After seeing the Edward Snowden movie Citizen Four at the Latchis recently, I was left with an impression that was not what I had expected. I had expected to be buried in acronyms – I was. I expected moments of understated drama – they were there. But what I didn’t expect was this lingering feeling of claustrophobia which comes of spending two hours watching a man whose physical existence is now confined, 24 hours a day, to a single beige hotel room which could have been anywhere but happened to be in Hong Kong. What struck me more disturbingly was that you don’t have to be an NSA whistle-blower to feel a hint of that claustrophobia in your own life. Many of us, I suspect, feel confined to a smaller space these days, especially in the time since Snowden’s revelations.
Prior to the summer of 2013, we ‘knew’ – meaning we suspected – that all our phone and Internet communications were being spied on. After that date, we knew with certainty that this is so. At the time, many if not most people claimed that they already knew, didn’t care, and would not be affected as they had “nothing to hide.” Rubbish, says I. Everyone has something to hide, even if it’s just a mild case of psoriasis. There’s stuff we don’t want everyone to know.
So what do we do? We self-censor. We stop writing about anything political in email. We stop posting anything even mildly controversial on social media. We confine our comments to the weather and everyone’s health. We become very well-behaved people about whom one could suspect nothing – as if there was ever anything to suspect to begin with.
What we don’t do is complain. I know, given the degree to which my friends and family are addicted to Facebook, that they’ve made the pact. They’re willing to be spied on in return for being allowed to post family photos and shout-outs on social media, which seems to be all people really want. Parties, friends, babies, marriages, food, vacations, and all the rolling topics of family life are fine. We’ll tell Facebook and its advertising partners anything. But other topics, serious topics, anything political, let alone geopolitical, economic, or philosophical, seem to have been banished not only from public but also private discourse. As Linus famously said, “It’s too dangerous.”
Case in point: At both our families’ gatherings this year, where many people milled about with drinks, we managed to confine our comments to Christmases past, sports, and everyone’s children. Now I can’t remember a Christmas where some uncle or cousin hasn’t corralled me on some current topic, but not this year. We couldn’t even find anything to banter about.
This suggests to me that we aren’t just self-censoring on the Internet. We’re self-censoring everywhere. We’ve decided not to talk about any but the safest of topics even in the safest of company. But wherever or however we’re self-censoring, the fact remains that our worlds have shrunk correspondingly. We’re allowing ourselves a smaller and smaller space in which to think and operate.
An offshoot of the new paranoia is the new conformity. For instance, you’re no longer allowed to be disgruntled about anything, even something as simple as a new policy at the grocery store or the decisions of a school principal. As far as I’ve been able to discern from my holiday interactions with people not from here, to be critical of something is regarded as “hating on” it which is very bad. You have to like everything (Facebook has trained us well), because otherwise, someone might think you were dissenting and that would get your name on a list and God help you then, right? I’m extrapolating here. I have no idea why we suddenly have to like everything. All I know is, the mood on the street during our brief holiday travels seemed to be “don’t rock the boat, keep your head down, don’t attract unnecessary attention.”
This is the kind of thinking and behavior we expect in places like Communist Russia or Nazi Germany or maybe even America during the McCarthy years. It’s the inevitable result of fear. But apparently, such thinking can pop up anywhere, anytime, and its spread is insidious. It sneaks inside your head and suddenly you’re doing it. Then pretty soon you’re insisting that other people do it too because you don’t want to be tainted. Next thing you know, we have a self-policing police state. Oh my! But I digress.
Snowden decided he didn’t want to be locked in a tiny room, hiding, for the rest of his life, which is one reason he outed himself early on. He said he didn’t think he should have to stay in hiding for committing an act that he felt was on behalf of the American people. As for the American people on whose behalf he acted, they seem to be ok with being somewhat confined, at least for the time being–just don’t mess with Facebook or Instagram or Sony PlayStation web sites.
Now maybe there are some people who prefer a world where communication is tightly controlled along with the free thinking that goes along with a free society, but I suspect that for others, the pressure of self-censorship, self-policing, and self-control are going to prove to be too much. What happens when that blows, no one knows, but we probably won’t “like” it very much.
I like Ike
I grew up in the 1950s, which was much like Lise describes, except that discussing nothing profound did not seem confining, it was so natural as to not be noticed.
Social critics, like Mort Sahl, gave voice to a different perspective, but “non-conformists” seemed more like interesting oddities rather than relevant to our lives. The 1960s, particularly the Vietnam war, caused such cognitive dissonance as to shatter the glass.
