Benjamin A. Railton's Blog, page 410
June 20, 2012
June 20, 2012: American Studying the Election, Part 3
[The third in a series on some of the broader American Studies issues and stakes in the 2012 presidential election. As always, and doubly so with controversial topics like these, your takes are very welcome!]
On the stakes of 2012 for what might—or might not—be America’s next war.I’ve written a good deal about war in this space, for obvious reasons: you can’t write about American history without addressing the many wars in which we’ve been involved, from the first conflicts between European arrivals and Native Americans through the latest wars in the Middle East. While every war is unique and complex, and demands its own attention and analyses, I would say that I’ve tried to consistently emphasize two interconnected ideas when it comes to all American (and really all) wars: that no matter the causes or reasons for a war, no matter how just or understandable it might be, war always produces horrors that come to define it for all involved; and that the most important thing we can do, when it comes to remembering the histories and stories of wars, is to do the fullest justice we can to those effects, on soldiers, on civilians, on communities, on nations. If we’re able to remember and engage with those things, I believe there would be a number of positive results, but here want to highlight one for our political conversations and debates: such memories and engagement would make it very hard, if not impossible, for us to treat war as a political option, as one of many ways to resolve various world crises or problems. Certainly George W. Bush’s doctrine of preemptive war, as illustrated dramatically in his attack on Saddam Hussein’s Iraq, is the most recent and striking example of this attitude toward war; but the truth is that many American wars, from the 19thcentury’s Mexican American and Spanish American Wars up through that most recent war in the Persian Gulf, have been similarly wars of choice, pursued (sometimes more covertly and under the context of “attacks” on America, to be sure, as was the case in the 19thcentury wars) by our government in an effort to gain territory, to resolve international difficulties, to influence other nations and relationships, and so on. Again, each situation has been specific and complex, but the fact remains that the United States has consistently treated war as a choice, an option to consider when confronted with various (and not immediately threatening, to be clear) problems.You would think, perhaps, that the catastrophic failure of the most recent Iraq War would make it unlikely for us to treat war in this way again, at least so soon after that war’s horrors. But I believe you would be wrong, and that the very prominent and continuing drumbeat for war with Iran—led by many of the same neoconservatives who drove Bush’s foreign policy—exemplifies the presence and power of these same arguments in 2012. Moreover, Mitt Romney’s foreign policy advisors consist almost exclusively of such neoconservatives, as best illustrated by John Bolton, the former Bush Ambassador to the UN who has recently appeared in print advocating for a war with Syria (which, I assume, he thinks we could handle smoothly before moving on to Iran). There’s obviously no way to know for sure what our foreign policy future will include, nor whether President Obama will or would in a second term be able to resist various pressures pushing for conflict with Iran; but it seems clear that a vote for Mitt Romney represents, at the very least, a vote for a foreign policy team for whom preemptive, chosen war is an entirely valid, if not indeed often the first, option.Next election and American issue tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think?6/20 Memory Day nominee: Charles Chesnutt, author of (to my mind) the greatest and most significant American novel, among his many other complex and important, and far too unremembered, literaryand historical works.
On the stakes of 2012 for what might—or might not—be America’s next war.I’ve written a good deal about war in this space, for obvious reasons: you can’t write about American history without addressing the many wars in which we’ve been involved, from the first conflicts between European arrivals and Native Americans through the latest wars in the Middle East. While every war is unique and complex, and demands its own attention and analyses, I would say that I’ve tried to consistently emphasize two interconnected ideas when it comes to all American (and really all) wars: that no matter the causes or reasons for a war, no matter how just or understandable it might be, war always produces horrors that come to define it for all involved; and that the most important thing we can do, when it comes to remembering the histories and stories of wars, is to do the fullest justice we can to those effects, on soldiers, on civilians, on communities, on nations. If we’re able to remember and engage with those things, I believe there would be a number of positive results, but here want to highlight one for our political conversations and debates: such memories and engagement would make it very hard, if not impossible, for us to treat war as a political option, as one of many ways to resolve various world crises or problems. Certainly George W. Bush’s doctrine of preemptive war, as illustrated dramatically in his attack on Saddam Hussein’s Iraq, is the most recent and striking example of this attitude toward war; but the truth is that many American wars, from the 19thcentury’s Mexican American and Spanish American Wars up through that most recent war in the Persian Gulf, have been similarly wars of choice, pursued (sometimes more covertly and under the context of “attacks” on America, to be sure, as was the case in the 19thcentury wars) by our government in an effort to gain territory, to resolve international difficulties, to influence other nations and relationships, and so on. Again, each situation has been specific and complex, but the fact remains that the United States has consistently treated war as a choice, an option to consider when confronted with various (and not immediately threatening, to be clear) problems.You would think, perhaps, that the catastrophic failure of the most recent Iraq War would make it unlikely for us to treat war in this way again, at least so soon after that war’s horrors. But I believe you would be wrong, and that the very prominent and continuing drumbeat for war with Iran—led by many of the same neoconservatives who drove Bush’s foreign policy—exemplifies the presence and power of these same arguments in 2012. Moreover, Mitt Romney’s foreign policy advisors consist almost exclusively of such neoconservatives, as best illustrated by John Bolton, the former Bush Ambassador to the UN who has recently appeared in print advocating for a war with Syria (which, I assume, he thinks we could handle smoothly before moving on to Iran). There’s obviously no way to know for sure what our foreign policy future will include, nor whether President Obama will or would in a second term be able to resist various pressures pushing for conflict with Iran; but it seems clear that a vote for Mitt Romney represents, at the very least, a vote for a foreign policy team for whom preemptive, chosen war is an entirely valid, if not indeed often the first, option.Next election and American issue tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think?6/20 Memory Day nominee: Charles Chesnutt, author of (to my mind) the greatest and most significant American novel, among his many other complex and important, and far too unremembered, literaryand historical works.
June 19, 2012
June 19, 2012: American Studying the Election, Part 2
[The second in a series on some of the broader American Studies issues and stakes in the 2012 presidential election. As always, and doubly so with controversial topics like these, your takes are very welcome!]
On the stakes of 2012 for the newest phase in our longstanding, conflicted national relationship to guns.When you remember how the American Revolution—or at least the military portion of it—got started, the 2nd Amendment sure makes a lot of sense. After all, the Minutemen who fought the Redcoats at Lexington and Concord, who fired that shot heard ‘round the world, were a militia in the truest sense of the word: farmers and other locals who brought nothing more than their own lives—and their own guns—to those crucial first conflicts. And for many decades after the Revolution, state and local militias continued to serve as the nation’s primary armed forces, with a standing army being assembled as necessary (during military conflicts such as the War of 1812 and the Mexican American War, for example) but not consistently maintained. Given those contexts, the syntax and logic of the 2ndAmendment—which reads in full “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed”—seem perfectly natural and uncontroversial.But the term “militia” has of course come to mean something completely different in early 21st century America, and the shift to my mind signifies the other side to our national relationship to guns. These contemporary militias, comprising communities of heavily armed resistance to perceived threats (from the government, from the United Nations, from ethnic or racial “others”), see their guns, and their right to bear them, not as a part of our shared national community, but as a way to defend their own lives and security within, and yet fundamentally outside of, that nation. For these Americans, it seems to me, the key words in the 2ndAmendment are “free” and “the people,” since in this reading of the Amendment its guarantees have nothing to do with the government (which would presumably do the regulating of militias) nor the nation (the State) and everything to do with every individual gunowner. There is of course no necessary conflict between individual gunowners and the national community—again, the Minutemen were composed precisely of such individuals, coming together to fight for their fledgling nation’s interests—but such conflicts have without question come to form a complex, controversial, and crucial part of gun culture in America.Which brings me to today, and specifically to the “Stand Your Ground” laws that have, in response to pressure from the NRA and ALEC and other conservative organizations, been passed by numerous state legislatures since the ascendance of Tea Party majorities in the 2010 elections. How we analyze these controversial pro-gun laws—which factored directly into the Travyon Martin shooting and other recent tragedies—depends precisely on whether we see them as part of our nation’s founding identity, a legacy of the Concord Minutemen; or part of the contemporary militia movement, tied to the 21stcentury Minutemen and their ilk. But in any case, there’s no doubt that the 2012 election—which NRA vice president Wayne LaPierre has called “a turning point for gun rights”—will greatly influence these narratives moving forward; there’s less than no evidence that a second-term President Obama would ban guns or dismantle the 2nd Amendment (as LaPierre warns), but certainly an empowered Republican majority (nationally and at that state level) could continue to pass more laws like “Stand Your Ground,” and otherwise to push forward this extremely pro-gun agenda. Which would be a very American thing to do—but what version of America it would embody is an entirely open and significant question.Next election and American issue tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think?6/19 Memory Day nominee: Pauline Kael, perhaps America’s greatest and most influential film critic, and a cultural commentator and critic whose voice and perspective helped shape our conversations and community throughout the late 20th century.
