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Jan. 5th, 2004
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Jan. 5th, 2004 11:32 pmWhile I've always read foreign papers sporadically, and slightly more so in the last couple years, to understand the world at large, I spend an immense amount of time looking at foreign news currently. Several days a week, I work as an editor for a Korean newspaper's English language edition, and I generally read the Sydney Morning Herald online at least every other day as something of a motivational tool for saving towards my trip. Sometimes I also read the Melbourne papers, but only if I'm really bored.
There are any number of things I am struck by in these exercises. Korean sports and entertainment culture is markedly different from our own, as shown by just two examples -- sports teams are wholly sponsored by other corporate entities -- imagine if you will that the New York Knicks were the New York Mastercards. And instead of a single awards program for television acting, each network there puts on their own version of the Emmys.
Australian news often strikes me even more oddly, as there is a lot of slang I don't know, or in some cases slang I do know, but that is considered archaic and is rarely used in this country. Additionally, without the language and translation issues inherent with my assignment for the Korean paper, I am exposed to their journalistic writing style which is not as ritualized (for lack of a better word) as the American one. Additionally, commentary seems to flow through the papers, as opposed to being relegated to a dry opinion section. It make for writing that seems to my admittedly biased eyes, both more compelling and somewhat jejune.
I am continually shocked by what matters from the news here, there, and what doesn't. The Koreans seem interested in the fact that our actors make political statements. I was appalled to discover Britney Spears and Paris Hilton seem to take up as much space in the Australian press as in our own.
For all my thinking that these foreign papers often seem stylistically simplistic, I am often struck by the degree to which Americans are seen as simpletons by the rest of the world. Certainly, we're often boorish and ignorant, and that others should notice it is no surprise, but I was particularly struck by an editorial (link at the end of this post), that so highlights the way we live now, while also sounding more as if written about Mars, than life here, just for its phrasing.
It struck me, because I am largely ignorant of the way most Americans have been educated. I spent most of my time in a dated, but thorough private school, and then went on to a specialized high school, which provided more freedom (and a fair dose of insulting regimentation) than 99.9% of the public schools in the U.S. And, I was only there for two years.
But the fact remains, this editorial pinpoints something very critical about current American thinking, which is that no risk is acceptable, and us, a nation founded on risk, and adventure and possibility! I am less horrified than many that America seems to demand such homogenity of its citizens, most cultures are like this, and mask it in different ways, but I am horrified that we no longer believe in the creation of character through anything but lecturing and hunkering down in the illusion of safety. We no longer ask people to struggle, to risk or to adventure.
When I was private school, we had a group trip on an Outward Buund sort of thing. I was very afraid of heights, in part because as a child I was never allowed to play on monkey bars or anything similar -- I might, afterall, bust my head open. I patently refused to do many of the tasks; certainly I was not about to repell down the side of a dam, or walk on a wire over a deep gorge -- safety equipment or no. And I refused to do it, eventhough I was told I was letting down my peers, because I didn't see the point.
At night, on the trip, we had an orientiering challenging, and we had to find our way through a course, in the dark, using a topological map. I took to this instantly, finished the course first, and went back to help others through. It was easy, and I was proud. The other children, and teachers, said I was just good at it because it didn't involve my fears and wasn't really that hard anyway.
The truth is, yes, I could approach it because it did not involve a phobia, but even if it had (and it was hard for me, as I've always had astoundingly poor night vision), I did it, and enjoyed it _because it was useful_. And it seemed pretty damn hard for everyone else. I still remembering running across ground I could barely see to finish ahead of everyone.
America as a nation misunderstands many things, but among them are notions of safety and challenge. We engage in exercises over life, we ask that no one ever be bruised, or broken hearted, we scour ourselves with anti-bacterial soap at every opportunity, and sue when we forget fast food is fattening. We create drive throughs and campsites with hot showers and electricity. And it seems we benefit neither from our compulsion to make everything easy and/or safe nor from our belief that everything is a relentless hounding terror.
When I look at my peer group, I see a lot of people who are good at making their lives difficult -- worrying about whether they are adults, worrying about their weight, worrying about a lot of things everyone else is so busy worrying about, no one is considering it in them. And I find that the most common thing I and my closest friends say to each other, is that it's okay to be gentle with ourselves. And it is.
But it is also okay to do things just because they are difficult, or a pain in the ass. It is okay to have adventures, to get hurt, to take walks so long you want to puke from the leg cramps. It's okay to travel and to challenge yourself. It is okay, important and even necessary to do things, just to know that you can. Those moments in life can and should be a source of pride, and in our culture, we've turned them in to anything but.
As I write this, I want to sum up with some sort of call to arms, some sort of personal encouragement for anyone still reading me in a speech-writing mood. But it is hard to put a slogan to this one. I can give you a list of borrowed catch phrases, tell you do one scary thing every day, to talk about being strong as opposed to being thin, command you to ask questions -- all that good stuff everyone in the choir, or working on being in the choir, already knows.
When I was in college, I often thought about walking out my front door and just not coming back. Afterall, what was stopping me? As I grew older that notion became silly, and older still I realized it had meaning in a different sense, and so I struck out on a different path than both myself and others had long intended for me. But I think we'd all learn a lot if we made a point to just once in a while step out our front door and not know where we were going, or when we were coming back, or what we'd have to, or get to do, along the way.
