The other day I was reading (I forget where, a hazard of reading too many blogs) that youth turnout was also extremely high (both in general, and for Obama) in South Carolina. The blogger who posted this information pointed out that this major plotline has been ignored in the media's haste to make the primaries about race and gender. Although it certainly is a historic race, it isn't the first time large numbers of blacks or large numbers of women have voted, or the first time they have had an affinity for a particular candidate. However, it seems that historic "firsts" are occuring with respect to youth turnout.
I've been trying to figure out why this is. One possibility is that gender and race are more sexy and contraversial than age. Another theory I have is that in a sense, stories which focus on the campaigns as a battle of identity politics diminish women and blacks and also the strength of the support for the candidates they are turning out for. The implicit argument is along these lines: "Women are only voting for Clinton because she is female." "Blacks are only voting for Obama because he's black." This then makes it seems as though the support isn't based on substansive policy, and a reasonable (white male) is the only one sufficiently disentangled from identity politics to objectively judge the candidates.
It's harder to make the identity politics case with young voters. A narrative in which voters between 18-25 jump up and down about Obama because he's 14 years younger than Clinton (and a mere 22 years older than them) just doesn't seem plausible. There are four competing narratives, one of which is infinitely more appealing.
First, young people could like Obama because he seems cool and hip and has the support of Obama girl. In this storyline, any boost in youth turnout in the general election next November can be traced to, like, political "debates" on facebook, and the youtube debate. Message: package old ideas in a new and sexy way and the kids'll come out. I feel pretty unqualified to comment on the veracity of this explanation-- my 18-25 year old circle is more wonky than hip-- but I'm not thrilled by the implications.
A friend pointed out a second explanation to me today. Obama's youth support comes from college campuses. That's the mechanism through which youth voters are typically registered and reached. Only half of Americans are able to afford a college education. We already know Obama does well among wealthier, better educated liberals. His youth support may just reflect the general class trends in the primary.
Being moderate became very cool sometime when I was in college, maybe a little after the 2004 election when Bush bashing felt trite to some people. (I guess people don't want to stay on the losing side too long...) I think people who considered themselves 'intellectuals' or 'reasonable' liked to label themselves as moderate because it seemed intellectually rigorous and less ideologically driven. I thought we were done with that trend after 06, but some of Obama's support among young people could stem from his claims of post-partisanship.
The story I like the best is that youth support for Obama is because young people are tired of staleness and looking for something new and different. If we must set it up as a vision vs experience debate, they are looking for sweeping vision. I also think (and if anyone has confirmation of this, I'd love to see it) that youth are likely to be the most angry about the Iraq war. First of all, all wars are fought by young people. Second of all, it's gone on for our entire adulthood. I think we may also be less likely to accept or appreciate political calculus and compromise, therefore Clinton's voting record on foreign policy seems more atrocious to us then it might to someone who was willing to see it as "politics as usual."
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Witnessed Courtship in a Maryland Diner
After making the rounds last Saturday night, my friend Jon and I found ourselves unexpectedly hungry at 2 am. Because Sunday's my major grocery shopping day, our only solution was to go to the near-by "American City Diner," which has all the neon signs, jute boxes, giant shakes and general kitsch one would hope for in a diner of that name. When we first got there, all the other patrons were cool high school kids with generous curfews but by the time we left the patrons were older, and the large groups had been replaced with couples.
The couple behind us didn't seem to know each other that well. She wore a floor length, crinkly brown dress under a jacket with a parka with a fake fur collar, and he wore a blue blazer that I think was supposed to be ironic in some way. He was black and her family was originally from Mexico. She was either a little bit drunk or very energetic. They sat on opposite sides of the table, and she passionately gesticulated over their shakes as she explained her objections to CAFTA. He kept calling it Kafka and she kept correcting him. Kafka, she explained, was the guy who wrote about the man who turned into a bug.
At one point, she raised her voice and informed him that he should stop trying to paint some radical, and her positions were quite mainstream. They talked about the primary, and Jon speculated that they both liked Obama but one of them was pretending to like Clinton so they could just keep arguing. We made up a lot of things about them and I think we were mostly correct.
When we left, they were sitting on the same side of the booth, and he had his arm around her, and she was drinking from his milkshake.
Have I mentioned just how much I like this city?
The couple behind us didn't seem to know each other that well. She wore a floor length, crinkly brown dress under a jacket with a parka with a fake fur collar, and he wore a blue blazer that I think was supposed to be ironic in some way. He was black and her family was originally from Mexico. She was either a little bit drunk or very energetic. They sat on opposite sides of the table, and she passionately gesticulated over their shakes as she explained her objections to CAFTA. He kept calling it Kafka and she kept correcting him. Kafka, she explained, was the guy who wrote about the man who turned into a bug.
At one point, she raised her voice and informed him that he should stop trying to paint some radical, and her positions were quite mainstream. They talked about the primary, and Jon speculated that they both liked Obama but one of them was pretending to like Clinton so they could just keep arguing. We made up a lot of things about them and I think we were mostly correct.
When we left, they were sitting on the same side of the booth, and he had his arm around her, and she was drinking from his milkshake.
Have I mentioned just how much I like this city?
Thursday, January 24, 2008
DC Village
DC is surprisingly small for a city of 600,000. I thought this was because I've mainly been sticking to Northwest and the Eastern Market area, but then I realized that was also the same size as Vermont, and you know, all we Vermonters know each other.
My friend Eleuthera was down from New York for the weekend, and over the course of two days, we accidentally ran into five swatties ranging from class of '05 to class of '09. We even ran into the same swattie twice, once in an art museum, and once biking on U Street wearing an intimidating ski mask. It's an invasion. I feel like we're running the city. If FISA gets through, I'm looking at you, Swarthmore Poli Sci department. Hmph.
Someone I meet for the first time one evening will be in my metro car the next day. I'm so glad Swarthmore taught me the swivel. I use it. A friend from the summer knows someone who used to work with my aunt. A girl I met at a party works with a friend from Swarthmore. There's less of a bubble, but a healthy dose of tact remains essential.
We aren't quite sure what the best term for the District of Columbia is. I go by "DC" but E thinks non-swatties may tend to say "Washington." I've been trying to catch locals referencing their home, and am considering "the District" as an alternative. I was under the illusion that's what the cool people call it, but have been told that's what Hollywood wants me to think the cool people call it. Next thing you know, I'll be dying my hair blond.
My friend Eleuthera was down from New York for the weekend, and over the course of two days, we accidentally ran into five swatties ranging from class of '05 to class of '09. We even ran into the same swattie twice, once in an art museum, and once biking on U Street wearing an intimidating ski mask. It's an invasion. I feel like we're running the city. If FISA gets through, I'm looking at you, Swarthmore Poli Sci department. Hmph.
Someone I meet for the first time one evening will be in my metro car the next day. I'm so glad Swarthmore taught me the swivel. I use it. A friend from the summer knows someone who used to work with my aunt. A girl I met at a party works with a friend from Swarthmore. There's less of a bubble, but a healthy dose of tact remains essential.
We aren't quite sure what the best term for the District of Columbia is. I go by "DC" but E thinks non-swatties may tend to say "Washington." I've been trying to catch locals referencing their home, and am considering "the District" as an alternative. I was under the illusion that's what the cool people call it, but have been told that's what Hollywood wants me to think the cool people call it. Next thing you know, I'll be dying my hair blond.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Women and Men of 2038
After watching the South Carolina debates last night, my friend Jon and I spent a while talking about what we hope the US will look like in 2038. One thing that struck me was that it was much easier for me to come up with social goals than economic goals or international goals. I think in part that's because I have a clearer sense of what my social "end vision" is whereas I don't know exactly where on the spectrum between a complete free market economy and a socialist command economy is ideal. Our role in the global sphere is even harder to project because there are so many other variables.
Here are some of the things we settled on, or that I thought of afterwards. We tried really hard to be realistic:
-universal healthcare coverage
-access to college: both that everyone can attend college and that cost is not a variable that constraints people's college decisions
-less of a wealth gap, both domestically and globally
-lifting the specter of severe enviromentally catastrophe
-societal prioritization of the need to restore clean water, air and ecosystems
-general era of peace, where the US military has only limited engagements
-an international criminal court and greater support for global legislation enforcement, whether it be about human rights, labor, or the enviroment
-a parallel commitment to open borders, and a rollback of ag and textile tariffs in the developed world
-I'd like to see a greater access to free information that still incentivizes the creation of information and art. It seems almost inevitable that we're moving in this direction, but I'd hate to see intellectual property laws that attempt to get around advances in technology and roll back the other way.
