Whipsawed by family relocations, young John attended some 20 schools before finally settling into Episcopal High School, an all-white, all-boys boarding school in Alexandria, Va., in the fall of 1951 for his last three years of secondary education. The school, with an all-male faculty and enrollments drawn mostly from upper-crust families of the Old South, required jackets and ties for classes.
But the scion of one of the Navy’s most illustrious families was defiant and unruly. He mocked the dress code by wearing dirty bluejeans. His shoes were held together with tape, and his coat looked like a reject from the Salvation Army. He was cocky and combative, easily provoked and ready to fight anyone. Classmates called him McNasty. Most gave him a wide berth.
“He cultivated the image,” Robert Timberg wrote in a biography, “John McCain: An American Odyssey” (1995). “The Episcopal yearbook pictures him in a trench coat, collar up, cigarette dangling Bogey-style from his lips. That pose, if hardly the impression Episcopal sought to project, at least had a fashionable world-weary style to it.”
The older you get, the less inclined you are to care what other people think. Individuality hardens with age.
It is not for lack of interest. The wise person is always looking for new ways to challenge their views. They separate their emotions from the facts. But experience also teaches them they’ve seen enough to corroborate their angle on life’s issues.
Still, there are plenty of folks who resist change. The current American leadership is a testament to the power of nostalgia. They want to fence out the future and move forward with all the benefits of the past. Stuck in inertia, better never gets to see any daylight.
When you’re young, you’re more receptive to outside influences. We’re in the service of diversity, progressing through the chaos of disparate opinions. The media’s propaganda can be both contagious and confounding.
The gravitational pull of echo chambers grows with time. There’s no such thing as a tranquil flood of information; most of it is poisonous. Brands and partisanship colonize parts of our mind and pose dangers to individual thought. We mistakenly fall in love with other people’s shit.
Believing more is believing less. Clenched too tightly, stubbornness and myopia will always render us out of form.
Humans intend to question throughout life, and that’s that.
There’s an interesting piece in The Economist about the link between rainfall and the rise and fall of Roman emperors.
One such lesson is how drought affected the stability of the Roman empire 1,500 years ago. In a new paper published in Economics Letters, Cornelius Christian of Brock University and Liam Elbourne of St Francis Xavier University identify a strong association between rainfall patterns and the duration in power of Roman emperors. The academics hypothesise that lower precipitation reduced crop yields, leading to food shortages and eventually starvation for soldiers stationed at the empire’s frontiers. As a result, troops were more likely to stage mutinies and assassinate their emperor.
The data, collected from oak tree rings, shows hungry troops peaking in revolts around The Gordian dynasty from 235 AD to 285. Invasions and the economic plight brought on by droughts were also contributors.
The academics combine data on assassinations—some 25 emperors were assassinated, roughly one-fifth of the total—with precipitation data collected from rainfall-sensitive oak-tree rings across the Roman frontier in France and eastern Germany.
Today’s natural disasters in California, Greece, and Japan due to heatwaves may not lead to overthrows, but they don’t augur well either.
It might be easy to dismiss the lessons from 1,500 years ago. Ancient Rome had little ability to store grain for long periods or irrigate crops. Yet, to this day, dictators rely on an obedient army to retain power. And more broadly, it has been long established that adverse weather causes economic shocks that lead to unrest, and even to civil war.
How do people run life at a dizzying pace while also wanting society to replicate the 1950s?
Technology facilitates progress yet turns back the clock on thinking. Mobile phones allow anyone with an account to amplify misinformation and weaken the willpower to do good. Even the inactive can recharge into fully blown acolytes.
Reality TV is phony, but it can become all too real with astonishing rapidity. It turns amateurs into professionals, laymen into experts. Evil spreads by way of stupidity, invading human brains the way viruses enter human bodies.
Instead, what we need are more ideas that redirect the running memes in our head and compel us to emerge from our cocoons. The bubble has already popped.
The world we inhabit is the one we think we make.
