Morley has finally made her movie. 8 years after Joyce Vincent’s death and 5 after her discovery by a media public that was just about starting to get the concept of internet content and shared news. At the time they hadn’t gotten blogs or Livejournals yet. The citizen journalists hadn’t really been born by then yet, the internet had not favoured revolutions or changed our way of interacting on such fundamental levels yet.

One reasoning always comes up when you start reading about this woman and her isolation: this would not happen today. Today we have G+, we have Twitter, we have Facebook. Someone would notice. Today, absence would be impossible to miss.

I fundamentally believe that this is a guilty lie that we are telling ourselves to mask our own uncomfortable thoughts. Because there isn’t one person in our Facebook lists that we could immediately think of and say “Hey, it’s been a while since I heard from him.”

Isn’t the truth of the matter somewhere completely else?

What if it wasn’t in the loss of our sense of community today, where we can only dream of neighbours taking care of each others or where community is more often the theatre of conflicting interests rather than exchange and support. If we dare to move beyond the fear of blaming the victim Joyce Vincent here, the truth might be somewhere in between. Maybe she wished to isolate herself the way she did and people/our modern society just made it that much easier.

Moving beyond the nagging feeling that someone should have done something – which goes from blaming the immediate neighbours, to the social services, to the electricity company that didn’t check her bills etc. – you quickly realise that the best system, the best social service, the best support net of friends or family cannot save you if you won’t let them. But again, this is only part of the equation of truth here. The other part is much more painful. Intervening in other’s people’s lives takes strength. It takes time. It is inconvenient and disruptive to your own life and worries. It’s messy, and it’s unbearable at times and you will be rebuked and pushed back more times than taken for a good samaritan.

Why that is?

Because truly, today weakness is not interesting. Showing weakness, showing emotion is a liberty that isn’t rewarded particularly well. Even less in the working place, but the same goes for friendships. Rare are the ones that can really support a crying friend and so, we don’t dare to give oursleves this opening. This weak spot. This blemish on our armour. Because we are much more afraid of what our friends might think of us than we are of dying alone.

Facebook et al. didn’t help with that. Facebook makes that even worse.

It has never been easier to project something completely different from what you are feeling to the outside world than over the internet. Facebook has given us more possibilities to appear happy, fulfilled and well rather than made it easier to span together.
Sure, true friends are more easily reached and average friends can be kept close without having to put in the time to really connect. It’s made it possible to be with people without actually being with them and caring for them. Modern social & friendship media has taken out the ‘messy’ of life. How easy is it today to ignore a digital message by someone? Much easier than a personal visit and a proper face that will tell you that they’re worried about you.

No. Joyce Carol Vincent would have died the same way today. Because in the end, she had isolated herself from the people she knew. That the people around her that didn’t know her, had not realised her passing, is a different story. I doubt that it really is a story of neglect or disinterest. Much rather of hard times, maybe even respect for someone else’s privacy. And someone who for whatever reason was at a point in her life where new decisions had to be made. She needed a clean slate to make them.

Joyce Carol Vincent never got to make those choices. That’s why Morley’s title for the documentary is so fitting: Dreams of a life.

Often we have dreams that we cannot realise, dreams that remain on our mental top shelf and develop a life apart and sometimes life ends without them ever seeing the light of day.

It doesn’t make them anything less, or anything more.

I profoundly believe that Joyce Carol Vincent is not defined by her death, her own neglect or the fact that nobody missed her for three years. I believe that the traces she left in other people’s lives transcend her dying alone in whatever circumstance. People – through Morley’s insistence and meddling in Vincent’s life – remember her for who she was, care for her memories, and isn’t that what really matters after all?

Whatever really waits for us after death, we cannot take anything with us and we cannot change the unchangeable. But we can strive to leave parts of us with other people. Leave our essence with them and hope that it’s enough to become a change in their lives in turn.

I ran across this picture a while ago and made it into my Kindle screensaver. (Sounds odd? Don’t know how to do that? Well, you’re in luck, here’s a guide and here a repository of rather neat screensavers for the kindle.)
It’s been with me for a while now. Almost a year to be honest. And considering the hours I’ve spent carrying Amélie in a sling or wrap and reading on my Kindle, the message has left an impression.

