Finding Soho

What turns anyone into a ‘cog in the machine’ of repressive state violence, and how does this happen? The philosopher Hannah Arendt investigated this after the Holocaust. How does a person become a weapon of the state, executing actions and inflicting violence (ostensibly legitimately) on behalf of the state, particularly when they know that the victims are innocent (for want of a better word) fellow citizens who have come together to fight for justice. I know that a lot of people would like to claim that they would be immune to the process if they found themselves in that position; that they would resist the state’s demands and injunctions, and not become a tool of repressive violence. But can one really choose to resist at the crucial moment? Can we suddenly break free from the conceptual, physical and economic bonds that tether us to everything that we know as good, true and worthy of obedience? Sure, maybe there were people - in many different historical contexts - who fully belie...

I would like to write an article aimed at academics, and readers who are interested in education and (particularly) higher education. The academic publishing model is staid and exploitative. Writers and their universities are charged exorbitant fees for the privilege of being published. But there is little, if any, editorial support in the process and, as a result, the quality of the work may not be perfect. Most publishers have outsourced their production work to external operators, often in India and the Philippines, to reduce labour costs. This process has been accompanied by a decimation of the role of the editor, who would otherwise play the role of a guardian of quality. This is egregious, particularly in light of the fact that the academic publishing industry is so profitable. Scholars who have English as a second language may not have the flair of the best writers, and may need time to improve the minor language errors that may mar their work. Everything that goes online n...

Using technology that’s nascent and fallible requires an extra level of patience and willingness to relinquish attachments to expectations of perfection and smooth sailing.  Humans are hard-wired to expect routine and tried-and-tested performance. And it’s not easy for us to contend with the uncertainty of system dropouts.  When the expected routine is interrupted, we confront our ingrained fearful reactions to breakdown and failure. Technology compels us to surrender, howeve r unwillingly, to failure. In this way, the event of technical or technological failure is a powerful circuit breaker of our neural circuitry.

How a society treats its weaker and sicker members is a pretty good indicator of its development potential. An underdeveloped country that has a culture of support for social security can potentially quickly and equitably utilise aid and resources to improve quality of life, whereas countries that have a dominant culture of hostility towards weaker citizens and residents are likely to struggle with improvement of quality of life, even with external support. There’s a link between culturally-informed ‘emotional’ attributes (solidarity vs hostility) and socio-economic wellbeing.

Eurovision can teach us a fair few things about life. These are things that we already know but Eurovision helps dramatise the lessons in an inimitably glorious way. Style over substance It is a truth universally acknowledged, that Eurovision is more about pomp, glitz, glamour, pyrotechnics and performance than it is about music per se. It is about exuberance, mirth, irreverent satire, celebration and deep emotion. Happy and cheerful songs; saucy songs; lugubrious songs; bellicose screeches; plaintive cries of longing and loss – Eurovision gives us all genres and emotions. Some of the songs that are performed are absolutely amazing, and there can be little doubt that the singers performing them are virtuosos. But, at Eurovision, performative virtuosity trumps musical virtuosity. Exceptions notwithstanding, performance is paramount. Eurovision is a riotous conflagration of colour and (this year especially) a pyromaniac’s wet dream. Eurovision’s performative and aes...

Some thoughts on the FB ‘scandal’. Privacy is such a fraught concept. If millions of people make their political opinions and preferences known on FB, is it really surprising that this data can be (and is) harnessed? If private corporations have created a business model that is based on the harnessing of user preferences, should politics be exempt? Is it OK for FB to use my data to show me ads for a movie, for example, but not for a politician? User agreement is another interesting piece of the puzzle here.  In this instance, they key contention is that Cambridge Analytica didn't even seek the consent of the people involved (friends of users of the relevant app could have had their data harvested). This is a clear example of a breach of privacy.  But many people appear to be angry more broadly about the fact that their data was used for political purposes.  Of course most people think that they have not explicitly consented to their data being used as part of a po...

Cultural differences between Australians and Americans can extend to and visibly play out in performance spaces. Australian audiences can expect performers to be ‘relaxed’, and to engage them in a jokey, jovial or even blasé manner. Australians might appreciate some self-deprecating humour and like artistes to not take themselves too seriously. They might giggle loudly during breaks in the music to provoke the performer on stage, for example - generally in a good natured way. Americans, on the other hand, can be much more earnest, serious, passionate and intense about their work and perhaps life in general. They might find the Aussie vibe slightly disconcerting. I’m not suggesting that Aussies are unserious. They are very focused and dedicated but appreciate good humour and a self-deprecating disposition, especially in performers and public figures. American performers tend to engage with audiences in a more earnest way. In general, for most of my life, I have also been an earnest and...