-the abandonment of the word 'gay' to describe negative things (Jon started off the conversation with this one. I guess his buddies at the Basic School find many objects attracted to other objects of the same sex. Or long runs. Male long runs are only attracted to other male long runs, I bet, especially if they are wearing gear. Gear is sort of like accessories, and therefore, particularly gay.)
-a constitutional framework for abortion and gay rights that is based on equality, not privacy. Maybe this means the ERA or maybe it means revisiting the intent of the 14th amendment.
Essentially, this is a progressive's agenda with a bit of a free trade, globalist emphasis.
A last wish I have for 2038 is that we expand the way we look at masculinity as a society. I'm not entirely sure how to get there-- Jon pointed out that probably many Americans think our current idea of masculinity is already too expansive-- but I think it's a change that's got to take place on the household level before it can take place on the national stage (although policies such as paternity leave would help).
When I was fourteen, I got my first job working as a bookshelver at the library. It was, other than RAing and dinners in Greece, the most fun I've ever been paid for. However, one thing that continually struck me was how critical parents were of their sons' choices. Babysitters' Club was a "girl's book." So, incidentally, was anything by Beverly Cleary, Rumor Goden, or Tamara Pierce. I see why J.K. Rowling dropped the Joanna before Harry Potter's debout and I see why she made Potter a boy. You can't really blame eight year old boys for rejecting books about girls if that's the message they have gotten from their parents and peers all their life.
I very rarely heard a parent to tell a girl to put down a book because it was a "boy's book." I think now (at least among my generation) a certain amount of tomboyishness is acceptable, or even encouraged in young girls. I doubt most of my male peers had their reading choices censored this way, but I think that right now there are more ways to "be female" than to "be male." Disney can make movies with female warriors decades before they make movies with princes who are not warriors. I think in general, uniqueness is more tolerated among female children than male ones. (I don't think this is true globally, of course, or cross cultures, and I'm willing to concede if someone wants to argue it's only true in certain socio-economic classes.)
I'm certainly not arguing it's easier to be female than to be male (although I wouldn't swap). I once talked this over with my friend Allie, and she commented that although we are no longer telling girls they must be this, or must be that, instead we are sending the message that they must be everything, and I think this is spot on. I obnoxiously, earnestly, and unnecessarily spend hours stressing about how I'm going to balance a family and a career (I want to help change the world and make awesome Halloween costumes, help!), even though now I don't have a boyfriend or a job I'm going to stick with in the long run. I expect I'll spend a far part of the next twenty years worrying about the same thing, hopefully less obnoxiously. I think some traditionally female problems-- such as worry about the approval of others or body image-- have become more equal-opportunity problems (gotta love those races to the bottom), but still affect women more.
(One thing that makes me a little sad for guys is that I know very few men who had childhood, and particularly adolescent, friendships as close as my own friendships. I don't really buy maturity gap arguments (my mother is convinced I have that teenage guy risk-loving hormone), but if there is one, I think it exists for that reason. It has to be a bit emotionally stilting to not have anyone to call when upset. Sometimes I think some guys want girlfriends so they can have a really close friend as much as anything else.)
There is more general consciousness of way our society needs to change in its treatment of women. I think these large scale changes can't come about without
redefining masculinity in a way that hinges less of aggression and leaves more room for having feelings and being nurturing. It would be a safer world to be female in. There would be fewer limits on what it was socially acceptable for a guy to do or say. I also think it would be easier and less stigmatized for men to take paternity leave or stay at home with children which would both open up more options for most couples and would put women who choose to take time off at less of a disadvantage.
Here are some of the things we settled on, or that I thought of afterwards. We tried really hard to be realistic:
-universal healthcare coverage
-access to college: both that everyone can attend college and that cost is not a variable that constraints people's college decisions
-less of a wealth gap, both domestically and globally
-lifting the specter of severe enviromentally catastrophe
-societal prioritization of the need to restore clean water, air and ecosystems
-general era of peace, where the US military has only limited engagements
-an international criminal court and greater support for global legislation enforcement, whether it be about human rights, labor, or the enviroment
-a parallel commitment to open borders, and a rollback of ag and textile tariffs in the developed world
-I'd like to see a greater access to free information that still incentivizes the creation of information and art. It seems almost inevitable that we're moving in this direction, but I'd hate to see intellectual property laws that attempt to get around advances in technology and roll back the other way.
-the abandonment of the word 'gay' to describe negative things (Jon started off the conversation with this one. I guess his buddies at the Basic School find many objects attracted to other objects of the same sex. Or long runs. Male long runs are only attracted to other male long runs, I bet, especially if they are wearing gear. Gear is sort of like accessories, and therefore, particularly gay.)
-a constitutional framework for abortion and gay rights that is based on equality, not privacy. Maybe this means the ERA or maybe it means revisiting the intent of the 14th amendment.
Essentially, this is a progressive's agenda with a bit of a free trade, globalist emphasis.
A last wish I have for 2038 is that we expand the way we look at masculinity as a society. I'm not entirely sure how to get there-- Jon pointed out that probably many Americans think our current idea of masculinity is already too expansive-- but I think it's a change that's got to take place on the household level before it can take place on the national stage (although policies such as paternity leave would help).
When I was fourteen, I got my first job working as a bookshelver at the library. It was, other than RAing and dinners in Greece, the most fun I've ever been paid for. However, one thing that continually struck me was how critical parents were of their sons' choices. Babysitters' Club was a "girl's book." So, incidentally, was anything by Beverly Cleary, Rumor Goden, or Tamara Pierce. I see why J.K. Rowling dropped the Joanna before Harry Potter's debout and I see why she made Potter a boy. You can't really blame eight year old boys for rejecting books about girls if that's the message they have gotten from their parents and peers all their life.
I very rarely heard a parent to tell a girl to put down a book because it was a "boy's book." I think now (at least among my generation) a certain amount of tomboyishness is acceptable, or even encouraged in young girls. I doubt most of my male peers had their reading choices censored this way, but I think that right now there are more ways to "be female" than to "be male." Disney can make movies with female warriors decades before they make movies with princes who are not warriors. I think in general, uniqueness is more tolerated among female children than male ones. (I don't think this is true globally, of course, or cross cultures, and I'm willing to concede if someone wants to argue it's only true in certain socio-economic classes.)
I'm certainly not arguing it's easier to be female than to be male (although I wouldn't swap). I once talked this over with my friend Allie, and she commented that although we are no longer telling girls they must be this, or must be that, instead we are sending the message that they must be everything, and I think this is spot on. I obnoxiously, earnestly, and unnecessarily spend hours stressing about how I'm going to balance a family and a career (I want to help change the world and make awesome Halloween costumes, help!), even though now I don't have a boyfriend or a job I'm going to stick with in the long run. I expect I'll spend a far part of the next twenty years worrying about the same thing, hopefully less obnoxiously. I think some traditionally female problems-- such as worry about the approval of others or body image-- have become more equal-opportunity problems (gotta love those races to the bottom), but still affect women more.
(One thing that makes me a little sad for guys is that I know very few men who had childhood, and particularly adolescent, friendships as close as my own friendships. I don't really buy maturity gap arguments (my mother is convinced I have that teenage guy risk-loving hormone), but if there is one, I think it exists for that reason. It has to be a bit emotionally stilting to not have anyone to call when upset. Sometimes I think some guys want girlfriends so they can have a really close friend as much as anything else.)
There is more general consciousness of way our society needs to change in its treatment of women. I think these large scale changes can't come about without
redefining masculinity in a way that hinges less of aggression and leaves more room for having feelings and being nurturing. It would be a safer world to be female in. There would be fewer limits on what it was socially acceptable for a guy to do or say. I also think it would be easier and less stigmatized for men to take paternity leave or stay at home with children which would both open up more options for most couples and would put women who choose to take time off at less of a disadvantage.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Soup of the Week
Dear Senator Leahy,
I appreciate the sentiment, but next time, pls make your endorsements before the primary next door, Jim Douglas-style.
Thanks,
Bree
I have this new scheme where I make a different soup every Sunday (ok, so far have only done this once, but...) and then freeze it and eat it each day for lunch. It's snowing out now, and Sunday's chili couldn't be more delicious. I find it pretty challenging to eat enough produce while just cooking for myself, and a soup with a lot of veggies helps. I think I also want to try using leftover salad vegetables, post-chop-up, in omelettes. My friend Michele thinks the solution for cooking for yourself is to eat the exact same thing every day, so you don't wind up with ill-suited leftovers. Katie thinks the secret is a dinner composed of no-prep snacks-- a rice cake here, a yogurt there. I really want to learn to cook though, so I'll keep you posted if I develop any brillant strategies.
