The word "feminism" gets tossed around a lot these days, and I've wanted to write a sensible think-piece about what it means to be a good male feminist for some time. I juggled trying to be funny or light-hearted, but in my experience that devalues the seriousness of the subject matter and can also come across as condescending, so I'm going to try and avoid that.
Why do I want to write about feminism?
Because I think there are too many people who still have confused notions about what feminism really is, and in particular, far too many men who may be confused about what it represents and what it ultimately means for both sexes. I personally feel more comfortable addressing my own gender because I don't have the authority to discuss experiences I have not been privileged to (i.e. life from a women's perspective). What follows, therefore, is a guide for what I believe feminism truly is and why it's important for men to embrace it.
Why do I use the word "mature" in the title of this article? Because I believe there has to be a willing mindfulness on anyone's part to fully understand and appreciate any ideological concept, let alone follow through on it. If you don't approach this sort of thing with an open mind, you probably won't even get through the next paragraph without rage-quitting this article.
Where should we begin? Well...
. . . first, you have to understand what feminism actually is.
Feminism is the belief that women deserve to be treated as equally as men. That's it, and it doesn't get more complicated than that. Anyone that tries to convince you there's more to feminism than one, simple ideology is attaching more weight than is necessary. That is not to say that actually following through on this belief doesn't involve some degree of effort and mindfulness, but everything essentially boils down to this one idea. If someone asks whether you are a feminist, there's no need to meditate on it at length or attach any "but" statements to your qualification. If you believe that women are equal to men, then you are by definition a feminist. It's important to remember that it all boils down to one, simple qualification and...
. . . ignore anything that detracts from it.
There were times when I doubted whether or not I could call myself a feminist. I've had other self-proclaimed feminists tell me that I'm either not a real feminist or at least a horrible one, not because my mindset deviated from the ideological belief that women are equal to men, but because I didn't conform to the very rigid expectations they had attached to the movement.
It took me a long time to realize that feminism is not a club with only a small number of eligible members; the actual movement and advocacy involves a huge amount of people, and like any large movement, there will be an inevitable degree of selfishness from some individuals who warp or twist it to their own selfish agenda. I know a number of people who are nervous to identify as feminists because they don't want to be associated with some of the more militant or aggressive advocates (who they feel represent the movement as a whole). This is incredibly unfortunate, but we must remember that negative representation isn't a feminist tendency - it's a human tendency. Feminism itself is still the simple belief that women are equal to men, and once we unequivocally support that belief, we can ...
. . . understand what people mean by "privilege."
"Privilege" gets thrown around like a dirty word these days; it is and always has been a word associated with negativity and shame. Two decades ago the word was used in reference to people with wealth and money - people who didn't understand what it was like to be middle/lower class. Nowadays, it crops up in terms like "white/male privilege," and it's important to understand what the word means in that context because although it still holds a degree of negativity, being called privileged isn't necessarily bad.
To admit that one is privileged is to make the mindful admission that one has certain benefits within a cultural/societal system wherein one demographic is afforded more advantages than another. I live in Canada, and I am a healthy/straight/white/Christian/male. Each of those self-descriptors inhabits a category of which my affiliation benefits the most, and in that way, I am an incredibly privileged person. I have never been discriminated against because of my sexual orientation, the colour of my skin, my religious preference, or my gender, but I acknowledge there are people that have. I understand that racism, sexism, and ableism exist in my culture and there are individuals who are/will be unfairly discriminated against.
We have to remember that human culture is based on tribalism - congregating among groups of like-minded and similar people for the purpose of survival - an instinct engrained via evolution since we were primates. We have evolved to be cautious around those that are different from us, and when one group greatly outnumbers another in a multicultural society, the predominant "tribe" is afforded preferential treatment simply because they fall in line with what the majority expects. The majority of the population in the west are white-skinned, and thus visible minorities are at a disadvantage, just as the predominant sexual orientation is straight and therefore anything that deviates from that is still met with caution. There are demographics and members of the population who must overcome more challenges than others because of circumstances they have no control over.
In regards to feminism, men need to acknowledge that in almost all areas of life, being male bears no negative consequence; a man will rarely be refused service, be less likely to qualify for a job, or be more likely to be sexually assaulted simply because they are a man. Women, however, live with a host of scenarios and circumstances in which the simple nature of being a woman will influence how they are treated. Broadly speaking, women will statistically make less money than their male co-workers, suffer gender-based harassment on a sometimes daily basis, and astronomically be more likely to be the victim of sexual assault. It is important for men to acknowledge this divide, because...
. . . the most important thing you can do is listen.
Privilege exists in any culture, and its problem is that it limits the experiences a group of people is able to appreciate. In regards to feminism, men will never experience what it is like to be a woman (regardless of how empathetic or sensitive we may feel we are) and thus we will also never encounter the varying degrees of sexism inherent to our culture. We will rarely ever have sexually inappropriate slurs thrown at us on the street by complete strangers; we will rarely have to worry that our qualities will be judged solely on our physical appearance; we will never feel like we are pressured to perform sex acts because we accepted to go on a date; we will never have our credibility questioned for reporting a heinous crime like rape; and we will never have decisions regarding what we choose to do to our bodies (i.e. abortion) institutionally debated by a group of outsiders. Because we will never experience these things, it's easy to be ignorant of their effects. The current cultural status quo unquestionably benefits men over women.
A good analogy is bullying. Imagine two high school students: one is popular while the other is picked on constantly. The popular student has nothing but fond memories of the school, never aware that bullying ever occurs, while the bullied student lives under constant unease and fear. Now imagine the two students meet and the bullied student tries to convince the popular student that bulling is in fact, a massive problem. The popular student can either a) try to dismiss the problem or worse, become violent in hopes of defending their fond memories of the school, or b) listen to what the other student has to say, and accept that the reality of their high school experience might not be the same for everyone.
This is why literally the most important thing a male feminist can do is simply listen. Too often men either deny or turn violent in an effort to discredit and silence women for trying to point out the inequality they face. Anita Sarkeesian, creator of the excellent YouTube channel Feminist Frequency, receives heaps of uninvited vitriol and threats whenever she posts a video or makes a public appearance. All she seeks to do is draw attention to the poor representation of women in video games in a very civil and academic way, while also constantly reassuring her audience that it is still possible to enjoy as well as criticize any form of entertainment (insisting that she still enjoys many of the games she talks about). And yet, she inevitably receives negative reactions from people who at best try to discredit her and at worst threaten to rape or murder her. Rather than take into consideration the thoughtful perspective she presents, a disturbing number of individuals would rather scream in protest in hopes of preserving a system they are already comfortable with, regardless of whether it disproportionately benefits them over others.
If you are a man, the next time a woman presents you with a feminist perspective, I beg you to listen to what they have to say. It's important to listen, and also to understand...