I do think that this is just as valuable to dad’s as a manifesto as it is to mothers, because trust me, they worry just as much as women do, but it has a profound message and I thought I’d share.

Have you ‘stopped, taken stock and breathed’ today?

Just ‘savour each moment, laugh, tickle, kiss and cuddle’. It’s love. And we can all do with love. It’s almost Christmas after all.

This is an old issue of mine: why are people afraid to have an opinion about something they obviously care about?
The answer is probably simpler than we are led to believe and it has nothing to do with being too absorbed, having to much information on a subject – due to the mass of information in the mass media century – or the fact that they can’t be bothered.

In a time where people with conviction blow up market places and bomb refugee camps and after a century where convictions killed millions of people, it is clear that the image of a person with convictions and a strong belief system – and I don’t mean faith here – has been tainted. Today it equals with ‘being zelous’, ‘being intolerant’ or simply with ‘being suspicious’. But that’s not the only reason.

People have become afraid of expressing their opinions and beliefs because the aggressions or disadvantages that they fear being subjected to could test their system. This, of course, ultimately lead to an underlying agreement that certain discussions or debates are off limits. And since debate – in this mindset – is necessarily conceived as a negative thing, every way a person will try to discuss will be interpreted as a casus belli if the enunciation doesn’t present the four-step attenuation markers, such as subjective tense (also known as I-sentences… “I feel…”, “I think…”), conditional tense, question form and a “…don’t you think?” at the end.

Having an opinion, having conviction and explaining what led to these convictions should be something that can withstand questioning. Even more clearer: it should be something we ourselves question everyday and expose it to further outside questioning, because an opinion that remains unquestioned and un-argued will always just remain an opinion, as opposed to a vision or something that could potentially change the world.

There is a series of sayings that push us to suspect opinions and favour a more active approach to life (and a lot of them are rooted in Judeo-Christian culture): “Make it happen”, “Just do it”, “Actions count more than words”, “Do or don’t, there is no trying…” etc.
Actions however need basis. Physical basis for once. You cannot act on air, and when it comes to change for instance you need an object to change. But what if we took conviction and opinion to be the actual basis of action? What if arguing your opinion and conviction is in itself the first act? Then ‘having an opinion’ and confessing to it publicly could become that much more than just ‘having a philosophy’.

Keep it simple.

It’s an art.

I’ve been struggling with this. A lot. For a long time. While I may seem to be very ‘straight to the point’ and quite guided, my mind is a constant firecracker, spawning little sparks of intuitions and thoughts and it has taken a lot of learning to work with it (instead of against it and trying to constantly change it. I am sure that I would have been a perfect candidate for a Ritalin dose in today’s school system).To learn to focus on one spark only, maybe two. To really focus on one argument, one question in a discussion and keep in tune, instead of blasting off.

But of course focusing does only so much, when you can’t stop or turn down the sequence in your head or your inner dialogue. So, most of the time I am discussing things with my husband while in the background two other train of thoughts are battling it out and I am planning the meals for the week ahead.

That is also the hidden reason why J has no patience with me showing him things on the computer. I simply move too fast and am doing three things at the same time. It makes me a lousy explanator, but a great supporter when something about his MBP is not working as he wishes.

For me, keeping it simple, cutting myself off and really listen to what is being said in my own head is a challenge.

It’s an art.

No. The fact that there are certain techniques involved doesn’t mean that it excludes the artistic value. My techniques are artistic in their very core. Technic and techniques comes from the greek word techné litteraly meaning ‘art’.

Reaching peace of mind. True silence that will allow you or me to create what we can, is work.

And yet, everyone is an artist at it.

There probably isn’t anybody in this world who doesn’t dream about changing something in their lives. It can be as small as finally finding a better way to deal with clutter and go as big as becoming a better human being.

Dream about it… talk about it… think about it and paint the future ‘changed’ state in a way that is appealing.

A lot of steps can make up what eventually can become a scary thing: change. If we could see into the future and only have a clear view of what this change can bring into our life… if we just could have some kind of positive reassurance that we are doing the right thing… yes, that would make it all so much easier. But the truly scary part about change isn’t so much the uncertainty, it’s the going out and making it happen part that is so hard. So hard in fact that in numerous situations, we prefer to play it safe. Putting ourselves out there in the world, is a hard gamble. Exposing who we are, what we wish for, running the constant danger of being rejected, of finding doubt where we need assurance and relief, it certainly isn’t something that will bring power or strength. Or so it would seem.

