An Open Society

Yesterday, we pondered: What would a society where people's lives are almost entirely public look like?

Mitka brought up the idea of first impressions. In an open society, we might learn things about people we haven't yet met that would color our impressions of them later. Currently, we first get to know people a little on their terms, and then when we do find out their unusual or embarrassing traits, we can fit them into an already-established context.

I countered that, in an open society, few traits would be viewed as unusual or embarrassing. For example, in our current society, finding out that someone had attempted suicide, even if it was a long time ago, would color our perceptions of them, particularly if we find out before actually meeting them. But imagine that all of a sudden you got a list of all of your acquaintances that had attempted suicide. You'd look at the list, which would maybe have a couple dozen names, and you'd probably see some surprises. At first, you'd rethink your impression of the people you see on the list, but after reading through the whole thing, you'd start to rethink your impression of suicide attempts. The next time you meet someone and find out that they've attempted suicide in the past, but aren't depressed anymore, you'd probably react the same way as if instead they were talking about a serious car accident. In turn, your calm reaction would make it easier for people to talk to you about depression and suicide, coming back full circle to having an open society.

In an open society, we'd destigmatize common behaviors, because we'd know just how common they are, and not just in an abstract sense. We'd actually see the people that engage in these behaviors, and realize that they're just like the rest of us, or, more precisely, that they are us. We'd have a much richer understanding of the human experience.

Another example that came up in the conversation was homosexuality. Hollywood-style films sometimes associate being gay with unrelated traits, such as an interest in fashion, whereas in my experience the distribution of traits and interests of gay people is about the same as that of people as a whole. In fact, there's a series of Youtube videos that parodies this disconnect.

In a more closed society, people's impressions of gay people would be more stereotyped. As a result, finding out that someone is gay would change the way you think about them, since you would now associate them with these stereotypes. On the other hand, in a more open society, you'd know that being gay correlates with little else, and hence finding out that someone is gay wouldn't change your impression of them. This, in turn, would make it easier for people to come out as gay, and would help reinforce the open society.

Of course, an open society wouldn't get rid of all stereotypes: If one race for whatever reason had a higher crime rate than another, you'd still judge people based on race, and if one gender for whatever reason performed better than another at a particular task, you'd still judge people based on gender. In fact, it's possible that in an open society it would be more difficult to ignore information in order to make a less discriminatory decision.

Another point that we made is that it's all well and good to destigmatize personal behaviors, but what about behaviors that hurt others? For example, in an open society, if you knew about all of your acquaintances who have shoplifted, it would destigmatize theft. Certainly, if everyone around you is behaving unethically, you don't want to be the sucker that gets left behind. On the other hand, if everyone around you is behaving ethically, you don't want to be the asshole. So, perhaps there is an advantage to hiding our dark secrets and appearing to be better people than we actually are, in order to encourage others to behave more ethically. On the other hand, perhaps being able to talk openly about actions that we're not proud of would make it easier for us to move forward and act better in the future.

It certainly seems that we're currently headed towards a more open society with Facebook and blogs and all, so I guess we'll find out!

yellow house

Mitka:  "Have you ever tried to install... a governing body, inside of your... brain?"
[laughter]
Yasha:  "What do you mean by that?"
Mitka:  "I don't know, maybe this is too farfetched."
Yasha:  "No, I mean, it's possible that I have done this, but you'll have to tell me what you meant by that in order for me to determine."
Mitka, giggling:  "Don't put me in the yellow house!"
[laughter]
me:  "Was that a reference to something?"
Yasha:  "Does 'yellow house' somehow mean insane asylum?"
Mitka:  "It does in Russian.  Or---well, it does in some language."

Is Harry Potter a resident of the United Kingdom?

Some time ago at the Mirror Maze, we came up with the statement, "The wizard Harry Potter is a resident of the United Kingdom." If you say that this statement is true, then we can counter with, "One of the residents of the United Kingdom is the wizard Harry Potter," which most agree is false. However, if you detect a trap and say that the original statement is false, then we can counter with, "The wizard Harry Potter isn't a resident of the United Kingdom." Most agree that this statement is also false.

We resolved this paradox by noting that statements often convey hidden information. One of the often-mentioned examples is, "If you're free tonight, we're going to see a movie at 8pm." Looking carefully, the statement seems silly: even if you're not free tonight, we're still planning on going to the movie. However, there's a hidden unsaid piece of information. What I really mean when I say that is, "If you're free tonight, then it is relevant to you that we're going to see a movie at 8pm." There are a bunch of other hidden assumptions in language that people have tried to describe.

