Category: RE:

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RE:

RE: The Law

Here’s something I’ve been thinking about.

I missed the bus yesterday, but it got stuck in traffic and I passed it on foot. Some sleep-deprived, Coca-Cola-animated part of my brain said, “Climb on top of the bus and ride it to the next stop!” And the rest of my brain said: “That’s illegal!”

I’m certain that it is illegal. But it’s weird that I’ve never actually read that law anywhere. This got me wondering. I’ve lived my whole life following the law. (I assume so. I’ve never gotten arrested.) But what does it actually look like? Is it even available to the public?

One day I decided to go find it. That was a fun Google search. “What is the law?” And I found it! It’s actually called The Code, which sounds extremely cult-y. (Specifically, the U. S. Code, Utah Code, etc.) Soon I was knee-deep in the mire of building regulations. I like to think I’m a fairly intelligent guy but I could hardly understand a word. The Latin didn’t help.

As people of letters, we’re prone to giving a hard time to nonliterate cultures who transmit information through oral tradition. Yet even in this highly literate society, the reason I didn’t climb on top of that bus was the oral tradition of “what’s probably illegal” (et amplius my self-preservation instinct). This tradition is both more accessible and more comprehensible than the actual law, which chances are, you probably haven’t read, and probably couldn’t understand if you wanted to. So for those of us who aren’t lawyers—the “literate upper class,” if you will—the entire legal foundation of society is a matter of trust, tradition, and a general assumption that bus-riding is off the table. Strange, right?

What do you think? Have you ever read the law? ∎

“RE:” is a series of essays of 300 words or less about pretty much anything. This is the third installment. Previously:
RE: 1. Parasocial Relationships
RE: 2. Not Knowing

Categories
RE:

RE: Not Knowing

Eric Attica 2023

Here’s something I’ve been thinking about.

In my culture, knowing is a virtue. It’s a symbol of power to know things (presidents and professors and CEOs are expected to be in the know), and an embarrassment to be ignorant.

Have you ever pretended to know something, or have seen something? I’ve said I’ve seen Psych, even though I’ve only seen two episodes all the way through, and I’ve definitely pretended to know the story of Orpheus in Greek mythology. What if I asked you right now why the sky is blue? Do you know? Would you pretend to know?

As a scholar-in-training, it’s my job to know things. But I can only learn things if I admit I don’t know them. Yesterday I realized that I really don’t know how rivers work. Where does the water actually come from? Why doesn’t the water run out? Why is it easier to grow things around rivers? Dumb questions—anyway, I found and read an article for grades 5–12 about how rivers work, and now I think I understand the world a little better.

It’s the ancient question: Why was Socrates wise? The prophetess says there is no man wiser than he, and Socrates decides to try find a wiser person in order to test her words. “I know that I have no wisdom, small or great,” he says. He talks to all occupations of society and discovers that that they are all less wise than they think they are, and realizes that he his wise not because his wisdom is great, but because he accurately knows that he knows nothing.

Ignorance may not be a virtue, but being honest about one’s ignorance is. What do you think? Have you asked any “dumb questions” lately?

Categories
RE:

RE: Parasocial Relationships

Headshot of Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan Kenobi
In one psychological study, being watched by a picture of Obi-Wan had the same effect on performing a task as being watched by a real human, to the extent that participants had a “relationship” with Obi-Wan. Nifty! (License: Paul Bird, CC BY 2.0 , via Wikimedia Commons)

I’m starting a new series of short-form posts called “RE:” that weigh in on a topic in 300 words or less, based on the principle that it’s better to blog something than nothing at all. Enjoy this first entry!

Here’s something I’ve been thinking about.

I’ve been listening to Brandon Sanderson and Dan Wells’ talk-about-anything podcast, Intentionally Blank (2021–), and I think I’m starting to build a relationship with these guys. A one-sided relationship, of course, but in some ways it’s similar to a real one. I’m excited to hear their takes on the latest media, and I recognize the names of their college friends they’ve mentioned on the show. I have a decent idea of Brandon’s daily schedule and what kind of books Dan might appreciate as a gift.

Media scholars and psychologists have a term for this—“parasocial relationships”, which were the topic of a literature review I wrote back when I was a psychology major. Emotionally, these “relationships” with celebrities or fictional characters share some features of “normal” social relationships, like loyalty, comfort, and even “breakup” (like that feeling of finishing the last book in a series).

New mass communication technologies during my lifetime alone have made it easier than ever to become a public figure or influencer and build parasocial relationships with one’s audience. Though I’m not convinced that this is a new phenomenon; buying mass-produced 役者絵 (yakusha-e) prints of your favorite actors was all the rage in 1800s Japan. But who knows? Advertising has already left the social sphere and entered the parasocial, mass-media sphere. Maybe next century, we’ll all be getting educated by the Green brothers, and parasocial teaching relationships will replace social ones.

Are parasocial relationships harmful, or are they just a part of living in the digital age? What famous “friends” do you have? Let me know in the comments!