A little bit of risk and a little bit of arduousness will give us and our kids a hell of a lot more than giant parking lots and DARE t-shirts ever could. The fact is, we're a nation cheating ourselves, and the rest of the world is laughing at us for it.
http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2004/01/05/1073267964070.html
There are any number of things I am struck by in these exercises. Korean sports and entertainment culture is markedly different from our own, as shown by just two examples -- sports teams are wholly sponsored by other corporate entities -- imagine if you will that the New York Knicks were the New York Mastercards. And instead of a single awards program for television acting, each network there puts on their own version of the Emmys.
Australian news often strikes me even more oddly, as there is a lot of slang I don't know, or in some cases slang I do know, but that is considered archaic and is rarely used in this country. Additionally, without the language and translation issues inherent with my assignment for the Korean paper, I am exposed to their journalistic writing style which is not as ritualized (for lack of a better word) as the American one. Additionally, commentary seems to flow through the papers, as opposed to being relegated to a dry opinion section. It make for writing that seems to my admittedly biased eyes, both more compelling and somewhat jejune.
I am continually shocked by what matters from the news here, there, and what doesn't. The Koreans seem interested in the fact that our actors make political statements. I was appalled to discover Britney Spears and Paris Hilton seem to take up as much space in the Australian press as in our own.
For all my thinking that these foreign papers often seem stylistically simplistic, I am often struck by the degree to which Americans are seen as simpletons by the rest of the world. Certainly, we're often boorish and ignorant, and that others should notice it is no surprise, but I was particularly struck by an editorial (link at the end of this post), that so highlights the way we live now, while also sounding more as if written about Mars, than life here, just for its phrasing.
It struck me, because I am largely ignorant of the way most Americans have been educated. I spent most of my time in a dated, but thorough private school, and then went on to a specialized high school, which provided more freedom (and a fair dose of insulting regimentation) than 99.9% of the public schools in the U.S. And, I was only there for two years.
But the fact remains, this editorial pinpoints something very critical about current American thinking, which is that no risk is acceptable, and us, a nation founded on risk, and adventure and possibility! I am less horrified than many that America seems to demand such homogenity of its citizens, most cultures are like this, and mask it in different ways, but I am horrified that we no longer believe in the creation of character through anything but lecturing and hunkering down in the illusion of safety. We no longer ask people to struggle, to risk or to adventure.
When I was private school, we had a group trip on an Outward Buund sort of thing. I was very afraid of heights, in part because as a child I was never allowed to play on monkey bars or anything similar -- I might, afterall, bust my head open. I patently refused to do many of the tasks; certainly I was not about to repell down the side of a dam, or walk on a wire over a deep gorge -- safety equipment or no. And I refused to do it, eventhough I was told I was letting down my peers, because I didn't see the point.
At night, on the trip, we had an orientiering challenging, and we had to find our way through a course, in the dark, using a topological map. I took to this instantly, finished the course first, and went back to help others through. It was easy, and I was proud. The other children, and teachers, said I was just good at it because it didn't involve my fears and wasn't really that hard anyway.
The truth is, yes, I could approach it because it did not involve a phobia, but even if it had (and it was hard for me, as I've always had astoundingly poor night vision), I did it, and enjoyed it _because it was useful_. And it seemed pretty damn hard for everyone else. I still remembering running across ground I could barely see to finish ahead of everyone.
America as a nation misunderstands many things, but among them are notions of safety and challenge. We engage in exercises over life, we ask that no one ever be bruised, or broken hearted, we scour ourselves with anti-bacterial soap at every opportunity, and sue when we forget fast food is fattening. We create drive throughs and campsites with hot showers and electricity. And it seems we benefit neither from our compulsion to make everything easy and/or safe nor from our belief that everything is a relentless hounding terror.
When I look at my peer group, I see a lot of people who are good at making their lives difficult -- worrying about whether they are adults, worrying about their weight, worrying about a lot of things everyone else is so busy worrying about, no one is considering it in them. And I find that the most common thing I and my closest friends say to each other, is that it's okay to be gentle with ourselves. And it is.
But it is also okay to do things just because they are difficult, or a pain in the ass. It is okay to have adventures, to get hurt, to take walks so long you want to puke from the leg cramps. It's okay to travel and to challenge yourself. It is okay, important and even necessary to do things, just to know that you can. Those moments in life can and should be a source of pride, and in our culture, we've turned them in to anything but.
As I write this, I want to sum up with some sort of call to arms, some sort of personal encouragement for anyone still reading me in a speech-writing mood. But it is hard to put a slogan to this one. I can give you a list of borrowed catch phrases, tell you do one scary thing every day, to talk about being strong as opposed to being thin, command you to ask questions -- all that good stuff everyone in the choir, or working on being in the choir, already knows.
When I was in college, I often thought about walking out my front door and just not coming back. Afterall, what was stopping me? As I grew older that notion became silly, and older still I realized it had meaning in a different sense, and so I struck out on a different path than both myself and others had long intended for me. But I think we'd all learn a lot if we made a point to just once in a while step out our front door and not know where we were going, or when we were coming back, or what we'd have to, or get to do, along the way.
A little bit of risk and a little bit of arduousness will give us and our kids a hell of a lot more than giant parking lots and DARE t-shirts ever could. The fact is, we're a nation cheating ourselves, and the rest of the world is laughing at us for it.
http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2004/01/05/1073267964070.html