Padd Solutions

Converted by Falcon Hive

Showing posts with label society. Show all posts
Showing posts with label society. Show all posts

(Not) Remotely Working

Posted by moses @ 02:19 • , , , , , • 0 comments



In my previous job, I often wondered why we had to travel by air to meet clients.

On one hand, my company was very used to video conferencing. We worked with teams scattered around the globe—some in Europe, some in South Asia, and others in North America. My own team was spread across Asia-Pacific, and so were our clients. Some clients, notably tech companies, were perfectly comfortable with video calls, and we did plenty of online training to take our clients through how to use our products.

On the other hand, some clients were not, and that might mean we had to fly somewhere to have meetings, sometimes just for a few hours. And that often meant ten times the amount of time spent getting to meetings and having them versus if we had just had a video conference—and God knows how many times bigger the carbon footprint.

The company might be global and online, but a local, physical presence was sometimes demanded of it.

Fast forward to today, the world is in the grip of a pandemic. Suddenly, almost everything had to be done remotely, whether people like it or not. By now, I have had quite a lot of experience using Zoom and other video conferencing and presentation tools, and I find myself doling out advice here and there to people who are trying them out for the first time, including church groups who are moving their meetings online. Well, Jesus did say, "For where two or three gather together in My name, there am I with them." It's certainly interesting to think about Jesus lurking in the background on Zoom.

And, on that note, it's much easier to be a silent participant when you are not physically present.



Yawning or coughing during a meeting? (Photo: yanalya - www.freepik.com)

Let's face it, doing something remotely is often not as effective as being present while you're doing it—whether that means time being wasted unproductively doing everything else at home, or people simply being disengaged while having an online meeting with disembodied voices. Yes, that's the price we pay for our lack of physical presence in a purposeful environment. And, of course, it's a price we can often afford to pay if we take into account the material, environmental, psychological and health costs of having to always be in an office to get something done.

But there is a price. And in the current rush to proclaim the goodness of doing things remotely, the faddish world is rushing headlong into a different extreme.

As I go through every social media posting like everyone else these days, I'm quite amazed by the sudden explosion in the number of proud introverts. Have I just never noticed, or have introverts become very extroverted about their introversion now that they have a good excuse?

I'm an introvert too, at least according to various personality tests, but I find myself kind of sad about people using the virus as a reason to fall silent and quietly drop their participation in group activities because these activities no longer involve their physical presence. I'm probably guilty of that myself. I suppose, at the end of the day, we are sensory beings, and the lack of physical tangibility might confuse our minds and our perception.

As my past study in the philosophy of mind suggests, we learn about the world through our sensory-motor functions, and hence anything that does not engage most or all of our senses may seem less real and, as such, less important to us.



 Trump knows what to do (Photo: Nicholas Kamm - Getty Images)

So what does this mean in the days of #StayHome? Doing things remotely is great, and I wish people had embraced it more willingly earlier, but it does require that we invest effort into making sure we are doing things like we would if we were physically present. It means not turning into ghosts just because we can more easily evade notice. It means not letting our introvert selves turn us into phantoms of a dark basement, whose voice can only occasionally be heard.

Make remote working great again. Shut down the borders to bad home-based habits.

(Okay, I'll stop now.)


Top image created by makyzz - www.freepik.com

Singapore: Missing the Forest for the Fees

Posted by moses @ 00:04 • , , , , • 0 comments


This post is a social commentary I wrote as the editor of sociopolitical site Inconvenient Questions.

----------


There is an inherent tension between preservation and development. Has Singapore leaned too much towards development in its quest for economic progress? Could this tendency have eroded Singaporeans’ sense of connection to their country?

A controversy over building the Cross Island MRT Line through part of Singapore’s Central Catchment Nature Reserve flared up recently. The government has promised to consult the public and conduct careful studies before arriving at a decision, but some are not convinced that it is willing to compromise on cost.

Yet others are asking why nature lovers are so up-in-arms about this issue. Should they not be supportive of the government’s balanced approach? Are they just being irrational treehuggers?

Facts and practical arguments aside, and indeed those are not yet settled at this point, I can understand the groundswell of anger at the prospect of damaging the nature reserve. The feeling of loss is something that Singaporeans have often experienced with regard to their surroundings, and it may not get any easier each time.

As a Singaporean, one of the strategies for coping with life in Singapore is not to get too attached to your surroundings. You may love that spot, that structure, that area or that forest; the next thing you know, they might have been altered permanently or even removed.

The reasons for this can be both public and private. Spiralling rental costs have eliminated some of our favourite haunts—places like Borders bookstore at Wheelock Place, for example. Property developers keen to ensure ever-increasing rents have also gone to great lengths to ‘upgrade’ and change familiar surroundings.

In other instances, the inexorable march of public machinery—literally and figuratively— have ripped the living proof of our memories out of existence, such as in the case of the old National Library building. If part of the Central Catchment Nature Reserve will ultimately be damaged by the construction of a new MRT line, who should really be surprised at that outcome?



 A casualty of the ever-forward march of progress: The old National Library building. (Photo: Timothy)

Sometimes we may wonder whether all this is necessary or unavoidable. Certainly, the
authorities would be inclined to say “Yes”: We cannot afford to stay still, and the desire for
preservation has to be balanced with the need for development.

But if almost no place and no sliver of sentimental attachment is sacred, if we must always
be prepared to sacrifice these things at the altar of economic progress, then who can blame
people for feeling little connection to the country they live in?

Could we seek solace in artistic forms of expression? Has much of that not also been
meticulously pruned away to satisfy both a pragmatic worldview and a narrow vision of an
orderly society? So where else can we anchor our desire for meaning in being Singaporean
that goes beyond just our location and our passports?

For many of us, the answer would be family and friends—we want to live in Singapore
because they are here. But people are more mobile than ever, and communications
technology is getting better by the day. Not being here or not having a Singapore passport
does not necessarily mean losing touch with family and friends.

We may need the time and opportunity to be attached to our surroundings in order to better
appreciate what it means to live here and to be ‘locals’. Top-down feel good campaigns or
spontaneous exhortations to shout “Majulah!” can feel empty and forced. As important, if
not more important, to our sense of identity as a people are natural outgrowths of sentiment
stemming from the places, customs and languages that we live with—things that have all
been affected by at least one official campaign or another.

As things stand, the relationship for many is merely a marriage of convenience—if we really
question ourselves, how many of us are here only because the country is safe and
prosperous? What happens when there is a better prospect out there?

