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And/or
Note: In Difference is on hiatus during August, and no newsletter will be sent next month. Updates will resume in September.
“There is more than one sort of prison, captain. I sense you carry yours wherever you go.”
– Chirrut Imwe, as written by Chris Weitz and Tony Gilroy, in Rogue One: A Star Wars Story
(Spoilers on all things Star Wars related ahead.)
In “Narkina 5”, Episode 8 of Season 1 of Andor, Cassian arrives at an isolated prison surrounded by a lake, on a moon in the Outer Rim. He is greeted by boilersuit-clad guards, one of whom delivers a cold orientation to the facility. The guards, we hear, do not rely primarily on their weapons to keep order. Instead, they lean on routine and “minimally invasive enforcement techniques”, which include an environment capable of sending painful shockwaves through unshielded bodies. Self-policing and self-preservation are entrusted to be key motivators. The prisoners are told to use their time “productively” to avoid harsh punishment.
Cassian is then uniformed and taken to his “level”, a floor of the floating forced labor camp, and mini-factory where a cohort of prisoners is fighting against the clock to complete their tasks. He is given another shot of key messaging by the ‘floor manager’, Kino Loy, a prisoner closing in on his sentence’s conclusion. Institutionalized and assertive, Kino has been installed in the upper echelon of slave ranks, responsible for ensuring those under his purview stick to the script:
Kino: “Listen up. It’s a twelve-hour shift. Productivity is encouraged; evaluation is constant.”
“The seven tallies are the running shift totals of all the other rooms on this floor. You play against all the other tables in this room. I play against all the other rooms.”
Cassian: “Play?”
Kino: “Call it what you will – the point of this conversation is that you understand one thing most clearly. I have two hundred and forty-nine days left of my sentence. I have a free hand in how I run this room. I’m used to seeing my room in the top three on the level. You will want to keep that happening. I’m sensing you understand me.
Sick? Injured? Come and talk to me. Problems with another inmate? I will know before you do. Losing hope? Your mind? Keep it to yourself.”
Cassian is directed to his assigned table and meets the small group of prisoners who have to facilitate his assimilation into the Narkina 5 system. What follows is my favorite scene in the entire series.
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Stop Committing Crimes
The humanitarian crisis in Gaza is one of many that represent the height of our absurdity as a species. We are waking up daily to news of starving civilians, mostly children, being used as political pawns between world leaders with colonial ambitions beholden to extremist groups, who are trying to cling onto power amidst countless domestic scandals. World leaders not held to account by state or corporate media, or by the discordant noise of the online rage-farming social media machines rife with propaganda. Leaders and their crony elite enriched and emboldened by crises of their own creation.
In their care, populations overwhelmed by debt, labor and information overload, attempting to get a grip on their role in global affairs.
Israel/Palestine is the most visible modern example, but hardly the only one. Of the dozen or so genocides underway globally, this one captures the world’s attention precisely because there is an almost universal consensus on the appropriate way forward that is not being implemented. Unfortunately, the states that have refused to action this consensus dating back to 1967’s Six-Day War and its aftermath, primarily the U.S., U.K. and Israel, have instead chosen to enable decades-long suffering and torture. Which entirely tracks with the rest of their historical record, but grinds the gears of anyone charged with listening to their empty words as they continue to feed their supercharged war profiteering industries.
Their allies are not blameless, but complacent. Canada among them. Statements condemning atrocities abroad have no meaning when no substantive action follows for decades. While the world has talked around the problem, the Western-facilitated and -catalyzed rot at the heart of the Middle East has created deeply radicalized societies that will continue to foment conflict for generations.
But there is a route towards healing that the West can take. The same one people have been protesting for repeatedly. Rarely entertained (with exceptions), given the governments of the West largely answer to oligarchs and lobbyists, rather than their citizenry, unless the public sustains a disruptive presence in the streets en masse.