Any candidates for the next soup of the week?
I appreciate the sentiment, but next time, pls make your endorsements before the primary next door, Jim Douglas-style.
Thanks,
Bree
I have this new scheme where I make a different soup every Sunday (ok, so far have only done this once, but...) and then freeze it and eat it each day for lunch. It's snowing out now, and Sunday's chili couldn't be more delicious. I find it pretty challenging to eat enough produce while just cooking for myself, and a soup with a lot of veggies helps. I think I also want to try using leftover salad vegetables, post-chop-up, in omelettes. My friend Michele thinks the solution for cooking for yourself is to eat the exact same thing every day, so you don't wind up with ill-suited leftovers. Katie thinks the secret is a dinner composed of no-prep snacks-- a rice cake here, a yogurt there. I really want to learn to cook though, so I'll keep you posted if I develop any brillant strategies.
Any candidates for the next soup of the week?
Rootlessness and Americanism
While wandering through old Kyoto, Rachel and I were struck with how alive and universal the sense of ritual seemed to be. It feels as though there is a certain way to be Japanese -- to go to neighborhood shrines, to live with your parents after college, to prepare bentos for your children's lunches, to eat certain foods in certain ratios, etc. While this seems very confining (when I talked to Japanese girls who'd studied in the US, they worried they were too "individual" to continue to work and live in Japan, at the same time it felt like there was a common sense of belonging, a united identity.
For a brief moment in the old city, I craved a common history, an external identity accompanied by ritual. I guess some people find this in religion and others find it in culture and nationalism. On a personal level, I've always sort of valued having a level of distance from the divides and limits these identities create, but in Kyoto, I thought about the limits of not having one.
I think it would be so interesting to live in a place where one felt that all the people they saw went home and ate rice just like you, or also woke up at 5 am for the first of five prayers and believed in the same god. The first time I had sex, I spent weeks amazed that this was something everyone did, a common private activity binding me to the SWILies making out in their long capes and the 40 year old biology teaching with the wedding ring. (Whenever I try to explain the way I felt about this relevation, friends stop me at that point.)
When it comes to countries, I'm less divided. I'd much rather live in a country with a plethora of contradicting traditions and identities than a larger, potentially exclusive one. (Even in this, I'm clinging to my own particular idea of American diversity, a part of my own identity.)
I find it much easier to describe what a Japanese person does or what an Emirati person does than what an American does. Clothing styles, food preferences and houseware are easier to generalize. Part of this may be that its harder to stereotype groups one belongs to, but I really do think American identity is more diffuse.
When I was in Tanzania, the questions people asked me about America included "Do girls really starve themselves?" "Where do the cowboys live?" "Does everyone have plastic surgery" "Does everyone own a gun?" When we tried to give correct, narrowly tailored answers to these questions, people then asked us what America was like. If not cowboys with rhinoplasty, then what?
I don't know. The truism that one never feels more American than when they are abroad certainly applied to me, but I still don't know what that means.
(to be finished tomorrow)
As I write, I recognize that everything I characterize as American-- our brand of democracy, our cultural pluralism-- is up for debate. And I like that, too.
For a brief moment in the old city, I craved a common history, an external identity accompanied by ritual. I guess some people find this in religion and others find it in culture and nationalism. On a personal level, I've always sort of valued having a level of distance from the divides and limits these identities create, but in Kyoto, I thought about the limits of not having one.
I think it would be so interesting to live in a place where one felt that all the people they saw went home and ate rice just like you, or also woke up at 5 am for the first of five prayers and believed in the same god. The first time I had sex, I spent weeks amazed that this was something everyone did, a common private activity binding me to the SWILies making out in their long capes and the 40 year old biology teaching with the wedding ring. (Whenever I try to explain the way I felt about this relevation, friends stop me at that point.)
When it comes to countries, I'm less divided. I'd much rather live in a country with a plethora of contradicting traditions and identities than a larger, potentially exclusive one. (Even in this, I'm clinging to my own particular idea of American diversity, a part of my own identity.)
I find it much easier to describe what a Japanese person does or what an Emirati person does than what an American does. Clothing styles, food preferences and houseware are easier to generalize. Part of this may be that its harder to stereotype groups one belongs to, but I really do think American identity is more diffuse.
When I was in Tanzania, the questions people asked me about America included "Do girls really starve themselves?" "Where do the cowboys live?" "Does everyone have plastic surgery" "Does everyone own a gun?" When we tried to give correct, narrowly tailored answers to these questions, people then asked us what America was like. If not cowboys with rhinoplasty, then what?
I don't know. The truism that one never feels more American than when they are abroad certainly applied to me, but I still don't know what that means.
(to be finished tomorrow)
As I write, I recognize that everything I characterize as American-- our brand of democracy, our cultural pluralism-- is up for debate. And I like that, too.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Doing Capitally in the Capitol
(I have a sneaking suspicion that one of three people is going to email me and tell me that the spelling "capitol" can only be used to refer to the building, not the whole city. However, the bigger issue here is that this title is really too corny for use. Bear with me all the same.)
I arrived in DC last Friday, and am really excited to be back. I'm living with my aunt and uncle and cousin out in Chevy Chase. They have a basement apartment under their house with a separate door and kitchen, so it's pretty ideal.
In the last week, I have characterized DC as a social mecca, cornucopia, buffet, grail, basically any word that encapsulates an abundance of interactive goodness. I like that I can do a different interesting thing with a different interesting person every night of the week if I like. Over the summer, this became a bit exhausting, but I think I could wind up a DC-for-lifer if I had a place like VT to escape to.
I saw a friend from the summer this weekend, and she said she felt like seeing each other was one of Madeline L'Engle's wrinkles in time. Seeing one another made it feel like all the time we'd been apart was folded up between us and the time we'd lived together felt like it was the closest thing to the now. I like tesseracts.
I've noticed that people always get a lot cooler> after they stop running for president. Predictable, I guess. I think Kerry makes this point very well; Democrats (and, um, everyone else) should never be the party trying to suppress turnout.
In all the campaigns I've worked on, I've always believed turnout was a good sign. For the most part, if you don't at least feel that way, you're working for the wrong person. (Although maybe I'd feel differently if in a swing state when the ballot initiative was tailor made to turn out evangelicals.)
I arrived in DC last Friday, and am really excited to be back. I'm living with my aunt and uncle and cousin out in Chevy Chase. They have a basement apartment under their house with a separate door and kitchen, so it's pretty ideal.
In the last week, I have characterized DC as a social mecca, cornucopia, buffet, grail, basically any word that encapsulates an abundance of interactive goodness. I like that I can do a different interesting thing with a different interesting person every night of the week if I like. Over the summer, this became a bit exhausting, but I think I could wind up a DC-for-lifer if I had a place like VT to escape to.
I saw a friend from the summer this weekend, and she said she felt like seeing each other was one of Madeline L'Engle's wrinkles in time. Seeing one another made it feel like all the time we'd been apart was folded up between us and the time we'd lived together felt like it was the closest thing to the now. I like tesseracts.
I've noticed that people always get a lot cooler> after they stop running for president. Predictable, I guess. I think Kerry makes this point very well; Democrats (and, um, everyone else) should never be the party trying to suppress turnout.
In all the campaigns I've worked on, I've always believed turnout was a good sign. For the most part, if you don't at least feel that way, you're working for the wrong person. (Although maybe I'd feel differently if in a swing state when the ballot initiative was tailor made to turn out evangelicals.)
Friday, January 11, 2008
Human Rights, Glass Elevators and Heights
The next morning I took the train to Osaka, where I parted ways with Rachel. I left my stuff in a locker, and set off to explore Osaka. The day got off to a pretty rough start---I lost my airport shuttle ticket immediately after purchasing it, I consequently had to take out yen on my last day (the calculus of having just enough foreign currency to last through a trip without running out or going over eludes me yet) and it took me roughly two hours to figure out how to navigate the station. Finally, I purchased a ticket and rode the circular route out to the Human Rights museum, feeling very independent, relieved, and triumphant.
The Osaka Human Rights museum was one of the best museums I have ever been to. Admission only cost about two dollars, even without a student membership, and at the door, the guides offered me a free headset that had an English translation of all the exhibits. (I'm still trying to figure out how the museum was funded. I think it's virtually impossible that the Japanese government funded it-- the exhibits were too critical. My best guess is that a Korean businessman who was successful in Japan during the postwar period but had to hide his identity sponsored it.