On the stakes of 2012 for the newest phase in our longstanding, conflicted national relationship to guns.When you remember how the American Revolution—or at least the military portion of it—got started, the 2nd Amendment sure makes a lot of sense. After all, the Minutemen who fought the Redcoats at Lexington and Concord, who fired that shot heard ‘round the world, were a militia in the truest sense of the word: farmers and other locals who brought nothing more than their own lives—and their own guns—to those crucial first conflicts. And for many decades after the Revolution, state and local militias continued to serve as the nation’s primary armed forces, with a standing army being assembled as necessary (during military conflicts such as the War of 1812 and the Mexican American War, for example) but not consistently maintained. Given those contexts, the syntax and logic of the 2ndAmendment—which reads in full “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed”—seem perfectly natural and uncontroversial.But the term “militia” has of course come to mean something completely different in early 21st century America, and the shift to my mind signifies the other side to our national relationship to guns. These contemporary militias, comprising communities of heavily armed resistance to perceived threats (from the government, from the United Nations, from ethnic or racial “others”), see their guns, and their right to bear them, not as a part of our shared national community, but as a way to defend their own lives and security within, and yet fundamentally outside of, that nation. For these Americans, it seems to me, the key words in the 2ndAmendment are “free” and “the people,” since in this reading of the Amendment its guarantees have nothing to do with the government (which would presumably do the regulating of militias) nor the nation (the State) and everything to do with every individual gunowner. There is of course no necessary conflict between individual gunowners and the national community—again, the Minutemen were composed precisely of such individuals, coming together to fight for their fledgling nation’s interests—but such conflicts have without question come to form a complex, controversial, and crucial part of gun culture in America.Which brings me to today, and specifically to the “Stand Your Ground” laws that have, in response to pressure from the NRA and ALEC and other conservative organizations, been passed by numerous state legislatures since the ascendance of Tea Party majorities in the 2010 elections. How we analyze these controversial pro-gun laws—which factored directly into the Travyon Martin shooting and other recent tragedies—depends precisely on whether we see them as part of our nation’s founding identity, a legacy of the Concord Minutemen; or part of the contemporary militia movement, tied to the 21stcentury Minutemen and their ilk. But in any case, there’s no doubt that the 2012 election—which NRA vice president Wayne LaPierre has called “a turning point for gun rights”—will greatly influence these narratives moving forward; there’s less than no evidence that a second-term President Obama would ban guns or dismantle the 2nd Amendment (as LaPierre warns), but certainly an empowered Republican majority (nationally and at that state level) could continue to pass more laws like “Stand Your Ground,” and otherwise to push forward this extremely pro-gun agenda. Which would be a very American thing to do—but what version of America it would embody is an entirely open and significant question.Next election and American issue tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think?6/19 Memory Day nominee: Pauline Kael, perhaps America’s greatest and most influential film critic, and a cultural commentator and critic whose voice and perspective helped shape our conversations and community throughout the late 20th century.
June 18, 2012
June 18, 2012: American Studying the Election, Part 1
[The first in a series on some of the broader American Studies issues and stakes in the 2012 presidential election. As always, and doubly so with controversial topics like these, your takes are very welcome!]
On the stakes of 2012 for a core American issue of immigration policy, law, and narratives.I’ve written a good deal on the DREAM Act and concurrent contemporary issues and public figures in this space (more than most other current events/issues, I’d say), and I don’t want to repeat myself. I also hope to have a book coming out at some point in the not-too-distant future on parallel historical and national issues (watch this space!), and so I don’t want to steal my own thunder. So for today I’ll simply say this: I think there are few 21st-century issues more crucial than the question of how we treat undocumented immigrants, and more exactly those undocumented immigrants who exemplify the very best of what America has been and can be. The DREAM Act is designed to benefit precisely that latter category, and its failure to pass the Senate (including one of its Republican co-sponsors voting against it) last year represented the triumph of bigotry and xenophobia over logic, empathy, and American community.President Obama hasn’t always gone with those more positive perspectives on this issue either, but this past week, he definitely did so: issuing an executive order version of the DREAM Act that, as I wrote in a Facebook post on it, seems to me to be one of the boldest and best things an American president has ever done. While it’s unsurprisingly difficult to pin Mitt Romney down on this issue, there’s no question that during the Republican primaries, and particularly in arguments with Texas Governor Rick Perry, Romney staked out a far more anti-immigrant position than either Perry or Obama, suggesting for example the ludicrous concept of “self-deportation” as a viable option for undocumented immigrants. Since Obama’s act was an executive order, it would be instantly reversible by a future such order—and there’s no reliable reason to think a President Romney would not take that step.So that’s one pretty clear American Studies stake in this election, I’d say: whether we continue to pursue a more empathetic, logical, and genuinely American policy toward kids like these (and, hopefully, toward their older peers); or whether we give in to the kinds of bigotry and xenophobia that have driven so many of the Republican-controlled state legislatures in their anti-immigration efforts over the last couple of years. Some of the issues and stakes I’ll address in this week’s series are pretty complex, but I’ll be honest: when it comes to the DREAM Act, and to the attitudes to which support or opposition for it connect, I don’t know if a contrast gets more simple and stark than this. Next issue tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think?6/18 Memory Day nominee: James Montgomery Flagg, the talented child prodigy and turn of the 20th century artist and illustrator whose most lasting legacy is his creation of an iconic, definitely patriotic, perhaps jingoistic and disturbing, and certainly striking and memorable American figure.