. . . that by doing so, you lose nothing.
It costs nothing to listen but time. It takes little effort to open your ears to what is being said, to take a backseat and accept that someone different from you with different experiences has something to say. Any advice article on relationships undoubtably says the two most important components in a healthy partnership are honesty and communication. The thing about communication is that it has to involve one party talking and one party listening; a discussion quickly becomes an argument when one side talks but refuses to listen.
You don't have to agree with everything being said, you're not required to evaluate your whole life with new information, and you're not expected to give anything up too. It's important to keep that last point in mind, because...
. . . feminists aren't trying to take anything away from men.
All feminists truly want is for women to be treated as equally as men, to have the same opportunities, to be judged the same way, and to not face discrimination simply because of their gender. Detractors of feminism often take a glass half-empty approach instead of understanding the flip side of their arguments. Feminists don't hate men, they love women; feminists aren't trying to steal your job, they're trying to give women access to the same career opportunities as you; feminists aren't trying to steal your paycheque, they just want to be paid equally for their work; feminists don't want you to stop holding doors for women, they just want you to do it because it's the polite thing to do and not because you find someone sexually attractive; feminists want the same female representation in movies, comics, television, and games as men, not because they want to detract from what's currently available, but because they want something that appeals to them too.
If after that you feel like something is taken away from you, then at best you're just being selfish and at worst you're an incorrigible asshole. If you feel so entitled to jobs you think women aren't qualified for or movies with poor female representation, then you've placed your own opinion and comfort ahead of the security and liberty of another group of people. If that's the case, you probably suffer from...
. . . toxic masculinity, and here's what that actually means.
People who genuinely oppose feminism cling to the notion that men and women are inherently different and that each gender must act a certain way. They believe men are big, strong, breadwinners and women are gentle, feminine creatures. This attitude is what is referred to as "toxic masculinity" and insists that each gender must conform to a set of expectations. It tells young boys they have to play sports, that they can't enjoy feminine things or be gay less they be "sissies," and that they need to dominate over women both in physical presence and practical skills.
This notion might seem extreme, but the effect of toxic masculinity permeates in very real ways: it's men who don't dare date stronger or taller women because they can't stand the thought of being the physically weaker partner; it's men insisting that they solely do household chores like woodwork or carpentry, even if their girlfriend is more capable than them; it's boyfriends who end relationships because their girlfriends make more money than them. These are all examples I've encountered personally, and they are all founded on the male insecurity of not living up to a fictional masculine ideal.
The notion of masculinity itself is not inherently harmful, but this rigid expectation of what a man should be is incredibly unhealthy, and it harms men just as much as women. It traps both genders and represses people from pursuing their passions and reaching their true potential. This is why men need to embrace feminism and...
. . . be more mindful, because feminism helps everyone.
The reason feminism exists as a movement is to spread awareness about the inequality women still face - it is an attempt to teach. Being an effective male feminist requires an ability to listen and be mindful of one's own experience as it applies to others.
It's perfectly natural to find women attractive, whether it's a celebrity, a friend, or a stranger on the street, but it's important to remember that they are a whole person not defined solely by their appearance. It's also fine to watch pornography for sexual gratification, so long as you remember that (like all movies) what you're watching is not an accurate representation of reality. And it's fine to ask a girl on a date, so long as you remember that they're free to reject you in the same way you are free to reject someone you're not entirely interested in. Women don't owe men anything, whether it's obedience, affection, or attention.
The golden rule when it comes to navigating what is and isn't appropriate when interacting with women is to ask, "would I do this if they were a man?" If you wouldn't say/do something to a man, you probably shouldn't say/do it to a woman. In summation...
. . . there are three steps to being a good male feminist.
1) Listen: People who take up causes love to make it their own, to assign their own ideals, to co-opt it for their own sense of self-importance. Your job as a man isn't to protect women, it's to be open to a different person's experience and to offer support - to listen.
2) Be Mindful: Awareness goes a long way, whether it's about your own actions or the actions of others. Recognize when the things you enjoy might not benefit or satisfy others in the same way: you can still enjoy movies and video games that misrepresent women, you can still admire a woman's appearance, and you can still laugh at a dirty joke, but acknowledging the problematic elements of these things stops them from becoming an unhealthy, subconscious part of your reality.
3) Encourage Others: The most important thing you can do as a male feminist - the thing that will truly go the farthest in furthering the movement and helping women - is to speak up and correct the problematic behaviour of other men when you see it. When your friend makes an inappropriate comment toward a woman, tell them it's not okay. If you're at a party and you witness a man pressuring a woman into something she doesn't want to do, step in. Confrontation is difficult and it is unquestionably easier to do nothing and remain in a comfortable little bubble, but your comfort may come at a cost to someone else, and being a true male feminist may require you to occasionally get your hands dirty.
That's what I believe it takes to be a proper male feminist. I hope this has maybe helped clear a few things up, and please feel free to share this if you desire.
And before I go...
. . . here are some extra thoughts.
There are a few final comments I couldn't find a space for naturally in this article, so I'd like to mention them here.
The first is that I believe the most heinous circumstance in which women are devalued in society is in the case of rape accusations. The percentage for falsified rape reports is the same as any other crime at 2%, so it's time to stop pretending it doesn't happen and downplay/dismissing instances when it does. One in four women will be sexually assaulted, which means that many of your female friends may be victims. Rape is a crime like any other, yet it is the only one where a victim's credibility is continually brought into question. I believe men must come to the uncomfortable realization that rape and sexual assault are far more prevalent than we think, and that not all rapists are stalkers hiding in dark alleys. The cold hard fact is that some of your friends may be rapists; you may have committed rape without even realizing it. Admitting rape exists is scary, and admitting you may have contributed to the problem is downright terrifying, but consent is simple: if a woman says no, or is unable to say yes, then the instance in question is rape. To continue to degrade and question victims in order to support our comfortable facade is, quite frankly, disgusting.
Second, I didn't touch much on the idea of objectification, wherein women are presented as objects to be consumed by men. Essays and articles have been written to much greater effect than this blog, but what I want to mention is the unhealthy response men often have as a direct result of this "consumption" of the female body.
The outcry that often comes up over public breastfeeding and images of menstrual blood (such as Instagram's recent controversy) make it painfully obvious how objectionable men are to being presented with images of women as something other than a consumable, sexual object. Demanding that women cover up in these natural instances - while aggressively consuming fetishized representations of the female form - is outrageous and selfish.
Finally, many months ago we had a debate in this country over a woman's right to wear the Niqab. The majority viewed the piece of clothing as a representation of women's oppression and campaigned for its ban. This mindset was donned with the best of intentions, under the pre-tense of protecting women. Where this mindset failed was in mindfulness, and in a willingness to understand that truly embracing women's rights might include permitting something we find uncomfortable. We tell women they are free to wear what they want, but when confronted with a woman who genuinely wanted to wear something that made us uncomfortable, we came up with a number of excuses to make it go away.
