The NSA, privacy, and the end of hope

I can hardly say that I am shocked or surprised by the recent leaks on the extent of US data collection and surveillance efforts. The news and public reaction to it has led me on 3 different and somewhat conflicting trajectories of thought:

1. Why are people so shocked and outraged by the extent to which the NSA can and has accessed information about all Americans? We had all manner of ways to respond to the 9/11 attacks and we chose wrongly. In general, the US response to 9/11 was just what Bin Laden is reported to have been hoping for – a xenophobic, Zionistic, militaristic, anti-democratic and economically exploitative lashing out that Bin Laden claimed revealed our true nature.  As one example of this, the USA Patriot Act provided the power of data access that is being used here. The rationale behind the act was that it would only be used to keep us safe from bad guys. Are we really so naïve as to assume that innocent good guys can avoid being collateral damage in war focused on pre-emptive strike? That would be like assuming that you could put guns in the hands of self-deputized defenders of freedom against aggressors and other bad-guy types and only (or even mostly) bad guys would end up getting shot. Oh, wait a minute….
2. It seems that the public ire points to a warped conception of what privacy is and a little too much reverence for it as well. Privacy is not an individual quality, fact, or right in the absolute sense. It is and has always been a social compact (that can be codified in law) entailing both the act of non-disclosure and the act of discretion on the part of the subject and the people and institutions they encounter. Sociologist Erving Goffman observes the way privacy is constructed among villagers on the Shetland Islands. There are no looks on the doors and people just walk into one another’s houses. So, as a courtesy, while one is approaching the house they make a bit of noise so people know they are coming and prepare for their arrival. Should they walk into a “private” scene, the incident is usually quickly repaired and “forgotten” – not necessarily in the sense that people actually forget, but in the sense that people do not speak of it again and either make it or act as if it is irrelevant to ongoing social relations. In other words, my privacy at home depends as much upon neighbors never letting on that they may have overheard me arguing with my spouse or once through the window caught a glimpse of me streaking from the shower to my clothes closet. Although I think the US is creating more enemies than it is disabling with this surveillance and other aspects of its approach to security and global affairs, I remain fairly unconcerned with the NSA’s access to my “private information” because, at this point and only tentatively as in all social relations, I trust (and more than I trust your average, unregulated conceal and carry type) that they will be appropriately discrete.
3. What is the relationship between the American people and the State? We like to throw around “of the people, for the people, by the people” but our relationship with our governing institutions seems to consist of a fundamental mistrust, the presumption of ill will or indifference, the belief that the government does not in fact represent or work on behalf of the constituents. I suspect that our system is fundamentally flawed and we cannot pretend that we don’t have a hand in it. We throw out our incumbents but our new representatives are no better because, not believing a word they say and/or allowing ourselves to be wooed by their well-researched appeals to our emotions we vote, not in the public interest but in terms of our self interest or on the basis of our self-identities and personal affiliations. We turn a blind eye to the way it is all crumbling around our ears – our roads and bridges, our schools, our environment, our ability to be free from the fear of hunger, illness and violence. What is the hope for a nation that seeks to destroy itself?

 

Moving to New York

I don’t recall ever having my sights set on the big apple. In high school I would dream about moving to Paris and, later, it was Russia (Petersburg). Then for quite a while, it wasn’t so much where I lived but what I would be doing there that mattered. Over time I accumulated a growing list of disqualified places/regions/nations/categories of population density/generalized local cultural orientations.

When we relocated to Vermont 5 years ago, I made the choice purely based on location (place, region, population density and local cultural orientation). Jason had a job and I had only the suggestions of the likelihood of future employment in my chosen profession. Five years, 3 countries, 5 different institutional affiliations at distances ranging from 60 to 12,000 miles from home, and being away for stretches as long as 10 months at a time, I have accepted the fact that Vermont is not going to work for me, occupationally speaking. We are moving to NYC where I will join the faculty of Pace University.

A couple of years ago we actually passed up a similar NYC opportunity. We had just returned from China and were suffering from reverse culture shock, I was commuting to Yale for a postdoc, life was crazy. The opportunity to move to the city arose and, despite the fact that I knew it was a great opportunity, every time I thought about giving up on Vermont I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach. I wasn’t ready to leave. Maybe we just needed to give Vermont more time, I reasoned. As we walked away from the chance to relocate to NYC, I remember thinking to myself that I must be crazy – absolutely barking mad. How could I pass up the big apple?