But if we try to look at it from another direction, then maybe change can be the one thing that saves us from becoming what we never wanted. (…) Look at a child that learns to walk. There isn’t anything particular running through their mind when they take the smallest, but surely one of the most important steps of their lives: the first one.
A first step always holds a promise. For the toddler it holds a whole life full of danger, full of injury, full of pain, but also full of discovery, fully of phantasy, full of exhilarating sensations, full of … new.

So many occasions come and go, but each and every one of them are a possibility to take a step. A new step, the next step, a faltering one, an assured one. And of course it is a dangerous thing. While toddlers run into a lot of physical dangers while starting their path in this world, as grown ups the pain becomes more hidden, more subtle and so much more devastating. Because we’re supposed to just ‘deal with it’, just ‘get on with it’. Because in a society that only considers a person in terms of performance and buying power, there is no space for ‘not dealing’ and ‘not getting on with it’. Through these eyes, only losers can’t deal with rejection, only underachievers dwell on the bad and the fear.

Reality obviously has a different face. It talks of the hard moments when you don’t know the direction for that first path. When you have the impression of being in a wrong path, but don’t know how to turn back. It talks of uncertainty and of failure. Of never feeling good enough, of never being enough.

Popular belief suggests that knowing what you want is the first step. But that also suggests that you know where to go.

Maybe knowing what you don’t want (such as persisting in a fearful state of mind or an undecided one for instance) is the better way to go. And sometimes it will take a lot of uncertain steps, steps that might seem wrong or out of place or useless to achieve that long sought after change that we wish for and dream about. Change in most cases doesn’t come with a label and it certainly doesn’t come in one giant heap. It takes a first step. And that first step, try to take it without thinking. Just as the child takes that first step into a new and larger world full of wonders and who know what could happen once the first one is done?

There are no missed chances in life, only a perspective guided by regret sees something lost in an unrealised act that is pure potentiality.

At one moment or another in our lives we come to that point where we get that nagging feeling of having missed a chance. It can be anything from meeting someone who could have helped us to missing out on a wonderful bargain to the big chances of a new job perspective or a life changing experience. In deliberation we always work with that unity of ‘a chance to…’ and when we weigh the pros and cons of a decision, there’s always that player called ‘a missed chance’ that we measure up and calculate our future luck with. It instils dread, fear even, that idea that we could miss our on something. Something different, something new, something that is potentially so many things.

There is no such thing as a missed chance.

I am aware that this is a rather bold statement, some might even find it plain wrong, others might be revolted by it, because they are so used to that idea.

The truth of the matter however is that the truly missed chances are extremely rare. Much rarer than we’d think.

What is a chance? And when is it really gone? When have we truly missed it?

There are so many good words on how you have to make your own chances, how you need to seize the moments that across the history of human through have drizzled down on us until they form a certain pressure that puts us on edge, turned towards the future constantly waiting for that chance, or turned towards the past constantly analysing our decisions and separating them into ‘missed chances’ and ‘used chances’.
Life isn’t that straight forward and if a chance came with a clear label, which fool would walk by it and miss it on purpose?

If we analyse the concept of a ‘chance’, then one element becomes apparent rather quickly: a chance is never empty. It’s a chance to act, to do something. Thus it is always like to a certain theory of action. A second element is that a ‘a chance’ almost always leads to a decision. Obviously by it being linked to action, the decision mostly is about doing one thing or another and that leads to the third element which is change. There rarely is a ‘chance’ that does not involve some degree of change.

But the concept of chance is just a short way of stating a situation. It’s an abbreviation. For what ?