We insisted we cared more about women, insisted we were better than a culture often associated for restricting what women can and can't do, but our solution was to furthermore try and restrict what women could and couldn't do. We wanted to ban the Niqab because it would make us feel safe, but by trying to cure an ailment we began imitating the disease. If we truly care about women being free, we have to be ready to accept that some women may do things we find uncomfortable. We came dangerously close to being a country that not only culturally shames women for wearing too little clothing, but quite literally make it illegal for them to wear too much.
These extreme situations have been coming up a lot lately. The Niqab debate, Donald Trump's campaign for presidency, Britain's recent vote to exit the European Union - all of these events have torn down a facade and revealed that our civilized cultures are still rooted in sexism, racism, and fear mongering. I hope we can do better, and I pray my recent cynicism will slowly dissipate as time goes on. Certain aspects of human nature will never change; we will always fear what we don't understand, but hopefully with proper education, insight, and mindfulness, we can begin to do better.
Welcome to Luke's Thought Bubble
Showing posts with label Opinions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Opinions. Show all posts
Wednesday, 6 July 2016
Tuesday, 28 July 2015
Understand People to Understand the World
I've been told that I'm one of those people who's good at formulating and articulating complex ideas. I attribute this largely to writing and wanting to be creative; art in all its forms is about trying to express an idea, and the more practiced you are at a medium, the better you get at conveying what you want to say. I'm also one of those assholes who's great at giving advice but can't seem follow any of it myself (I do try . . .) but regardless, I feel like I've developed a good sense of understanding people.
The more you understand the world and the individuals in it, the more sense life tends to make. And while it's hard to boil down the complexity of the unique individual experience on this earth into a blog post, there are certain fundamental notions I've pulled from various experiences over the years that have given me - what I believe - tools to better understand the human condition, and thus give a better understanding of who people are and why we think and act the way we do.
If you'll permit me a moment of your time, I'd like to share some of those notions with you in no particular order.
PEOPLE GENERALLY DO EXACTLY WHAT THEY WANT
Before I get into the nitty-gritty of human psychology, take a second and visit this link here. I'm mainly posting it because I want to give credit where it's due, and this is the only article I can distinctly remember that was a direct influence for what I'm about to say.
If you didn't click the link (shame on you) I'll try to summarize: it's an article on Cracked.com by author David Wong, who proposes a game to understand whether you're a filthy liar to yourself. He asks you to write a list of your top five priorities, followed by a list of the top five things you did yesterday in order of how much time you dedicated to them. If the two lists don't sync up, then you're not being honest with yourself. If you say that following your faith is important but you only begrudgingly go to church an hour a week, it's clearly not your top priority and probably shouldn't be on that list. If you say spending time with your kids is important, but you spent more time watching Netflix last night than you did playing with them, what was actually more important to you?
All of this to say that generally people will often talk about the things they would like, but actually put time into the things that they genuinely want (and aren't always honest about what those things are). We might say that we want to be fit and exercise regularly, but will take any excuse not to. We may complain endlessly about how we hate the job we're in, but if we're not taking steps to remedy that, then clearly the security of working a shitty job is more important than taking the chance of pursuing something more meaningful. We grow up with an ideal of what we should be doing with our lives, and feel if we can't achieve those aims then we've done something wrong. In my experience, the majority of people have the time and resources to pursue the goals they claim are important to them, but simply aren't honest enough to admit that in actuality those goals aren't their top priority.
To put it in personal context, I enjoy writing and playing music. Someday, I'd love to make a living as a writer, but right now I'm content with just writing stories and not pursuing publishing them. That priority might change in the future, but for the time being I accept that publishing isn't as high a priority as actually writing. Likewise, I play music in a band with my best friend. We don't play as much as we used to and don't write any original songs anymore, and while we sometimes talk about "what might have been" if we'd put more effort into it, we acknowledge that we have no one to blame but ourselves for not being rock stars. We also acknowledge that "blame" isn't a negative word in this scenario, but rather an admission that our success as musicians is entirely dictated by our own efforts, and that we've gained enough satisfaction already not to pursue it beyond what we've already achieved.
The next time you think about how much you want something, ask yourself if you've done everything in your power to achieve it (and of course I'm not talking about breaking the law or hurting anyone - don't be a dick). If you haven't, then ask yourself if that thing is truly important to you.
WE HAVE UNREALISTIC EXPECTATIONS OF OUR FUTURE SELVES
The human race is unique as a species in that we're the only one on this planet that are cognitively aware of our own existence (except for maybe dolphins, because dolphins are smart as fuck). We're the only species that knows we exist in a place in time, and that in the future we will exist in another place and time. Other animals are only concerned with survival in the here and now, which is why you've never seen your dog listening to Linkin Park and asking "What's the point of it all?" If your dog could talk it'd probably say "What do you mean 'what's the point of it all?' I'm alive, motherfucker! Isn't it amazing that I'm alive?!"
Which is why dogs make better friends than people sometimes.
Anyway, my point is that people are still evolving out of the primordial ooze, and one of the pitfalls that comes with our recent cognitive capabilities is the habit of projecting unrealistic expectations on future versions of ourselves. It's why we say "I'll start my new diet on Monday" and then Monday comes and we're no less motivated to start. Why would Present You worry about starting your diet right now? That's Future You's problem! We live our lives under the assumption that a future version of ourself will somehow be more capable then our present version. What we often fail to recognize is that Future You and Present You are more or less the same person; you're not going to magically gain more motivation or discipline.
It's why I get nervous whenever I see someone in a bad relationship say "I can change!" It's placing an empty promise on a hypothetical future scenario. It's more or less saying "Don't judge me for being an asshole now, just believe that I'll somehow not be an asshole later." People who wish to enact change in their lives don't talk about doing it, they actually do it. Saying that you'll do something in the future is taking a gamble on whether or not a magical interim event will cause a radical shift in your psyche between now and then. With this in mind, you learn to trust facts and history rather than hope for the best, like when Honey Nut Cheerios say they "might help" lower cholesterol - empty promises all around.
Displacing agency from a present version of yourself onto a hypothetical "other" version removes the responsibility for immediate change. Everyone does it, and most of the time, we do it to ourselves.
EVERYONE HAS THE SAME FEAR
Fear is the great binding force for all humanity. It unites us in so many things, and to boil it down to its simplest element, there is one universal fear that almost everyone the whole world over shares.
We fear the unknown.
And this makes sense. We fear things that are different from what we're familiar with because we don't understand what they are and how they might affect us. It's why when we were all primitive apes we were cautious about approaching that massive cat with sharp fangs, or drinking from that unfamiliar watering hole. Those things might eat or poison us, so we grew this collective fear of the unknown as a defense mechanism. Unfortunately, that mechanism has evolved with us and manifested in unforeseen ways.