While there are similarities in the contemporary Somnolence that Lise describes and the sleepwalking ’50s, the feeling is much different. Perhaps the sleepwalking ’50s were more innocent in that we had not yet broken though our limited vision and glimpsed the cosmos.
But having been awake and then deciding to pull the blanket over our head in retreat does seem to be of a different order of magnitude.
Small is as small does
I agree that our collective responses to the outrageous are attenuating. Which is most appalling, as already indicated, by the fact that it feels like a turning back of the clock.
I wonder if this is also true in our nightly dreams? Is our unconscious also narrowing focus, are our denial mechanisms becoming more sophisticated in response to overwhelming challenge?
And I think about appearance vs reality. Current cultural zeitgeist is tilting as if the movie Brazil had set design by Norman Rockwell, or V for Vendetta was done with musical score by Raffi. The menace continues, but packaging must be ‘nice’.
Rousseau: “Man is born free, but he is everywhere in chains”
Common Sense
I experienced the new conformity over the holidays at Wegmans in Buffalo.
While buying beer for my dad, I was sent through a 15 minute hellish experience that could have ended in my arrest based on the reactions of those around me.
My crime? I showed my ID, but someone older than me (and with me) didn’t have an ID, so managers needed to be called and such.
While showing my ID, the cashier told me to “get it out of his face.” Okay, but you haven’t looked at it yet. “Yes I did.” What’s my birthday, then? “Fifty four something…” Uh, no.
What amazed me was the hostility of those behind me in line – to me. “Go buy it somewhere else!” said one. “”Do you want the cashier to lose his job?” yelled another. “Is it really that important to buy beer?” said one more.
Well, gee, kind citizens. You caught me. I was showing my ID to purchase a legal item sold in the store, just to ruin everyone’s day. It was my master plan, and of course, my fault for the delay.
If you’ve seen A Christmas Story, imagine the scene with the elves saying “Hey kid, hurry up, the store is closing” and “Listen little boy, we have A LOT of people waiting here, so GET GOING!” in that snotty, rude voice. That’s the way it felt and sounded.
I was finally escorted to Customer Service, where they rang everything up, and looked at me with frightened eyes, as if I were a criminal. The dangerous type. The ones that offer to go get a six pack for their father.
Made me almost happy to be back at Hannaford where managers get called over to stare at you and approve purchases, day after day, year after year, again and again. (If only there was some sort of ID card with this info on it that we could show…)
All of this, to me, points to a failure of trust. Wegmans, and Hannfords, and stores everywhere do not trust their employees to use common sense. They hire people to do a job then tie their proverbial hands so they can’t make rational, common sense decisions – such as “Hmm, this gray haired guy with an ID that says he is 50 can probably buy beer from us without issue. I will sell it to him using my good judgement, and my line of customers will be happy.”
Good judgement would also come into play when someone much closer to 21 tries to buy something. Common sense would trigger a request for an ID.
So, along with the new conformity comes a reduction in common sense and good judgement, I fear.
Wegmans
Sorry to hear of your unfortunate experience being carded pressured by the run- rampant Holiday bustle of pushy people behind swelling and itching to go, it’s ridiculous if you are obviously well over twenty one( I suppose the thinking is you could be in disguise). But the Wegmans out in Corning NY (the like of which are like a small hay market city) which I go to for supplies when visiting my brother’s farm is all-together quite different. My brother has told me if employees do not greet you with an unmistakable smile ear to ear and aren’t completely polite and accommodating, they are history( this is one reason Wegman himself attributes such success to the chain). As a mater of fact I have noticed they really over compensate with their job on the line by being much too much all bubbly and sweet, which rubs this grumpy Vermonter the wrong way and makes me immediately suspicious of their intentions!
Buffalo
I lived in Buffalo from 1978 to 1982, on Vermont Street (a portent of my future).
Buffalo seemed like a monad, somehow isolated from the larger world. It was as though geographical differences were not that there are different cities and different countries, but different streets. Diversity and differences between people was not that there are Chinese, Russians, Brazilians, Bantus, Bushmen, Australians, etc; but rather that some people live on Vermont Street, others on Connecticut Street; some on the East Side, some on the West Side.
Getting out of Buffalo was a breath of fresh air. I felt like a fish liberated from the aquarium.
"I felt like a fish liberated
“I felt like a fish liberated from the aquarium.”
You mean you were suffocating and dying for lack oxygen hence life giving saturated water to funnel through your gills? Sounds pretty uncomfortable if not downright painful.
Apologies, couldn’t help myself.
Good analogy to get back on topic
“suffocating and dying for lack oxygen” might be another way to proverbially sum up how it seems our population is doing in our Post-Snowden world.