It is not that we can always choose to preserve everything, or that some trade-off between
identity and growth is not necessary. However, we must recognise our national ideology for
what it is; and hard pragmatism does not come without a cost. When we wonder why, as
some people do, potentially more than 50% of Singaporeans want to leave or why many
would not die for the country, we should acknowledge that the lack of personal connection
may be a price our nation pays for taking this path.

 Top image created by Liyana Yeo; photo of MacRitchie Reservoir by RickDeye.

“If You Don’t Like It Here, Get Out!”

Posted by moses @ 20:45 • , , , • 0 comments


This post is a political commentary I wrote as the editor of sociopolitical site Inconvenient Questions. It also appeared on Yahoo News.

 ----------

Asking unhappy people to leave is a favourite debating tactic of some Singaporeans. If you care about Singapore, however, such an approach is ultimately counterproductive. It also goes against the grain of the Government’s current approach towards Singaporeans moving overseas.

That line above or something similar is what you would invariably see if you read enough comments about local issues on social media. It is the rebuttal of choice of some ‘patriots’, wielded against critics who are unhappy about one thing or another in this country.

Admittedly, the lure of greener pastures can be very tempting and many Singaporeans appear to think so. In a survey conducted in 2012, more than half of Singaporeans (56%, to be exact) say they would migrate if given a choice.

One could jump through hoops to explain away this result, or even question the credibility of the survey. But while it is debateable whether or not the majority of Singaporeans are really unhappy here, such a statistic should concern those who care about the future of our country. After all, what is left of a country when most of its people are no longer willing to stay?

This issue of commitment is even more salient for countries like ours that rely on regular citizens to maintain its security. Singapore’s deterrent against foreign aggression depends in large part on its relatively large reserve force comprising Singaporeans who have been called up for National Service. If we are not committed to defending the country when the need arises, the result could be disastrous. Thus, it is vital that Singaporeans of all stripes remain invested in the fate of our nation.

Hence, telling people to leave if they are unhappy is not a forward-thinking approach for those who really care about Singapore’s future. What any true patriot should be doing instead is to ask how they can keep as many Singaporeans as possible interested in, and engaged with, the country’s progress.


Abraham Lincoln once famously said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” (Photo: Wes Dickinson)

But there is another problem with asking people to leave: It also goes against the spirit of Government policy towards the issue of Singaporeans moving out.

In a recent trip to New York, Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong met with overseas Singaporeans there and told them to “Keep in touch with home, keep in touch with us… and one day come back home to Singapore.” His gentle exhortation is a long way away from then Prime Minister Goh Chok Tong’s rebuke – almost 15 years ago – calling some overseas Singaporeans “quitters”.  This new approach indicates that the Government is keen not on pushing Singaporeans out and cutting off ties, but on having us remain emotionally invested in our country even if we leave.

Indeed, the Government’s Overseas Singaporean Unit works with other agencies such as Contact Singapore to ensure that overseas Singaporeans are kept engaged. Considering that our Government has such a rational approach towards keeping Singaporeans as close to the country as possible – if not physically, then at least emotionally – should this not be supported by those who truly believe in the Government’s wisdom?

Finally, equality, a value that is mentioned in our national pledge, means everyone’s voice carries weight – even if you vehemently disagree with what some people say. Asking people to leave if they are unhappy is to deny that their voice matters and is therefore a rejection of equality. No matter how one looks at it, that cannot be the right or productive approach.

It must be said that political discussions among Singaporeans might not become much more rational or less acrimonious than they are now. Nevertheless, it is still better to talk to those who disagree than to ask them to get out of the country. After all, if there is no one left to debate politics and policies with, Singapore will probably be the poorer for it.

Immigration and the Singapore Identity

Posted by moses @ 20:15 • , , , • 0 comments


This post is a political commentary I wrote as the editor of sociopolitical site Inconvenient Questions. It also appeared on Yahoo News.

----------

The furore following Member of Parliament Denise Phua’s statement describing congregations of foreign workers as “walking time-bombs” reflects Singapore’s ambivalence towards the presence of foreigners. Representing her constituency of Jalan Besar, Ms Phua had proposed fencing off communal areas to keep foreign workers out, no doubt in response to concerns from local citizens. While our society needs the services of foreign workers, many Singaporeans are uneasy about the impact of their influx on matters ranging from safety to the condition of local culture.

So where do we go from here? To start with, perhaps it would be useful look at the example of the most well-known immigrant society of all – The United States of America.

A hundred years ago, immigrants first arriving at New York City would have disembarked in full view of the Statue of Liberty, a monument that Franklin D. Roosevelt honoured in 1936 as an icon of immigration. Today, 80 years later, aspiring American presidential candidate Donald Trump is able to capitalise on a groundswell of discontent with immigration for his campaign.

How did a nation of immigrants and the richest country in the world end up with this much disdain for something that lies at the foundation of its society?

The truth is (new) immigration has always been an issue among the American public. Recent immigrants have often been looked at as a threat to American values. If this sounds familiar to us in Singapore, that would be because the theme of cultural difference is universal. And, just as ironically, we too are a nation built on immigration.

By now, multiracialism and multiculturalism are no longer radical ideas. Yet many modern societies are struggling with the question of immigration, a perennial issue punctuated by shocks such as terrorism and the influx of refugees. In Singapore, where a nation of millions must live together in a tight space, this question is perhaps even more salient. Can our society handle large numbers of immigrants?

With the non-resident population making up slightly more than a quarter of the total population, Singaporeans are naturally concerned about the competition for jobs, the erosion of national identity and overcrowding. As the arrest of 27 Bangladeshi workers under the ISA reminds us, there are also concerns about security and the threat of radicalised groups or criminals finding their way into the country.

Most of these problems could be seen as matters of governance, things that can perhaps be left to experts and officials. However, something that our penchant for hard-headed policymaking and planning alone cannot resolve is the issue of Singapore’s culture and identity. We need to decide as a society what our culture and identity will look like in the coming decades, and this is a process that has no correct answers.


Foreign workers enjoying their break in Little India. (Photo: Nicky Loh)

There are three distinct paths that we can go down. One is the American ‘melting pot’ model of conflict and natural assimilation: There is little or no government intervention and immigrants are left to form self-reliant enclaves. Historically, these groups were often hostile to each other and to the ‘locals’, even spawning violent gangs that featured notorious characters such as Al Capone. Only after generations did these groups eventually assimilate into American society, becoming part of the tapestry of American culture with contributions such as Italian American cuisine and common Yiddish loanwords like ‘chutzpah’.

