Saturday, September 10, 2016

Taking A Knee

Colin Kaepernick has started something. On August 26, the 49ers quarterback decided to sit during the national anthem before the preseason game against the Packers. His decision not to stand during the anthem has elicited consternation and praise. More interesting than all the commentary, however, are the similar acts of protest in the wake of his own.

A Navy sailor sat during the national anthem on her base.

A high school football team took a knee during the anthem under the Friday night lights.

And Denver Broncos linebacker Brandon Marshall took a knee before the first regular season game on September 8.

I've seen many posts online the decry these actions. As predictable as these responses are, I have to admit that I still find them baffling. This particular moment in the long history of civil rights in the United States only serves to highlight some of the most confounding tensions at the heart of who we are as a nation.

Each patriotically-inflected holiday, sentiments abound online and at public events centering on the uniqueness of American freedom. But in moments such as this, the caveats and restrictions of such sentiments come to light. We discover that the only vision of freedom that is acceptable to us is that which allows us to rest comfortably in our points of view.

Patriotism, my dear compatriots, is not required to be an American. Were it required, we could not tout our freedom. Moreover, the brand of uncritical patriotism--love of country that gives no space to critical thought--that underlies so many critiques of Kaepernick and the movement he has inspired has become normative: the only acceptable way to be an American, it seems, is to accept without question that the ideals of our country somehow absolve it from the many systems of injustice and oppression that persist and thrive. This should make any lover of freedom nervous, American or otherwise.

So far from the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr., we do not even recognize civil disobedience when we see it. We do not even recognize the very logic of a truly American version of freedom because we have let it become warped into nationalism. What Kaepernick and others are doing is wholly, uniquely American. Theirs is a quiet refusal to stand idly by as their nation proves itself so unmoored from its original, lofty goal: to sustain a place for people to be truly free in what they say, what/whom they worship, and what they do with their lives.

By taking a knee (an evolution of Kaepernick's original protest), the athlete adopts the same posture as when there is an injury on the field. Anyone who played sports as a kid knows this. You kneel out of respect. You kneel to wait. You kneel to acknowledge that something has gone wrong. You kneel to pay attention. You kneel to divert attention from you--your team, your strategy, your concerns--and draw attention toward what's wrong. And there is plenty wrong.

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Catching Em All at the Holocaust Museum: Pokemon GO and Shared Spaces

People are rather obsessed with Pokemon GO, and it seems the internet is obsessed with talking about people being obsessed with it. One of the most interesting stories involving the augmented reality game concerns the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC. Many news outlets are reporting the Museum's frustration with Pokemon GO players hunting and catching Pokemon in the Museum itself. A spokesperson for the Museum said that the "game falls outside of our educational and memorial mission."

It's not difficult to understand where the folks at the Holocaust Museum (or Arlington or Auschwitz) are coming from. These are places of contemplation that ask their visitors to inhabit spaces of reverence. What this little moment in our technological history reminds me, however, is that so much of our supposed moral issues with digital life are actually issues of etiquette. A scholar of information systems recently gave me a helpful analogy on this point: when ATMs were first introduced, no one knew where to stand as they waited. Eventually, society sorted it out and now we know to stand a few feet back from the person using the ATM before us. If social pressures are strong enough, collective habits change. This includes our technological habits.

More than etiquette, however, I believe the conversation about Pokemon in the Holocaust Museum can help us think about the spaces we create and inhabit. I think of museums as "virtual" in their own right, as they seek to bring present what is absent, either because of history or location. Even for art museums, the spaces are virtual insofar as they are spaces of encountering the other through media. I am not an expert in museum studies, but it seems to me that curators and directors are always feeling the tension between cultivating spaces and cultivating particular experiences. That is, these professionals work hard to facilitate and encourage particular kinds of experiences for visitors, but without the ability or even desire to force that experience upon them.

