Random

I don't often have the energy to convey philosophical thoughts, but this thought felt very important.

I found the blog Licentious Living after doing a google search on a novel I'm reading (I'm reading The Namesake, if you care). I "randomly" clicked on a post in the archives and found this gem:

Random, in its scientised avatar is embedded in the theory of entropy ... Entropy is a thermodynamic property that is a measure of the energy not available for useful work in a thermodynamic process, such as in energy conversion devices, engines, or machines. During this work entropy accumulates in the system, but has to be removed by dissipation in the form of waste heat. Which is to say that every work produces a certain entity which is utterly useless and is potent in rendering the whole system orderless. Which is to say that every random act has the potential to undermine the not-so-random. And every second spent on getting the random, said or done, is in a way, contributing to the entropy of the bio-system.

You can read the full post here.

In other words, the more I push off work and consume myself with "random" google searches, the more I build up entropy--a useless, restless energy that perhaps needs to be channeled into a more efficient system. But, there is revolutionary energy in the random because it undermines the the structure as it stands. At the societal level, the perfect example of this is a flash mob:



Flash mobs are silly, fun and often done without a clear political motivation. But they also wake people up and make them think. They provoke people to take in their surroundings and reconsider their relationship with their environment, much like Shepard Fairey's experiments with phenomenology.

The political implications of this are quite radical. What if there were enough randomness--enough entropy--to render the entire system of capitalism, structural and institutional power completely useless?! How awesome would that be? It's probably attempted every year by anarchists and obviously has never worked. But it could be so amazing.

So maybe my inefficiency--my entropy--isn't a problem in itself. I'd like to think of it instead as rebellion--as a reminder that not everything "productive" that's required of me is going to feed the needy and stop exploitation. If my lack of productivity holds me back from conquering the external world of inequality and awfulness, my entropy gives rise to a creative, boundless world within. Random is an inner world that everyone needs to change the external world.

A global media informed by U.S. political interests

In "Google Earth and the nation state: Sovereignty in the age of new media," Sangeet Kumar contends that new media entities pose a threat to national sovereignty because of their "borderless" nature and resistance to state regulation. Though he focuses his analysis on Google, I can see how his concerns can be extended to Twitter and Facebook in the future. With Last Moyo's analysis of CNN and Xinhua's coverage of the Tibetan crisis as an example, I argue that global new media entities do pose a challenge to national sovereignty but only to the extent that they spread the economic and social norms of a neoliberal world order.

Moyo's case study shows how media entities inevitably reflect the values and interests of their targeted national audiences. He shows how CNN constructed the Tibetan crisis as a struggle for cultural autonomy from an authoritarian Chinese regime. In portraying the Tibetan protests as "legitimate dissent," CNN examined China's human rights abuses against western notions of freedom and human rights. In selectively approaching this conflict rather than the Palestinian or other US-involved conflicts from a human rights angle, CNN failed to point out the hypocrisy of the United States' condemnation of China. The resulting news product also failed to bring out the complexities of the situation, including the plurality of Tibetans' demands and the historical context of Chinese and Tibetan views. Chinese-sponsored Xinhua, on the other hand, delegitimized the Tibetan protesters by portraying them as a western-backed threat to Chinese unity and economic dominance.

The CNN narrative, Moyo says, was the inevitable result of neoliberal policies and discourse that allow for western dominance of the global financial and political landscape. The Xinhua narrative, however, was the result of the Chinese seeing international narratives as unfair and threatening to national unity.

While media entities like CNN and Google do pose a threat to national sovereignty through their resistance to national regulatory bodies, when countries like China and India recognize the threat they pose to imagined national unity, they either develop a counter narrative--like Xinhua--or coerce the media into cooperation--like India. The power a nation has to do this will largely depend on the whether the market forces at work can effectively persuade media entities to oblige. China's response to international media through Xinhua reflects a strong resistance to becoming a subject of the new global media.