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The Price of Connection (repost)
This post was originally published on January 31, 2024, prior to the publicizing of this site and the newsletter e-blasts. I have recently, begrudgingly, reactivated an old social media account in the hopes of reconnecting with some long-lost acquaintances. That experiment will end soon, for many of the reasons articulated below. I am resharing these thoughts now as they are front of mind. Take them with a grain of salt, from someone who has essentially lost all close friendships in part out of a stubborn refusal to engage with the un-engageable. For those interested in more overviews of online systems from Jaron Lanier, see here, here, here and here.
Sometime in the mid-2010s, there was a chorus of researchers who began to seriously consider the long-term effects of modern, digital social media on our personalities. At this point everyone with a mic, pen, and laptop had already waxed lyrical about the positive and negative impacts of online networks invading every corner of our daily lives. The foundation of the dual life – of your actual person and your profiles on digital platforms – had long been consolidated. Facebook was the dominant player (and remains for now as the most utilized site for connecting), essentially ubiquitous among younger demographics who had grown up with technology at their fingertips. Even youth who were living in poverty could afford simple flip phones where they could access the basic Facebook mobile interface and messaging services – something I witnessed working with children in rural Uganda back in 2013.
These researchers may have been motivated by the unexpected and anecdotal rise in social isolation, especially among youth (early adopters and heavy users of large social media sites). MySpace had been an experimental precursor where the potentially harmful effects of social media may not have made themselves apparent. The rise of Facebook, a digital party for all your acquaintances, with a constantly updating feed, and Reddit, which allowed a window into the general zeitgeist and its flowering subcultures, led to increased critical scrutiny of the underlying infrastructure that was fast forming our new social connective tissue.
Facebook, Twitter, Reddit, Youtube, Whatsapp and over in China, WeChat and QQ, were also fast becoming relevant in the workplace. Links to each began to be embedded not just on webpages designed for entertainment and fun, but also for professional use. There are still vast swathes of industry in East Asia where an email or mobile text may not be exchanged during an entire workday; instead, interactions on a single platform like WeChat may be all that is needed to accomplish daily tasks.
These researchers did surveys, looked at all publicly available data, and spoke to industry experts, users, promotors, and critics of social media platforms. They quoted twentieth century intellectuals such as B.F. Skinner, Bertrand Russell, Alan Turing, and Norbert Wiener in their search for an answer to the question: should we be worried?
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“What do you do, exactly?”
It is a question that came up during a social outing last month. The inquirer was not curious about job titles, but skills. The specific competencies that I employ during work that are considered valuable by my employer. A question not too easy to answer and one I rarely reflect on, because I, like so many others, am consigned to work in order to be granted basic rights like food, shelter, and opportunities of self-expression.
While I have always tried to contribute to society in alignment with my values, interests, and in service to betterment for all, labor options are perennially limited. Having the privilege of a solid support network and financial security have also allowed me to pursue higher education or take breaks from employment without dire consequences – again, a dignity in life not yet available to all.
I returned to the question again recently. We live in a largely service economy, one rife with bullshit jobs where a large amount of “value” is tied to moving capital up and unsustainable growth to no end. When the economy “improves”, it disproportionately benefits those who already have capital, power, and the means to manipulate the system to their liking. You can probably tell I am not a big fan of how things are currently structured. I am unconvinced that we are meeting our fundamental commitment to future generations in all respects. But I also reject much of the talk of the alienation between the worker and the product; human societies and economies are complex beasts and we owe it to the collective to seek self-edification on how small, perhaps abstract acts, can build a better future for all. We need people who provide physical labor, but we also need systems thinkers. The alchemy required in each era shifts, largely guided by the alchemy of the economic order itself.
The difficulty comes within the degrees of good faith in which the efforts are undertaken.
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Wisps of Water
I was stopped at a gas station a couple weeks ago and noticed that rain had begun falling towards the west. It is not every day you get dark collapsing clouds contrasted with a whiter backdrop this clearly, so I took a quick click.
In case you have not heard, Canada is on fire (again and on schedule). The prairie provinces are bone dry and alight. Every bit of rain during the warmer months melts the heightening anxiety among the collective.