Our cognitive evolution has gifted us with a brain that can think beyond the capacity of our primitive ancestors, and yet is still locked in the same "fear the unknown" mindset that informed day-to-day survival millions of years ago. When confronted with the unknown in our day-to-day life, our first reaction is almost an immediate threat analysis of "What is this thing and what will it do to me?" And when we cannot obtain those answers, we freak the fuck out. Not knowing the parameters of a potentially threatening situation can be terrifying; it's what Batman bases his whole goddamn philosophy for beating up criminals on.
And it exists at large in society too. Religion is a response to the fear of our own mortality, because it gives an understanding and explanation for what happens to us when we die; staring into the abyss is terrifying, but being told on the other side is a compassionate and loving deity makes the abyss a little less scary.
The root of racism and sexism is a fundamental fear and misunderstanding of one demographic by another. Protests of non-segregated schools didn't occur out of genuine hatred; they occurred because people didn't know how the introduction of another ethnicity would threaten their current, comfortable existence. It's why the predominant mentality against feminism isn't "I'm scared about what women might gain" but rather "I'm scared of what men might lose." And while homosexuality is becoming widely accepted now that people realize it's not some kind of threat to established societal institutions, there's still misunderstanding over bisexuality and transsexualism because there's still a general lack of knowledge in the public consciousness, which fuels caution and ignorance and elicits responses such as "bisexuality is just a phase" and "deep down, you're still a guy, right?"
Most people fear what they don't understand, and in my experience, emotions like hate or love can be the result of a fear over something else. "I hate that person who did better than me on a test . . . because I'm afraid I might not be the smartest anymore" and "I can't imagine living without my girlfriend . . . because I'm terrified of being alone" are scenarios we witness everyday.
WE'RE TERRIFIED OF BEING THE BAD GUYS
People love narratives. Storytelling is an ancient art, and it's our natural tendency to consume it because it's how we learn about life and the world, whether it's learning right from wrong through the stories of the Bible or Grimm's Fairy Tales. Storytelling is a multi-billion dollar industry whether it be books, films, comics, the news, or anything in between. It's a natural tendency to associate with relate-able characters and follow a protagonist through to a satisfactory conclusion, which is why we always feel a bit conflicted about rooting for villains or when good guys don't win.
In the context of our greater understanding of life, we think of ourselves as the hero in our own narrative. One thing we also share, however, is a fear of being the villain.
According to statistics, 1 in 4 women will be sexually assaulted. If you work in a public environment, look around, but don't look at the women, look at the men. In order for that statistic to be true, there have to be a lot of perpetrators, which means more than a few of the men you work with and see everyday are probably guilty, and some of them might be your friends or maybe even you. If you were to ask, however, I doubt anyone would honestly admit that they've ever sexually assaulted anyone. That means that there are two possibilities: either women have greatly exaggerated their stories of assault (and if you believe that, then you can fuck right off to an M.R.A. website) or the more likely scenario, that most men don't believe they've done anything wrong.
And that, dear readers, is the biggest obstacle to all advocacy.
No one wants to think or admit that they may be responsible for having done something wrong, whether its trying to convince yourself that at least YOU are not a racist after reading about a celebrity getting caught saying a racial slur even though you've probably said much worse (you just didn't get caught) or a college kid trying to convince himself he's not a rapist because he simply "misread" the signals a female friend was giving him before she passed out. Admitting that you've done something wrong - especially if doing so comes with a title that will forever haunt you such as "racist" or "rapist" - is practically a death sentence in polite society.
People will defend themselves to the death if it means never having to acknowledge a problem in a system they're comfortable with. It's why male gamers will scream about how sexism doesn't exist in gaming instead of admitting that their all-boys club has been exclusive for far too long; it's why white people will say racism isn't an issue anymore instead of admitting that their comfortable existence has come at the cost of repressing another ethnicity. It's why advocates will always have an uphill battle, because they often have to convince the general public that a problem exists, and they're the problem. People immediately get defensive when they feel they've been accused of something, regardless of whether they've actually done something wrong, which is why you can't throw around the term "white-privilege" without someone immediately yelling "but my family never owned slaves!"
And that's not to say that people on the other side of the fence are without fault too. I've encountered militant-advocats who are so staunchly entrenched in the notion that they are crusading on the side of the good and just that they resort to the same underhanded tactics and negative actions that they are supposed to be campaigning against. Everyone wants to be right, and the easiest way to assure yourself that you're righteous is to vilify your opposition, which is also the direct root of victim blaming.
Our minds are locked into very rigid constraints for what we think is socially acceptable, and rather than admit fault or acknowledge that we should change, we make excuses, hurl insults, or play mental gymnastics to convince ourselves we're in the right.
A FINAL THOUGHT . . .
These are some of the broader notions I've come to realize when trying to understand how people generally behave and operate. It's a lot easier to comprehend why someone behaves a certain way when you try to fully understand their motivations, priorities, and fears.
Have you ever had a friend who constantly talks about wanting to exercise, but when you show up to take them to the gym, they make any excuse not to? Ask yourself what their real priorities are. Have you ever met someone who makes a bad decision and excuses it by saying "I'm just a bad person"? Ask them whether they truly believe that or if they just want an excuse not to change their behaviour because that's the much tougher course of action.
Just don't take it too far and assume you know someone better than they know themselves and therefore think you know what's best for them, because in spite of everything you've just read, we very rarely can truly understand absolutely everything about another person. Unless you know someone's entire history - all their thoughts, feelings, and the extent of their goals and dreams - the only real life you have full authority over is your own.
We're all still human at the end of the day, however, and a lot of our behaviours and ways of thinking come from the same biological mould.
We're all unique snowflakes, but we're still all made of snow.
The more you understand the world and the individuals in it, the more sense life tends to make. And while it's hard to boil down the complexity of the unique individual experience on this earth into a blog post, there are certain fundamental notions I've pulled from various experiences over the years that have given me - what I believe - tools to better understand the human condition, and thus give a better understanding of who people are and why we think and act the way we do.
If you'll permit me a moment of your time, I'd like to share some of those notions with you in no particular order.
PEOPLE GENERALLY DO EXACTLY WHAT THEY WANT
Before I get into the nitty-gritty of human psychology, take a second and visit this link here. I'm mainly posting it because I want to give credit where it's due, and this is the only article I can distinctly remember that was a direct influence for what I'm about to say.
If you didn't click the link (shame on you) I'll try to summarize: it's an article on Cracked.com by author David Wong, who proposes a game to understand whether you're a filthy liar to yourself. He asks you to write a list of your top five priorities, followed by a list of the top five things you did yesterday in order of how much time you dedicated to them. If the two lists don't sync up, then you're not being honest with yourself. If you say that following your faith is important but you only begrudgingly go to church an hour a week, it's clearly not your top priority and probably shouldn't be on that list. If you say spending time with your kids is important, but you spent more time watching Netflix last night than you did playing with them, what was actually more important to you?