As media entities gain momentum, the nation state may have to decide whether to develop a counter narrative and risk being seen as a stubborn "rogue" state in the growing cultural and political consensus, or to negotiate with these forces.

References

Kumar, Sangeet. “Google Earth and the Nation State — Global Media and Communication.” Global Media and Communication. SAGE, Aug. 2010. Web. 30 Jan. 2011. .

Moyo, Last. “The Global Citizen and the International Media : A Comparative Analysis of CNN and Xinhua’s Coverage of the Tibetan Crisis.” International Communication Gazette. SAGE, Mar. 2010. Web. 30 Jan. 2011. .

Women in the Middle East revolutions

Check out this fantastic time-lapse video of artist Jessica Sabogal's tribute to the revolution in Egypt.


I dont' consider myself an art critic, but I am a Journalism and Global Studies double major. This means that I have a bag of tools for critical analysis that I probably will never be able to use profitably...so to show my degree was worth the cash I have to dump any related epiphanies on my blog :)
But seriously, I thought a couple things about the painting were significant and helped me think of the whole "revolution" differently.

1. The subject is a woman, and that too a *de-glamorized* one.

2. Women have traditionally been invisible, marginal voices in revolutions (focus is usually on male violence), but in the revolutions in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya, women are figuring very significantly. The subject of the painting here is probably not meant to be seen as an onlooker or the subject of regime change. Though she *is* depicted in the act of reacting, the artist chose to focus on women as agents of change.

This is a long but very insightful Al Jazeera interview on the role of Arab women in the recent democratic revolutions. My professor sent it to me so I think you will find it well worth your time.


3. The style is graffiti-inspired. Seems like a pretty direct interpretation of Egypt's revolution as a bottom-up movement.

4. The painting isn't necessarily triumphant. In theAl Jazeera interview above there is a discussion about how Arab women don't share a homogeneous view on the priorities for or purpose of democratic change.The painting depicts shock, which can be either good or bad. Political revolutions are, above all, shocking and always inspire counter revolutions. I like this painting because it isn't just a snapshot in time...it signifies the whole process--both the revolution and the counter revolution.

Online Dating and Desi Rappers

I'm doing it! Online dating with sincerity!

I'm on OkCupid.com and so far have played psychiatrist to most of my admirers. They've ranged from horny 40 year-olds to eccentric 20-somethings with lots of baggage--one had a kid and a pending divorce AND a dying mom. yikes. I'm not really finding anyone I'm interested in, though...

Ok, there was one--an adorable half-desi geologist with beautiful eyes. But he won't message me back. I'm not used to dealing with blatantly uninterested men anymore, so I take rejection a lot more harshly than I probably should. At the same time, I feel like the impetus to be more critical might help me be a better person overall. *Sigh* One date, you silly boy, one date!

Oooh, I'm REALLY digging this song by Humble the Poet. I'm not one to fan the forest fire of Punjabi pride, but the sweet hook and anti-partition message has me feeling super bad-ass and political. He seems to be rapping about how he hates being fitted with the blanket classification of "Indian" given the fact that he culturally identifies with people on both sides of the Indo-Pak border. I can get behind his frustrations with that identity also because even Punjab-centric Bollywood tends to marginalize Sikhs. Still, I hate how narrow-minded regional pride can feel.

Humanity

I consider this post a pretty unsound piece of writing, but it reflects the world as I see it in the most general terms. This is part of why I'm starting to lose faith in activism. We have to burn this mother down. The only way to move forward is via destruction.

Due to it's ubiquity in the news, the BP oil rig explosion and recent developments in the Bhopal Disaster set me off to thinking about doomsday scenarios and the value of mankind. I know meditations on karma are cliche, but I really have to sort this out for myself.

Karma makes sense on a large-scale level. Everything that has ever been said or done has extremely far-reaching effects, and there have been enough books and movies made (Butterfly Effect...and others) to illustrate this. But our impact on the environment--which has been summarily awful--is pinching us in the butt. Birth defects, cancer and obesity are all making our brains and/or bodies slower, simpler. Diseases are killing us off in huge numbers.