The museum was broken into three parts, the first section which discussed the way certain norms were enforced in Japanese culture, resulting in the exclusion of whole segments of the population. The final section had a series of narratives by people who were marginalized and the victims of human rights abuses. The middle section, my favorite, dealt with the historical and contemporary status of disadvantaged groups within Japanese society. The groups discussed included: women, people who were queer, victims of enviromental disaster, people with disabilities, slum dwellers, Koreans, Okinawans, people living with AIDS, the Ainu, and the burakumin (ghettoized descents of leather workers and undertakers who have continued to be treated as a seperate caste within Japanese society long after the caste system was abandoned).
I liked that the museum combined these disparate groups. I thought that offered a very sweeping perspective of human rights in Japan rather than, say, just looking at dissents or just focusing on members of a particular minority group. I was impressed by the museum's honesty in approaching these struggles as ongoing rather than historic battles the country has moved beyond. (The Museum of the American Indian in DC also does a nice job with this.) I also think it's very challenging to create exhibits about people who have been victims without creating a one-sided narrative in which they become agency-less objects, and are dehumanized. While it's also bad to create a fake story in which people who could not fight fought back, this museum did an excellent job of contextualizing the ways in which people had resisted oppression. It told stories of victims of enviromental discrimination who had sued, both losers and winners. It featured video of speech contest in which all the participants spoke Ainu. It had pictures of Burakumin youth drummers who spoke to communities about the way they were treated.
The curators at the museum were excellent, and I was really glad to go. I feel like I got a taste of Japanese history and culture that I otherwise would have completely missed. I think the discriminated-against in Japan face a very uphill battle because: a) sameness is so valued (how can such a conformist society also be so creative?) b) breaking consensus-- ie, complaining-- is frowning on and could bring further shame on one's family c) politics is not a forum through which every day people can exercise any will.
I ate some curry at the museum, then spent the afternoon wandering around Osaka. I meant to go to the aquarium but accidentally wound up at the water conservation museum instead. I think it was geared for enviromentally conscious Japanese-speaking ten year olds, but props that they have a free, interactive water conservation museum.
Osaka felt a little bit poorer and more industrial than Tokyo to me. Homelessness is nonexistant or invisible in all the parts of Tokyo I've been to, but in Osaka, there were people sleeping under bridges and taking shelter against the wind under cross-paths over the streets. There was occasional graffiti, although it still seemed a lot cleaner than most American cities. The city itself spans a river, and unlike Yokohama, which doesn't seem to quite know what to do with it's waterfront, there were lovely parks along the water and running trails. Rachel says Osakans are like the "Greeks of Japan" and are known for being more demonstrative and friendly.
That night, I went up to the "Floating Garden Observatories" in Shin-Umeda. There were two towers linked by an open observation deck at the very top. First, visitors rode up in an enclosed elevator, and then switched to a glass encased elevator offering a great (but sort of scary) pararoma of the city. On top, there was an indoor photo exhibit and a cafe, then a staircase that led up to the open deck. I walked around outside for a bit, then went inside to the cafe to watch the sunset over the city before boarding my flight home.
The Osaka Human Rights museum was one of the best museums I have ever been to. Admission only cost about two dollars, even without a student membership, and at the door, the guides offered me a free headset that had an English translation of all the exhibits. (I'm still trying to figure out how the museum was funded. I think it's virtually impossible that the Japanese government funded it-- the exhibits were too critical. My best guess is that a Korean businessman who was successful in Japan during the postwar period but had to hide his identity sponsored it.
The museum was broken into three parts, the first section which discussed the way certain norms were enforced in Japanese culture, resulting in the exclusion of whole segments of the population. The final section had a series of narratives by people who were marginalized and the victims of human rights abuses. The middle section, my favorite, dealt with the historical and contemporary status of disadvantaged groups within Japanese society. The groups discussed included: women, people who were queer, victims of enviromental disaster, people with disabilities, slum dwellers, Koreans, Okinawans, people living with AIDS, the Ainu, and the burakumin (ghettoized descents of leather workers and undertakers who have continued to be treated as a seperate caste within Japanese society long after the caste system was abandoned).
I liked that the museum combined these disparate groups. I thought that offered a very sweeping perspective of human rights in Japan rather than, say, just looking at dissents or just focusing on members of a particular minority group. I was impressed by the museum's honesty in approaching these struggles as ongoing rather than historic battles the country has moved beyond. (The Museum of the American Indian in DC also does a nice job with this.) I also think it's very challenging to create exhibits about people who have been victims without creating a one-sided narrative in which they become agency-less objects, and are dehumanized. While it's also bad to create a fake story in which people who could not fight fought back, this museum did an excellent job of contextualizing the ways in which people had resisted oppression. It told stories of victims of enviromental discrimination who had sued, both losers and winners. It featured video of speech contest in which all the participants spoke Ainu. It had pictures of Burakumin youth drummers who spoke to communities about the way they were treated.
The curators at the museum were excellent, and I was really glad to go. I feel like I got a taste of Japanese history and culture that I otherwise would have completely missed. I think the discriminated-against in Japan face a very uphill battle because: a) sameness is so valued (how can such a conformist society also be so creative?) b) breaking consensus-- ie, complaining-- is frowning on and could bring further shame on one's family c) politics is not a forum through which every day people can exercise any will.
I ate some curry at the museum, then spent the afternoon wandering around Osaka. I meant to go to the aquarium but accidentally wound up at the water conservation museum instead. I think it was geared for enviromentally conscious Japanese-speaking ten year olds, but props that they have a free, interactive water conservation museum.
Osaka felt a little bit poorer and more industrial than Tokyo to me. Homelessness is nonexistant or invisible in all the parts of Tokyo I've been to, but in Osaka, there were people sleeping under bridges and taking shelter against the wind under cross-paths over the streets. There was occasional graffiti, although it still seemed a lot cleaner than most American cities. The city itself spans a river, and unlike Yokohama, which doesn't seem to quite know what to do with it's waterfront, there were lovely parks along the water and running trails. Rachel says Osakans are like the "Greeks of Japan" and are known for being more demonstrative and friendly.
That night, I went up to the "Floating Garden Observatories" in Shin-Umeda. There were two towers linked by an open observation deck at the very top. First, visitors rode up in an enclosed elevator, and then switched to a glass encased elevator offering a great (but sort of scary) pararoma of the city. On top, there was an indoor photo exhibit and a cafe, then a staircase that led up to the open deck. I walked around outside for a bit, then went inside to the cafe to watch the sunset over the city before boarding my flight home.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Kyoto III
After seeing the Roman aqueduct, we rode back in to downtown and wandered around Pontocho alley. Back in the days when Kyoto was the capital of Japan, Pontocho alley was on the other side of the river, officially outside city limits. Officials and visitors would cross the bridge over from Gion for debauchery, and pretend it all wasn't happening in the capital. (All the historical signs around the alley cite it's long history as a "gay area" where people met to meet prostitutes. I think somehow the distinction between a 'gay district' and a 'red light district' got a bit blurred in translation.) When we arrived there, it was just getting dark, and the narrow streets, lined with restaurants and well-lit signs, were just coming to life. It's still a major going-out area for young Kyoto residents, and reminded me a bit of the Latin Quarter in Paris.
After a while, Rachel and I realized we were in an actual red light district (some things need no translation) and headed back to the main road. We stopped at a little bar/restaurant off the main road. When we saw that the place was nearly empty, we intended to just get a drink and some sashimi and then go elsewhere for dinner. The owner had other plans, and prepared a delicious meal, course by course. I think, in the end, it was my favorite meal I ate in Japan.
It began with tuna and mackerel sashimi, and I'd finally gotten acclimated enough to enjoy it (I've missed it since getting home). It also came with delicious, very fresh-tasting leaves to wrap it in. Next, he served oden, something I've been fascinated by in convenience stores, but don't have the communication skills to order. Next to check out in Japanese convenience stores, right next to the sweet bean mochi, is a big tub of heated broth with stewed fish cakes, boiled egg, daikon (radish), etc, floating in it. After the oden, we had a thumb-sized bit of carefully cooked chicken, followed by tempura eggplant, green beans, and the same fresh-tasting leaf. I'd never really think of frying those vegetables, but I'd love to learn how now. The meal inevitably ended with rice, and green tea ice cream. We were glad we'd apparently lost agency. The owner-- who was quite young and had World Cup paraphenial all over his restaurant-- adopted the greviances of a much older man. He was distressed that young Japanese people prefered Chu-hi to sake and conventional entertainment to the traditional.