On the stakes of 2012 for a core American issue of immigration policy, law, and narratives.I’ve written a good deal on the DREAM Act and concurrent contemporary issues and public figures in this space (more than most other current events/issues, I’d say), and I don’t want to repeat myself. I also hope to have a book coming out at some point in the not-too-distant future on parallel historical and national issues (watch this space!), and so I don’t want to steal my own thunder. So for today I’ll simply say this: I think there are few 21st-century issues more crucial than the question of how we treat undocumented immigrants, and more exactly those undocumented immigrants who exemplify the very best of what America has been and can be. The DREAM Act is designed to benefit precisely that latter category, and its failure to pass the Senate (including one of its Republican co-sponsors voting against it) last year represented the triumph of bigotry and xenophobia over logic, empathy, and American community.President Obama hasn’t always gone with those more positive perspectives on this issue either, but this past week, he definitely did so: issuing an executive order version of the DREAM Act that, as I wrote in a Facebook post on it, seems to me to be one of the boldest and best things an American president has ever done. While it’s unsurprisingly difficult to pin Mitt Romney down on this issue, there’s no question that during the Republican primaries, and particularly in arguments with Texas Governor Rick Perry, Romney staked out a far more anti-immigrant position than either Perry or Obama, suggesting for example the ludicrous concept of “self-deportation” as a viable option for undocumented immigrants. Since Obama’s act was an executive order, it would be instantly reversible by a future such order—and there’s no reliable reason to think a President Romney would not take that step.So that’s one pretty clear American Studies stake in this election, I’d say: whether we continue to pursue a more empathetic, logical, and genuinely American policy toward kids like these (and, hopefully, toward their older peers); or whether we give in to the kinds of bigotry and xenophobia that have driven so many of the Republican-controlled state legislatures in their anti-immigration efforts over the last couple of years. Some of the issues and stakes I’ll address in this week’s series are pretty complex, but I’ll be honest: when it comes to the DREAM Act, and to the attitudes to which support or opposition for it connect, I don’t know if a contrast gets more simple and stark than this. Next issue tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think?6/18 Memory Day nominee: James Montgomery Flagg, the talented child prodigy and turn of the 20th century artist and illustrator whose most lasting legacy is his creation of an iconic, definitely patriotic, perhaps jingoistic and disturbing, and certainly striking and memorable American figure.
June 16, 2012
June 16-17, 2012: Crowd-sourced Post on Material Culture
[Trying something new to round off the series on toys, material culture, and American Studies: a crowd-sourced post, drawn from comments and ideas shared with me by readers and fellow American Studiers. Please add yours in the comments below!]
Laura MacDonaldhighlights an “excellent discussion of the American Girl brand by Maurya Wickstrom in Performing Consumers (2006).”Steve Railton remembers when hula hoops “became ubiquitous in Sunset Park, the housing development I grew up in. My own favorite way to play with one was as a traditional hoop -- i.e. I liked seeing how far I could roll it before it fell, etc., though I'd never played with the kind of hoop that kids played with for centuries. It is interesting to think, though, that physically adding ‘hula’ doesn't change the ‘hoop’ at all, but culturally, it sure made a huge difference in what hoops were used to do.”Rebecca D’Orsogna notes the poster for an “Uncle Tom Opera” that appears in the background of a scene in the animated Disney film Lady and the Tramp (1955, but set in 1909).And Rebecca also shares this very funny McSweeney’s article!Suggested reading to follow up the Uncle Tom’s Cabin post and on the intersections between race, childhood, toys, and more: Robin Bernstein’s Racial Innocence (2011).Responding to the post on tabletop role playing games, Kisha Tracy notes that “it's interesting (sometimes sadly, sometimes otherwise) that the table top RPG history has mostly been male. It took a very long time for women to be ‘allowed’ into it. I'm always kind of fascinated by the marginalization within marginalized groups/activities.”Joseph Adelman shares this interview with historian Jill Lepore, on her recent/ongoing work that definitely connects to this series in lots of interesting ways.More next week,BenPS. What do you think? Plenty of room to add your voice to the mix!6/16 Memory Day nominee: Geronimo, or Goyathlay, the Apache leader and warrior whose legendary life has inspired numerous cultural responses and texts, but should not blind us to the very real and often dark histories to which he also connects. 6/17 Memory Day nominee: James Weldon Johnson, on whom see that post!
Laura MacDonaldhighlights an “excellent discussion of the American Girl brand by Maurya Wickstrom in Performing Consumers (2006).”Steve Railton remembers when hula hoops “became ubiquitous in Sunset Park, the housing development I grew up in. My own favorite way to play with one was as a traditional hoop -- i.e. I liked seeing how far I could roll it before it fell, etc., though I'd never played with the kind of hoop that kids played with for centuries. It is interesting to think, though, that physically adding ‘hula’ doesn't change the ‘hoop’ at all, but culturally, it sure made a huge difference in what hoops were used to do.”Rebecca D’Orsogna notes the poster for an “Uncle Tom Opera” that appears in the background of a scene in the animated Disney film Lady and the Tramp (1955, but set in 1909).And Rebecca also shares this very funny McSweeney’s article!Suggested reading to follow up the Uncle Tom’s Cabin post and on the intersections between race, childhood, toys, and more: Robin Bernstein’s Racial Innocence (2011).Responding to the post on tabletop role playing games, Kisha Tracy notes that “it's interesting (sometimes sadly, sometimes otherwise) that the table top RPG history has mostly been male. It took a very long time for women to be ‘allowed’ into it. I'm always kind of fascinated by the marginalization within marginalized groups/activities.”Joseph Adelman shares this interview with historian Jill Lepore, on her recent/ongoing work that definitely connects to this series in lots of interesting ways.More next week,BenPS. What do you think? Plenty of room to add your voice to the mix!6/16 Memory Day nominee: Geronimo, or Goyathlay, the Apache leader and warrior whose legendary life has inspired numerous cultural responses and texts, but should not blind us to the very real and often dark histories to which he also connects. 6/17 Memory Day nominee: James Weldon Johnson, on whom see that post!
June 15, 2012
June 15, 2012: Playing with America, Part 5
[The fifth and final planned post in a series on toys, games, and American Studies. If you want to contribute some thoughts toward the weekend’s open post, please feel very free to do so in comments!]
On the stigmas and the scholarly benefits of D&D and other role-playing games.Today’s the 35th birthday of my oldest and still best friend, Steve Peterson. I mention that partly because it’s past time Steve made an appearance in this space—despite not being a scholarly American Studier per se, Steve has taught me much of what I know about a range of important questions, from friendship and family to taking chances and following life’s unexpected opportunities—but also because it was with Steve that I got into one of my most enduring childhood pursuits: tabletop role-playing games. We didn’t play the best-known such game, Dungeons & Dragons; but most of our gaming was with a system, Middle-earth Role Playing (MERP), that was deeply indebted to D&D (although created by an amazing local Charlottesville company, Iron Crown Enterprises; whether you have ever role-played or not, if you’re a Tolkien fan I can’t recommend strongly enough trying to get your hands on one of ICE’s beautiful and fun companion books about the world of Middle-earth). I’m ashamed to admit that I hesitated a bit in deciding to make role-playing one of this week’s focal points, and the reason is clear enough: the substantial social stigma that comes with the subject, and really with any reference to Dungeons & Dragons. You’d think that the widespread popularity of video games (including many, such as Skyrim, that owe quite a bit to D&D and its ilk), of fan conventions like Comic-Con, of fantasy literature, films, and television shows, and the like would have changed these narratives, but I don’t believe that it necessarily has: to my mind, and in my experience, cultural references to D&D almost always entail the same tired clichés of socially awkward nerds in their parents’ basements, creating fantasy worlds to escape the tragicomic circumstances of their realities. Moreover, the broader and even more damaging social narratives and fears, of D&D turning teenagers into suicidial or even homicidal outcasts, have likewise remained in play, at times virtually unchanged from the first such stories when D&D was new. There are a variety of ways to pushback on those stigmas and argue instead for social, communal, and individual benefits to role-playing games (including some exemplified by the pieces at those last two links); here, I’ll just highlight two that connect to this blog’s focus on scholarly questions. For one thing, role-playing games require consistent leaps of imagination in a way that differentiates them from many other toys or games—on the part of the game-master, the person in charge of creating the world and scenarios and guiding the other players into and (to a degree) through it; but also from all those players, who have to both respond to what’s unfolding in front of them and yet create their own stories and futures. And for another, the specific experience of being the game-master—of creating that world and its different narratives, of conveying it to the players, and yet then of being required to adjust and shift it as the game plays out, and even to scrap any or all of it in favor of where the players are going and of producing the most fun and meaningful experience as a result—was, to my mind, about the best training for teaching I could have ever gotten. Just another reason to thank Steve, who, along with MERP, prepared me pretty well for this crucial part of my career and life.Open post this weekend, so please contribute any ideas or thoughts in comments!BenPS. What do you think? And for the weekend’s post, you know what to do!6/15 Memory Day nominee: Josiah Henson, the escaped slave turned abolitionist, preacher, and activist whose inspiring life and compelling autobiography served as one of Stowe’s influences and remain unique and vital American texts (in every sense). [image error]