Fortunately, I am getting a second bite at the big apple and this time it feels right, the logical place for someone who wants the world at their fingertips and who plans to carry out research in Singapore, Sweden and China while maintaining a garden in Montpelier, Vermont. We are excited, and thrilled to have long-term jobs in the same institution/city/region/country/continent. I am very excited about my position and my colleagues. I am not worried about managing the move. If there is one thing that we know how to do it is relocate, chose schools, acquire and set up apartments, and generally figure out the system of every life in new places (and the NYC bonus is that we are already in the system and the operating language is English).

I do have a few concerns, however.

1. In general, I am looking forward to living in Manhattan, but sometimes when I am checking out the street view of building with an available apartment and I see that canyon of a narrow lower-Manhattan street with the skyscrapers coming up on either side, I groan. Theoretically, I prefer the upper west side (I have always loved Riverside park), but commuting logistics and school options make downtown a better choice. We’ll be happier in our everyday lives, I’m sure, but all the same, the concrete jungle…

2. Everyone and their uncle seems to be an expert on New York City – restaurants, schools, neighborhoods (and metro-area alternatives), subway lines, parks, politics. I am a very independent person and it is grating on me a bit to have so many people telling me what I ought to do. I have a little more patience for actual or former NYC residents, and I think it is great that folks seem to have such attachment to wherever they lived in the city. All the same, just stick to the facts please, folks. We’ll use the data to come to a good conclusion about what will work for us.

3. I am bit worried that NYC is too beaten a path for me. I generally seek the less obvious location. For example, when I go to San Francisco I am always shocked by the extent to which people are willing to wait forever to get a table at this year’s hottest restaurant. My strategy? Find out what last year’s hottest restaurant was because, chances are, there is hardly any wait there or, alternatively, try new places.  Remember a couple of weeks ago when, in a tight alley, they found that bit of landing gear from one of the 9/11 planes and the landing gear was found because of work being done for the formerly controversial “ground zero” Islamic center? Yeah, well, we are looking at apartments right there. I hope that it feels OK to have home be so in the thick of things.  It is certainly an uncharacteristic move for me to put myself in the heart of the heart of it all.

4. I am a bit worried about the NYC-centrism of New Yorkers. We’ve all had that experience of talking to New Yorkers and feeling a bit rankled by the parade of phrases like “The X is much better in New York,” “NYC is the only real city,” “after living in NYC, I can’t X”, “well this is quaint, but in NYC we X.” Don’t get me wrong, NYC is great and I find it to be a comfortable, comprehensive, friendly, well-appointed city. All the same, the first time I went to NYC after living in China, I laughed out loud. It was like one of those moments when you return to something that, as a child, you thought was absolutely enormous and incomprehensibly crowded and then you see it with mature eyes and it is nothing of the sort. “Isn’t this cute.” I thought to myself. NYC may be the only real metropolis in the US. In the global scheme of things it is a great city, but it isn’t the only city. I hope that New Yorkers don’t run me out on a rail.

We’re apartment hunting in 2 weeks. Let the games begin!

missionaries in Vermont

Summer in Vermont means lots of things – among them are the groups of teenagers (late high school/early college) that show up on summer “mission trips” in hopes of bringing faith to godless Vermonters (we have the distinction of being the “least churched” state). The jesus kids flirt with each other non-stop while they paint churches on the weekdays, paint local kids’ faces at the farmer’s market on the weekends and invite the locals to come over to the church for their free “summer fun” camp (aka bible camp with ice cream and grilling).

Most evenings I take my dog for an hour-long sunset walk/hike. This evening the dog and I walked one of the tallest hills/shortest mountains in town. We were, both of us, panting. The sun set as we descended – casting an orange glow on the mature green of full-on summer. As the sun fell behind the green mountains, a bit of a cool air from the north cut into the humidity – promising a cool and comfortable evening. I was content, beyond content – sated.

And then my dog and I walked right smack dab into the first mission trip of the summer. The kids were cavorting on the State House lawn while their chaperones were having a strategy session. I briefly wondered if it felt risky, illicit even, to stand there in front of the home of the most progressive legislative body in the country.

“Hello!” They said, starting toward me.

“Lovely evening!” I responded with a smile, ducked my head down, and high-tailed it out of there.

As we made our way home, I thought about how those mission trips must really be for the kids – they usually come from Alabama and Georgia and the Carolinas and Arkansas. It must be so, because if they really wanted to have some chance of convincing us that our lives were incomplete without god, they would come in March or April when the snow is tired and no longer sparkles in the sun, and when the mud can feel like quicksand during the day and freezes into icy ridges at night. I could see them having a shot then at convincing us that they have something we need. But now it is the first blissful days of summer and our cups already runneth over.