This path is the least likely to be deliberately chosen in Singapore due to our size and perceived vulnerability to any social instability or disharmony that might result.

The second way is to define what Singaporean culture and identity are and use them as benchmarks for ‘Singaporeanness’ in assimilating immigrants. This could be done by returning to classic or mythologised ideas of what it means to be Singaporean or by synthesising those ideas today. There is a tendency for members of the public to engage in this when they treat qualities such as the ability to speak Singlish correctly as identity markers and yardsticks for ‘Singaporeanness’. Similarly, when Member of Parliament Darryl David proposed that English proficiency should be a criterion for citizenship, he was essentially advocating the same path.

While it might be the most intuitive method for many Singaporeans, this path is also likely to be exclusionary as it sets a high bar for assimilation for immigrants, many of whom come from cultures that are very different from ours. If integration is a goal, this method might even make the process more difficult.

The third path is to include immigrants’ culture as part of a new and evolving Singaporean identity. This would entail fusing elements of the different cultures with local Singapore culture to create an inclusive model. For example, local languages and Singlish could expand to include Mainland Chinese, Filipino or Bangladeshi words, while food from the different immigrant communities could be included as staples of local cuisine.

From the perspective of integration, this would be the easiest path as it allows immigrants to retain their identity to some extent and feel a sense of familiarity towards local culture. However, in practice, it would likely encounter difficulties arising from resentment among local Singaporeans, many of whom might feel that the local culture is being watered down.

In the end, the likelihood is no matter how we go about trying to resolve the question of our culture and identity, our approach will end up being an amalgamation of these three paths. Nonetheless, one of them will likely be the dominant path, and that will determine much of what our sense of community and social fabric will be like in the decades to come.

It's Time

Posted by moses @ 05:00 • , , , , • 0 comments


With so many things that are happening and that have happened, I've decided to fire up my blog again.
Singapore is going into election day, and the media has been abuzz with election-related news and discussions. The parties in the opposition have received unprecedentedly positive attention this election cycle, and the role of social media in contemporary politics is undoubtedly the primary contributing factor.

My social media is full of messages in support of the opposition, although there certainly are enough supporters of the ruling party as well (especially the wealthier, conservative or typically apolitical people). It actually seems to have become quite a norm. And judging from the attendance at the opposition rallies, the sentiment on the ground is also pretty warm.

I think Singapore politics will see exciting days ahead. Like it or not, we are seeing a trend where we can expect more successful politicians to be those who have their ears closer to the ground. There are more debates among the public, and politicians of all stripes will have to be responsive to public sentiment, balancing traditional rationality with an appeal to citizens' passions.

But unlike conservative ideologues in Singapore, I will not hasten to trot out the label 'populism' here, because responsiveness and accountability to the electorate is part and parcel of a democratic system. 
Too often, modern audiences are fixated on procedural democracy—on the process of holding elections—as well as on the representative part of democracy. However, the traditional idea of democracy was not usually limited to having an elected aristocracy. In democratic thinking, the people are meant to have a say in how they are governed. There is populism, and then there is democracy; the latter does not necessarily translate to the former just because one party no longer has a free hand to rule as they see fit.

Understandably, many in Singapore will feel some trepidation about the opening of the floodgates. Are we as a society ready for the full democratic experience? Will we be able to maintain current levels of prosperity when the ruling party no longer dominates local politics with impunity?

No matter who is in charge, the future will remain uncertain. As the financiers say, past success is not indicative of future performance. For now, it's time to prepare ourselves for societal change.


Shadows of the past

Posted by moses @ 12:15 • , , , • 0 comments


Many things are more deterministic than we think. We are not so different from who we used to be. Even societies may persist with their old ways, unbeknownst to its members, long after the reins have changed hands.

Simply put, we are constrained by our past choices and directions—a phenomenon known as path dependency. We cannot simply change the direction in which we are moving at any time of our choosing because we cannot will away the present consequences and implications of the past.

Hence, while we often wonder why a problem cannot be fixed, the answer can be found in history.

Why is creativity and entrepreneurship so underdeveloped in this society, for example? That is to a large extent a colonial legacy. Colonial governments were focused on the extraction of resources and the development of trade in the colonies for the benefit of the empire. These required the establishment of strong bureaucracies and civil services to administrate the territories in a stable and efficient way. Hence, education in a colony was geared towards training local elites to be obedient but skilled administrators, not towards developing critical thinkers, leaders and entrepreneurs. This system was then found to be convenient by the new government of the independent colony, who continued to have need of able administrators and to desire stability and quick prosperity. The system, therefore, remains entrenched.

So there's the answer. We cannot so easily abandon what we were—the past casts long shadows on any probable future.

Barking up the wrong (money) tree

Posted by moses @ 12:11 • , , , , , • 0 comments


Recently, someone asked, "Do the humanities have a future?" They certainly do have a future, but I'm not optimistic it would be something that I would consider to be good.

Not everyone thinks the same way, though. In the first place, their notion of what is good for the humanities is different. Some cite the proportionately higher numbers of humanities graduates employed in management roles as a sign that the humanities are in a good place. Others reporting less stellar outlooks note that someone with a humanities degree still tends to earn more than someone without a degree, and that when the economy picks up, questions regarding the future of the humanities will die down again as graduates have a much easier time finding work.

However, these seem to be rather odd things to say where the humanities are concerned. In modern society, common wisdom has it that education and industry should function symbiotically, with schools feeding industry with the manpower and skilled personnel that it needs. But the humanities often impart a very different worldview, one where human life is far richer than simply work life; one where the goal of learning is not just to make money or to become a useful cog in the industrial machine.

If one takes the lessons from the humanities seriously, then one would be quite ill-suited for the kind of life where economic concerns are to be privileged above everything else. One would therefore be at a disadvantage in an environment driven overwhelmingly by competition for economic advancement. Thus, someone who has a bad career progression in modern industrial society, or someone who is consumed by internal conflict, seems quite a natural product of education in the humanities today.

So if the success of the humanities is to be measured by society by how well their graduates are advancing themselves economically, then I'd say that the future of the humanities is bleak indeed. How can it be otherwise, when they are made to produce what they were ideologically never supposed to produce?

O tempora, o mores!