If we look a bit closer a the first element stated above, then we quickly realise that action requires assessment: action cannot be done without aim, goal or orientation. That’s what differentiates action from actionism, doing for doing’s sake. What is left out in the way we use ‘a chance’ in our deliberations today is the second part of the equation of reality: doing one thing means not doing something else.
Put this way, the ‘missed chance’ gets back its true value of a moment of decision and with that value, it isn’t any different from any other decision. The added value of change most often veils that fact. Even if in hindsight we are aware that we decided on one thing rather than on another, at the moment of decision, the fear of missing something, missing a chance, has the dangerous quality of making us miss that fundamental second part. In hindsight we barely see the chance anymore, focused on the decision. But that is only one kind of ‘missed chances’.
Another kind is the one we only see in hindsight. And aren’t these the most bitter ones? The moments when we go back and analyse and think that we make a wrong choice, thus missing that elusive thing that was a chance.
Both visions are askew and limiting. An old motto states that we are our decisions. Put in front of the backdrop of the above analysis, this suddenly becomes a true statement. Every single decision, may we qualify it through our vision on time as good or bad, shapes the here and now, the person that we are now and thus also said vision on our past. The smallest change would change the person that we are today and it also would change our vision on the past and so forth. This basic reality takes on a prominent role in the rather popular rules of time travel and its paradoxes. (Cf. the concept of the butterfly effect in chaos theory and its use in pop culture such as The Butterfly Effect [movie] or in time traveller Hiro’s story arc in Season 6 of  the TV series Heroes )
But in everyday life, where we don’t go back in time to change our lives or the lives of others, to shape ourselves to our own wishes, all we’re left with is the future and while our mind is so tempted to turn back and divide our decisions into good ones and bad ones, into missed chances, misfortunes, missed encounters and mistakes.

I’ve stated that there is no such thing as a missed chance. Usually self-examination, understanding our actions, serves the purpose of learning which then ultimately should lead to avoiding mistakes or repeating bad behaviour. In the case of a ‘missed chance’ such introspection falls flat, because there is not an iota that is changeable about it, or it wouldn’t be a ‘missed chance’.

Everything that is based on the concept of ’seizing or using that chance’ and its twin of ‘missing a chance’ is next to useless as a lesson. The same chance can never present itself and we can’t go back. All that a self-analysis of that nature accomplishes is that it makes living with our decisions that much harder. This is particularly the case since we only ever consider our failures that way. Nobody ever sees a positively missed chance at misfortune for instance. This is reinforced by the nature of pure potentiality of the so called ‘missed chance’. In truth, we have no idea how the other decision could have turned out. It could have just as probably led to disappointment as ‘missing the chance’ could have led us to happiness. It’s our visions from the present that accounts for that. Be are further along the way when we do an introspection and analyse our past, have understood more, have experienced more and that lets us have a clearer view so to speak. Using that clearer view and more knowledge to devalue our own decisions however can only ever lead to a bitter consideration of ourselves and our past.

I would advocate for trust rather than a chance. Trust in ourselves. That we make our decisions to the best of our knowledge at the time and that they are the deep expression of our reality. That we do what we can to lead a sound life. Turning ourselves constantly towards the past, reminiscing about what would have been the better choice, not only blocks the present, but ultimately scares us to stand up to the future.

If Human Sciences, are not proper sciences, then where will we stop to devalue human thought and its history? Can you even argue with people who can only accept their own ground of discussion? Why the study of philosophy and thus thought, truly is the only science around.

This week a rather interesting and revealing discussion broke out on my Twitter Feed. The initial kick-off was given by a list of ‘The best 100 scientific Twitterers’ and a revised edition as a twitter list published by @terrorzicke (Name ist Programm – her nick is program).
As member of the Human Sciences, obviously, a friend of mine immediately asked why there were no philosophers (or Scientists in the Liberal Arts for that matter) to be found on her ‘scientific’ list. The crude and simple answer that she reinforced through the subsequent (heated) argumentation was, that Human Sciences are not sciences. (Best laughable tweet out of that discussion: “Geisteswissenschaften kreisen im Gegensatz zu den Naturwissenschaften im Grunde um sich selbst.”  “Human Sciences revolve – to the contrary of natural sciences – only around themselves”)