All of this to say that generally people will often talk about the things they would like, but actually put time into the things that they genuinely want (and aren't always honest about what those things are). We might say that we want to be fit and exercise regularly, but will take any excuse not to. We may complain endlessly about how we hate the job we're in, but if we're not taking steps to remedy that, then clearly the security of working a shitty job is more important than taking the chance of pursuing something more meaningful. We grow up with an ideal of what we should be doing with our lives, and feel if we can't achieve those aims then we've done something wrong. In my experience, the majority of people have the time and resources to pursue the goals they claim are important to them, but simply aren't honest enough to admit that in actuality those goals aren't their top priority.
To put it in personal context, I enjoy writing and playing music. Someday, I'd love to make a living as a writer, but right now I'm content with just writing stories and not pursuing publishing them. That priority might change in the future, but for the time being I accept that publishing isn't as high a priority as actually writing. Likewise, I play music in a band with my best friend. We don't play as much as we used to and don't write any original songs anymore, and while we sometimes talk about "what might have been" if we'd put more effort into it, we acknowledge that we have no one to blame but ourselves for not being rock stars. We also acknowledge that "blame" isn't a negative word in this scenario, but rather an admission that our success as musicians is entirely dictated by our own efforts, and that we've gained enough satisfaction already not to pursue it beyond what we've already achieved.
The next time you think about how much you want something, ask yourself if you've done everything in your power to achieve it (and of course I'm not talking about breaking the law or hurting anyone - don't be a dick). If you haven't, then ask yourself if that thing is truly important to you.
WE HAVE UNREALISTIC EXPECTATIONS OF OUR FUTURE SELVES
The human race is unique as a species in that we're the only one on this planet that are cognitively aware of our own existence (except for maybe dolphins, because dolphins are smart as fuck). We're the only species that knows we exist in a place in time, and that in the future we will exist in another place and time. Other animals are only concerned with survival in the here and now, which is why you've never seen your dog listening to Linkin Park and asking "What's the point of it all?" If your dog could talk it'd probably say "What do you mean 'what's the point of it all?' I'm alive, motherfucker! Isn't it amazing that I'm alive?!"
Which is why dogs make better friends than people sometimes.
Anyway, my point is that people are still evolving out of the primordial ooze, and one of the pitfalls that comes with our recent cognitive capabilities is the habit of projecting unrealistic expectations on future versions of ourselves. It's why we say "I'll start my new diet on Monday" and then Monday comes and we're no less motivated to start. Why would Present You worry about starting your diet right now? That's Future You's problem! We live our lives under the assumption that a future version of ourself will somehow be more capable then our present version. What we often fail to recognize is that Future You and Present You are more or less the same person; you're not going to magically gain more motivation or discipline.
It's why I get nervous whenever I see someone in a bad relationship say "I can change!" It's placing an empty promise on a hypothetical future scenario. It's more or less saying "Don't judge me for being an asshole now, just believe that I'll somehow not be an asshole later." People who wish to enact change in their lives don't talk about doing it, they actually do it. Saying that you'll do something in the future is taking a gamble on whether or not a magical interim event will cause a radical shift in your psyche between now and then. With this in mind, you learn to trust facts and history rather than hope for the best, like when Honey Nut Cheerios say they "might help" lower cholesterol - empty promises all around.
Displacing agency from a present version of yourself onto a hypothetical "other" version removes the responsibility for immediate change. Everyone does it, and most of the time, we do it to ourselves.
EVERYONE HAS THE SAME FEAR
Fear is the great binding force for all humanity. It unites us in so many things, and to boil it down to its simplest element, there is one universal fear that almost everyone the whole world over shares.
We fear the unknown.
And this makes sense. We fear things that are different from what we're familiar with because we don't understand what they are and how they might affect us. It's why when we were all primitive apes we were cautious about approaching that massive cat with sharp fangs, or drinking from that unfamiliar watering hole. Those things might eat or poison us, so we grew this collective fear of the unknown as a defense mechanism. Unfortunately, that mechanism has evolved with us and manifested in unforeseen ways.
Our cognitive evolution has gifted us with a brain that can think beyond the capacity of our primitive ancestors, and yet is still locked in the same "fear the unknown" mindset that informed day-to-day survival millions of years ago. When confronted with the unknown in our day-to-day life, our first reaction is almost an immediate threat analysis of "What is this thing and what will it do to me?" And when we cannot obtain those answers, we freak the fuck out. Not knowing the parameters of a potentially threatening situation can be terrifying; it's what Batman bases his whole goddamn philosophy for beating up criminals on.
And it exists at large in society too. Religion is a response to the fear of our own mortality, because it gives an understanding and explanation for what happens to us when we die; staring into the abyss is terrifying, but being told on the other side is a compassionate and loving deity makes the abyss a little less scary.
The root of racism and sexism is a fundamental fear and misunderstanding of one demographic by another. Protests of non-segregated schools didn't occur out of genuine hatred; they occurred because people didn't know how the introduction of another ethnicity would threaten their current, comfortable existence. It's why the predominant mentality against feminism isn't "I'm scared about what women might gain" but rather "I'm scared of what men might lose." And while homosexuality is becoming widely accepted now that people realize it's not some kind of threat to established societal institutions, there's still misunderstanding over bisexuality and transsexualism because there's still a general lack of knowledge in the public consciousness, which fuels caution and ignorance and elicits responses such as "bisexuality is just a phase" and "deep down, you're still a guy, right?"
Most people fear what they don't understand, and in my experience, emotions like hate or love can be the result of a fear over something else. "I hate that person who did better than me on a test . . . because I'm afraid I might not be the smartest anymore" and "I can't imagine living without my girlfriend . . . because I'm terrified of being alone" are scenarios we witness everyday.
WE'RE TERRIFIED OF BEING THE BAD GUYS
People love narratives. Storytelling is an ancient art, and it's our natural tendency to consume it because it's how we learn about life and the world, whether it's learning right from wrong through the stories of the Bible or Grimm's Fairy Tales. Storytelling is a multi-billion dollar industry whether it be books, films, comics, the news, or anything in between. It's a natural tendency to associate with relate-able characters and follow a protagonist through to a satisfactory conclusion, which is why we always feel a bit conflicted about rooting for villains or when good guys don't win.
In the context of our greater understanding of life, we think of ourselves as the hero in our own narrative. One thing we also share, however, is a fear of being the villain.