Here in B.C., the fire season never truly stopped. The blazes in the far northeast of the province have been burning since last year, as an example. But things will slowly get worse. Every time I do a pre-summer drive from Prince George to Vancouver, as I did in mid-May, I gain an understanding of how bad the wildfire summer is likely to be. Those of us who have even a modicum of experience repeatedly surveying the land during critical periods can get a good sense of conditions.
The equation is simple – the greener, the better. We know it will get hot, we know our effect on the environment, and we know that aside from random dry lightning, people will continue to make stupid mistakes. I have rarely driven past an entirely yellowed or golden-browned B.C. Interior landscape and not seen it become a tinderbox. It does not mean mass evacuations or grand impacts to civilization are guaranteed, but it does not bode well. This year, things are looking bad. Not 2023 bad, which was the worst fire season on record, but bad enough. I foresee opening up CBC News in a couple months and having déjà vu, except I will be reading headlines pertaining to our backyard rather than Alberta, Saskatchewan or Manitoba.
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Searching for Beacons
Coit Tower, Telegraph Hill, San FranciscoWhat a ten days it has been.
Grand milestones celebrated. Childhood friends revisited. Animated rallies attended. Unfortunate losses counted. All amidst an uncomfortably stratified yet contiguous set of urban existences. More grating to this observer each passing day. A source of growing defeatism rather than drive, though the latter’s leading quota is irreplaceable.
Port City hardly ever disappoints. That post, by the way, is not only my brief ode to Vancouver, but a reflection of its place in my life. A larger metaphor for a transitory phase of existence, one that continues to extend beyond expected timelines. I mean, I have been in Prince George for nearly four years. I should have made a home of this place. And yet… the apartment continues to resemble a waystation. It was about this time last year when I was musing about transience and its associated luggage. Funny how the seasonal patterns ripple in time.
It is a question still on my mind: Quelle heure est-il au Paradis?
Today’s photo is of a tower many of you may be familiar with, its cold white concrete illuminated at night. A landmark – an imposition of beauty – on a similar metropolis not so far away.
Perhaps this picture came to mind because this traveler’s thoughts are on beacons, or lack thereof. The course-correcting kind that arrive in the form of people, decisions, and moral will that seem to always be scarce. We are all living in Omelas and happy to champion its cruel vision.
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The Lesser Spotted Sedan
This week’s photo: the lesser spotted sedan in its natural habitat, parked among its much larger (and far more widespread) roadmates in Northern B.C.Driving in this city has become so annoying that I have effectively curtailed use of my vehicle to the bare minimum. My sedan’s tank is about 3/5 full and my budget app says the last time I filled up was February 11. Good. Box checked. (Disclosure: this is entirely due to a set of temporary circumstances which have afforded me the option of working from home.)
Burning less ancient bio-residue is certainly a win, and my primary concern remains the environment, but I will use this opportunity to talk about how unsafe the roads are in this ‘car city’. Drivers are not careful (just visit r/princegeorge and you will find plenty of anecdotes about erratic driving practices), conditions are often testing (the long winters can be rough), and the city is not at all walkable. Unlike other cities where pedestrian paths and safety are prioritized – say, clearing sidewalks of snow first – in PG, automated transportation always gets first dibs in council budgets. The unavoidable nuisance of driving is compounded by the fact that public transit is poor, the populace is unnecessarily spread out, and a certain, entitled NIMBYism prevents denser and more sensible, sustainable development.
Mostly, though, it is those damned trucks that make navigating the roads tiring. Everyone is rolling around in comically large vehicles. I get that this is an industry town where lots of people are engaged in outdoor sports, but it is representative of plenty of broader trends. (See here 1996’s Taken for a Ride, a foundational documentary which discusses some of the wider forces at play. Mainly: the car lobby’s successful efforts at fighting public transit, eco-conscious development, and regulations, at the cost of our general quality of life. Relevant to the entire North American context.)