What strikes me as somewhat frustrating about the Pokemon in the Holocaust Museum story, then, is that both the Museum and people writing about the phenomenon are convinced that there is only one way (or maybe a few ways) to experience that space. Museums have the right and prerogative to ask certain things of their visitors so as to aim for the experience they want them to have. They do not, it seems to me, have the right to tell people how to experience that which they have created. Some will jump in here with several critiques, which I attempt to address below:

Pokemon GO and other games are distracting for both the visitor using them and those around them! As for the individual playing the game, it seems difficult to ascertain "distraction" barring some sort of interrogation process. Furthermore, it seems to me that our problem is with the means of distraction and not distraction itself, as I would be hard-pressed to think of a time when I was truly not distracted even by my own thoughts. As the distraction of others, isn't this just what happens when humans get together for any shared experience?

On both these points, allow me to provide a small anecdote. I recently went to Cleveland's incredible Museum of Art. I was "distracted" from the experience personally because my dog had died the day before. Sometimes I would linger on a painting, almost looking through the art itself and find myself immersed in my own loss and grief. One could easily say that I was not experiencing the museum how its curators might want me to. If someone were to judge my grief as frivolous and pointless, they could just as easily make a claim against me as those making a claim against Pokemon GO. I was also distracted by a group of middle school students. The first distraction came from their docent who was spewing some popular but historically dubious "facts" about the "Dark Ages." The second came when the students dispersed, walking quickly through each room to check off pieces of art on the list given them by their teacher. Is this how the museum was meant to be experienced? Who am I to say?

Places like the Holocaust Museum demand reverence and games on your phone are not reverent! Reverence seems to me a theological category, and the resources for defining its nature in secular spaces are scarce after a strict division of sacred and secular. Furthermore, although spaces may attempt to demand reverence, they cannot force it. Anyone who has been to churches and other holy sites that are also tourist destinations knows well the tension I describe here. As a devout Catholic, I experience people inhabiting churches as complicated spaces of spectacle, curiosity, antipathy, and sometimes, reverence.

To claim that games on phones are not "reverent," one would need to be very clear about what reverence in a secular space looks like. I am not, of course, saying that the horrors of the Holocaust and the memories of its victims do not demand reverence. But as the middle schoolers in the art museum remind us, spaces can only be shaped and cultivated, and visitors can only be asked and encouraged. Short of disallowing phones in the Holocaust Museum, therefore, the directors cannot force people to have a certain kind of experience.

Pokemon GO is just a small part of technological advances that change our experiences of space. These technologies will challenge us and frustrate us. Most of all, they will expose the assumptions we have about shared spaces in particular, and force us to come to terms with what has remained unsaid between us as sharers in those spaces.

Monday, February 29, 2016

Stop Saying You'll Move If Trump Wins

It's time to stop saying that you'll leave the country if Donald Trump wins. I know why you say it. You say it because the idea of having him as president seems utterly repugnant, so much so that your gut tells you to run far, far away. But this sentiment is both ridiculous and dangerous.

First, it is ridiculous to say you'd just leave because you can actually stop Trump from happening. I am convinced, like so many others, that money has damaged our political system to a stunning degree. (I am also convinced that Congressional re-districting is a cancer on the political body.) But even in the post-Citizens United wasteland of American politics, I still believe that we retain some degree of political efficacy, however small it may seem. We still have our vote, and it remains a meaningful act of civic participation which, yes, requires that we plan ahead, put on pants, and go to the damn polls. Moreover, saying that we'll leave the country if Trump wins implies that after we cast our non-Trump votes, we did our part, and somehow deserve to be exempted from the result of the election. This is simply not the case. We have friends and family. We have people to talk to about things that matter. This is not to say that these conversations will be easy or comfortable. To do one's political part is to cultivate a habit of dialogue that supports spaces for discourse, whether in a free and independent press or in the nooks and crannies of our daily social lives.

Second, it's time to stop saying you'll leave if Trump wins if you have anywhere near the means to do so. One of the biggest reasons why President Trump is such a scary idea is because we all know in our hearts that those who are already marginalized in America would suffer the most under that administration. To cavalierly entertain the idea of fleeing the country is to endorse an apathy and complacency toward populations for whom this would never, ever be an option. Saying that we'll leave is dangerously close telling immigrants, the working poor, and the disenfranchised, "Well, good luck with that!" Saying that we'll leave is tantamount to choosing despair, and refusing to accept our responsibility in the well-being of all people.

So please, let's all stop saying we'll leave if Trump wins. Let's instead try and take up the arduous task of finding out why anyone would want him as president. In short, let's stay.