I won’t go into the depths of that lion pit. It’s pretty much useless to try and reason with people who allow themselves opinions on things they clearly have no idea of. It would be more interesting to try and reason with a cup of coffee. At least, if there is no response, you get a decent shot of caffeine out of it.
I’ll only put one thought out there and it’s one that becomes quite clear if you’ve ever interested yourself for neurological sciences.
There are a lot of ‘natural’ things out there that we can study and analyse in many different ways. The purely materialistic, descriptive way, being one of them – the purely scientific way in the above cited way of thinking. The analysis of the language in which this is made however would already be a ‘human scientist’ way of looking at things.
Without the ordering and the reflection of philosophy which goes beyond the raw material, all we would have is nothing more than a huge stack of information such as the colour red solicits a neuron fire with such and such intensity taking into account the context and situation. But how it is that we can reference that red, or what it means for a thing to be red (even though scientifically speaking the colour red doesn’t exist) which will then lead us to the problem of accidental properties as opposed to essential ones, the theory of individuation and personal identity and so forth… all these questions are philosophical ones and per the cited definition ‘not scientific’.

It is a common misconception that within the confines of Human Sciences anything goes. People from the outside think that we continuously weave our insignificant web of thoughts around a comfortable glass of wine and a good laugh within our own idiosyncratic language, pleasuring ourselves in our own brain juice.
‘Scientificity’ realises itself within the confines of a method. If the method is faulty, no physicist can work. Neither can a philosopher or a linguist or a literate. Far away is the concept that ‘anything goes’. You might gain great popularity among a certain crowd by being without a method (Derrida for instance), but the fame is temporary. (Not one of Derrida’s direct students is still working with his thought. Parts of his method of deconstruction – which isn’t a method truly – but not the complete version and for the next generation of students Derrida will be a relic, not a school anymore.)

As someone who edits texts that have never before seen a printed edition, texts that remain unheard and inaccessible for the scientific community of Medievalists, I work with quantifiable method and scientific means such as distribution, probability, semantic quantities etc. to near myself as closely as ever possible to the original text which is most cases is lost. If you imagine that for the more popular texts you have between 30 and 50 surviving manuscripts and thus potentially 30 to 50 different versions of a text, it becomes immediately apparent why the claim that this can’t by any means be considered science is laughable. Not only do I have to go through that very materialistic part of my work, but after years of that exploring the material support of the text in question (it’s just the characters and the vellum really), I then proceed to the interpretation of the text itself, trying to explain what it’s all about. And only in a third last step do I examine that theory against the ‘bigger picture’ (does it make sense in itself? does it apply to opponents at the time it was written? what do we learn from it in terms of overall realisation? etc.)
In my particular case, as Historians of Philosophy, we are the badly loved kid of all the departments. For the historians, we’re not really historians; for the philosophers, we’re not really philosophers and for the editors, we know way to much to gain quick money with us. Truth of the matter is: we are everything and nothing. We need to have all the instruments a historian needs, all the knowledge and methods a philosopher does and we need to have a decent technical approach to texts and their transmission through the ages. We do it all, and yet, nobody takes us seriously.
So, it’s been long that I have taken anybody for full who claims that this is not science.

In some definitions ‘science’ is defined by the fact that you open up new grounds or that you create the basis for thought and study. It’s clear that with my work, I do just that. Without text editions, our look on a certain period will always remain limited, because the huge cellars of the major libraries of Europe are filled will texts that have never been read by a larger public after the 16th century.

Interestingly enough of course, none of those arguments which my friend made in said Twitter debate were accepted. Neither were mine. To the question why the person was ignoring me in particular, it was said that ‘who protects their tweets doesn’t want to be heart’.

Now, that brings me to another small truth, this time about our modern means of communication. Today, we’re always supposed to be online, always supposed to be linked to that behemoth internet, and if we don’t reply immediately to an email or a text, something is clearly wrong. And yes, if you are stupid enough to protect your privacy because you want to know who is following you, you do not want to be heard.
Yes, I protect my updates, I also protect my Facebook profile, but because the majority of users have lost all sense of the truth that on the opposite side of them sits a real person in front of that PC screen.

The fact that Terrorzicke didn’t want to see what I had to say to her (it would have been easy enough for her to ask for authorisation, it takes one click after all), just shows what happens to people when they don’t want to be reasoned with: they become a caricature of themselves.

Protecting myself from complete exposure over the internet doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be heard, it rather tells you that when I accept you, I have properly seen you and want to enter into contact without. You’re not just another one of the mass that I don’t care about. And it will tell you that I don’t like to be spammed and have a pretty solid knowledge of spammers, useless twittbots and the like.