For example, when I am up front taking a left at a major intersection, I can barely see behind the large trucks also waiting to turn in the opposite direction, effectively blocking the entire lanes behind them. I often need to inch forwards until I am almost into the opposing lane before I can confirm no oncoming traffic. Not ideal. Moreover, PG has a lot of randomly placed pedestrian crosswalks on streets like fifth avenue (busy during morning/evening commutes). If you are in a sedan with a truck slightly ahead, your view of anyone crossing, or looking to cross, is almost completely obscured. And in this city, if you dare slow down or drive with caution, you get honked at immediately. How dare you stick to the limit when the person behind is trying to go 80km/h in a 50 zone? Everyone has somewhere where they need to be right at that moment, it seems.
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A Comment on Material Consumption
Everyone has so much stuff.
I am blown away by it all. Every time I enter someone’s home. The amount of clothes, furniture, dishes, glassware, stationary, art, greenery, drapery, tools, toys, and collections. Piles of paper spilling over each other. The electronics! Appliances, devices, consoles, and ‘smart’ tech adorning surfaces. Boxes hidden away in corners or stashed atop shelves unseen. Things on the walls, ground, running along baseboards or dangling from cords. Objects slowly shifting around, following seasonal motions akin to planetary retrogrades. Their whirring, ticking, clicking, rattling, and cuckooing punctuating the enclosed din. A cozy clamor to which most are conditioned.
Stuff stuffing abodes, each a menagerie inviting a sift-through by Walter Benjamin wannabes. For this onlooker, genuinely mystifying stuff.
Let me clarify. We are speaking here of material possessions. All of us inhale different forms of cultural output. We frequent theaters, concert venues, museums, cultural sites, and share our love of art in public spaces. At home, we engage with films, shows, interactive media, etc. Some of the latter overlap with objects that must be owned. Fine; games are a collective tie. It is the rest of it – those bobbleheads in mint condition – that I cannot fathom. I often wonder about each item’s use-over-time-ratio. How many months go by between its uses? How long did it take to become ignored once its novelty wore off? How many pieces of crap have been left in that drawer untouched for years? Of course, most never track their consumption. And for those who would argue for the deep cultural attachments to objects, commentary here concerns our proclivity for excess.
I admit, if the average consumer had my spending habits, the entire economy may collapse.
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Words for a Despondent Public
A quick update: ‘Weekly Picks’ posts will return to the blog this Sunday, February 9. I also plan to put together a bit of an explainer within the next couple of weeks on the method behind how I come across those articles/essays/videos. Stay tuned.
Plenty in the news that is levying anxiety on both sides of the 49th parallel these days. Those of us fortunate enough to be in the global minority enjoying stable democratic institutions can never really adopt a complacent approach.
Just a couple of videos for you today. Words of wisdom for troubled times.
Some takeaways:
(@3:00) Treat differences like a resource, not a problem.
(@11:15) Creative solutions are not lacking.
(@13:50) Democracy is something you do, not something that is.“Do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed – the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die. […]
You, the people, have the power…the power to create happiness. You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful.”
We dare not disengage.
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On 2024’s Palette
Something a little different to wrap up the orbit.
In Difference turns 1 next week. It was the first few days of January last year when I began setting up this space. Researching self-hosting options, reintroducing myself to the WordPress platform, adjusting code, and attempting to conjure inspiration. Funny what a temporary surplus of time and tranquility will manifest.
The aim was to add a habit of writing into the repertoire. The levels of originality or depth were always going to fluctuate, but I had hoped to establish a rhythm that could spur on other creative impulses.
At this juncture, I can admit to the patchy nature of the experiment. Work, travel, and other commitments have eaten into the hours budgeted towards introspection. Yet even the small amount of catharsis afforded by this exercise has been enough; there is plenty foundational to build on.
With that in mind, I was looking back through the year’s posts and noticed how often I shared images with little to no information. Though they were connected to the thoughts being relayed, it was not always clear how they informed the substance of the piece. The pictures, captured or constructed, felt ornamental. So, I thought I would take this opportunity to add a little more context to where they came from or why they were attached to the reflections.
A chance to resurface the musings with some additional insight. See the collection below; I hope it is somewhat illuminating.