In the case of Harry Potter, we decided that the beginning of the statement establishes context. When I start to say, "The wizard Harry Potter," there's a hidden assumption that we are talking about the fictional universe of Harry Potter. On the other hand, if I start the sentence with, "One of the residents of the United Kingdom," there's a hidden assumption that we're talking about the real UK.

These sorts of unsaid assumptions happen quite frequently, so if you hear us say, "It's like Harry Potter living in the UK," now you'll know what we mean!

teapot

We often serve tea to guests, and would use Mitka's clear glass teapot with a glass strainer.  The last time we had guests, Yasha dropped the strainer in the sink and broke it, so he promised to buy Mitka a new teapot.  We got it today.  It is also clear glass, but has a metal strainer and lid; the idea was that a metal strainer would not break.  When we looked at the pot, it looked much smaller than the old one, but Yasha poured liquid from one to the other, and they're about the same.  The more spherical one just has a smaller area when you look at it.

The teapot came with a free sample of tea: apple spice black tea.  Yasha was pleasantly surprised, and commented that we should break teapots more often because then we'd keep getting these cool samples.

As the tea was steeping, we noticed that the strainer was positioned crookedly with respect to the rim of the pot.  We wobbled it and noticed that there were four nubs that looked like they'd lock the strainer in place if you pushed it in firmly.  Mitka tried to push it in; Yasha worried about upending the hot tea.  With one enthusiastic push, the lid suddenly flipped upside down on top of the strainer.  We pulled it out and set it aside.

The tea finished steeping, and Yasha removed the strainer full of leaves and poured tea for everyone.  The lid was hot, so he picked it up with a towel, aligned it carefully with the rim of the teapot, and dropped it... straight down into the tea.  Apparently the lid is smaller than the pot, and needs the strainer.  We laughed and laughed at the lid sitting in the tea at the bottom of the pot.

We drank our tea, and Yasha picked up the pot to pour himself more.  He tipped it carefully so that the lid would stay in the bottom of the pot, but eventually it tipped far enough that the lid tipped sideways with a soft clink... and tea started coming out the side.  Then glass fell out and the knob of the lid poked through as we all gasped and jumped back.

That was fast.  Yasha recalled that he _had_ said we should break teapots.

Another thing that happened: I was talking about things the AC (academic coordinator) does to prepare for camp.
Lucia:  "Okay, I'm really confused, because to me, AC means air conditioner."
Mitka:  "Yeah, there are actually two kinds of ACs.  One of them holds a long pole with fans at either end, and is responsible for spinning round and round..."
(Yasha protests and looks confused.)
me:  "Yasha, are you actually confused?  Mitka is saying that if a human's role is to be the air conditioner, then this is what they must do."
Yasha:  "Ah, yeah.  It occurred to me that he could be making a joke, but that didn't make any sense because I couldn't see any way that could be funny."
Lucia:  "That's so nice of you."
Mitka:  "You must just really like my face pan."
me:  "... I don't think it's called a face pan."
Yasha:  "Straight face.  No, there's another one---deadpan!"
Mitka:  "Well, I didn't say dead face."

forgetting

Mitka:  "Do you know where the laundry key is?"
Yasha:  "Probably in my pocket."
Mitka:  "You forgot to hang it up.  I'm having an influence!"
Yasha:  "I think I've been forgetting to hang it up for a while now."
Mitka:  "And are still wearing the same pair of shorts?"
Yasha:  "Huh?"
me:  "... as when you first started to forget to hang it up."
Yasha:  "Oh.  No, I forgot to hang it up today."

A house with character

One advantage of living off-campus is that we have a guest room. But our guest room has a problem -- it rains in it on occasion. There was a torrential downpour this summer that Hannah already wrote about, then a faint drizzle last week (from the bathroom upstairs) -- so that when my friend Alex came to stay Yasha had to warn him about the possibility (Alex said he'll keep an umbrella handy).

Yesterday when we were downstairs we noticed a hole in the outside wall, 1" diameter. We noticed it while talking about Serge Lang's quote "you can't tell ze deeference between a fact and a hole in zee grounde!" -- a non-mathematical example of Lang's work in making people see the facts in front of their eyes. The cause was probably people carrying a beam -- that broke the previous week.

We don't have a single straight wall in the house; periodically, the floor shifts into a new configuration. And we contribute to the chaos weekly by setting off the fire alarm, breaking dishes, losing corkscrews, etc. -- so the house's name being a quote from Alice isn't entirely a fluke.