It becomes very apparent, that people who cannot even reconstruct an act of volition without error, cannot be asked to qualify what is scientific and what is not. And that is why this whole discussion is pointless. Who doesn’t want to hear, will never hear, not matter how loud we shout it.
Human thought will always be an exhilarating subject of study, while the measures of ‘scientificity’ will always be subject to the last and current fashion of the times in which they are uttered.

Why do we even have friends? Why do we link ourselves with others when there’s only heartache, abandonment, betrayal and pain to be had from it…?

The question is as old as society itself and probably even as old as language itself. Consequently philosophers, thinkers and good people have produced a varied catalogue of ideas on the subject that range as far as just stating that man is not made to live alone to a completely utilitarian approach: because it serves us.

But even if the simplistic theory that we can have ethical considerations and moral decisions towards our peers and fellow human beings only because we recognise ourselves in them falls short on several accounts, the intellectual approach that we care because we can or must, doesn’t help much more to understand what it is that makes us connect to this person, but not that one.

Quite generally speaking we are brought up with the idea that caring for others is an ideal to aspire to. That stepping out and away from the weight of your own needs and make someone else’s fears imperative for yourself, brings you something more, offers you some kind of insight into your own soul and one step closer to a ‘good life’.
There is no religion and no social system or idea that does not operate on this basic idea either by reinforcing it or by negating it.

But is the abstract idea of some heavenly reward in an afterlife or aspiring to the ideal of a good life or being a good person, really enough to account for the fact that we do against all odds, against adversity, despite rejection, hurt, desolation and frustration reach out, touch others, take up their burdens, listen to their fears, soothe their minds again and again?

Because secretly we hope that the people we care for will do the same for us, for even if I am someone who’s not used to facing the problem of not caring enough, but rather too much even for strangers that cross my path… even I am sort of speechless when in one of my weaker moments I am ignored by my friends.
That fundamental element of ‘shared love and shared burden’ doesn’t make us manipulative or even interested in the way we deal out our affections and our readiness to help, but rather it points to the next even more fundamental characteristics of our human condition: we need care.

We need people taking care of us and our emotions, people noticing us, recognising us for what we are and who we strive to be, listen to what we have to say or teach or even cry about and what makes us passionate. We don’t need it just to feel better or inflate our egos, what I am referring to is much more basic, much more unreflected. It’s not so much different than the impulsive touch towards a pet or a baby and the basic level of need either the animal or the baby feel for that touch and proximity.

Thomas Merton wasn’t the first to use the phrase ‘no man is an island’, but he certainly took the concept to a completely different level. His reaching out seemed to know no boundaries and looking closely at his biography might even suggest that it bore dangerous self-annihilating traits. And yet, his generosity of heart has become an ideal… because, no man is an island.

But what does that mean? Truly? That ultimately we’re flawed and can’t ever be enough on our own, for our own? I shouldn’t think so. I find it much more inspiring to think that our actions, however small they may be cause a light to shine (or ripples across existence, if you prefer that image) that – not unlike a seed – will grow over time, be reinforced by connecting to others and caring for them and it will eventually affect people outside of our immediate range of action… if we cannot believe that our actions influence others around us and our surrounding society, what else keeps us from not shutting down and surfing the ego trip to self destruction?

In times where dehumanisation is something that is so quickly achieved, where the mass of people in our immediate focus has grown exponentially through internet and modern media, where friends can be nothing much more than a few points on a computer screen and a name (maybe just an avatar), the danger of limiting people, shutting them out, casting them off or simply not taking care of them is even bigger than before. Not only does the internet make it much easier to connect with each other, it also makes it much easier for us to lose focus on the most important thing in life: nothing remains. We can’t take anything with us. When we die, all that remains will be the people we’ve loved and the ones that have loved us and the icon of a memory of that love.

So, we better start minding our friends, caring for their hearts, accepting their limits and loving them for what they are. Not because they deserve it or because we might need them one day, but because there is no greater and more effortless gift than love.

Be generous with yourself and someone you haven’t dared to reach out to today. It’ll make their day a brighter one and your heart shine harder.

We all satisfy our exhibitionist tendencies through the internet web 2.0, the social web. We give up our right to privacy in doing so, but the horror is great and the tears particularly bitter when someone takes us up on it.