The return of the fruit bowl

When we arrived at our new apartment in Sweden, we were welcomed by a houseplant and a bowl of fruit – oranges, apples, bananas and a pineapple in a simple, shallow wooden bowl. I would say that, of all the ways in which our time in Sweden has influenced us, that little bowl has impacted our everyday lives the most.

We used to keep fruit in the refrigerator – in that drawer (crisper) on the bottom. It was there but it was out of sight and when you did think to take some fresh fruit, it was cold.

When you keep fruit on the counter or table in a bowl, it looks tasty and you think to snack on it instead of grabbing some more processed and less healthy option. I think it actually tastes better, too, since the fruit is at room temperature and, thus more flavorful. It is also more likely to be ripe, sweet and juicy.

We’ve definitely upped our fruit consumption as the kids know that they are welcome to help themselves to a piece of fruit when they are hungry. They usually split a piece at breakfast, chose fruit to bring to school for morning snack, eat a piece when they get home in the afternoon, and take a piece of fruit as “dessert” after dinner. In other words, I don’t worry about them having enough fresh fruit. In fact, the challenge has been teaching them that they cannot start an apple just as I am putting dinner out and they cannot just grab a piece, take a couple of bites, and then put it in the compost.

I shop for food twice a week and each time I buy more than enough fruit to fill the bowl. I keep the extra in the fridge and move it to the bowl as needed. We haven’t had any trouble with fruit spoiling on the counter.

Organic fresh fruit is more expensive than many processed snack foods and I seek to keep the expense down by primarily buying local, seasonal produce. In other words, we are just coming off a 6 month apple and pear-eating stint. Sometimes, if kiwis, oranges, mangos or bananas are on sale, I will buy some to add some variety. This week semi-local (south-eastern US) peaches and nectarines became available so the fruit bowl is looking extra delicious.

Strangers and Neighbors

I am eagerly anticipating the late summer/ early fall release of my book.

Sociology, behind the scenes

Each year I try to find time to serve the broader discipline of sociology through service. Service activities include things like volunteering for selection committees, proposing and organizing sessions for the annual meeting, reviewing articles and book proposals/manuscripts. This is rarely paid work but it is expected of you as an academic.

Anyway, this year I am on a selection committee for a book award. I had heard that book award committees are a lot of work but, since my book will be coming out soon, it seemed like a good year to take this on – so next year (and the year after and the year after) when I am nominating my own book I will have a sense of what nomination letters look like, how the process unfolds, etc.

It has been a lot of work! I spent a great deal of time with each of the more than 20 books that were nominated. There are certainly some upsides to such work: without spending a dime, I have managed to completely update and augment my library within that subject area; after a couple of weeks of intense study, I am up to date on the contemporary state of the sub-discipline and well-versed in the recent literature; and I am in a position to work with others to select a text that best demonstrates what sociologists working in this particular area of research can accomplish.

However, I can’t say that I have developed much insight that will inform the way I approach the book award process from the other side – as a nominee. I have gathered only a couple thoughts that I am happy to share:

1. Send the book yourself, together with the nomination letter. Sometimes the publisher bundles – throwing loads of other related books in with yours and sometime the publisher doesn’t get to it at all.

2. Your nomination letter should be personalized for the committee members and reasonably brief – balancing a concise and pointed summary with detailed discussion of the important contributions. Bonus if there is positive critical reaction that you can reference. No need to have some “big name” write the letter unless they will offer as thorough a discussion of your work as you would. Even if someone else is writing, best to bundle the letter and book if possible.

3. Let it go and move on. I don’t know if I will ever really get used to the high degree of contingency, subjectivity, and (sadly) the blatant reproduction of status inequality  that can characterize assessments of merit and value within sociology. Over the years many people in the field have told me that success (awards/acceptances/successful applications) in the field is a numbers/probability game – that the folks who have more accomplishments are the folks who send out more. There truth to this even though your odds of success are also (and I would argue (without data) usually more significantly) influenced by things like name recognition, the prestige of your institution, the popularity of your theoretical and methodological proclivities, whose “student” you are, etc, etc.

A nice review of my recent American Journal of Cultural Sociology

http://www.ajcs-blog.com/2013/03/notes-on-cultural-sociology-of.html?spref=fb

What a great break from my typical critical peer reviews!