Many people in the last year have told me interesting things that they feel they cannot share online with anyone. Good, useful things. Bright thoughts about how we can make improvements. Feelings about town issues. Opinions about policies. Concerns about a range of issues.
Yet, they silence themselves. No one has to censor them… they censor themselves. Information and knowledge locked up, for no one to ever know.
Then things get a little worse, and they are upset, but continue to remain silent. They leave it to others to “fix” things for them, not realizing that a few words shared with others might aid tremendously.
It only took one child to point out that the emperor wore no clothes.
You only have a freedom/right if you exercise it.
I think part of the problem is that people today, myself very much included, have little idea of what it is to truly fight for something – like the right to vote, labor laws, or civil rights, etc. We’ve read about it, and live with the benefits from those actions, but few today seem to stand for much of anything.
Much of today’s “activism” is passive – to click on an online petition, or share a link on social media. Maybe go stand in a sanctioned “free speech zone” and be herded by police. And those who do make bolder moves are often criticized by supposed supporters as going to far, or not protesting at the appropriate time or place.
I do feel this decade of being soft and silent is wrapping up. People can only be told to shut up for so long. Then they remember. I hope.
The Child and the Emperor
ah but you see in the unabridged version that small child was later swarmed upon by hordes of angry villagers who were embarrassed to have their ignorance pointed out, he was strung up by his heels and left hanging upside down until he caved in and said he had lied, that the emperor had indeed had on a lovely velvet suit with cape and ermine collar. At that point the villagers let him down and heartily clapped him on the back and lauded him for finally having come to his senses.
The converse...
of Chris’ recent post about “what if the story ended here.” Rose suggests: “What if the story continued?”
The ability to say, “The Emperor has no clothes,” without getting strung up justifies the ibrattleboro policy of allowing anonymous user names.
I've followed this thread
I’ve followed this thread with much interest since Lise’s original post. I agree that there is an aura of censorship hovering over us. Our every utterance has the capability of being scrutinized or seen in some very different context somewhere on the internet. I think there is always that little voice in the back of our mind saying “Am I being watched?Monitored?”
It’s certainly unsettling. Having said that I honestly don’t think that I have imposed any sort of self censor on myself since Snowden gave us all the information we always wondered about but never knew for sure. I’ve always been pretty out spoken (sometimes to the chagrin and anger of those around me)I think it’s imperative to know our own truths and to be able to voice those opinions that matter to us. My Facebook page – like most people’s -is full of adorable photos of my grandchild, cute anecdotes about my cats and complaints about the weather. Because that’s what Facebook is about: presenting the life we wished we had to our “friends” publicly. If we all posted about what our lives are really like Facebook would shut down because nobody wants to read those things. But along with the photos of family holidays and days splashing in the ocean at some beautiful beach, I also engage in some heavy duty exchanges about politics. LGBT rights, the all too frequent travesty of justice that has become the norm; the Israeli/Palestine conflict; the inherent racism that exists in this country and how organized religion suffocates our ability to treat our fellow humans with equality and fairness. Sometimes these ‘conversations’ are with like minded individuals-sometimes with people who have very different opinions. I don’t ever see or sense a reluctance on anyone’s part to engage in these topics or to be very clear about where they stand. Certainly, in my actual life there are people with whom I choose not to engage in conversations about any controversial topics. Not because I’m afraid to but because I know that we are on such different ends of the spectrum of opinion that it is impossible for any kind of cohesive or constructive conversation to happen. With those people our conversations tend to be about vacations; home renovations or someone’s new dog. Pleasant enough with absolutely no substance.
I was a teenager and then young mother in the 60s.I took part in many large and vocal protests. My kids grew up going to demonstrations -sometimes in a back pack. I think it has served them well to know that everyone’s voice is important and good outcomes can be achieved by people speaking their minds and standing up for what they believe is right and just. Chris is right in saying that we have become a society of passive protesters; signing an online petition; writing a check, maybe sharing a link on our Facebook page. Those people who do still participate in physical protests are often ridiculed or their actions diminished because the sight of elderly women or angry citizens or grieving parents stepping into the streets and saying “This is wrong” makes us uncomfortable. And this is where I think the self censorship comes into play. We feel better glancing briefly on our computer screens at the injustices that are happening and saying “I don’t think this is right but what can I do? I know. I’ll write a check”
I don’t feel there is much self censoring going on at a site like ibrattleboro. It seems like a pretty safe and comfortable place to state opinions that some of us may be unsure about stating in public. Certainly some of the threads can get contentious and certainly there is no shortage of drama on this site. But it provides a vital forum for people to discover and voice their own truths.Feeling the freedom to say what you think without fear is something I wish for everyone.