According to statistics, 1 in 4 women will be sexually assaulted. If you work in a public environment, look around, but don't look at the women, look at the men. In order for that statistic to be true, there have to be a lot of perpetrators, which means more than a few of the men you work with and see everyday are probably guilty, and some of them might be your friends or maybe even you. If you were to ask, however, I doubt anyone would honestly admit that they've ever sexually assaulted anyone. That means that there are two possibilities: either women have greatly exaggerated their stories of assault (and if you believe that, then you can fuck right off to an M.R.A. website) or the more likely scenario, that most men don't believe they've done anything wrong.
And that, dear readers, is the biggest obstacle to all advocacy.
No one wants to think or admit that they may be responsible for having done something wrong, whether its trying to convince yourself that at least YOU are not a racist after reading about a celebrity getting caught saying a racial slur even though you've probably said much worse (you just didn't get caught) or a college kid trying to convince himself he's not a rapist because he simply "misread" the signals a female friend was giving him before she passed out. Admitting that you've done something wrong - especially if doing so comes with a title that will forever haunt you such as "racist" or "rapist" - is practically a death sentence in polite society.
People will defend themselves to the death if it means never having to acknowledge a problem in a system they're comfortable with. It's why male gamers will scream about how sexism doesn't exist in gaming instead of admitting that their all-boys club has been exclusive for far too long; it's why white people will say racism isn't an issue anymore instead of admitting that their comfortable existence has come at the cost of repressing another ethnicity. It's why advocates will always have an uphill battle, because they often have to convince the general public that a problem exists, and they're the problem. People immediately get defensive when they feel they've been accused of something, regardless of whether they've actually done something wrong, which is why you can't throw around the term "white-privilege" without someone immediately yelling "but my family never owned slaves!"
And that's not to say that people on the other side of the fence are without fault too. I've encountered militant-advocats who are so staunchly entrenched in the notion that they are crusading on the side of the good and just that they resort to the same underhanded tactics and negative actions that they are supposed to be campaigning against. Everyone wants to be right, and the easiest way to assure yourself that you're righteous is to vilify your opposition, which is also the direct root of victim blaming.
Our minds are locked into very rigid constraints for what we think is socially acceptable, and rather than admit fault or acknowledge that we should change, we make excuses, hurl insults, or play mental gymnastics to convince ourselves we're in the right.
A FINAL THOUGHT . . .
These are some of the broader notions I've come to realize when trying to understand how people generally behave and operate. It's a lot easier to comprehend why someone behaves a certain way when you try to fully understand their motivations, priorities, and fears.
Have you ever had a friend who constantly talks about wanting to exercise, but when you show up to take them to the gym, they make any excuse not to? Ask yourself what their real priorities are. Have you ever met someone who makes a bad decision and excuses it by saying "I'm just a bad person"? Ask them whether they truly believe that or if they just want an excuse not to change their behaviour because that's the much tougher course of action.
Just don't take it too far and assume you know someone better than they know themselves and therefore think you know what's best for them, because in spite of everything you've just read, we very rarely can truly understand absolutely everything about another person. Unless you know someone's entire history - all their thoughts, feelings, and the extent of their goals and dreams - the only real life you have full authority over is your own.
We're all still human at the end of the day, however, and a lot of our behaviours and ways of thinking come from the same biological mould.
We're all unique snowflakes, but we're still all made of snow.
Wednesday, 11 March 2015
Chappie: An Existentialist's Nightmare
I'm going to explain the plot now in case you haven't seen it, in which case you probably shouldn't be reading this anyway because I'm going to spoil the shit out of its final act.
It's the near future and Johannesberg is having great success with its shiny new robotic police force created by young scientist Deon (Dev Patel) who works for a manufacturing company under Michelle Bradley (Sigourney Weaver). He has to deal with the scrutiny of Vincent (Hugh Jackman), a brawny weapons designer whose hulking combat droid the "Moose" is given less favour than Deon's smaller, cuter kin. Cut to bumbling criminals Ninja and Yolandi (played by South African rap-rave group Die Antwoord playing themselves [?] in a weird bit of meta-casting) and Yankie (Jose Pablo Cantillo) as they are thwarted by the robotic police force and later threatened for a large sum of money by a brute of a criminal whose English is so bad it requires subtitles for the whole film. They decide they need a way to bypass the robot police and kidnap Deon just as he's nearing a breakthrough on sentient A.I. and BAM! Chappie (Shartlo Copley) is born into a wild and crazy new world where he must grow, learn, and think for himself.
The film deals with the typical artificial intelligence questions of what makes us human and how do you quantify a soul, and it succeeds largely on those fronts. But then the ending happens, and that's where I could tell most of the audience started to tilt their head and look at the screen funny. In short, it takes a rather daring and fantastical turn.
Spoiler Warning . . .
Chappie is living on a short time frame; his battery has been fused to his chest cavity meaning it can't be replaced and once it runs out, he dies. Grasping with the concept of imminent death the way most people would, he desperately searches for a way to insert his consciousness into another robotic body. While arguing with Deon at the facility where he was created, Chappie steals the neural helmet used to up-link a human brain to Vincent's skulking war machine, even though Deon insists it's impossible to transfer an actual consciousness. As Deon also says earlier in the film, however, any organism with the mind of a human and the processing power of a computer would be able to learn and think faster than any human could ever dream. A few trips to the Internet later and Chappie finds a way to use the helmet to map his neural consciousness.
Shit inevitably goes down into a climax that involves a massive firefight between Ninja and his gang, the crime lord threatening them, and Vincent's "Moose" robot with poor Deon caught in the middle. Yankie and Yolandi (who has been a surrogate mother to Chappie) are killed, Deon takes a bullet to the gut, and Chappie wrecks the Moose before beating the shit out of Hugh Jackman. In a desperate bid to save Deon's life, Chappie uses his new-found wisdom and neuro-link helmet to transfer Deon's consciousness into the body of a robot, who then quickly transfers Chappie into a newer body. It's also revealed at the end of the film that Chappie had made a backup of Yolandi's consciousness while testing his helmet, and they begin creation of a robot body to "rebirth" her as well.
The issue I imagine most people will have with the ending is that it seems too fantastical and it happens too fast. The whole premise of the film is based around creating a computer program that perfectly mimics the human brain so as to develop its own personality and character. Science fiction has dealt with that idea for decades so it's not a foreign concept (Spike Jonze's Her presented it in a wickedly touching way), but the notion of transferring the human mind into a machine is a little more tricky. It's a difficult concept to grasp - reading and then "copying" the entirety of what makes a person a person and somehow transforming it digitally - and Chappie glosses over the technical difficulties rather quickly (it takes Chappie all of five minutes and a montage to accomplish it). The audience is asked to suspend disbelief to believe this robot has the mind of a person, and then within the last ten minutes of the film asked to suspend disbelief even further to believe a human mind - a very ethereal and intangible thing - can be transferred into the body of a robot.