The latest tornado of protest and rightful indignation that swept over the internet, the blogosphere and the entire western hemisphere (but thankfully didn’t manage to drop that proverbial sack of rice) concerning Facebook’s covert annexing of all their user’s datas and content from now on into eternity, is certainly an interesting jurisdictional case example. But apart from the power of the internet, the usergroups, the blogging community that managed to pressure Facebook to revert back to their old Terms of Service and consult their users before forcing their top-down changes, and apart from the usual observations that have after that flooded all the radio and online commentaries on how our society is circling the exibtionistic drain when everyone builds their online personality and streams their babies births online over ustream… apart from all that, there is a general question that begs to be asked here: what is intellectual property?

Through the history of thought there have been various theories on how the idea of personal property changed our view on reality and society as a whole. In Western History, the major change between the celtic tribal organisation where the common property of the clan was indicative of the standing of said clan towards a perception of personal property of land that represented wealth that was introduced by the Romans, hides an intellectual change. In later years, someone like Rousseau will go as far as to state that the introductioon of personal property by the colonisators in Southern America corrupted these societies forwever (cf. the Myth of the Good Savage).

The idea of intellectual property however is a relatively late conception in the history of ideas. It’s something that is completely absent in the Middle Ages for instance where authors copy motifs, characters and texts from one another at liberty since they are considered common property of their circle of culture. With the introduction of printing devices and the explosion of text production things change slightly, but the idea that an author has rights over the texts, ideas or even characters is still far away. As late as the 19th century, an author that had his works printed, sold his works and all rights over to the printer or editor.

The concept of owning something that is immaterial and that you’ve invented is one of the most difficult topics in a time where a simple manipulation of four keys copies text, annexes it, steals it, reproduces it.

Now, we all know that it’s part of our personal rights to chose when and how we want to be taken in pictures and that the gaining of money is an infringement of my rights. We also know that copying content that we haven’t ourselves produced is morally wrong and punishable by law per se, particularly so if we start making money from it.

Facebook thought it opportune to transfer an irrevocable license on all the contents their users upload to their (free) service, being free to reproduce it, sell it and mash it up (taking it out of context). Nothing in this world is for free and internet services that cost server space, hardware and time to set up and maintain are the least likely to be for free, no matter what. The reaction of Facebook users and bloggers is certainly justified and was needed, but ridiculous in it’s proportions of indignation. Not even to speak about the 99% of users that never read any of the TOS of the services they join.

Ridiculous? Like I said, nothing in the world is for free. And certainly not a site that needs to sustain itself to support 175 Million users such as Facebook. The question that needs asking is: what are you paying with? The same thing you’re paying Google for the greatest storage inbox on the net, the best Document storage online and the quickes and best indexing algorithms with: your personality. Your search patterns, your way of using the service, your statistical information constitute a huge flux of intel and exploitable information which makes it possible for services such as Facebook and Google to sell better targeted ads and thus earn their pay and the possiblity to uphold their service to you.

Now, while Facebooks tacit change of TOS certainly was abusive and unreasonable form a jurisdictional point of view – I certainly am not for Facebook having such a license on my artistic photographs or poetry that I’ve put on FB -, but the illusion of billions of internet users that they are entitled to complete privacy when they use free services provided to them is laughable. The second you step on the internet and start displaying your online personality through Twitter, MySpace, Plurk, FriendFeed, Flickr and what not, you willingly give up your right to a complete protection of your data. The advantages of interconnecting with your friends, to find new ones, to create communities… in short partake in the new version of the web, will never be just for free. You give up rights of your own. So, yes, the level of shock and outrage at the current example of Facebook is based on users not knowing what they’re doing. Not only is this a source of ridicule, but presents a paradox of epic proportions: on the one hand people consider their internet trails of insidious binge pictures, senseless tweets, 25 things about me notes and 10 random thoughts, their own property that needs protecting, but on the other hand they’re all too quick to hand over said property to save a few $ and use a free service instead of a paid one, simply because we no longer sign physically with our name such contracts, but with a simple click.

Wake up people. Learn to use the Privacy Settings on your services (Facebook Privacy Settings You Should Know About) , learn to read the Terms of Service before just hitting ‘send’ and get a grip on your own life: Nothing in the world is for free.