On the stigmas and the scholarly benefits of D&D and other role-playing games.Today’s the 35th birthday of my oldest and still best friend, Steve Peterson. I mention that partly because it’s past time Steve made an appearance in this space—despite not being a scholarly American Studier per se, Steve has taught me much of what I know about a range of important questions, from friendship and family to taking chances and following life’s unexpected opportunities—but also because it was with Steve that I got into one of my most enduring childhood pursuits: tabletop role-playing games. We didn’t play the best-known such game, Dungeons & Dragons; but most of our gaming was with a system, Middle-earth Role Playing (MERP), that was deeply indebted to D&D (although created by an amazing local Charlottesville company, Iron Crown Enterprises; whether you have ever role-played or not, if you’re a Tolkien fan I can’t recommend strongly enough trying to get your hands on one of ICE’s beautiful and fun companion books about the world of Middle-earth). I’m ashamed to admit that I hesitated a bit in deciding to make role-playing one of this week’s focal points, and the reason is clear enough: the substantial social stigma that comes with the subject, and really with any reference to Dungeons & Dragons. You’d think that the widespread popularity of video games (including many, such as Skyrim, that owe quite a bit to D&D and its ilk), of fan conventions like Comic-Con, of fantasy literature, films, and television shows, and the like would have changed these narratives, but I don’t believe that it necessarily has: to my mind, and in my experience, cultural references to D&D almost always entail the same tired clichés of socially awkward nerds in their parents’ basements, creating fantasy worlds to escape the tragicomic circumstances of their realities. Moreover, the broader and even more damaging social narratives and fears, of D&D turning teenagers into suicidial or even homicidal outcasts, have likewise remained in play, at times virtually unchanged from the first such stories when D&D was new. There are a variety of ways to pushback on those stigmas and argue instead for social, communal, and individual benefits to role-playing games (including some exemplified by the pieces at those last two links); here, I’ll just highlight two that connect to this blog’s focus on scholarly questions. For one thing, role-playing games require consistent leaps of imagination in a way that differentiates them from many other toys or games—on the part of the game-master, the person in charge of creating the world and scenarios and guiding the other players into and (to a degree) through it; but also from all those players, who have to both respond to what’s unfolding in front of them and yet create their own stories and futures. And for another, the specific experience of being the game-master—of creating that world and its different narratives, of conveying it to the players, and yet then of being required to adjust and shift it as the game plays out, and even to scrap any or all of it in favor of where the players are going and of producing the most fun and meaningful experience as a result—was, to my mind, about the best training for teaching I could have ever gotten. Just another reason to thank Steve, who, along with MERP, prepared me pretty well for this crucial part of my career and life.Open post this weekend, so please contribute any ideas or thoughts in comments!BenPS. What do you think? And for the weekend’s post, you know what to do!6/15 Memory Day nominee: Josiah Henson, the escaped slave turned abolitionist, preacher, and activist whose inspiring life and compelling autobiography served as one of Stowe’s influences and remain unique and vital American texts (in every sense). [image error]
June 14, 2012
June 14, 2012: Playing with America, Part 4
[The fourth in a series on toys, games, and American Studies. Nominations, suggestions, nostalgic childhood memories, and all other responses very welcome!]
On the contexts and logic behind and yet the downside of the new girl-centered Legos.Larry Summers got in a lot of trouble a few years back for saying something not entirely unlike this—although (I hope) significantly dumber, especially in Summers’ attempt to ground his ideas in pseudo-scientific authorities—but I can’t deny that it has been my experience: that once you have kids, you start to realize that there are indeed some innate biological differences between girls and boys, some seemingly born-in, gendered interests and identities. Obviously there are no absolutes, and my two boys are in many ways as different from each other as they are from any young girl; but nonetheless, they’ve both had (for example) strong interests in vehicles and superheroes from a very young age, interests that we didn’t instill so much as simply observe and try to respond to. Something in these subjects seems to speak to something in them, and to do so differently (from what I can tell) than how they and other subjects speak to most of the girls who are their peers.If you want evidence that’s a little less anecdotal, I direct you to the commercials for kids’ toys, and more exactly to just how gendered so many of those commercials (and those toys) are. They may be a bit outdated, and are perhaps extreme examples, but I think these early 1980s commercials for G.I. Joe figures/vehicleson the one hand and the new Crystal Barbie on the other illustrate my point pretty thoroughly: the dirty, loud, frenetic outdoor world of the boys playing with the Joes couldn’t possibly contrast more with the pristine, elegant, peaceful indoor world of the girls with Crystal Barbie. (The 1990s talking Barbie figure who famously complained that “Math is hard” connects these trends to Summers’ comments quite explicitly.) As we’ve moved into the 21stcentury, you might expect that this kind of gendered categorization of and marketing for toys would have evolved, but that doesn’t seem to have happened; and one of the most famous and controversial recent toys, a new line of Legos intended especially for girls (Lego Friends), provides ample evidence that this kind of gendering remains at the center of much toy design and marketing.Again, having seen my boys and their interests and those of their peers develop, I get it—many if not most Lego sets are of vehicles of one kind or another, and I don’t doubt that not as many young girls as boys are thrilled at the prospect of building a Lego steam train. Moreover, if this new line can get more girls using Legos than would otherwise be the case, then that could in fact push back on narratives like Summers’, on the idea that girls are somehow less interested in or adept at mathematical or scientific skills. Yet on the other hand, even if there are some innate differences between boys and girls, it seems to me that one crucial purpose for children’s toys—just as for early childhood education and other aspects of young socialization—should be to push beyond such starting points, to challenge kids to go outside of their comfort zones or initial identities, to help them become part of broader communities that feature many different such identities (within as well as across genders). Not all toys need to provide such challenges, but I would certainly argue that toys such as Legos, which are not in and of themselves connected to particular subjects or themes, aren’t doing what they could do best if they’re fitting into established gender dynamics and categories.Final (planned) post in the series tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? And the weekend post is still entirely open—any ideas? Within this series or outside of it, I’ll take any and all suggestions as always!6/14 Memory Day nominee: Harriet Beecher Stowe, whose Uncle Tom’s Cabin would be more than sufficient to earn her a nomination, but whose long and expansive writing career extended well beyond that most influential work for sure.[image error]
On the contexts and logic behind and yet the downside of the new girl-centered Legos.Larry Summers got in a lot of trouble a few years back for saying something not entirely unlike this—although (I hope) significantly dumber, especially in Summers’ attempt to ground his ideas in pseudo-scientific authorities—but I can’t deny that it has been my experience: that once you have kids, you start to realize that there are indeed some innate biological differences between girls and boys, some seemingly born-in, gendered interests and identities. Obviously there are no absolutes, and my two boys are in many ways as different from each other as they are from any young girl; but nonetheless, they’ve both had (for example) strong interests in vehicles and superheroes from a very young age, interests that we didn’t instill so much as simply observe and try to respond to. Something in these subjects seems to speak to something in them, and to do so differently (from what I can tell) than how they and other subjects speak to most of the girls who are their peers.If you want evidence that’s a little less anecdotal, I direct you to the commercials for kids’ toys, and more exactly to just how gendered so many of those commercials (and those toys) are. They may be a bit outdated, and are perhaps extreme examples, but I think these early 1980s commercials for G.I. Joe figures/vehicleson the one hand and the new Crystal Barbie on the other illustrate my point pretty thoroughly: the dirty, loud, frenetic outdoor world of the boys playing with the Joes couldn’t possibly contrast more with the pristine, elegant, peaceful indoor world of the girls with Crystal Barbie. (The 1990s talking Barbie figure who famously complained that “Math is hard” connects these trends to Summers’ comments quite explicitly.) As we’ve moved into the 21stcentury, you might expect that this kind of gendered categorization of and marketing for toys would have evolved, but that doesn’t seem to have happened; and one of the most famous and controversial recent toys, a new line of Legos intended especially for girls (Lego Friends), provides ample evidence that this kind of gendering remains at the center of much toy design and marketing.Again, having seen my boys and their interests and those of their peers develop, I get it—many if not most Lego sets are of vehicles of one kind or another, and I don’t doubt that not as many young girls as boys are thrilled at the prospect of building a Lego steam train. Moreover, if this new line can get more girls using Legos than would otherwise be the case, then that could in fact push back on narratives like Summers’, on the idea that girls are somehow less interested in or adept at mathematical or scientific skills. Yet on the other hand, even if there are some innate differences between boys and girls, it seems to me that one crucial purpose for children’s toys—just as for early childhood education and other aspects of young socialization—should be to push beyond such starting points, to challenge kids to go outside of their comfort zones or initial identities, to help them become part of broader communities that feature many different such identities (within as well as across genders). Not all toys need to provide such challenges, but I would certainly argue that toys such as Legos, which are not in and of themselves connected to particular subjects or themes, aren’t doing what they could do best if they’re fitting into established gender dynamics and categories.Final (planned) post in the series tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? And the weekend post is still entirely open—any ideas? Within this series or outside of it, I’ll take any and all suggestions as always!6/14 Memory Day nominee: Harriet Beecher Stowe, whose Uncle Tom’s Cabin would be more than sufficient to earn her a nomination, but whose long and expansive writing career extended well beyond that most influential work for sure.[image error]
June 13, 2012
June 13, 2012: Playing with America, Part 3
[The third in a series on toys, games, and American Studies. Nominations, suggestions, nostalgic childhood memories, and all other responses very welcome!]