Posted by moses @ 15:59 • , , • 0 comments


I was recently asked one of those questions by old people that went like this: "Is it true that young people these days are more sensitive and need to be handled gently?" My reply was that that really isn't true, or at least that's beside the point. What is true is that the younger generation today expect to be treated with respect. And, obviously, not all young people are pampered, witless kids anyway.

Certainly, the hollow and delusional pronouncements made by the dreamier ones, like the many vacuous 'Gen Y manifestos', don't do anything to help. What needs to be done is to give a proper account of the general trends in which the younger generations find themselves, and not speculate about how individual upbringing contributes to the collective character of the youth.

Complaining that young people don't have the right qualities, that they are lazy and addicted to easy living, is a recurring behaviour and tradition that dates back to ancient times. Socrates was supposed to have said, "Children nowadays are tyrants. They contradict their parents, gobble their food, and tyrannise their teachers." And such quotes from the ancients, whether or not they are verifiable, have been trotted out for centuries, suggesting that concerns about the morals and behaviour of youth are certainly not a new thing.

In this light, all the talk about the "entitled generation" seems myopic, even navel-gazing. And it overlooks the fact that the younger generations do deal with their own problems, as such perks as stable employment and certainty increasingly become a thing of the past.

What is actually happening, then, is that society seems to be getting more used to living with the idea of democratisation.  Our political and social systems are beginning to cast off the mantle of the old patriarchal, authoritarian structures, and the wide availability of information today means the elders have less of a monopoly on knowledge through their experience. This means the youth of today feel less need to be silent and quiescent before their elders and their ‘betters’. Consequently, they expect more respect from their fellow human beings and have less unquestioning respect for authority. That is why shouting at them doesn't have the effect that you were expecting.

It seems to me a positive thing if people respected each other more no matter who they are. Thus, it seems that this is something that the older generations can learn from the youth of today. Are they willing to accept this, though, or will they stick to their guns? How they react would show which generation is in fact the better one.

Privilege and want: Unpacking the terms

Posted by moses @ 14:30 • , , • 0 comments


What is a legitimate want in our society?

Living in a materialistic society at once obsessed with survival and with accumulating wealth like Singapore, legitimate wants seem to stop at the fulfillment of one's basic material needs–one has no right to demand anything else beyond that, and what is excluded ranges from things like political freedom to self-fulfillment. Those who have the basic needs fulfilled are by definition speaking from a position of privilege and can therefore never claim to be wronged by the system.

But the fact of the matter is people want different things. Some may indeed be happy with a safe and mundane life where they just work and spend their money; others may not be. Labeling those who are not as "ungrateful" or asking them to leave is simply a demonstration of the inability to see outside of the box that you have placed your mind in.

Yes, in a society with a developed economy, all of us can be said to speak from a somewhat privileged position. Most of us are privileged in that we don't actually need to be overly concerned with our survival (despite the political scaremongering). Our issues can be described as, quite literally, 'First World problems'.

Be that as it may, the problem of having a narrow range of legitimate wants has to do the goals of national development. As long as the state ideology is predicated on the notion of development as a single-track route to economic prosperity, our state and our society would be unable to comprehend the multiplicity of human goals. And because of that, our society would continue to be keen on imposing the same goals for everyone. And this is precisely why, on one hand, people are feeling stifled and, on the other, there are retorts that label such people as "ungrateful".

So, in this light, perhaps we need to be careful in referring to issues beyond basic material needs as 'First World problems'. While it may conventionally be correct, the term is misleading at the same time, as it assumes that 'First World' is a kind of privileged position that everyone in the world aspires or must aspire to. That is manifestly untrue. Yes, it's nice to have good nutrition and an adequate wardrobe as a matter of course. But some people are willing to trade some luxury off for more fulfilling human experiences. I think this is a reasonable desire, and it cannot be dismissed by simply invoking privilege.


The plank in the eye

Posted by moses @ 14:42 • , , • 0 comments


Many Singaporeans are accused of being armchair critics who criticise their government and their country without grasping the finer points of governance. That is often true enough, but sometimes the armchair critics are on the other side. One such example is a blog post by a travel writer who lambasts Singaporeans for their "hypercriticality". Below, I have reproduced my reply to the post.

---

Wow... where do I begin? A wealthy tourist likes a place and goes on to proclaim that the people who live there just don't appreciate what they have. Can you see where this is going?

Yes, sometimes one needs to take a step back to get some perspective. But, to put it bluntly, why do you presume to be able to tell those people 'the truth' either? Do you not realise that you too have a particular perspective that is lacking in its own way; i.e. lacking in the everyday experience of living in that place you're talking about.

If couched as a simple reminder to take a step back or a deep breath, then, sure, you may be doing those people a service by writing this. But, as it is, the piece literally compares the people you're discussing to children. If that is not extremely patronising coming from an outsider, then I don't know what is. It's reminiscent of colonial writers from the empire writing about the colonies and their denizens without a serious attempt at understanding the subject matter. It's presumptuous and sickening.

I'm not trying to make this personal. Perhaps I'm being, in a typical way, "hypercritical". But I'm truly astounded by the lack of perspective this piece itself exhibits. And, if it makes sense, that deficiency takes the form of being ostensibly unaware of its own perspective.

Positively poisonous

Posted by moses @ 10:37 • , • 0 comments


The ineffectual complainer is a hateful figure. But much more insidious is the ever-accepting positive person who is a force of inertia in society.

Chances are you know a few: The people who are always trying to get others to look on the bright side; who cannot accept any negativity; who may regard any criticism as unproductive by definition, professing to prefer 'action' (regardless of whether action by itself would actually change anything).

These types are insidious and even downright dangerous because they are disarmingly benign. They are also eminently lovable—certainly to the recipients of criticism, but also because they engender positive emotions in others who are taken in by their attitudes. They negate critique and actively try to get society to ignore ugly truths.

Suppose a man-made disaster happens in a society. These are the people who would advocate not pointing fingers—as was the case in the aftermath of the 2008 financial crisis. They ignore the fact that not laying any blame would likely result in similar disasters happening again in the future, due to the failure to enforce any form of accountability.

Even if these positive people are simply genuinely positive by nature, they must always be treated with a healthy dose of skepticism. It may be difficult—their positive emotions are infectious. But if they are allowed to be dominant, society's progress towards a more positive future would, ironically, be slowed.

Film review: The Dark Knight Rises

Posted by moses @ 05:07 • , , , , , , , • 0 comments



I'd finally gotten round to seeing The Dark Knight Rises last month, and, frankly, I enjoyed it. As such, although the film—like Nolan's other works—did not leave me with much of a lasting impression, I will not be too critical of it, acknowledging the film for what it is: An encapsulation of Hollywood at its flashiest.