Earth pushing back. Nature's tendency for equilibrium. Homeostasis. Whatever you want to call it, you know it's happening.

Development is a fucking disease so humans (rather, we. I keep forgetting to include myself in this) have to be wiped out or slowed down. We have caused most of the shit that's killing us and the rest of the planet. We need to reduce consumption, and the only way that will ever happen is if we reduce our numbers. The only thing that is being rewarded in the dominant culture is maximization of profits.

I don't want to fight against cancer. I don't want to fight against anything that slows the 'developed' world down. This "fight" --this battle against the plagues of humanity--is not equal. The people least damaging to the world are being killed off at a greater rate than those who should be stopped. It's a disgusting but true fact.

Activists and Marxists understand that a lot is at stake, and with each political defeat of the left the world is moving faster to a globalized, capitalist disaster. Humanity will forever change the face of the earth.

Rather than work to reverse or slow down this trend, I see myself working to make amends with the world. I see myself working to humanize capitalism, help people whenever I can, and raise a family. Working for the private sector is okay if I don't compromise on my morals. Right now, the only thing I refuse to do in my corporate career is directly stand in the way of unions and their bargaining rights and be complicit with unethical decisions.

I can no longer refuse to be a cog in the machine. But I can still refuse to be an unthinking, depoliticized cog in the machine.

Kumari's cup

"Don’t take that. It’s Kumari’s cup.”
I set down the small clay tea cup I was fingering and for a moment brood the loss of such a fine little thing. Though inexpensive, I find its earthiness charming. I am disappointed I would have to put off my next use to some indefinite time in the future. Or, depending on how severely my mother thinks Kumari is tainted, I may never drink from its delicately shaped rim ever again. But then I am smarted by shame.
“Mom, that’s ridiculous. Should I be avoiding her shadow, then?”
“It’s not like that!” Her sudden response suggests that she did not intend to sound like a stuck-up Brahmin who unrelentingly follows the groupthink of the caste system. But she becomes quiet and reflective.
Kumari enters the kitchen and wordlessly signals for us to leave. Her mop traces half circles, again and again, across the short distance to the washing room. When she gets to her sink, she rinses the mop and ties up the small garbage bag—her garbage bag—that has been accumulating vegetable peels since yesterday morning. We re-enter. My mother goes to Kumari’s sink and makes a few discriminating sniffs in the air.
“You have to understand, they have different standards of hygiene. See here. She clearly has an incontinence problem. We’ll get sick from being stupidly idealistic! Don’t just stand there—smell it!”

But all I can acknowledge is the lingering smell of the trash.

My mother continues her lecture, casually gesturing to sixty percent (according to my History teacher) of the world’s second most populous country as she talks about “their” water, “their” bathing habits, and “their” eating utensils. By the time the country gained independence, “they” actually had a multitude of names: dalits, shudras, untouchables. The most patronizing one of all was coined by Gandhi—harijan, meaning “child of God.” But in our house, none of these names are used. After all, “that” isn’t what we’re talking about.

I was very sick only last week, but exhausted our supply of mugs in pampering my throat. Kumari washed them as she gabbed on about her family and attempted to draw gossip out of my mother about the other building residents. Kumari knows how to slip in a request for an advance or a hint that she will not come in to work the following day. My mother says her sly little monologues have to be heard out, however tedious.

When I was studying world history in sixth grade, my grandmother told me that you could always tell the difference between a Brahmin and a non-Brahmin.
“We have a certain neat look,” she said in her usual cluelessly vain way, to which my mother always rolls her eyes.
“You mean, we dress rich and they don’t, right?” I asked.
“No, no. Even without finery, you can just tell. It’s perhaps in the face—certain features. You can tell if you have been in India for a long time. You are young, so you don’t understand right now. But when you grow up, you’ll see that there is a difference.”

Indeed, there is.