On the very complicated, confusing, and crucial case of the Uncle Tom’s Cabin toys and games.In a long-ago Tribute Post here, I wrote about my Dad, University of Virginia Professor Stephen Railton, and more specifically about his public scholarly and pedagogical websites. While the Mark Twain sitefocuses pretty specifically on Twain’s major works and on their many biographical, historical, cultural, artistic, and scholarly contexts, the Uncle Tom’s Cabin site has a very different additional emphasis (while still highlighting many elements in those categories for Stowe’s novel): tracing the novel’s multi-faceted, multi-century legacy in American culture. It’s fair to ask, as the site itself does in each case, whether any of those aftermaths—from the touring Tom Shows to the dozens of film adaptations, the collectibles to the card games, and many many more—can tell us much at all about Stowe’s novel itself, whether they’re more about their own particular moments or connected to enduring national narratives, how, indeed, we American Studiers analyze this century and a half of Stowe-inspired cultural and material cultural stuff.Those questions are relevant to any and all of the Stowe legacies highlighted on the website, but are nowhere more vexed and challenging than when it comes to the Tom-inspired children’s merchandise (or “Tomitudes,” as the material culture artifacts inspired by the novel are often known). What on earth do we make of these jigsaw puzzles, these Tom’s Cabin pieces included in assemble-your-own-village sets, these paper dolls and cut-outs of characters and scenes from the novel? Do they simply and neutrally reflect the way that (imagine this next word in the voice of Yogurt from Spaceballs) “merchandising” can and will find its way into anything in our capitalist society? Are they part of the process of stereotyping and watering-down that (building on certain aspects of the novel but ignoring many, many others) has reduced Stowe’s novel from impassionated protest to cultural mainstay? Could they instead represent a way in which those moral lessons and goals of Stowe’s novel could be passed down to open-minded and impressionable young Americans, not unlike the ways in which Tom influenced young Eva (and then she in turn influenced her father, the reformed slaveowner St. Clare), in the novel’s most idealized relationship? Hell if I know. But I do know this: while Stowe’s novel may be an extreme case (I’m not familiar, at least, with the Marrow of Tradition jigsaw puzzles, the Ceremony cut-out dolls, the Awakening ocean-suicide dioramas), there’s something unavoidably true and important about the fact that our most prominent cultural figures, events, and texts eventually filter down to our kids. Obviously the versions of the America Revolution and the Civil War, of Mark Twain and Martin Luther King, of the frontier and the Cold War, that become toys and games, children’s books and snippets of kids’ TV shows, and the like can seem far removed from those with which us scholarly, adult American Studiers engage. But we’d better not think of them that way, not treat them as distinct in any absolute sense—had better, instead, remember that national, historical, and cultural narratives are created and passed down in a variety of forms, and that the ones that seem the simplest are often those that become the most ingrained in our identities and communities. I’m not saying we all need to play with the Uncle Tom cut-out dolls, necessarily; but we’d all better think about them.Next playthings tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Any important historical or cultural toys you’d analyze?6/13 Memory Day nominee: Dwight B. Waldo, the scholar and college president whose efforts on behalf of teachers, teachers colleges, and a democratic and public vision of higher education helped change American society for the better.
On the very complicated, confusing, and crucial case of the Uncle Tom’s Cabin toys and games.In a long-ago Tribute Post here, I wrote about my Dad, University of Virginia Professor Stephen Railton, and more specifically about his public scholarly and pedagogical websites. While the Mark Twain sitefocuses pretty specifically on Twain’s major works and on their many biographical, historical, cultural, artistic, and scholarly contexts, the Uncle Tom’s Cabin site has a very different additional emphasis (while still highlighting many elements in those categories for Stowe’s novel): tracing the novel’s multi-faceted, multi-century legacy in American culture. It’s fair to ask, as the site itself does in each case, whether any of those aftermaths—from the touring Tom Shows to the dozens of film adaptations, the collectibles to the card games, and many many more—can tell us much at all about Stowe’s novel itself, whether they’re more about their own particular moments or connected to enduring national narratives, how, indeed, we American Studiers analyze this century and a half of Stowe-inspired cultural and material cultural stuff.Those questions are relevant to any and all of the Stowe legacies highlighted on the website, but are nowhere more vexed and challenging than when it comes to the Tom-inspired children’s merchandise (or “Tomitudes,” as the material culture artifacts inspired by the novel are often known). What on earth do we make of these jigsaw puzzles, these Tom’s Cabin pieces included in assemble-your-own-village sets, these paper dolls and cut-outs of characters and scenes from the novel? Do they simply and neutrally reflect the way that (imagine this next word in the voice of Yogurt from Spaceballs) “merchandising” can and will find its way into anything in our capitalist society? Are they part of the process of stereotyping and watering-down that (building on certain aspects of the novel but ignoring many, many others) has reduced Stowe’s novel from impassionated protest to cultural mainstay? Could they instead represent a way in which those moral lessons and goals of Stowe’s novel could be passed down to open-minded and impressionable young Americans, not unlike the ways in which Tom influenced young Eva (and then she in turn influenced her father, the reformed slaveowner St. Clare), in the novel’s most idealized relationship? Hell if I know. But I do know this: while Stowe’s novel may be an extreme case (I’m not familiar, at least, with the Marrow of Tradition jigsaw puzzles, the Ceremony cut-out dolls, the Awakening ocean-suicide dioramas), there’s something unavoidably true and important about the fact that our most prominent cultural figures, events, and texts eventually filter down to our kids. Obviously the versions of the America Revolution and the Civil War, of Mark Twain and Martin Luther King, of the frontier and the Cold War, that become toys and games, children’s books and snippets of kids’ TV shows, and the like can seem far removed from those with which us scholarly, adult American Studiers engage. But we’d better not think of them that way, not treat them as distinct in any absolute sense—had better, instead, remember that national, historical, and cultural narratives are created and passed down in a variety of forms, and that the ones that seem the simplest are often those that become the most ingrained in our identities and communities. I’m not saying we all need to play with the Uncle Tom cut-out dolls, necessarily; but we’d all better think about them.Next playthings tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Any important historical or cultural toys you’d analyze?6/13 Memory Day nominee: Dwight B. Waldo, the scholar and college president whose efforts on behalf of teachers, teachers colleges, and a democratic and public vision of higher education helped change American society for the better.