Certainly, one may detect proto-fascist undertones in the film. The Dark Knight Rises tells us, after all, that raw violence and not money or influence is the ultimate source of power—Bruce Wayne's wealth and position may get him all his fancy gadgets, but he could not defeat Bane until he trained himself up physically and prevailed against his adversary in a slugging match.

Nevertheless, I will not go as far as to say that The Dark Knight Rises' politics are regressive or backward. For one, the film strikes me as partly an attempt to articulate a contemporary brand of political consciousness; although it does so in a traditional comic-book-hero fashion, hence the seemingly more backward elements in its symbolisms. The film's favouring of muscle power over sophisticated methods could, for example, simply be explained by the film's comic book roots.

The Batman of the Nolan films is also very much a traditional comic book hero. He is basically benevolent, despite his psychological scars and his initial motivation to seek vengeance. And he fights for a supposedly universal sense of justice while remaining outside of the political and legal systems. The latter is an especially important aspect in The Dark Knight Rises, and it has been given a contemporary twist: The legal and political system of Gotham are structurally unable to solve the city's serious crime problem, and it's thanks to the work of a vigilante hero that the city is saved—a narrative that banks heavily on today's post-crises distrust of traditional institutions.

But Batman isn't just Batman; he is also Bruce Wayne, whose wealth and technological expertise can save the world in their own right. How he uses or does not use them is bound to be interesting. And it turns out that he chooses not to use them except in aid of his role as the vigilante hero—all because of his fear that someone might misuse whatever technological marvel he came up with that could, on the other hand, have untold benefits for humankind.

Not only that, while fighting crime as Batman, the wealthy and powerful Bruce Wayne does little or nothing to transform the legal and political systems that are part of Gotham's problem. As such, Bruce Wayne/Batman stands for the contemporary reluctance to rock the boat too hard, representing our bitterness towards the capitalist/democratic system that is, at the same time, tempered by an unwillingness to cast it aside. Nolan's Batman is thus the hero of today: A benevolent but broadly non-interventionist patriarch, shaking his head at the excesses of late capitalist society but letting it go on nonetheless, only scraping at the mould on the rotting meat. If anything, the world must be "ready" for utopia before it can be given it—or, more correctly, it must ready itself, because he is too cynical to help it along.

Where radical movement and revolution are represented in the film, they are portrayed as simply a big con job perpetrated by the terrorist Bane, who is not actually interested in emancipating the people. Even then, when Bane's motives are finally revealed, the film plainly steers clear of any portrayal of ideological conflict. The origins of the war (on terror) can ultimately be attributed to family drama, a perennial bourgeois favourite of a genre since when novels were the most prevalent form of mass entertainment.

Thus, it's difficult not to see the film as reactionary, a middle class abrogation of things like the Occupy movement, or perhaps even a vision in a Tea Party reverie with Bruce Wayne standing in for the Koch brothers. However, it is probably overstating the case to say, for example, that the film advocates fascist politics or plain old feudalism. After all, I would hesitate to attribute a nefarious genius to a politically-flat director like Nolan. Instead, I would suggest that the film was primarily made to entertain and, like many other films, to make money, and that its haphazard politics are merely an accident, the result of the film being made in contemporary times.

Thinking that way certainly helped me switch off and enjoy the mindless entertainment while it lasted.

Whine and Dine: Singaporeans and food elitism

Posted by moses @ 16:15 • , , , , • 0 comments


The whole controversy over Dîner en Blanc in Singapore is really a storm in a teacup; it's a trivial matter that isn't worth all the fuss that has been made about it.

But the reactions towards it are, nevertheless enlightening—they tell us quite a lot about how people think and what our society is like.

What happened is as follows: Dîner en Blanc, a pop-up, invite-only picnic is being organised in Singapore as its first Asian location. Thousands are keen to go the exclusive event, which has large groups of people dressed in white meet for an evening of 'fine dining', learning of the location of the event only from the organizers just before it occurs.

In every Dîner en Blanc event, there are strict rules that, according to the organisers, “[recall] the elegance and glamour of court society”: Guests must attend with a member of the opposite sex, men and women sit across each other in a planned arrangement, and guests must bring their own food, white tables, chairs, fine china crockery and dress only in white—in short, it's a stuffy event that makes itself out to be too good for everyone.

Along came food blogger Daniel Ang, who recommended 12 white-coloured local dishes to bring to the dinner. The blogger, an invited guest, was told by the organizers to take down his post and was then uninvited because the food he recommended was deemed unsuitable. Angered, he shot back, stating, "You can disrespect me as a blogger, and disrespect my blog posts, but you do not disrespect my culture,” adding that “Singapore local delicacies are the classiest foods ever in our hearts.”

To begin with, the indignation of the food blogger has an element of irony in it. Sure, it's annoying to be excluded, and in his position I might react the same way. But it isn't as shocking as it might seem. After all, this is an event that celebrates 'fine dining' à la "court society"—we can expect food elitism to come with the territory.

Moreover, a raison d'être of food blogs is to promote certain discerning eating habits. These may not necessarily be more exclusive than the concept of good taste itself, but by touting certain gastronomic preferences and tastes as 'good', these blogs are likely to be guilty of some measure of food elitism as well.

Further still, while 'fine dining' may arguably be all a matter of presentation and, therefore, quite an arbitrary concept, this is probably not unfamiliar territory to food bloggers. Indeed, in giving his recommendations on what local food to bring, Mr. Ang said:
Tau hway is a simple, inexpensive and elegant dessert. Jazz it up to be served on a fine China bowl, and it will look good.
Such a statement displays perfect awareness of the conventions of 'fine dining'. Perhaps the organisers' outright ban of local offerings caught him by surprise, but it's far from inconceivable—he knew what kind of business he was getting into.

Hence, the disagreement between the blogger and the organisers doesn't stem from radically differing views on food and gastronomy, but from differing views on what kinds of food fall within the category of 'fine dining'.

So it would be a mistake to see the blogger as an agent of a conflict between a gastronomic/cultural elite and the masses—he is more or less aligned with the elite; it's just that he has been excluded by a particular group of elites and is crying foul over it. His liking for food that is also consumed by the masses does not make him the face of the latter any more than Paul Ryan liking Rage Against the Machine makes him the face of the Occupy movement.