Our hotel that night had co-ed floors and women's floors. As women traveling along, we were shuttled off to the woman's floor, which had careful signs on the door leading to the elevator which made it absolutely clear no men could escape through. The hotel room had a 1950s style decor, as well as button-up light brown pajamas for the guests.
After a while, Rachel and I realized we were in an actual red light district (some things need no translation) and headed back to the main road. We stopped at a little bar/restaurant off the main road. When we saw that the place was nearly empty, we intended to just get a drink and some sashimi and then go elsewhere for dinner. The owner had other plans, and prepared a delicious meal, course by course. I think, in the end, it was my favorite meal I ate in Japan.
It began with tuna and mackerel sashimi, and I'd finally gotten acclimated enough to enjoy it (I've missed it since getting home). It also came with delicious, very fresh-tasting leaves to wrap it in. Next, he served oden, something I've been fascinated by in convenience stores, but don't have the communication skills to order. Next to check out in Japanese convenience stores, right next to the sweet bean mochi, is a big tub of heated broth with stewed fish cakes, boiled egg, daikon (radish), etc, floating in it. After the oden, we had a thumb-sized bit of carefully cooked chicken, followed by tempura eggplant, green beans, and the same fresh-tasting leaf. I'd never really think of frying those vegetables, but I'd love to learn how now. The meal inevitably ended with rice, and green tea ice cream. We were glad we'd apparently lost agency. The owner-- who was quite young and had World Cup paraphenial all over his restaurant-- adopted the greviances of a much older man. He was distressed that young Japanese people prefered Chu-hi to sake and conventional entertainment to the traditional.
Our hotel that night had co-ed floors and women's floors. As women traveling along, we were shuttled off to the woman's floor, which had careful signs on the door leading to the elevator which made it absolutely clear no men could escape through. The hotel room had a 1950s style decor, as well as button-up light brown pajamas for the guests.
Fates Worse than Nama Gomi
I think it's clear I like to think of myself as a pretty tough kid. I think if you first met me, you wouldn't buy this and would think I was a fairly soft-spoken girl who wears a lot of skirts and high heels. I like to tell myself, though, that in circumstances that require it, I summon up the emergency spirit pretty well.
However, I have my share of personal phobias. I have discussed one of these at length previously. The other one is packing.
My sophomore roommate, Rachel, was a little astounded when-- after doing my best to keep my chin up through an up and down year-- I broke down at the end of the year sobbing when I tried to pack my stuff. She did an amazing job of being encouraging:
R: "Wow, Bree, it's terrific you folded that t-shirt. That must have been really challenging!"
B (sitting amidst the wreckage of her room, reluctantly folding): "This is impossible!"
R: "That's one less t-shirt to fold!"
B: "But how do I know how many t-shirts to fold? Maybe I should just get rid of them all!!!"
R: "I know, it's so hard."
Of course, she also offered to help many times. But the truth of my difficulty in packing renders this unviable. I'm pretty messy. I'm not diiirty; I don't like food mess or dirty clothes mess or mess to mix, but I tend to shove things in drawers.
And somehow, every time I try to pack, I force myself to go through the long process of sorting these things. I find a note from my best friend from 9th grade, discretely written in gel pen in math class. I think she was a universe to me once but we haven't talked in years and it's probably my fault. Then, I find love letters from an old boyfriend I lost touch with. Much too painful not to read. Then come the honors papers-- were they as good as I thought they were at the time? Better re-read...why did I forget Salinas' name!
In truth, I should just get rid of all this stuff so it stops slowing me down (except maybe my honors papers. I wrote them too recently to be too critical) but I like having a record of life too much.
Then there's the panic of cramming everything into a suitcase, etc. One would think I'd have come to gripes with all this after the past few months. In some ways, I'm a better packer. I get by on fewer clothes. I wear comfy things on planes and put my passport where it's easy to get. But, I'm no better at the normal life to suitcase stage.
I'm moving down to DC tomorrow, and spending tonight writing about packing instead of doing it. Predictable. I'll try to focus, but will probably finally finish posting about Japan.
However, I have my share of personal phobias. I have discussed one of these at length previously. The other one is packing.
My sophomore roommate, Rachel, was a little astounded when-- after doing my best to keep my chin up through an up and down year-- I broke down at the end of the year sobbing when I tried to pack my stuff. She did an amazing job of being encouraging:
R: "Wow, Bree, it's terrific you folded that t-shirt. That must have been really challenging!"
B (sitting amidst the wreckage of her room, reluctantly folding): "This is impossible!"
R: "That's one less t-shirt to fold!"
B: "But how do I know how many t-shirts to fold? Maybe I should just get rid of them all!!!"
R: "I know, it's so hard."
Of course, she also offered to help many times. But the truth of my difficulty in packing renders this unviable. I'm pretty messy. I'm not diiirty; I don't like food mess or dirty clothes mess or mess to mix, but I tend to shove things in drawers.
And somehow, every time I try to pack, I force myself to go through the long process of sorting these things. I find a note from my best friend from 9th grade, discretely written in gel pen in math class. I think she was a universe to me once but we haven't talked in years and it's probably my fault. Then, I find love letters from an old boyfriend I lost touch with. Much too painful not to read. Then come the honors papers-- were they as good as I thought they were at the time? Better re-read...why did I forget Salinas' name!
In truth, I should just get rid of all this stuff so it stops slowing me down (except maybe my honors papers. I wrote them too recently to be too critical) but I like having a record of life too much.
Then there's the panic of cramming everything into a suitcase, etc. One would think I'd have come to gripes with all this after the past few months. In some ways, I'm a better packer. I get by on fewer clothes. I wear comfy things on planes and put my passport where it's easy to get. But, I'm no better at the normal life to suitcase stage.
I'm moving down to DC tomorrow, and spending tonight writing about packing instead of doing it. Predictable. I'll try to focus, but will probably finally finish posting about Japan.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Notes from the Granite State
I spent the last weekend canvassing in Manchester, New Hampshire with two good friends, and discovered that primary canvassing is much more fun than general election canvassing because there isn't really an enemy. At best, the primary is a "discussion" of what our country needs and what people want to see in a leader, and that's a fun conversation to have with people. Although I had a couple of the "is canvassing ever really effective" moments, I also had a slew of interesting conversations.
-I took a bus to the Manchester airport, and while waiting for my friend to arrive, I saw Patrick Murphy (D PA-8) who had endorsed Obama working the line of people going through pre-flight security, encouraging them to endorse his candidate. When it was his own turn to take out his laptop and place his shoes and blazer in the bin, he kept right on going, trying to persuade the airport security workers. It seemed like he was very successful in engaging them. While I'm no politician, I tried to use this as inspiration to engage with everyone, not just the people on my walk lists.
-A pretty cracked out young man buying cigarettes at a convenience store who wanted to talk with us and echoed back Democratic talking points. It's almost the first time I've gotten "liberal" talking points from someone who doesn't seem political invovled instead of "conservative" ones. Maybe we're doing a better job with message then we think we are.
-A young man who opened the door wearing tight boxer-briefs and a Temple University sweatshirt who wanted to compare Edwards and Clintons' anti-poverty agenda for 20 minutes and yet couldn't be bothered to put on pants before opening the door. Eye contact, eye contact.
-A Republican who was voting for Romney because he was the most "genuine" candidate. They are out there.
-I'm always a little amazed by how many voters seem to focus on personality over issues. Several older women wanted to talk about how Edwards was a "very nice man."
-We met a sherif who had done the security check for all the cars going into the debate who had gotten to briefly meet all the candidates. Most arrived in limos, although some came on their campaign buses and Ron Paul arrived in the backseat of an SUV. Only slightly more newsworthy than candidate eating habits, but an interesting slice of life.
-While waiting for lunch, an out-of-towner in a leather jacket asked me if I was working for Edwards (the sticker and the lit are sort of a give away). I said yes, and then launched into a more conversational version of my spiel. "Too bad the focus has been on Clinton and Obama," he said. I agreed, and we discussed the irresponsible media coverage throughout the campaign (at this point, I'm pretty disgusted by the Clinton treatment). At the end, I ventured to ask who he was supported. "Oh," he said, "Off the record, I'm a member of the irresponsible media."
-Saturday night, we went to a rally/visibility event downtown. At first, it was just us and a group of men from the steel workers union, who were funny and very interesting to talk to. The 'part' of the Democratic party I've had the most extended contact with as fellow campaigners is the, um, sushi eating, latte drinking part. (Incidentally, the same culinary propensities describe most of the Republicans I know. College towns.)