June 12, 2012
June 12, 2012: Playing with America, Part 2
[The second in a series on toys, games, and American Studies. Nominations, suggestions, nostalgic childhood memories, and all other responses very welcome!]
On the silliness and the subversiveness of one of the 1950s’ most striking fads, the hula hoop.When it comes to analyzing toys and similar material culture artifacts, one of the most interesting and complex questions has to be why certain ones become insanely (and I mean that word literally) popular at a particular moment. These fads have no apparent logic, and tend to burn as briefly as they do brightly: one shopping season the Cabbage Patch dolls or Tickle Me Elmos are harder to find than El Dorado (I remember being in New York City one December and seeing street vendors selling those Elmos at $300 a pop), and the next they’re remaindered on the bargain shelves. Again, trying to analyze the reasons behind those meteoric rises might well be a fool’s errand, and it would be easy to make too much of social or cultural forces (rather than, for example, simple marketing or publicizing, and of course peer pressure). But with those provisions, I’m going to go ahead and do that anyway for one of the mid-20thcentury’s most prominent such fads: the hula hoop.Hula hoops had been around in one form or another for centuries, but it was with the late 1950s marketing of a plastic hoop by the Wham-O toy company that a national fad began: beginning in July 1958, more than 25 million such plastic hoops were sold in four months, and more than 100 million were sold in the subsequent two years. Given that particular timing and its historical and cultural contexts, I can immediately think of a couple ways to analyze this fad: on the one hand, the Cold War and its tensions were significantly deepening, thanks to the USSR’s 1957 launch of Sputnik and various other factors, and the hula hoop’s mindless silliness would likely have seemed a welcome respite from air raid drills; and on the other hand, one of the decade’s overall national trends was the rise of cookie-cutter suburban developments, and it would be easy to connect that trend to a toy and a fad which requires everyone to do almost exactly the same thing in order to do it successfully (and which almost immediately led to group exhibitions, contests, and other communal efforts).Both of those analyses seem to me to have value, but I would also highlight a somewhat less obvious and perhaps even more meaningful connection. In September 1956, in one of the decade’s most controversial cultural moments, up-and-coming singer Elvis Presley appeared on the hugely popular Ed Sullivan Show;during his performance, Elvis utilized his well-known hip gyrations (which had led to the nickname Elvis the Pelvis), and CBS famously refused to show anything from the waist down. As is so often the case, this attempted censorship thoroughly backfired, with the gyrations becoming more famous than ever and the whole experience catapulting Elvis to a significantly greater level of national prominence. Is it possible that the hula hoop represented a national parallel, a communal embrace of this subversive gesture and of the rock and roll sensibility that it literally and figuratively embodied? Maybe—and in a striking coincidence, one connecting these different cultural trends even more explicitly, two years to the day after Presley’s Ed Sullivan appearance the singer Georgia Gibbs appeared on the show to perform her hit “Hula Hoop Song.” Next plaything tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Any fads you’d highlight and analyze?6/12 Memory Day nominee: John Roebling, the German-born civil engineer and architect whose Brooklyn Bridge, while certainly his most famous (and one of America’s best known and most mythologized) project, was one of many pioneering achievements.
On the silliness and the subversiveness of one of the 1950s’ most striking fads, the hula hoop.When it comes to analyzing toys and similar material culture artifacts, one of the most interesting and complex questions has to be why certain ones become insanely (and I mean that word literally) popular at a particular moment. These fads have no apparent logic, and tend to burn as briefly as they do brightly: one shopping season the Cabbage Patch dolls or Tickle Me Elmos are harder to find than El Dorado (I remember being in New York City one December and seeing street vendors selling those Elmos at $300 a pop), and the next they’re remaindered on the bargain shelves. Again, trying to analyze the reasons behind those meteoric rises might well be a fool’s errand, and it would be easy to make too much of social or cultural forces (rather than, for example, simple marketing or publicizing, and of course peer pressure). But with those provisions, I’m going to go ahead and do that anyway for one of the mid-20thcentury’s most prominent such fads: the hula hoop.Hula hoops had been around in one form or another for centuries, but it was with the late 1950s marketing of a plastic hoop by the Wham-O toy company that a national fad began: beginning in July 1958, more than 25 million such plastic hoops were sold in four months, and more than 100 million were sold in the subsequent two years. Given that particular timing and its historical and cultural contexts, I can immediately think of a couple ways to analyze this fad: on the one hand, the Cold War and its tensions were significantly deepening, thanks to the USSR’s 1957 launch of Sputnik and various other factors, and the hula hoop’s mindless silliness would likely have seemed a welcome respite from air raid drills; and on the other hand, one of the decade’s overall national trends was the rise of cookie-cutter suburban developments, and it would be easy to connect that trend to a toy and a fad which requires everyone to do almost exactly the same thing in order to do it successfully (and which almost immediately led to group exhibitions, contests, and other communal efforts).Both of those analyses seem to me to have value, but I would also highlight a somewhat less obvious and perhaps even more meaningful connection. In September 1956, in one of the decade’s most controversial cultural moments, up-and-coming singer Elvis Presley appeared on the hugely popular Ed Sullivan Show;during his performance, Elvis utilized his well-known hip gyrations (which had led to the nickname Elvis the Pelvis), and CBS famously refused to show anything from the waist down. As is so often the case, this attempted censorship thoroughly backfired, with the gyrations becoming more famous than ever and the whole experience catapulting Elvis to a significantly greater level of national prominence. Is it possible that the hula hoop represented a national parallel, a communal embrace of this subversive gesture and of the rock and roll sensibility that it literally and figuratively embodied? Maybe—and in a striking coincidence, one connecting these different cultural trends even more explicitly, two years to the day after Presley’s Ed Sullivan appearance the singer Georgia Gibbs appeared on the show to perform her hit “Hula Hoop Song.” Next plaything tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Any fads you’d highlight and analyze?6/12 Memory Day nominee: John Roebling, the German-born civil engineer and architect whose Brooklyn Bridge, while certainly his most famous (and one of America’s best known and most mythologized) project, was one of many pioneering achievements.
June 11, 2012
June 11, 2012: Playing with America, Part 1
[The first in a series on toys, games, and American Studies. Nominations, suggestions, nostalgic childhood memories, and all other responses very welcome!]