In this vein, much of the public anger over the incident is at best misplaced and at worst disingenuous. The fact that such an absurdly elitist event exists—and that many want to go to it—should have raised disdainful eyebrows from the start. Yet Singaporeans choose to be angry, and to be angry over the fact that certain local food items have been rejected by the organisers. If those items hadn't been rejected, many of them might even have felt pride that what they eat is considered 'classy' enough. So those people aren't angry about elitism; they are angry, like the blogger, over the fact that their tastes have expressly been excluded from the endorsement of an elite.

Worse, some have turned this into a matter of national pride, as though the rejection is a grave insult to the nation. The foreigners have done it again, it would seem—they have once again shown that they have no respect for local culture and customs.

If our national pride depended on the status of some food items, then it's a worthless thing indeed. But, more interestingly, this corroborates my previous observation that many people aren't actually feeling angry about what they say or think they are: In actuality, they are angry that their tastes are not considered good enough by an elite; they are angry that foreigners have come to take their jobs away and have altered the cultural landscape. Little or no part of their self-righteous outrage is really about the preposterousness of an extreme kind of food elitism that may signify an increasingly unequal society. It's really just dog whistle politics belying xenophobia and a deep-seated inferiority complex that—I would say—is the product of a highly-controlled society.

So let's be more honest about the underlying agenda here: What are we really mad about?

And the moral of the story is not that we should banish all forms of elitism; that would be impossible, especially in a 'meritocratic' society like ours. Rather, we should acknowledge that all of us practice some form of elitism, that we often like to present our tastes as good and better than others'. This will help to put things in perspective so we can reject the most egregious examples of elitism without knee-jerk reactions that only demonstrate how stupidly oblivious we are to our own positions. And that entails steering well clear of things like Dîner en Blanc, and not complaining loudly only after having been excluded.

Don't bet on the Batman

Posted by moses @ 16:37 • , , , , , , • 0 comments



Upon hearing that a massacre had occurred during a premiere of the latest iteration of the Batman films, some people asked, "Where was Batman?"

Perhaps the joke, all jokes are not an appropriate response to such a tragedy. But this is also a singularly powerful question. Indeed, where was—is—Batman?

Of course. He's not real. Batman is fiction. Everyone except some kids (and maybe some delusional fools) knows that. People can be expected to know the difference between reality and the superhero fiction, can't they? Well, can they?

Most people know that superheroes don't exist. But to what extent do they grasp this fact? I mean, why do people like superhero stories? The modern trend in fiction may be to humanise superheroes, to depict the conflicted and flawed hero. But they're still superheroes—they are still powerful; they can still solve the world's problems, even if they must bleed and sacrifice much in the process. Perhaps stories like Watchmen defy this convention altogether, but not the Batman films.

Christopher Nolan's Batman is a tortured hero, a hero who has to mask himself as a villain. But the audience are well aware that he is hero. And the fantasy of the mighty superhero, furthermore, is not shattered. People can expect Batman to save the world within the big screen. They want to savour—even just a shadow of it—the excitement that springs from the knowledge that a saviour is here to fight for them. Fiction melds with reality; the story is not real, but physiological reaction to it is.

That is why the massacre is semiologically powerful—a horrible crime is occurring while the superhero is 'present' on the big screen, a demonstrably flat image that interacts with the world purely as illusion. It's not even impotent; it's nothing at all. The mirage is shattered completely by the jarring reality of a tragedy unfolding simultaneously. Thus, observers may be prompted to ask, "Where was this hero?" Of course they'd known that he doesn't exist. But this incident makes them realise that anew and takes the realisation to a higher, uncanny level.

The death of the superhero, a theme that has been explored in fiction, is not as devastating to the fantasy as the real deaths of superhero fans in front of the big screen.

However, while many of us may intuit this, not everyone will realise what it means. Take, for example, this Facebook comment about the survivors:
All I can say is send them a hero Chris send the dark knight to the hospital for them, so the children know there are real heroes out there, and that evil won't win
This is exactly the kind of sentiment that should have been extinguished by this incident. Yet people want to hold on to the fantasy and, worse, to perpetuate it by instilling the same delusion in children—the notion that there is a simple fix to the big problems that can be accomplished by a few mighty and benevolent individuals.

Perhaps adults have a vested interest in raising children who are naïve and docile. Some of them had probably been raised to be that way themselves. But the use of a crutch is symptomatic of disability—this much-needed delusion reveals people's psychological inability to steer away from a petty existence waiting for salvation.

Those people have got it the wrong way around. If they did exist, superheroes would exist because people are unable to fight for themselves. Thus, instead of wishing that they did exist, we should want their existence to be unnecessary. That, not having a superhero around, would be truly empowering.

Please subvert

Posted by moses @ 16:08 • , , , , • 0 comments


Art and patronage has a complicated relationship. The reason is simple: Whoever pays for and facilitates the creation of art tends to influence the direction of art.

While this may be an ordinary thing in the art market, where artworks are freely hawked like any other commodity, it presents a problem for political art of the subversive kind. Art that receives state patronage is by definition art that is approved by the state; it therefore has limited subversive potential. Subversive art must hence be art that is not explicitly approved by the state; and an artistic object or act that is extra-legal is thus a good candidate for subversive art.

The arrest of the 'Sticker Lady' in Singapore and the subsequent online furore provides a good entry point for a discussion about the relationship between the state and subversive art.

From the point of view of the state, what she did was an act of vandalism or (if the distinction matters) at least that of the defacing of public property; to many, it was art. These are irreconcilable viewpoints not just because the state is not the best arbiter of what is and what is not art, which is a complex debate not suited to the dry legalist realm of discourse, but also because what she did is so compelling by virtue of the fact that it was an act of defiance of the law—in other words it spoke to its audience because it was subversive.

So, in that sense, demanding that the government recognise what she did as art and not a crime is quite beside the point. And, by extension, turning this into an issue of national policy on art and creativity is the wrong way to go about it; without a consensus that what she did was worthy of official recognition, the conversation would quickly reach a dead end. Instead, what we can do is to question the penalty against such acts and debate the implications of a harsh penalty on freedom of expression. Realistically speaking, what she did would always be legally deemed as a crime, but the enforcement of the relevant laws could certainly be toned down.

Why is a review the legal penalty for vandalism important? Firstly, a harsh penalty for vandalism is indicative of an authoritarian political culture that is not tolerant of dissenting voices, especially when this penalty is disproportionately heavy compared to penalties for other more severe crimes.