Many of them had worked on campaigns since 1972, and it was interesting to hear about their strategies and commitment because like churches, I think unions are such a credible force in the community that is much more effective at GOTV and persuasion than a campaign could be. I was surprised by the intensity of their hate for Senator Clinton even though they described themselves as lifelong, diehard Democrats.
As is to be expected, we didn't see eye-to-eye on protectionism, although we recent graduates kept our mouths shut. Trade seems like such a small rift within our party when the Republican party seems to be facing such an identity struggle.
One of the men seemed particularly concerned about the lack of women among their political leadership although he said 30-40 % of the union was female. It's encouraging that they are discussing the need to have a leadership that reflects the population it serves.
-The best one-liner of the weekend came from a young waitress at the Airport Diner in Manchester. She saw our stickers, then told us about her friend who wanted to vote for a Republican, probably Romney. "I said to her, 'Honey, you're a single mom. You aren't a Republican."
-I took a bus to the Manchester airport, and while waiting for my friend to arrive, I saw Patrick Murphy (D PA-8) who had endorsed Obama working the line of people going through pre-flight security, encouraging them to endorse his candidate. When it was his own turn to take out his laptop and place his shoes and blazer in the bin, he kept right on going, trying to persuade the airport security workers. It seemed like he was very successful in engaging them. While I'm no politician, I tried to use this as inspiration to engage with everyone, not just the people on my walk lists.
-A pretty cracked out young man buying cigarettes at a convenience store who wanted to talk with us and echoed back Democratic talking points. It's almost the first time I've gotten "liberal" talking points from someone who doesn't seem political invovled instead of "conservative" ones. Maybe we're doing a better job with message then we think we are.
-A young man who opened the door wearing tight boxer-briefs and a Temple University sweatshirt who wanted to compare Edwards and Clintons' anti-poverty agenda for 20 minutes and yet couldn't be bothered to put on pants before opening the door. Eye contact, eye contact.
-A Republican who was voting for Romney because he was the most "genuine" candidate. They are out there.
-I'm always a little amazed by how many voters seem to focus on personality over issues. Several older women wanted to talk about how Edwards was a "very nice man."
-We met a sherif who had done the security check for all the cars going into the debate who had gotten to briefly meet all the candidates. Most arrived in limos, although some came on their campaign buses and Ron Paul arrived in the backseat of an SUV. Only slightly more newsworthy than candidate eating habits, but an interesting slice of life.
-While waiting for lunch, an out-of-towner in a leather jacket asked me if I was working for Edwards (the sticker and the lit are sort of a give away). I said yes, and then launched into a more conversational version of my spiel. "Too bad the focus has been on Clinton and Obama," he said. I agreed, and we discussed the irresponsible media coverage throughout the campaign (at this point, I'm pretty disgusted by the Clinton treatment). At the end, I ventured to ask who he was supported. "Oh," he said, "Off the record, I'm a member of the irresponsible media."
-Saturday night, we went to a rally/visibility event downtown. At first, it was just us and a group of men from the steel workers union, who were funny and very interesting to talk to. The 'part' of the Democratic party I've had the most extended contact with as fellow campaigners is the, um, sushi eating, latte drinking part. (Incidentally, the same culinary propensities describe most of the Republicans I know. College towns.)
Many of them had worked on campaigns since 1972, and it was interesting to hear about their strategies and commitment because like churches, I think unions are such a credible force in the community that is much more effective at GOTV and persuasion than a campaign could be. I was surprised by the intensity of their hate for Senator Clinton even though they described themselves as lifelong, diehard Democrats.
As is to be expected, we didn't see eye-to-eye on protectionism, although we recent graduates kept our mouths shut. Trade seems like such a small rift within our party when the Republican party seems to be facing such an identity struggle.
One of the men seemed particularly concerned about the lack of women among their political leadership although he said 30-40 % of the union was female. It's encouraging that they are discussing the need to have a leadership that reflects the population it serves.
-The best one-liner of the weekend came from a young waitress at the Airport Diner in Manchester. She saw our stickers, then told us about her friend who wanted to vote for a Republican, probably Romney. "I said to her, 'Honey, you're a single mom. You aren't a Republican."
Etiquette for Canvassing
Although the old adage about not discussing politics at the dinner table or in polite company makes me a very rude person, I do think there is a need for greater etiquette concerning canvassing.
For those in heavily canvassed areas (any early primary or swing state), I can understand how frustrating and intrusive the repeated door knocks, phone calls and lit drops would be. While it's part of the price for getting to be more important than everyone else for months, there are things the geographically well-endowed can do to at least minimize the intrusion.
1) First off, you never have to answer a door for a canvasser. If you see them walking up and down your street and you just woke up, got out of the shower, have the flu or don't feel like talking, just don't get the door.
2) There's a more polite alternative to this strategy which will also grant you greater peace and quiet. You can hang a polite sign on your door which says "No canvassers, please." Alternate versions-- "no soliciting for my business, my vote, or my faith" or "don't knock-- sleeping baby" also work well.
a) This is MUCH more effective than telling individual canvassers to take you off their list. Campaigns are often a day or two (or more) behind in entering in data like that from canvassing. Additionally, people from several different campaigns or organizations (the frustration of not being able to coordinate with PACs in 2004 and covering the same turf: endless) may all be covering your neighborhood and they cannot coordinate with one another.
b) An even nicer twist on the sign is one which gives the canvassers the information they want. "No canvassers please. I plan to vote for candidate X" or "Please do not disturb. I'm firmly committed to voting on Election Day." Such specificity reduces the risk that the canvassers will 'code' you on their sheets as not home or undecided, and, with competent data entry, should take you off their phone banking lists.
c) If canvassers ignore such signs and still knock/ring the bell, carte blanche to be annoyed.
3) If you don't have a sign up and answer the door, please don't yell at canvassers. You can tell them you'd rather not speak to them, but there is no reason not to be civil. (In my experience, most people are very nice and supportive whether or not they agree with you, but the one person who shouts "GET OFF MY PORCH NOW" can ruin a day.)
For canvassers:
1) Don't walk on people's lawns. Use pathways.
2) Never, ever throw lit on people's lawns. Do you really want people picking up litter with your candidate's face all over it?
3) Similarly, place lit under a door mat, inside an outer door or secure it in some ways so that it is unlikely to blow away and become litter. However, don't EVER put lit in a mailbox. This is illegal.
4) Park in a place where you aren't in people's way. And if you have out of state plates, think about parking outside of your turf.
5) Ditch the script, speak from the heart, don't waste people' time, and get them talking. The most successful canvassing is a two way dialogue in which they speak at least as much as you do. This may not seem like an etiquette point, but it's rude to talk 'at' an equal.
6) Affirm turnout. Affirm participation, even by the opposition.
A pet peeve of mine is people in the crowd at rallies who get to the front by holding the "right" signs and then holding up signs for an opposition candidate as soon as the media showed. This technique was a favorite of Santorum's failed 2006 effort to hold on to his senate seat, and I was shocked to see Democrats doing it to other Democrats in New Hampshire. I think this is extremely tasteless and ineffective. It's important to remember that when you are out publicly supporting a candidate, everything you do reflects on that candidate. Undecided voters vote with their gut as much as their head, and being polite and charming leaves them with a favorable impression of your candidate. Being rude-- trampling lawns, littering, being overly aggressive-- does just the opposite. "Attack tactics" like destroying the lit of other candidates, etc, are even worse.
For those in heavily canvassed areas (any early primary or swing state), I can understand how frustrating and intrusive the repeated door knocks, phone calls and lit drops would be. While it's part of the price for getting to be more important than everyone else for months, there are things the geographically well-endowed can do to at least minimize the intrusion.
1) First off, you never have to answer a door for a canvasser. If you see them walking up and down your street and you just woke up, got out of the shower, have the flu or don't feel like talking, just don't get the door.
2) There's a more polite alternative to this strategy which will also grant you greater peace and quiet. You can hang a polite sign on your door which says "No canvassers, please." Alternate versions-- "no soliciting for my business, my vote, or my faith" or "don't knock-- sleeping baby" also work well.
a) This is MUCH more effective than telling individual canvassers to take you off their list. Campaigns are often a day or two (or more) behind in entering in data like that from canvassing. Additionally, people from several different campaigns or organizations (the frustration of not being able to coordinate with PACs in 2004 and covering the same turf: endless) may all be covering your neighborhood and they cannot coordinate with one another.
b) An even nicer twist on the sign is one which gives the canvassers the information they want. "No canvassers please. I plan to vote for candidate X" or "Please do not disturb. I'm firmly committed to voting on Election Day." Such specificity reduces the risk that the canvassers will 'code' you on their sheets as not home or undecided, and, with competent data entry, should take you off their phone banking lists.
c) If canvassers ignore such signs and still knock/ring the bell, carte blanche to be annoyed.