On the histories, stories, and effects of the American Girl dolls.There are lots of reasons why it’s crucial to include the study and analysis of material culture as a part of any American Studies approach, but perhaps the most obvious is this: nothing impacts our lives and identities more consistently and fully than the stuff with which we interact. That’s certainly true for adults—he typed on his laptop, just after checking the time on his cell phone and just before getting in his car to go buy lunch—but it’s perhaps even more true for kids; after all, while kids learn about the world and about their specific society through a variety of means, nothing is more central to their day to day life than their playthings, the toys and games with which they occupy so much time. And while there would be many different ways to analyze those childhood material culture artifacts—how and where they’re made, for example, and what those details can reveal about world economies—this week my interest is in what kids, and all of us, might learn about American culture from its toys and games.In most cases, that learning is implicit, requires us to analyze what meanings kids and all of us can find in those playthings; but in the case of today’s subject, the American Girl line of dolls, learning about American history and society has been an explicit and core purpose since the product was first created (in 1986). Pleasant Company’s first three dolls, Samantha, Kirsten, and Molly, were each designed—in their appearance, their clothes and accessories, the back stories and books that came with them, and more—to capture aspects of a particular historical moment (1904, 1854, and 1944, respectively). In the decades since, while the line has branched out to include many contemporary dolls as well, it has likewise added in multiple other periods, as well as different ethnicities and communities: Marie-Grace and Cécile, an interracial pair of friends in antebellum New Orleans; Josefina Montoya, a Mexican American from the 1820s; Kaya, a Nez Perce Native American from the 18th century; and many others. Over these same decades, the small independent company has been purchased by Mattel, and I’m sure there are a whole range of other American Studies narratives to be found in the many changes that expansion have entailed (such as the creation of mega-stores, movies and TV shows, and other products) as well as in the complex relationship between these American Girls and Barbie, that parent company’s most famous (and also still evolving) line of dolls.Yet I think the most interesting and significant material culture analyses don’t focus, at least not solely, on those broader questions and narratives. After all, every individual American Girl doll might be created within those material, economic, social, and ideological worlds, but her destination is a good deal more specific and intimate: the hands of (most likely) another American girl, a young person who is of course influenced by those broader narratives (and many others) but who likewise brings her own evolving identity and perspective to the equation. And if we focus on that more intimate level of experience, a range of new analytical questions open up for us: in what ways does each girl find herself in an American Girl doll, and in what ways does she find something unfamiliar or different? Do the historical and cultural contexts matter to her play, or is the experience more about relatively timeless or universal themes (childhood, gender, family, and so on)? For girls who have more than one doll (or who play with friends who have their own dolls), does it change things to put the different identities and characters in conversation with each other, or is play in one 21st century moment defined more by its own period and contexts than by the dolls’? Needless to say, I don’t have all the answers! I’d love to hear yours, though. More tomorrow,BenPS. So, what do you think? And any other toys or playthings you’d want to analyze? 6/11 Memory Day nominee: Jeannette Rankin, whose historic status as the first woman elected to Congress only scratches the surface of her impressive and inspiring life, activism, and legacies.
On the histories, stories, and effects of the American Girl dolls.There are lots of reasons why it’s crucial to include the study and analysis of material culture as a part of any American Studies approach, but perhaps the most obvious is this: nothing impacts our lives and identities more consistently and fully than the stuff with which we interact. That’s certainly true for adults—he typed on his laptop, just after checking the time on his cell phone and just before getting in his car to go buy lunch—but it’s perhaps even more true for kids; after all, while kids learn about the world and about their specific society through a variety of means, nothing is more central to their day to day life than their playthings, the toys and games with which they occupy so much time. And while there would be many different ways to analyze those childhood material culture artifacts—how and where they’re made, for example, and what those details can reveal about world economies—this week my interest is in what kids, and all of us, might learn about American culture from its toys and games.In most cases, that learning is implicit, requires us to analyze what meanings kids and all of us can find in those playthings; but in the case of today’s subject, the American Girl line of dolls, learning about American history and society has been an explicit and core purpose since the product was first created (in 1986). Pleasant Company’s first three dolls, Samantha, Kirsten, and Molly, were each designed—in their appearance, their clothes and accessories, the back stories and books that came with them, and more—to capture aspects of a particular historical moment (1904, 1854, and 1944, respectively). In the decades since, while the line has branched out to include many contemporary dolls as well, it has likewise added in multiple other periods, as well as different ethnicities and communities: Marie-Grace and Cécile, an interracial pair of friends in antebellum New Orleans; Josefina Montoya, a Mexican American from the 1820s; Kaya, a Nez Perce Native American from the 18th century; and many others. Over these same decades, the small independent company has been purchased by Mattel, and I’m sure there are a whole range of other American Studies narratives to be found in the many changes that expansion have entailed (such as the creation of mega-stores, movies and TV shows, and other products) as well as in the complex relationship between these American Girls and Barbie, that parent company’s most famous (and also still evolving) line of dolls.Yet I think the most interesting and significant material culture analyses don’t focus, at least not solely, on those broader questions and narratives. After all, every individual American Girl doll might be created within those material, economic, social, and ideological worlds, but her destination is a good deal more specific and intimate: the hands of (most likely) another American girl, a young person who is of course influenced by those broader narratives (and many others) but who likewise brings her own evolving identity and perspective to the equation. And if we focus on that more intimate level of experience, a range of new analytical questions open up for us: in what ways does each girl find herself in an American Girl doll, and in what ways does she find something unfamiliar or different? Do the historical and cultural contexts matter to her play, or is the experience more about relatively timeless or universal themes (childhood, gender, family, and so on)? For girls who have more than one doll (or who play with friends who have their own dolls), does it change things to put the different identities and characters in conversation with each other, or is play in one 21st century moment defined more by its own period and contexts than by the dolls’? Needless to say, I don’t have all the answers! I’d love to hear yours, though. More tomorrow,BenPS. So, what do you think? And any other toys or playthings you’d want to analyze? 6/11 Memory Day nominee: Jeannette Rankin, whose historic status as the first woman elected to Congress only scratches the surface of her impressive and inspiring life, activism, and legacies.
June 9, 2012
June 9-10, 2012: Guest Post: Facebook and the Isolated American
[Kisha Tracy is an Assistant Professor of English Studies at Fitchburg State University, where she teaches medieval literature, linguistics, graphic novels, writing, and more. She also blogs at http://massmedieval.wordpress.com/and showcases her photographic talents at http://maskofthewhitenight.wordpress.com/.]
As is the gift or the curse of any academic, our every action, no matter how seemingly quotidian, eventually calls for reflection. Lately, for me, like many others, I have been thinking a great deal about Facebook and other social media. The stirrings of my meditation have been whipped into a frenzy by a recent rash of news articles by various authors as well as a TED talk by Sherry Turkle, “Connected, but alone?”, investigating an emerging fear that social media is contributing to an ironic rise in feelings of disconnection and loneliness. The argument centers on a conundrum. We feel isolated, so we are attracted to the hundreds of connections on Facebook (or your network of choice) in order to reach out, only to be disappointed when the casual relationships that abound there don’t react in a more meaningful way simply because we have mutually agreed to inhabit the same virtual space together. The act of “friending” (a deceptive choice of wording, in my opinion) seems to imply a contract of caring on a deeper level, but the reality is far from satisfying. We want more complexity, yet we turn to mechanisms that promise to make relationships, even supposedly close ones, as easy as a click of the “like” button. Of course, this perspective is only one potential consequence, and it willfully and gleefully ignores the positive types of relationships social networks can create. Still, the emotional impact of such wide-spread phenomena should be considered – on both a cultural and an individual level – if for no other reason than because the thought exercise is intriguing.About a month ago in the midst of my musing, I read Stephen Marche’s article in The Atlantic, “Is Facebook Making Us Lonely?” While it gave me more to think about concerning the above, it added another angle that had not occurred to me: the connection of social networking to the American representation of isolation. Marche writes, “the one common feature in American secular culture is its celebration of the self that breaks away from the constrictions of the family and the state, and, in its greatest expressions, from all limits entirely.” He provides examples from history and literature. The Pilgrims, the cowboy, the astronaut. Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself,” Ralph Waldo Emerson’s “Self-Reliance,” Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. It’s a romantic notion. The ultimate American is the man or woman who needs no one, who forges into the West or into space sustained only by the human spirit. It’s a choice that requires sacrifice; as Marche continues, the “price of self-determination and self-reliance has often been loneliness. But Americans have always been willing to pay that price.” Heading out to sea or into the wilderness to found new land meant leaving behind roots and family traditions. It is true that the accounts of the people who went West are riddled with laments of loneliness, although such emotions didn’t slow the waves of migration.In comparing this American “lonesomeness of the proudly nonconformist, independent-minded, solitary stoic” with the type of isolation that may be forming as a result of social networking, Marche finds them to be very (and disturbingly) different. The main point of departure he cites is Facebook’s demand for constant performance, its “relentlessness” and its appeal to our vanity. When I first read his statements, I nodded in agreement and felt a sense of helpless outrage that the noble solitude of the proud American is being transformed into a staged, never-ending marionette show. Then the part of my brain that tells my students to question everything they read kicked in. Four points in particular come to mind:· First and foremost, we should ask: how much of the image of the “solitary American” is, if we remove the negative connotation, a performance? Marche’s examples are literary and cultural constructions, what we imagine ourselves as being or what we admire rather than perhaps what we are in strict reality.