Secondly, if we want art of every kind to flourish, including subversive art, then it follows that we should try to reduce the heavy-handed prosecution of some kinds of art. Demanding that the authorities recognise subversive art is contradictory, but asking them to be less stern towards it is not.

Finally, this would also serve as a tangible and actionable goal that extends beyond this incident–a larger goal that could actually be reached without the debate being hopelessly mired in arguments about art and vandalism.

We the Citizens

Posted by moses @ 18:16 • , , , , , , , • 0 comments


Doing some research on the public discourse surrounding last year's racist tram incident in the UK, I was prompted to ponder the rise of xenophobic sentiments in Singapore. 

As held in diaspora studies, there is no such thing as a mythical, unchanging homeland. A people's conception of their homeland is formed through experience: What you grow up knowing as your home will be the home that you know. That may seem obvious and tautological; yet people persist in perceiving their homeland as a thing unchanging, when, in reality, their conception of the homeland is simply that which they have learned.

As such, if you're used to the idea of a homogeneous or monocultural homeland, that is how you would conceive of your homeland; that is the image in which you might want to remake your country.

At the very least, Singaporeans are accustomed to the idea of multi-racialism. It has been drilled into us since we were young. Those with a libertarian bent may deride such education as plain indoctrination, but, in truth, it is hardly alien to the process of socialisation that every normal member of society goes through as he/she grows up. And it works. Of course, racism still exists, but there is no popular challenge to idea of Singapore as a multi-racial society.

Yet it has not saved Singapore from the tensions and culture shock associated with immigration, as immigrants from 'alien' cultures have become numerous enough to have a perceived impact on the local way of life. 

Further fuelling the tensions is the political situation, the official support for mass immigration, which sets up a bitter conflict between the authorities and citizens who feel that their grievances are being ignored. While I believe that an open immigration policy is, as typically held by liberal political philosophy, morally right, Singapore's immigration policy is firmly rooted in neoliberalism. In line with the country's ideology of 'pragmatism', immigration is to be supported on the basis of its necessity for economic growth. 

This ideology reduces not only immigrants into economic units, it does the same to the locals, who must embrace cutthroat competition. Wages are driven down and the economic worth of immigrants, especially that of the wealthy among them, is emphasised. The latter is clearly demonstrated by the Chinese evening daily's headline on the recent accident involving a reckless Ferrari driver from China. While hardly relevant to the tragic incident, the newspaper opted to announce the wealth and prestige of the driver first, perhaps to pre-empt local anger, ever-simmering as it was, towards Chinese immigrants. 

What the headline ends up doing is intensifying the existing social tensions, as locals once again feel that they are being treated as mere economic units whose worth is incessantly being compared to the immigrants'. And the fact that local media is tightly controlled by the authorities lends whatever the former prints an air of official legitimacy—it certainly means the authorities cannot conveniently push the blame away. 

Thus, the knee-jerk xenophobia among the public, while deplorable, should be understood as a by-product of the neoliberal race to the bottom, which has exacerbated social inequality in the name of economic growth. And as long as growth takes precedence over social justice and a fair distribution of rights and responsibilities, the government will continue to give ammunition to the xenophobes; which is a pity, since an open immigration policy could work without driving down local living standards and causing so much resentment, if only the government would speak the right language of multiculturalism, abandon the neoliberal religion and adopt better labour regulations. 

Feel Good Inc.

Posted by moses @ 08:46 • , , , , , , • 1 comments


Some people have idealised views of how they can change the world or their surroundings. It's good that these people have dreams, but even if those dreams can be translated into action, it's worth asking if the action would make any real difference. If not, then it would be quite silly for them to think that they are actually doing something.

Recently, as part of their school project, a group of students in Singapore decided to reach out to foreign workers who are employed to do 'low-skilled' jobs. As a result of this outreach, the students have put up an account of the workers' daily lives and their struggle to earn in a living in a society composed mostly of people of entirely different classes from them, a society that mostly ignores their existence.

This is a wonderful attempt at raising social awareness. But, unfortunately, it stops there. I find the students' recommendations for future action particularly uninspiring. The following is what they advocate, in full:
All i want to say, is that we should really learn to appreciate and accept them as our equal. Maybe the next time we see them, we could perhaps just give them a simple smile, or even a word of thanks, to show our appreciation for what they are doing, I'm sure it would make their day. Or at the very least, the next time we see them, we can just try not to pull an ugly face or walk away.

Thank you for taking time to read this, and although every share would not get a dollar donated or anything, but every share is a step closer to a warmer, more accepting society.
It seems not a little naive and condescending to acknowledge that low-skilled foreign workers are economically marginalised while acting as though social acceptance and recognition are going to improve their lot. Yes, levels of social awareness are painfully low in Singapore such that having any is quite commendable. But, having become aware, what are you going to do about the system and the government that author such oppression?

I find the above project to be the humanitarian equivalent of "sending positive vibes" to help people who are faced with problems. It tries to engender good sentiments but does nothing in reality. While these workers may appreciate your reaching out to them, the failure to even mention political and economic solutions makes this gesture seem almost as hollow as the act of spamming of "Kony 2012" on the Internet, a recent example of slacktivism. Raising awareness becomes simply a way to soothe your own conscience when you're not prepared to ask the tough questions and talk about real measures to create change.

So stop just smiling like fools in a photo op—bare your teeth and attack injustice at its source.

Illustration by Frank Chimero

Make Singlish official? Don't be extra, lah!

Posted by moses @ 15:42 • , , , • 0 comments


Some people may lament the lack of official recognition for Singlish. There is no definitive glossary of Singlish terms, no authoritative dictionary that people can turn to in order to reaffirm the meanings in this local variety of English that they use.

But does Singlish (as this Wiki article claims) not have its own version of the Oxford English Dictionary because the government disapproves of it? While that may be a contributing factor, it is but one that contributes to Singlish's larger 'problem'—the lack of institutionalisation. 

And that is as it should be.

But why wouldn't a Singlish dictionary be useful? It might be useful for foreigners who are visiting Singapore, as an aid for finding their way in daily conversations with locals. But for such visitors, wouldn't a short glossary do? 

If some visitors require more because they are staying for a much longer period, wouldn't it be best if they learned by being involved in local conversations? Doesn't the appeal of Singlish come from the fact that it is the lingua franca of the neighbourhood, something that is tacitly learned and that is the culmination of the different customs and culturally-specific meanings that have been thrown together in the melting pot that is Singaporean daily life?