3) If you don't have a sign up and answer the door, please don't yell at canvassers. You can tell them you'd rather not speak to them, but there is no reason not to be civil. (In my experience, most people are very nice and supportive whether or not they agree with you, but the one person who shouts "GET OFF MY PORCH NOW" can ruin a day.)
For canvassers:
1) Don't walk on people's lawns. Use pathways.
2) Never, ever throw lit on people's lawns. Do you really want people picking up litter with your candidate's face all over it?
3) Similarly, place lit under a door mat, inside an outer door or secure it in some ways so that it is unlikely to blow away and become litter. However, don't EVER put lit in a mailbox. This is illegal.
4) Park in a place where you aren't in people's way. And if you have out of state plates, think about parking outside of your turf.
5) Ditch the script, speak from the heart, don't waste people' time, and get them talking. The most successful canvassing is a two way dialogue in which they speak at least as much as you do. This may not seem like an etiquette point, but it's rude to talk 'at' an equal.
6) Affirm turnout. Affirm participation, even by the opposition.
A pet peeve of mine is people in the crowd at rallies who get to the front by holding the "right" signs and then holding up signs for an opposition candidate as soon as the media showed. This technique was a favorite of Santorum's failed 2006 effort to hold on to his senate seat, and I was shocked to see Democrats doing it to other Democrats in New Hampshire. I think this is extremely tasteless and ineffective. It's important to remember that when you are out publicly supporting a candidate, everything you do reflects on that candidate. Undecided voters vote with their gut as much as their head, and being polite and charming leaves them with a favorable impression of your candidate. Being rude-- trampling lawns, littering, being overly aggressive-- does just the opposite. "Attack tactics" like destroying the lit of other candidates, etc, are even worse.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Kyoto II
I think the best way to see a new city is by foot, and we did a lot of that during my second day in Kyoto. The most exciting times in a new place aren't always the attractions you can read about in guide books and buy postcards of, but the neighborhoods you accidentally stumble into and aren't sure how to find again. I wish could capture that in here, but it's harder to describe a neighborhood than a site or a meal.
First we wandered around "new" downtown Kyoto, winding up in what I can only describe as a "covered bazaar" although I imagine there's a different term more appropriate to this part of the world. It had a mix of secondhand goods, new trendy shops and cute cafes. Rachel mentioned that one time she was in Kyoto, her father took a cooking lesson nearby with a young women who taught westerners to cook every weekend in exchange for the ingredients. At the end of the lesson, everyone sat down and ate the meal together. It seems like an usual (although attractive) arrangement, although I guess she benefited from the free food and the English practice. I guess it's also a way to make your life just a bit different in a very conformist society.
In the bazaar, I found a used bookstore where I bought four books for my flight for under twenty dollars. I was impressed by their selection, and I never would have known it was there.
After that, we took a train to the beginning of the "Philosopher's Walk," a path along a canal through the artist's quarters, named for a philosophy professor who used to walk the route every day while, well, philosophizing. It was a really beautiful stretch and there were interesting craft shops and temples along the way. Apparently, in the spring, the canal path is lined with blooming cherry trees. We stopped at a vegetarian coffee shop for lunch and Rachel and I argued about whether it was "so Burlington" or "so Northwest." The "Silver Pavilion" was along the start of the "Philosopher's Walk." It was supposed to be a counterpart to the Golden Pavilion, but they ran out of money before the silvering took place. It was made of dark wood and at the base of a forested hill and surrounded by zen gardens. Several of them had very large, complicated sand sculptures that were so well-kept that they looked like cement. I had to work really hard to resist the urge to touch one to make sure it was really sand.
At a temple on the other end, there were a lot of sculptures of frogs and other forest creatures. I know I've commented on the different attitude towards drinking in Japan before, but one thing that always surprises me about temples is the huge tanks of sake carefully concealed alongside the temple. I don't think the "blood and body of Christ" is an accurate comparision point but maybe it's a bit like all the ritual glasses of wine during passover.
At the end of the Philosopher's Walk, we were in a neat area with a lot of large old-fashioned buildings. Many of them have roof stone awnings (sorry I don't know a more technical term) that have a hump in the middle, slope down on either side, and curl up on the ends, sort of like the slope of a viking boat. We also saw a still functioning Roman aquaduct that made been built during the Meiji Restoration when Japanese architects were charged with the task of intimidating Western-style architecture. It was strange to see a Roman aquaduct loomig above the traditional Japanese rooftops. It would be a great National Geographic-style quiz: where in the world is this?
To be continued...
First we wandered around "new" downtown Kyoto, winding up in what I can only describe as a "covered bazaar" although I imagine there's a different term more appropriate to this part of the world. It had a mix of secondhand goods, new trendy shops and cute cafes. Rachel mentioned that one time she was in Kyoto, her father took a cooking lesson nearby with a young women who taught westerners to cook every weekend in exchange for the ingredients. At the end of the lesson, everyone sat down and ate the meal together. It seems like an usual (although attractive) arrangement, although I guess she benefited from the free food and the English practice. I guess it's also a way to make your life just a bit different in a very conformist society.
In the bazaar, I found a used bookstore where I bought four books for my flight for under twenty dollars. I was impressed by their selection, and I never would have known it was there.
After that, we took a train to the beginning of the "Philosopher's Walk," a path along a canal through the artist's quarters, named for a philosophy professor who used to walk the route every day while, well, philosophizing. It was a really beautiful stretch and there were interesting craft shops and temples along the way. Apparently, in the spring, the canal path is lined with blooming cherry trees. We stopped at a vegetarian coffee shop for lunch and Rachel and I argued about whether it was "so Burlington" or "so Northwest." The "Silver Pavilion" was along the start of the "Philosopher's Walk." It was supposed to be a counterpart to the Golden Pavilion, but they ran out of money before the silvering took place. It was made of dark wood and at the base of a forested hill and surrounded by zen gardens. Several of them had very large, complicated sand sculptures that were so well-kept that they looked like cement. I had to work really hard to resist the urge to touch one to make sure it was really sand.
At a temple on the other end, there were a lot of sculptures of frogs and other forest creatures. I know I've commented on the different attitude towards drinking in Japan before, but one thing that always surprises me about temples is the huge tanks of sake carefully concealed alongside the temple. I don't think the "blood and body of Christ" is an accurate comparision point but maybe it's a bit like all the ritual glasses of wine during passover.
At the end of the Philosopher's Walk, we were in a neat area with a lot of large old-fashioned buildings. Many of them have roof stone awnings (sorry I don't know a more technical term) that have a hump in the middle, slope down on either side, and curl up on the ends, sort of like the slope of a viking boat. We also saw a still functioning Roman aquaduct that made been built during the Meiji Restoration when Japanese architects were charged with the task of intimidating Western-style architecture. It was strange to see a Roman aquaduct loomig above the traditional Japanese rooftops. It would be a great National Geographic-style quiz: where in the world is this?
To be continued...
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Mythic Turnout
For most of the (short) time I've been politically conscious and active, the youth vote has been sort of like the green flash. The green flash is a light refraction that is supposed to occur just after sunset or before sunrise along the horizon line on the ocean. I've never seen it, but whenever I watch a sunset on the beach on Prince Edward Island, I suspect that this time, I might. Sometimes someone says they say it and everyone else assumes they just blinked.
Similarly, in 2004 and 2006, the youth were supposed to turn out. Much as I believed this, I had to later roll my eyes as youth political organizations claimed youth turnout this time around was special in this or that way in this particular district of this particular state. (I wish I had a saved email to show but I tend to delete things from non-swat mailing lists pronto. And yet I sign up for them.)
Despite being somewhat of an Edwards girl, I have to admit I'm pretty head over heels about Iowa. I find an Obama candidacy very exciting and the overwhelming overall turnout makes me optimistic about the general election. I think the youth vote statistics are the most exciting though. It was so frustrating to hear the way commentators questioned the value of Obama's youth support, as well as the "facebook users, not caucus goers" comment from the Clinton campaign, and the frustration stemmed from the fact that there was no good retort, no evidence to show that they weren't right. Maybe it's the youtube debates or Obama girl or maybe we are actually frustrated we've been at war for our entire adulthoods. At any rate, I hope the turnout trend continues...
