact, artists might have to rethink their drawings of the people. “You see a lot of reconstructions of these people hunting and gathering and they look like modern Europeans with light skin. You never see a reconstruction of a mesolithic hunter-gatherer with dark skin and blue eye colour,” Lalueza-Fox said. Details of the study are published in the journal, Nature.
It’s no secret (though perhaps underplayed) that modern humans originate from Africa, and thus would have had similar pigmentation and physiology to indigenous African (although note that Sub-Saharan Africa is the most diverse area in the world, so there is no quintessential African look, and many different skin shades and phenotypes are represented).
However, the revelation that Europeans were — fairly recently by evolutionary standards — once indistinguishable from many modern Africans challenges popular attitudes towards race and human identity. We have a tendency to apply our modern biases to historical retrospection, and to over-emphasize physical differences that are superficial and ultimately artificial. Notions of race, nationhood, and what constitutes “European” or “African” are all social constructs of our very recent making.
Granted, this doesn’t mean that such concepts are worthless or negative, per se — although, needless to say, the potential for harm is great — but it does cloud up the facts about humanity’s origins and history, and overlooks how fundamentally arbitrary and transient our racial and national identities are.
The label “atheist” is so odious and stigmatized that even many atheists themselves shun it (admittedly, myself included sometimes). Interestingly, most national polls report a higher number of people who “don’t believe in God” than people who explicitly identify as “atheists” (usually by a margin of 2 to 1). The position of non-belief is less disquieting to the irreligious than the term used to describe it – the quaint result of generations of demonization, condemnation, and prejudice. The negative connotation of atheism is so pervasive across the public consciousness that not even the godless themselves can shake it off and be at ease with it. Continue reading
I thought I would pause from making long posts in favor of presenting something more concise but hopefully no less thought provoking. In fact, I am considering interjecting brief philosophical questions in-between my longer notes concerning social and political issues; I may even create a series of scenarios centered around a particular ethical theme. Doing so will not only diversity my material, but allow me to update my blog without having to expend time and energy into essay-like submissions (let’s face it, do you guys really want to read several pages of my ramblings every other day!?)
Anyway, on to the topic in question.
The Ship of Theseus is a paradox which raises the following question: if an object has had all it’s component parts replaced, is it still fundamentally the same object? What if a ship, after a long period of gradual refurbishing, eventually had all it’s parts replaced? Would it still be the same ship? This topic is pertinent to the concept of identity – what constitutes self, and how do we truly define an object?
There are many similar concepts and variations to this paradox.
Heraclitus was famously quoted as saying that “upon those who step into the same rivers, different and again different waters flow.” Basically, you never step in the same river twice, as it is always different water.
Thomas Hobbes put an interesting spin on the ship scenario as well: what if all the planks from one ship were taken, after being replaced, and used to construct another? Which ship, if any, is the “original?
The question becomes more complicated when you consider the fact the average age of a cell in the human body is less than ten years That means that we come to replace our entire cell structure several times throughout our lives. We are cellularly and biologically completely different. This extends all the way down to the molecular and atomic level too – in around seven years, the human body completely replaces all the atoms that comprise us.
It’s strange to imagine how much we change and transform throughout our lives, without even remotely noticing (besides the typical growth that occurs prior to adulthood). Physically, we become completely new beings every few years, yet we’d never realize it. That’d be difficult enough to fathom without considering what all this means about who we are and who we perceive ourselves to be.