Hence, attempts to codify Singlish and set its rules on paper are missing a crucial point—the very character of it as a creole that is woven into everyday life. Moreover, this brings up the more fundamental issue of the difference between creole and language, a difference that can tell us why the idea of a proper Singlish dictionary is at present quite nonsensical.

As mentioned earlier, meanings in creole are tacit and very much tied to users' habits rather than to formal rules. Thus, the very nature of a creole implies that its rules are institutionalised to a lesser degree compared to a language. And it is worth saying here that the politics of language is really all that separates the two, since language can hardly call itself pure either—most languages are after all derivations of others.

In that sense, there isn't really a sacred philosophical distinction between creole and language. Still, creole is, by virtue of its relatively uninstitutionalised character, closer to Wittgenstein's concept of language-games—examples of language use where actions define the meanings of words and the rules of language. In other words, the meanings of words in creole depend on how people collectively use those words (even more so than in language), in contrast to an imaginary situation where people adhere strictly to prescribed meanings when using words.

So, just as with language, the meanings of words in creole are defined by convention. The difference is, in creole, the conventions are not institutionalised to the same degree by things like authoritative dictionaries, academies and educational systems. Hence, attempts at creating creole dictionaries would not enjoy any kind of spectacular success without also being a real step towards institutionalising the rules that govern creole and thereby towards turning creole into language.

Of course, convention, being a rather 'democratic' thing, tends to come about only with the tacit agreement of the subjects—in this case the creole speakers. And this has implications not just on the meanings of words, but also on the nature of the creole itself. That is why Singlish dictionaries will, in the foreseeable future, remain mainly as humorous rather than useful material; and they will remain so until Singlish speakers tacitly agree to turn Singlish into a properly institutionalised language that is more rigid and bound by abstract rules.

Is losing yourself good?

Posted by moses @ 18:55 • , , , , • 0 comments


I keep coming back to David Brooks' article on finding a job because I'm quite fascinated by its message. When I first read it last spring, my first reaction was to be indignant. I was still working towards my degree and feeling secure in school. I still had a little confidence that if I did well, it wouldn't be a problem finding a rewarding job that I am passionate about.

Six months after graduating, and having indeed done well in school, I have lost all that confidence as I continue to look for paid and fulfilling work (I have done unpaid work in the meantime, so I'm not just being lazy). I find myself applying to a variety of positions just so that I can pay my own rent and gain any professional experience that will be useful later.

So was Brooks right? Is it a matter of applying yourself to whatever opportunity comes up and not of finding the opportunities you want? In a practical sense, he is certainly right. Do most young job seekers have any other choice in these times?

But, inside, I'm still resistant to his message. There is something I fundamentally disagree with, and it's not just because I'm being naive and idealistic. Yet I could never put my finger on what. Until now.

Imagine a society where a typical adult has prosthetic limbs. It’s normal to have them and they are seen as an important part of what it means to be an adult and a full-fledged member of this society. These prosthetic limbs are advanced enough that they don't hinder people's day-to-day functioning. In fact, they perform better compared to natural limbs, which is originally why people do this. The only price you have to pay is the relatively small cost of the operation and the moderate amount of temporary physical pain associated with the process. To some young people, this procedure might seem a little frightening. They might express their reservations about it and they might even try to negotiate a way out. But the adults who have gone through the procedure pooh-pooh these feelings. It's just part of the process of growing up, they say; you'll get used to it.

But what these adults don't realise is the price paid in terms of the loss of your natural limbs. They have already paid that price, so they can easily forget about it. Only practical concerns enter into their calculations. Young people, however, may be aware of this price. They may like they way they are and don't like the idea of being compelled to cut off parts of themselves as part of a self-augmentation procedure.

This is essentially the problem with Brooks' message. He is arguing not only for the practicality of simply grabbing whatever opportunity comes up, but also that this is quite natural and is, in fact, good for young people because that is how they will find themselves. It doesn't seem to occur to him that who young people are before they enter the working world may hold some value that will be lost in the process.

Thus, capitalist wisdom, as articulated by Brooks, holds that one's self identity cannot be complete without being shaped by one's role in the capitalist relations of production. While it's true that the latter tends to shape one's self identity, such wisdom jumps the gun by normalising this process and not recognising prior identities as being complete and worthy of holding on to. And it glosses over this uncomfortable point by assuming that youth precludes having a strong self identity in the first place, which allows it to posit the process of finding one's career as incontrovertibly and necessarily part of the process of 'growing up' and becoming a fully-formed human being. In other words, it tells young people to just do as the market dictates because who they are before that doesn't really matter anyway.

I dislike this message very much because, inside, I feel that who I am is important in considering what I’m going to do for a living. Even if I am presently just an inexperienced young person, I like who I am and dislike things that try to force me to become someone I am not. And I realise that the process of finding employment often entails the latter.

Besides, this is just the beginning. When I do get one of these positions, I will have to live with it every day. That’s when the person I am will begin to change, and I’m not sure if that will be for the better.

What I learned

Posted by moses @ 08:07 • , , , , , • 0 comments


I have other topics in mind that I want to write about, but right now I'm struck by a sudden desire to recapitulate and summarise what I studied last year. Maybe it is the desire to seize something tangible before my memory of it fades. So here goes. 

The main lesson I derived from the research I did for my dissertation is that any claim that film critics have as arbiters of a non-pluralistic (in both the moral and universal senses of it) notion of good taste is undermined by the idea that taste is a means of social distinction; a means of thinking of oneself as superior or different based on vague but compelling categories of identity with which one identifies. 

This implies that taste is neither objective nor entirely subjective. While critics often try seductively to suggest the former, aesthetic 'laymen' tend to stress the latter. Rather, according to my research, taste should perhaps be described as 'intersubjective'. But, more precisely, it is constituted by hyperreal categories (such as socio-economic class) that often appear to us as objective categories.

In other words, from the perspective of theories of language, taste is an entirely practical concept in human language that has perhaps received far too much theoretical attention. It is very much rooted in our social structures and psychology and does not properly belong in the domain of the aesthetic.

I understand that aestheticians may want to think of (good) taste as the practical implication of what is good or beautiful in aesthetics. But I think that's just not the case in contemporary reality. Taste has much less to do with aesthetics than with social categories.

And as articulations of the social structures that give rise to this social phenomenon, the pieces of film criticism I examined do not even use the language of aesthetics, contradictory or hypocritical as it might often be. Tellingly, the critics do not seem to care to exhibit a grasp of aesthetics before presenting themselves as an authority on film tastes.