(I also hope that bloggers keep making Chuck Norris-style jokes about the press' love for McCain.)
Green flash or no, I'll javascript try to keep down the redundant political commentary, but I'm headed to NH for the weekend, so there may be a brief pre-primary resurgence. I also still have a couple more Japan posts.
Similarly, in 2004 and 2006, the youth were supposed to turn out. Much as I believed this, I had to later roll my eyes as youth political organizations claimed youth turnout this time around was special in this or that way in this particular district of this particular state. (I wish I had a saved email to show but I tend to delete things from non-swat mailing lists pronto. And yet I sign up for them.)
Despite being somewhat of an Edwards girl, I have to admit I'm pretty head over heels about Iowa. I find an Obama candidacy very exciting and the overwhelming overall turnout makes me optimistic about the general election. I think the youth vote statistics are the most exciting though. It was so frustrating to hear the way commentators questioned the value of Obama's youth support, as well as the "facebook users, not caucus goers" comment from the Clinton campaign, and the frustration stemmed from the fact that there was no good retort, no evidence to show that they weren't right. Maybe it's the youtube debates or Obama girl or maybe we are actually frustrated we've been at war for our entire adulthoods. At any rate, I hope the turnout trend continues...
(I also hope that bloggers keep making Chuck Norris-style jokes about the press' love for McCain.)
Green flash or no, I'll javascript try to keep down the redundant political commentary, but I'm headed to NH for the weekend, so there may be a brief pre-primary resurgence. I also still have a couple more Japan posts.
Searches Invovling Gloogloo
Our host in Greece, Theo, used to refer to google as "gloogloo." As in, "Bree, gloogloo the capital of Azerbaijan for me."
I try not to rave too much about google analytics, because it's a vain hobby and I can also see how it could seem a little creepy. However, my very favorite feature is the one that allows you to see through which google searches people are directed to your blog.
I'm proud to be on the google list for some, like "nama gomi" and "the weepies happiness blogspot" and "pretty pink cheeks."
I figure I'm a disappointment to internet users who search for "knee sock fashion," "america's next top model," and "indian food eating with hands" (although I'll do that anytime, if anyone else is in the mood). I can't really answer questions like "why are my cheeks pink" although I wonder the same thing (but apparently it's pretty) and really really hope not be used as a definitive source on "latin american politics," "brady kiesling," "abortion," "laicism in france" or "kenyan situation" and "mombasa, kenya."
The searchers who looked typed in "jeans cheeks," "naked onsen" and "onsen naked" must be disappointed I'm not more of a photo essayist. Sorry.
I'm glad whoever searched for "adventure of cell phone" decided to keep reading, even though I try to keep my adventures and my cell phone isolated from one another as I never buy phone insurance plans.
I try not to rave too much about google analytics, because it's a vain hobby and I can also see how it could seem a little creepy. However, my very favorite feature is the one that allows you to see through which google searches people are directed to your blog.
I'm proud to be on the google list for some, like "nama gomi" and "the weepies happiness blogspot" and "pretty pink cheeks."
I figure I'm a disappointment to internet users who search for "knee sock fashion," "america's next top model," and "indian food eating with hands" (although I'll do that anytime, if anyone else is in the mood). I can't really answer questions like "why are my cheeks pink" although I wonder the same thing (but apparently it's pretty) and really really hope not be used as a definitive source on "latin american politics," "brady kiesling," "abortion," "laicism in france" or "kenyan situation" and "mombasa, kenya."
The searchers who looked typed in "jeans cheeks," "naked onsen" and "onsen naked" must be disappointed I'm not more of a photo essayist. Sorry.
I'm glad whoever searched for "adventure of cell phone" decided to keep reading, even though I try to keep my adventures and my cell phone isolated from one another as I never buy phone insurance plans.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Kenya riots
I didn't read the news at all while I was in New York for a pre-New Year gathering, and so I missed much of the early-post-election rioting in Kenya. I returned to ask my father what was happening in Pakistan and he mentioned that Kenya seemed to be in a more uncertain state of turmoil (and, for me, feels "closer to home"). I've been trying to do some catching up since being home, and this letter is helpful background for people who find themselves in a similar situation.
(After re-reading the letter, I do feel compelled to comment that the impression I got of Kibaki from Tanzanians wasn't nearly so positive. On the other hand, many of them love Museveni, especially in the northwest along the Ugandan border. Although I think a certain level of corruption is par for the course in a developing country, I also worry about the ideological commitment to democracy of anyone who learned the ropes under Daniel arop Moi, Kenya's former President and a poster child for corruption and consolidation of power. Kibaki seved as Moi's VP from 1978 to 1988 and recently appointed his former boss as a peace envoy to South Sudan.)
I wish I could watch Al Jazeera's coverage at the moment. I can't really grudge the primary coverage at the moment because Iowa and NH both happen in less than a week and I'm terribly excited and all, but what happens to Kenya is really quite important. I think we often think of strategically important nations just in terms of the Middle East, and Kenya may lack the claim to global signifigance of Turkey, Egypt or Iran. However, Kenya has been one of a few lynchpins of stability in a very volatile region. It's just south of-- and shares a border with--Sudan, Ethiopia and Somalia. It also borders Uganda, and is close to Rwanda, Burundi and the DRC. I believe that the air campaigns for Operations Restore Hope and Provide Relief were launched from Mombasa, Kenya.
Additionally, Kenya was colonized more "heavily" than the other countries in its "family" (Tanzania and Uganda) and as a result, has a higher percentage of English speakers (differences between the TZ and Kenya education systems has probably exacerbated this) and stronger infrastructure. It has been a regional leader for integration, immediately rolling back its border tariffs while allowing less-developed Tanzania and Uganda a phase-out period. Kenya is perceived as an industrial powerhouse in East Africa and is South Africa's primary competitor for the processed goods market in much of Eastern, Southern, and Central Africa. It's possible that larger scale on-going disruption could seriously harm the supply chain-- and I mean of food, not computer parts-- for much of the region.
At any rate, it looks as though a move away from democracy is a more likely outcome than continued instability, which is also a major setback for the region.
It's Obama's fatherland. I wish he'd stop picking on his allies and use this time in the spotlight to divert some addition to a truly divided country. Or someone else would. Maybe Iowa would welcome the change.
Edit (1/2/08): Here's a post from a former professor that discusses the way "tribalism" is being covered in the US press.
(After re-reading the letter, I do feel compelled to comment that the impression I got of Kibaki from Tanzanians wasn't nearly so positive. On the other hand, many of them love Museveni, especially in the northwest along the Ugandan border. Although I think a certain level of corruption is par for the course in a developing country, I also worry about the ideological commitment to democracy of anyone who learned the ropes under Daniel arop Moi, Kenya's former President and a poster child for corruption and consolidation of power. Kibaki seved as Moi's VP from 1978 to 1988 and recently appointed his former boss as a peace envoy to South Sudan.)
I wish I could watch Al Jazeera's coverage at the moment. I can't really grudge the primary coverage at the moment because Iowa and NH both happen in less than a week and I'm terribly excited and all, but what happens to Kenya is really quite important. I think we often think of strategically important nations just in terms of the Middle East, and Kenya may lack the claim to global signifigance of Turkey, Egypt or Iran. However, Kenya has been one of a few lynchpins of stability in a very volatile region. It's just south of-- and shares a border with--Sudan, Ethiopia and Somalia. It also borders Uganda, and is close to Rwanda, Burundi and the DRC. I believe that the air campaigns for Operations Restore Hope and Provide Relief were launched from Mombasa, Kenya.
Additionally, Kenya was colonized more "heavily" than the other countries in its "family" (Tanzania and Uganda) and as a result, has a higher percentage of English speakers (differences between the TZ and Kenya education systems has probably exacerbated this) and stronger infrastructure. It has been a regional leader for integration, immediately rolling back its border tariffs while allowing less-developed Tanzania and Uganda a phase-out period. Kenya is perceived as an industrial powerhouse in East Africa and is South Africa's primary competitor for the processed goods market in much of Eastern, Southern, and Central Africa. It's possible that larger scale on-going disruption could seriously harm the supply chain-- and I mean of food, not computer parts-- for much of the region.
At any rate, it looks as though a move away from democracy is a more likely outcome than continued instability, which is also a major setback for the region.
It's Obama's fatherland. I wish he'd stop picking on his allies and use this time in the spotlight to divert some addition to a truly divided country. Or someone else would. Maybe Iowa would welcome the change.
Edit (1/2/08): Here's a post from a former professor that discusses the way "tribalism" is being covered in the US press.
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