· Second, Marche comments that the paradoxical flip side of the solitary American coin is the “impulse to cluster in communities that cling and suffocate.” For this, he cites the darker elements of Pilgrim society, the Salem witch trials, McCarthyism. Agreed, these examples are “suffocating communities,” but he fails to mention the communities that have bonded together throughout American history in a mutually beneficial way to survive or to share skills and abilities (he fails to consider the Native American experience as well, but I’ll let that go). Neither isolation nor community is necessarily positive or negative on its own.
· Third, is it truly possible for social media alone to transform such a long-established idea? If Marche’s definition of American isolationism is correct, it has been developed and promoted throughout our history via several cultural practices. It is difficult to connect its possible transformation just to the relatively unrelated advent of Facebook.
· And four – isn’t how each of us interacts with Facebook an individual choice? Marche is careful to state that it is not social media that is responsible for potential transformations; on the contrary, we are making ourselves lonelier. Yet, his final conclusion is that “Facebookdenies us a pleasure whose profundity we had underestimated: the chance to forget about ourselves for a while, the chance to disconnect.” The link Marche does not express is that, as “nonconformist, independent-minded” Americans, it is our right to disconnect if we choose. We can decide not to participate blindly, but to question the quality of our relationships.So is Facebook making us lonely (or lonelier)? Is it changing our image of the self-reliant, solitary American? I certainly ponder its influence on our definitions of relationships. Ultimately, however, my stubborn conclusion is this: only if we let it.Kisha[Ben’s] PS. What do you think? Please share your takes in comments and I’ll make sure to pass ‘em along to Kisha!6/9 Memory Day nominee: Luis Kutner, the pioneering human rights lawyer who co-founded Amnesty International, founded World Habeas Corpus, represented the Dalai Lama and numerous other significant clients, and created the crucial modern concept of the “living will” (among other impressive accomplishments).6/10 Memory Day nominee: Maurice Sendak![image error]
As is the gift or the curse of any academic, our every action, no matter how seemingly quotidian, eventually calls for reflection. Lately, for me, like many others, I have been thinking a great deal about Facebook and other social media. The stirrings of my meditation have been whipped into a frenzy by a recent rash of news articles by various authors as well as a TED talk by Sherry Turkle, “Connected, but alone?”, investigating an emerging fear that social media is contributing to an ironic rise in feelings of disconnection and loneliness. The argument centers on a conundrum. We feel isolated, so we are attracted to the hundreds of connections on Facebook (or your network of choice) in order to reach out, only to be disappointed when the casual relationships that abound there don’t react in a more meaningful way simply because we have mutually agreed to inhabit the same virtual space together. The act of “friending” (a deceptive choice of wording, in my opinion) seems to imply a contract of caring on a deeper level, but the reality is far from satisfying. We want more complexity, yet we turn to mechanisms that promise to make relationships, even supposedly close ones, as easy as a click of the “like” button. Of course, this perspective is only one potential consequence, and it willfully and gleefully ignores the positive types of relationships social networks can create. Still, the emotional impact of such wide-spread phenomena should be considered – on both a cultural and an individual level – if for no other reason than because the thought exercise is intriguing.About a month ago in the midst of my musing, I read Stephen Marche’s article in The Atlantic, “Is Facebook Making Us Lonely?” While it gave me more to think about concerning the above, it added another angle that had not occurred to me: the connection of social networking to the American representation of isolation. Marche writes, “the one common feature in American secular culture is its celebration of the self that breaks away from the constrictions of the family and the state, and, in its greatest expressions, from all limits entirely.” He provides examples from history and literature. The Pilgrims, the cowboy, the astronaut. Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself,” Ralph Waldo Emerson’s “Self-Reliance,” Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. It’s a romantic notion. The ultimate American is the man or woman who needs no one, who forges into the West or into space sustained only by the human spirit. It’s a choice that requires sacrifice; as Marche continues, the “price of self-determination and self-reliance has often been loneliness. But Americans have always been willing to pay that price.” Heading out to sea or into the wilderness to found new land meant leaving behind roots and family traditions. It is true that the accounts of the people who went West are riddled with laments of loneliness, although such emotions didn’t slow the waves of migration.In comparing this American “lonesomeness of the proudly nonconformist, independent-minded, solitary stoic” with the type of isolation that may be forming as a result of social networking, Marche finds them to be very (and disturbingly) different. The main point of departure he cites is Facebook’s demand for constant performance, its “relentlessness” and its appeal to our vanity. When I first read his statements, I nodded in agreement and felt a sense of helpless outrage that the noble solitude of the proud American is being transformed into a staged, never-ending marionette show. Then the part of my brain that tells my students to question everything they read kicked in. Four points in particular come to mind:· First and foremost, we should ask: how much of the image of the “solitary American” is, if we remove the negative connotation, a performance? Marche’s examples are literary and cultural constructions, what we imagine ourselves as being or what we admire rather than perhaps what we are in strict reality.
· Second, Marche comments that the paradoxical flip side of the solitary American coin is the “impulse to cluster in communities that cling and suffocate.” For this, he cites the darker elements of Pilgrim society, the Salem witch trials, McCarthyism. Agreed, these examples are “suffocating communities,” but he fails to mention the communities that have bonded together throughout American history in a mutually beneficial way to survive or to share skills and abilities (he fails to consider the Native American experience as well, but I’ll let that go). Neither isolation nor community is necessarily positive or negative on its own.
· Third, is it truly possible for social media alone to transform such a long-established idea? If Marche’s definition of American isolationism is correct, it has been developed and promoted throughout our history via several cultural practices. It is difficult to connect its possible transformation just to the relatively unrelated advent of Facebook.
· And four – isn’t how each of us interacts with Facebook an individual choice? Marche is careful to state that it is not social media that is responsible for potential transformations; on the contrary, we are making ourselves lonelier. Yet, his final conclusion is that “Facebookdenies us a pleasure whose profundity we had underestimated: the chance to forget about ourselves for a while, the chance to disconnect.” The link Marche does not express is that, as “nonconformist, independent-minded” Americans, it is our right to disconnect if we choose. We can decide not to participate blindly, but to question the quality of our relationships.So is Facebook making us lonely (or lonelier)? Is it changing our image of the self-reliant, solitary American? I certainly ponder its influence on our definitions of relationships. Ultimately, however, my stubborn conclusion is this: only if we let it.Kisha[Ben’s] PS. What do you think? Please share your takes in comments and I’ll make sure to pass ‘em along to Kisha!6/9 Memory Day nominee: Luis Kutner, the pioneering human rights lawyer who co-founded Amnesty International, founded World Habeas Corpus, represented the Dalai Lama and numerous other significant clients, and created the crucial modern concept of the “living will” (among other impressive accomplishments).6/10 Memory Day nominee: Maurice Sendak![image error]
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