Like science, it is worth questioning everything that tries to demand certainty. Stuck in a state of ripeness, we are always opening up without ever falling behind.
There’s a certain smugness people get in ignoring the news. Congratulations, you have no idea what’s going on! But I like to stay informed. I’d prefer Walden with Wi-Fi.
While most of the stories are flotsam, sometimes that one little insight can make the biggest impact on your train of thought.
The trick is to stay informed without being overly consumed. News hoarding is not a sport. No one needs the full details of a celebrity wedding. You might as well go catch some flies!
All you need to know about some events is that they come and go. And they all get archived. As a preventative, you can let your mind jettison the glut of all future reporting related to that event to the bin.
Ignore what is unnecessary
If you tried to digest everything, your brain would explode. Analysis begets paralysis. Instead, you should be deliberate in what it is you want to feed your neurons. Voluntary attention captures what’s necessary and ignores the rest.
The internet’s algorithms and 24/7 news beg for attention. No matter how many attention-seeking missiles it launches, don’t poke back. Instead, observe, read and listen lightly as coping mechanisms in building immunity against propaganda.
Dipping in and out, buoyancy remains uninvolved without feeling uninvolved.
The brain is an empty void. It waits to remember until we give things meaning. Otherwise, it clings to the instincts of the amagdyla for its main sensory perception.
Thankfully, our brains are large processors. It knows that survival depends on exchanging information with others. Information is quid pro quo.
But the problem with oral communication is all the selling. Through rhetoric and persuasion, one can rise to have incredible influence. This is, unfortunately, how we got the Kardashians. We make stupid people famous.
Modern life narrows down our perceptions. Praising others, let alone mimicking them, makes us blind to our own self-worth.
The thrill of knowing is internal. It reminds us that we are more interesting than the role society gives us. Nothing means anything if we can’t float with nature and find the question.
I was doing press with somebody in the mid-90s, and they made an argument that stayed with me: that I have influence, and that it’s my job to call out whatever needs to be called out, because there are people who feel the same way but need someone to articulate it. And I think about that today, because it seemed like it was a lot easier to just keep your mouth shut and let it go back then. You don’t hear a lot from the Taylor Swifts of the world, and top-tier, needle-moving cultural youth, because they are concerned about their brand, their demographic and their success and career and whatnot.
We have become a plastic society, with celebrities (not leaders) running the world stage and ‘geniuses‘ creating culture.
While social media gives everyone a microphone, it also permits mediocrity to rise up to the professional level. When these influencers take public responsibility, they can further colonize large parts of our mind. To echo Hannah Arendt on the rise of totalitarianism, evil spreads like a fungus.
But we have a choice: we can stem the tide or turn a blind eye and do nothing.
The history books always prompt its students to ask why no one ever did anything to stop such cruelty.
And now we know why.
I don’t understand how a country obsessed with superhero movies doesn’t recognize supervillainy.
Noticeable acceleration began more than two centuries ago, during the Industrial Revolution. But this acceleration has itself accelerated. Guided by neither logical objectives nor agreed-upon rationale, propelled by its own momentum, and encountering little resistance, acceleration seems to have begotten more acceleration, for the sake of acceleration.
To Rosa, this acceleration eerily mimics the criteria of a totalitarian power: 1) it exerts pressure on the wills and actions of subjects; 2) it is inescapable; 3) it is all-pervasive; and 4) it is hard or almost impossible to criticize and fight.
“Contagious media is the kind of media you immediately want to share with all your friends. This requires that you take pleasure in consuming the media but also pleasure in the social process of passing it on.”
“Contagious media is a form of pop conceptual art” in which “the idea is the machine that makes the art (LeWitt, 1967) and the idea is interesting to ordinary people.”
The clickbait craziness spawned an albatross of more ridiculous news, some of it fake news. As Zeynep Tufekci says in her TED Talk, “We’re building a dystopia just to make people click on ads.”
And now we’re living with the repercussions of confused algorithms and companies like Facebook and Twitter avoiding responsibility.