I think it makes people a little uncomfortable to think of a human mind in the body of something that isn't human - like a perversion of nature, far different from creating a mind from the ground up to exist in a mechanical body. It brings about feelings of claustrophobia and isolation, of being trapped in something foreign. It asks too much of the audience. There have been other movies that have toyed with the idea, but the less fantastical and more rooted the reality of the film's world, the more difficult it is to grasp the prospect (Wally Pfister's Transcendence didn't connect well with audiences, whereas no one blinked at Zola in Captain America: The Winter Soldier because it was based on a comic book). Chappie, like the rest of Blomkamp's films, is heavily rooted in reality, so the leap from grounded to fantastical is rather severe.
But the more I think about it, the more appropriate it seems. I would even go so far as to suggest it might be the only inevitable ending the film could have.
The film begins as the story of how a man created a machine with the mind of a human, and ends with a robot creating a human with the body of a machine (I leave it to you to ponder whether or not they're the same thing). When you think of it in comparable terms, it suddenly doesn't sound as far fetched. The film makes the point (as does every science fiction film involving robots) that artificial intelligence would no doubt develop in leaps and bounds just because of the computing power machines are capable of. Deon even says while describing the program he's developed for artificial intelligence that whatever mind is created as a result will be vastly smarter than any human in history and will be capable of learning and retaining information at an exponential rate. By the simple nature of robotics, it therefore makes sense that although it took mankind an unfathomably long time to evolve to the point of being capable of replicating the mind digitally, it would only take a robotic mind that has access to all the information in the world hours to accomplish the same feat in reverse.
And that is what I believe the true point of the film is. It's not a story about a robot that gains consciousness, but rather the story of the end of humanity. Deon is the result of millions of years of human evolution who creates a robotic human mind thanks to the communal intelligence, research, and innovation of the entire human race and scientific community that came before him (because science doesn't occur in a vacuum, it's built on the foundation of the accomplishments of everyone that existed prior). Chappie, the infinitely intelligent result of this impossible accomplishment, achieves the next "impossible" feat - transferring human consciousness into a robotic body - within a few days of his inception. Chappie then uses his breakthrough to save Deon's life by removing his maker's mortal flesh and replacing it with immortal metal. In essence, Chappie removes the fear of death from Deon by making his human body obsolete, thereby removing part of his humanity; he also goes about using the "backup" of Yolandi's consciousness to effectively raise her from the dead as well. Chappie has ushered in a world where death doesn't exist, and thus has changed the very essence of what it means to be human and the course of human history.
It's a wide open ending, and Blomkamp has said he created the film as a potential first chapter in its own trilogy, so I can only imagine where its sequels might go. While the attempt to create a robot version of Yolandi may seem a tad much, I personally think it's a great addition to the finale on top of Deon's own transformation. Whereas Deon is saved in the nick of time, Yolandi is clearly dead. Her consciousness is merely a "backup" copy. It raises the question of whether the robotic Deon has his literal human mind or whether it's simply a copy as well.
These are questions that don't necessarily have answers, and I believe most people will be taken aback by Chappie's ending because it throws these subconsciously existential questions at the audience in rapid-fire succession right after the climax of the film. I think it's going to end up being one of those endings that most people don't like but can't explain why, because it hits them on an almost primal level, questioning the very nature of identity.
There are plenty of philosophers that have questioned the nature of human existence, pondering what we as a species are truly meant for. Are we a disease that is meant to consume the planet and endlessly destroy itself, or are we simply an organism undergoing an awkward transitional phase before we collectively evolve into another form of being, such as robotic organisms that have shaken off the mortal coil of flesh and bone? Will we ultimately escape death, and if so, what will the cost of that be to our humanity? Is there really such a thing as a "soul" or is it simply a word meant to encapsulate all of the mysteries of the human consciousness that we haven't been able to quantify and solve?
Chappie makes us question all of this, and the fact that I'm still thinking about suggests that I must have really enjoyed it as a film. It's interesting to think that humanity will end not with a nuclear bomb or some horrible disease or terrible world war, but rather with a simple keystroke.
Sunday, 27 October 2013
Calm Yer Subjectivity, Mate . . .
I used to work in a video store a few years ago, and I also studied film and scriptwriting while at university and college. Needless to say, the extent of my post-secondary life has revolved heavily around movies. I love movies. I love their power to transport an audience to new worlds and new circumstances, to engage our mental processes in ways other mediums aren't able, and sometimes I just like watching giant robots beat the shit out of each other.
I have a problem though. It's not with movies, it's with audiences - particularly with modern audiences. I'm not sure if it's a result of my generation's affiliation with Internet culture and the funny things that does to our psychology, or maybe it's just the way peoples' minds work. My problem is when people confuse their subjective opinion with things that cannot be appreciated/categorized/defined by a single perspective.
This is getting a little abstract, so let me clear things up right now: I hate it when people claim a film is "terrible" or "bad" simply because they didn't like it.
I first began meditating on this issue after watching the film Atonement (2007), in which Keira Knightley, James McAvoy, and a young Saoirse Ronan run around being depressed and sad because of a lie Ronan's character tells. I admit the film is wonderfully shot and nicely acted, but personally, it didn't do it for me. It was just too damn depressing, and the ending didn't quite sit well with me. I was working at the aforementioned video store when the movie was released, so when people asked me whether it was good or not, I would tell them exactly how I felt: too depressing, gut-punch of an ending, all-in-all not the best thing to rent on a Saturday night.
I thought it was a bad film, plain and simple.
And then something happened that forever changed the way I perceive movies. My mom watched it, and she loved it. She connected with all the different elements that I didn't. And so I was left to ponder, "if someone likes a movie that I don't, is it still bad?"
Thus ignited within my brain was the simple idea that I always end up arguing online: just because you don't like something doesn't mean it's terrible. Probably the biggest example of this was the film Prometheus (2012), Ridley Scott's sorta-prequel to Alien (1979). A lot of people hated that movie, but me?
I loved it. Boy, how I loved it.
Scott had gone on record ahead of time saying that he wasn't making a direct prequel to the Alien Saga. Although the film would exist in the same universe, the tone, atmosphere, and general themes would be different. Yes, there would be similar elements, but otherwise he wanted it to be seen as a separate franchise.
And holy shit, did it end up pissing a lot of people off.
Hitler was received more favorably than this film. People all over the Internet were throwing feces at it like it was responsible for killing their childhood dog. Ridley Scott and screenwriter Damon Lindelof took a lot of heat for it. I've never in my life seen a film inspire so much rage.
And yet I loved it. I loved the visuals, the themes, and the tiny connections to the original franchise. Scott is a big fan of working religion into his films, and I was totally into that. He dared to ask a lot of existential questions regarding humanity and the nature of life, and even better, he didn't try to answer them outright. Multiple viewings only increase my appreciation. I truly sympathize with the characters, especially Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace) who spends the film questioning her faith amidst the clusterfuck around her.