And lastly: you are not as important as you think.

NB: Don’t forget the latest trend: tweet your location

We are how we talk and we talk like our parents have or have not taught us. Would teaching dialectics and discussion in school help with the current non-culture of debate and argumentation?

Prompted by the post on the communication style during the past US Presidential Elections, someone pointed out to me on plurk that they thought that communications, dialectics and the ethics of discourse should be taught in school to kids already and I gathered that for him that would mean a considerable improvement of certain things going wrong at this point in history when partisanship seems to be more important than the political, social et al. issue at hand.

I only half agree with that idea for one general reason: we talk like our parents. Or rather we discuss like our parents.

Let me explain this slightly exaggerated assertion. While I am all for teaching young adults the arts of talking properly, right and for effect on one hand and to analyse arguments and react to them on the other hand, I also believe that such a teaching is next to fruitless if it falls on unprepared ground.
Aren’t we much more influenced by the discussion style and culture going on in our parent’s house while growing up than shaped by what the teacher tells us at say… the age 14?

It is a common and widely accepted ground rule today that our way of talking, expressing ourselves in normal circumstance is shaped by our social upbringing, the surroundings we’ve been exposed to at tender age and the all the other socio-historical stimuli we’ve been subjected to. It’s shaped by what we read, when we read it, what we hear and process and finally who we consider our idols and personal heroes. (I had and still have a huge sympathy for the Roman Senators and it has pushed me at an early age to learn the history and nature of rhetoric making me real pain in discussions… )
If that is the case for ‘normal style’ communication, then it isn’t too far fetched to assume that the particular case of discursive discussion is just as influenced by our roots. As kids and adolescents we learn from what we see and if our parents have either a passive agressive discussion and confrontation style, or one that makes the roof blow off the house, as children we will either adopt that or refuse it completely depending our level of auto-evaluation and critical analysis of our actions.

The point I am trying to make here is simple really: an ethos is discussion and argumentation cannot be built by schooling and teaching alone, because these levels already assume a certain meta-level because they aim at teaching something. A good discussion style starts much earlier and parents are important in that process. The effect of an all-mighty father that can say ‘Yes, you’re right and making a good point there. I concede that I was wrong/hasty etc.’ are immense on the psyché of a child that will learn that even though a parent is the measure of all things in their life, conceding to being wrong isn’t the end of the world. This in turn will at a later age tell them that riding an argument even though you know that it’s flawed is a bad thing and that it’s better to learn from others rather than stand on your own viewpoint against all odds and the wrath of the gods.

I’ve seen people with a lot of kids being condescending with people who tried to have a decent discussion with them in the course of these Elections, who were deliberately mean and inflammatory and abrasive only to show how right they thought they were and it made me seriously worry about the example they give to their children, because I don’t believe that in their home environment they discuss differently than online. We are what we say and how we say it after all and if you don’t have a discussion ethos with the big topics, why would you have one in the most fundamental social cell, family?

Neither one of us has proof of the ultimate truth, if they did, the world would look differently and there wouldn’t be any need for discursive analysis and discussion or even so much as a teaching exchange. In such a utopian state of Eden, we all would know and thus wouldn’t need to exchange knowledge or different points of views. The second a person, locked in a discussion, assumes that they have the better point of view, the right way of looking at things, the respect clause has been violated and since at this point only condescension can be had from that person, the discussion dies a sudden death.
Now people will continue on, trying to work with such a person, to make them see other contrasting arguments to their view, or even pull the mother of all arguments: personal experience. (A well known ‘trick’ to try and bring emotion into the discussion and tone down the heat.) But with someone as fundamentally convinced as this, even that will be shot down.

There is no value to be had from such discussions. Not a social interactive value, not a personal one and certainly not a political one. All it serves is giving rhetorical bullies a box on which they can stand on their personal speaker’s corner. All that comes from it is insult.
Kids that grow up under such communication circumstances are bound to have a ‘strike first’ attitude in their discussion style and chances are such an attitude will also spill over into their general conflict resolution attitudes (hitting when no arguments are at hand etc.).

So, truly, as adults, we shape the future generation’s communication style as well as their ability to deal with information, process it and use it in discussion. A detail that often gets lost in the mayhem that can be child upbringing.