And now I can't imagine living any other way. All the dorms I've lived in before have had a somewhat sterile character; things were safe, anything that broke was a nerve-wracking hassle. Here we barely notice it any more -- like the man whom the rabbi advised to get a donkey when his family was too loud.

As is my wont, I want to turn this into a comment about our society. People in the states tend to try to separate the "rugged life" -- camping, outdoors activities, etc., where dealing with logistical problems is part of the fun -- from their home life, which should be kept as stable and boring as possible. (Interestingly, Europe is different -- even the most lavish Paris apartments are permanently falling apart). This is the main reason people want money. There's a lot to be said about this approach. It makes sense. But we take it too far. Life without unplanned excitements involving holes, clutter, laundry, flat tires, the pursuit of free food -- is a little bit more bland. Sometimes the only thing that can tear you away from weeks of "research" turned navel gazing is a leaky sewage pipe.

So is it worth it to rush into a high-paying banking job, a house, a spouse, 2.5 kids and a subaru, or can you stomach a couple of years of the hectic, cheap life as a leech on society advertised in PhD comics? (I suspect there's a similar choice involved in other decisions that kill stability -- babies, pets, relatives...)

If you're a science graduate, the choice is entirely up to you (humanities graduates: good luck). But remember that there's good in anything with flavor, especially if that flavor comes in a little yellow packet labeled "SPICY SHRIMP".

hummus party digestion

We had a party yesterday!  We made hummus at it.

Morbidity and mortality (is this more camp jargon?  the internet suggests que yes.):

A.  There were more people present than I think many of them expected---around 20.  It's not logically possible to let them decide whether to come with the knowledge of how many other people will come, but maybe it would have been helpful to send a rough count after they RSVP'ed but before they actually came.

B.  People brought a lot of food.  There is not a need for so much food in the middle of the afternoon.  There was a lot of juice and soda consumed, though.  Probably a much smaller fraction of the people should have brought anything, but the amount of beverages should stay the same.

C.  Temperature control seemed great!  Thanks, Yasha!

D.  The foods and beverages came in at very different levels of fanciness.  A lot of people just bought something ordinary at the store, but some people brought things that they would have been proud of selecting and would have liked other people to enjoy.  I'm not sure how to put these next to each other without making the less fancy things look like a waste, and I'm not sure how to make sure the people who bring more fancy things receive feedback.  In particular, I probably should have promoted the white wine and the za'atar myself.

E.  Very few people were willing to take charge of making a batch of hummus, even though there were instructions on paper.  Then they still needed my help, in one case to decide whether the texture was okay and in another case to put together the parts of the food processor correctly.  Maybe I should have supervised the first batch all the way through, to make sure some hummus actually appeared and to make changes to the recipe if necessary.

F.  People made way less hummus than I planned for.  Clearly, the amount of hummus does not just scale by the number of people.  I think when it's crowded, it's hard to move from one room to the other, so people who might have liked to make hummus didn't necessarily end up near the hummus-making setup.  I didn't think this was a problem, but I didn't need to buy so much of the ingredients!

G.  I did a lot of hovering and seeing what was going on, rather than actually talking to people.  I felt guilty about this because maybe they came to the party expecting to talk to me.  One strategy would be to talk to each new arrival for a while myself, rather than immediately showing them toward everyone else.

H.  It was good that we had the 10-year-old guest, because it prompted me to plan that we could play telephone pictionary if she didn't have anything to do.  When I mentioned this to her and explained what telephone pictionary was, she said, "Oh, I want to play that!  Let's play that."  She was extremely effective at recruiting other people to play---this was useful because I might have been too shy, even though I knew everyone---and they really seemed to enjoy it.  This led us into a game of celebrity, which was also lots of fun.

How to play telephone pictionary:  Everyone sits in a circle and holds a piece of paper.  They write a sentence and pass the paper to the right.  They draw a picture corresponding to the sentence, fold over the sentence, and pass the paper to the right.  They write a sentence corresponding to the picture, fold over the picture, and pass the paper to the right, and so on, until there's no more space on the page.  Then people read the sequences of sentences aloud.

How to play celebrity:  Everyone thinks of perhaps 6 people that are commonly known of, and writes their names on slips of paper and puts them in the hat.  They sit in a circle and divide into two teams so that the teams alternate around the circle.  There are three rounds, in which people take turns (going around the circle) drawing names from the hat and having their team members guess them, as many as possible in the time limit.  In the first round, you can describe the name in any way you want.  In the second round, you say one word as the clue.  In the third round, you do charades.  Each round goes through every name once, so the clues for the later rounds refer to the clues from the earlier rounds.