Not that there weren't a few issues. A few of the secondary characters were underdeveloped, and people were screaming bloody murder about supposed plot holes (which you can totally find explanations for online, FYI) but there was nothing that would make me think less of the film. I loved it, plain and simple.
And I got into a lot of fights about it.
My issue wasn't that people didn't like the film. That's totally fine. My issue was with people declaring the film was terrible because they didn't like it, as if their subjective opinion was a declaration of fact. I got into arguments where I was called a total moron for liking the film. I had arguments over Facebook where friends berated me endlessly, trying to convince me that I had somehow misinterpreted my own opinion. One friend spent a lengthy amount of time saying the character of Shaw was "totally unsympathetic" and yet when I told him that I sympathized with her, he still contested that I was wrong. Apparently I wasn't watching it right.
The point I kept endlessly trying (and still continue to try) to make is that just because something doesn't appeal to someone does not mean the thing in question is by its very nature a bad thing. It just means the person in question didn't like it. It would be one thing if everyone, everywhere, ever hated it, but that wasn't the case with Prometheus. There were critics who praised it (including Roger Ebert) and there were plenty of people who simply enjoyed it (or at least aspects of it) and there were people like me who truly loved it.
Movies these days seem to exist in a binary vacuum. Either they are good or they are bad - there is no middle ground. Either a film is universally loved, or total fucking garbage. The spectrum seems to be getting wider and wider, and I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's the sense of entitlement that walks hand-in-hand with Internet culture. I don't think you'd ever get into that kind of an argument in real life, because it's a lot more nerve-racking to call someone a total twat for liking a film when they're within slapping distance.
What do I hope to achieve with this? I don't know. I guess I'd like to call for a little bit more self-awareness on the part of us, the audience. Escape your own head space and try to stop seeing works of art (not just films) as black-and-white, awesome-or-terrible things that can only be defined by a single word. And please, for the love of Christ, stop acting like you are the supreme and total authority on everything. It's totally fine if you don't like something, but when you start to insult other people because YOU HAVE TO BE RIGHT ALL THE TIME then it might be high-time you take a break from the Internet.
And you can totally feel free to disagree with me . . . but there's a reason I don't have a comments section on this blog yet.
I have a problem though. It's not with movies, it's with audiences - particularly with modern audiences. I'm not sure if it's a result of my generation's affiliation with Internet culture and the funny things that does to our psychology, or maybe it's just the way peoples' minds work. My problem is when people confuse their subjective opinion with things that cannot be appreciated/categorized/defined by a single perspective.
This is getting a little abstract, so let me clear things up right now: I hate it when people claim a film is "terrible" or "bad" simply because they didn't like it.
I first began meditating on this issue after watching the film Atonement (2007), in which Keira Knightley, James McAvoy, and a young Saoirse Ronan run around being depressed and sad because of a lie Ronan's character tells. I admit the film is wonderfully shot and nicely acted, but personally, it didn't do it for me. It was just too damn depressing, and the ending didn't quite sit well with me. I was working at the aforementioned video store when the movie was released, so when people asked me whether it was good or not, I would tell them exactly how I felt: too depressing, gut-punch of an ending, all-in-all not the best thing to rent on a Saturday night.
I thought it was a bad film, plain and simple.
And then something happened that forever changed the way I perceive movies. My mom watched it, and she loved it. She connected with all the different elements that I didn't. And so I was left to ponder, "if someone likes a movie that I don't, is it still bad?"
Thus ignited within my brain was the simple idea that I always end up arguing online: just because you don't like something doesn't mean it's terrible. Probably the biggest example of this was the film Prometheus (2012), Ridley Scott's sorta-prequel to Alien (1979). A lot of people hated that movie, but me?
I loved it. Boy, how I loved it.
Scott had gone on record ahead of time saying that he wasn't making a direct prequel to the Alien Saga. Although the film would exist in the same universe, the tone, atmosphere, and general themes would be different. Yes, there would be similar elements, but otherwise he wanted it to be seen as a separate franchise.
And holy shit, did it end up pissing a lot of people off.
Hitler was received more favorably than this film. People all over the Internet were throwing feces at it like it was responsible for killing their childhood dog. Ridley Scott and screenwriter Damon Lindelof took a lot of heat for it. I've never in my life seen a film inspire so much rage.
And yet I loved it. I loved the visuals, the themes, and the tiny connections to the original franchise. Scott is a big fan of working religion into his films, and I was totally into that. He dared to ask a lot of existential questions regarding humanity and the nature of life, and even better, he didn't try to answer them outright. Multiple viewings only increase my appreciation. I truly sympathize with the characters, especially Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace) who spends the film questioning her faith amidst the clusterfuck around her.
Not that there weren't a few issues. A few of the secondary characters were underdeveloped, and people were screaming bloody murder about supposed plot holes (which you can totally find explanations for online, FYI) but there was nothing that would make me think less of the film. I loved it, plain and simple.
And I got into a lot of fights about it.
My issue wasn't that people didn't like the film. That's totally fine. My issue was with people declaring the film was terrible because they didn't like it, as if their subjective opinion was a declaration of fact. I got into arguments where I was called a total moron for liking the film. I had arguments over Facebook where friends berated me endlessly, trying to convince me that I had somehow misinterpreted my own opinion. One friend spent a lengthy amount of time saying the character of Shaw was "totally unsympathetic" and yet when I told him that I sympathized with her, he still contested that I was wrong. Apparently I wasn't watching it right.
The point I kept endlessly trying (and still continue to try) to make is that just because something doesn't appeal to someone does not mean the thing in question is by its very nature a bad thing. It just means the person in question didn't like it. It would be one thing if everyone, everywhere, ever hated it, but that wasn't the case with Prometheus. There were critics who praised it (including Roger Ebert) and there were plenty of people who simply enjoyed it (or at least aspects of it) and there were people like me who truly loved it.
Movies these days seem to exist in a binary vacuum. Either they are good or they are bad - there is no middle ground. Either a film is universally loved, or total fucking garbage. The spectrum seems to be getting wider and wider, and I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's the sense of entitlement that walks hand-in-hand with Internet culture. I don't think you'd ever get into that kind of an argument in real life, because it's a lot more nerve-racking to call someone a total twat for liking a film when they're within slapping distance.
What do I hope to achieve with this? I don't know. I guess I'd like to call for a little bit more self-awareness on the part of us, the audience. Escape your own head space and try to stop seeing works of art (not just films) as black-and-white, awesome-or-terrible things that can only be defined by a single word. And please, for the love of Christ, stop acting like you are the supreme and total authority on everything. It's totally fine if you don't like something, but when you start to insult other people because YOU HAVE TO BE RIGHT ALL THE TIME then it might be high-time you take a break from the Internet.
And you can totally feel free to disagree with me . . . but there's a reason I don't have a comments section on this blog yet.
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