Why They Were There: State Identity and the Civil War

Why They Were There: State Identity and the Civil War

Throughout the Civil War, there is a constant reference to states.  The obvious answer is that this represented the composition of the armies at that time.  It also demonstrates that each military unit carrying that state representation formed a shared identity among the soldiers.  The Confederate and Union armies both suffered from failures of leadership.  These failures put strain on the rank and file soldiers to which they turned to their state identity, to their fellow soldiers from the same state, to maintain the rationale for their personal sacrifice and remember why they were in the war at all.

Wars are fought by commissioned officers and, what we might term, ordinary soldiers.  For the American Civil War, their involvement was a far cry from blind adherence to a prescribed set of orders or ideology.  It was largely entered into by all as a quest for peace predicated more prominently upon identity to one’s specific state, rather than larger notions, such as abolition. 

Gallagher and Grimsley both paint a picture of the leadership of both the Confederate and Union armies.  After the Richmond Campaign of 1862, Robert E. Lee emerged as a savior of the Confederacy at a time when the South was suffering from low morale and no central military figure on which to hang future aspirations of sovereignty.  Richmond newspapers cite the “brilliancy of his genius” that had “entitled himself to the lasting gratitude of his country.” (160)  Meanwhile, the retreated Union army under McClellan was lamenting the loss of the Confederate capital, and with it, the hope that the war might end.  Brig. Gen. Philip Kearny cites McClellan’s “mismanagement” as the reason for their defeat and that only through the quick thinking of other lower officers saved the army from total ruin (156). Indeed, it was said of McClellan that his greatest ability was in organizing retreats (156). 

Grimsley, writing on the Overland Campaign in 1864, demonstrates the difficulties that both armies had with subordinate officers.  While Meade was the commanding general, his role had largely been subjugated by Grant.  Meade made no concerted effort to alter the situation.  The army was working smoothly and victory was happening; it was a case of not fixing was did not need to be fixed.  Even when a Congressional delegate visited him and awarded him the victories, Meade swept the credit to Grant.  For the sake of victory, for the sake of peace, subjugation was acceptable.  There were issues with Warren refusing to cooperate with any other general and most other regimental officers returning with unexpected, and disappointing, results.  Years after the fact, Grant would lament the fact that the East and West armies could not work together, which could have shortened the war.  Lee, on the other hand, had serious issues with subordinate officers.  Early on in the campaign, Lee could count on the service and obedience of Breckinridge and Beuregard.  This was offset by Hill’s inability to control his men, Stuart’s inability to recognize unfavorable conditions, and Anderson simply not performing. 

Rank and file soldiers faced whatever fate their commanding officers plotted.  Mistakes made by commanding generals to regimental officers stood to take life or limb from ordinary soldiers.  And, these soldiers could not escape the horrors they saw, in military and social actions.  Wilbur Fisk, a Union soldier, in 1863 discusses peace through a compromise between the North and South that would result in two separate countries.  Some soldiers would hear this message from those at ‘home’ and might consider it an assault on their honor, on their personal sacrifice and risk.  However, all parties desired peace.  Manning’s essay demonstrates that union soldiers, and indeed those not pitched in battle or clad in blue, upon interaction with slaves, saw the destruction of slavery as the only salvation from a war seen as God’s punishment for the sin and, in that destruction, peace.  Gettysburg (1993) demonstrates the toll of the war on the regular soldiers.  Regular soldiers desired peace, but they were not about to let it be at the expense of their personal sacrifice, or the sacrifice of those they served with in blue or grey, but those from their own state. 

One of the closing scenes from The Red Badge of Courage (1951) is between Confederate prisoners and Union soldiers.  They ask where each other are from.  They both mention the states they came from and say they have not met anyone from those states before.  Gettysburg paints a much clearer picture of the role of state identity.  Throughout the first half of the movie, Chamberlain is dealing with a group of men from a different Maine regiment who deserted.  He appeals to their sense of identity to Maine to rejoin the war, to fight for their state and the people in their state.  Later in the movie, Longstreet evokes the same sentiment with a Virginia regiment.  Sheehan-Dean’s essay on enlistment in Virginia claims that defending the state of Virginia, just prior to the war, was the same as defending the institution that defined their economic and social lives: slavery.  Charles Brewster mentioned a collective “Massachusetts blood” with regard to sentiment so broad as to encompass his whole unit.

If we can suppose that movies reflect the perceptions, ideologies, and ethos of the American audience, then we can surmise how Americans viewed and interpreted the Civil War and those who fought in it at the time the movies were produced.  The Red Badge of Courage was made in the afterglow of World War II and the beginning of the Korean War.  While the movie is based on a book from the late 19^th century, the personal conflicts encountered would resonate with the millions who were caught up in WWII.  The movie demonstrates personal battles in armed conflict, the need for bravery, and reliance on their fellow soldiers.  Gettysburg was produced in 1993, following the First Gulf War and around the time of U.S. involvement in Somalia. The movie might be a demonstration of Americans’ quest for peace, at home and abroad.  As with the previous movie, it is mainly concerned with personal interaction, between soldiers in their respective armies, and their interactions with soldiers from opposite armies.  In neither movie are soldiers portrayed as abolitionist or pro-slavery zealots; rather, they are portrayed as humans caught in a vicious, bloody conflict whose larger meaning had been skewed over the duration of the war. 

Whatever the reason for soldiers entering the war, the ravages soon weighed heavy.  From misguided military strategy to officer inability, all soldiers, including those same officers, risked much for preservation – preservation of a nation or of a way of life.  Through the rifle and cannon smoke, the comrades soldiers relied on were their own statesmen: an important rallying cry for identity and why they were even there.

Brains: Philosophical Zombies, Thought Experiments and Consciousness

Brains: Philosophical Zombies, Thought Experiments and Consciousness

The thought experiment of the philosophical zombie has found itself an audience of supporters and detractors.  Modern adaptations of this concept have extended further to include entire worlds populated by the philosophically undead.  This philosophical zombie asks us to thing about the nature of consciousness, all the while pondering whether zombies can exist.  Additionally, this experiment demonstrates the limitations of thought experiments and the limitations of our own consciousness.  In this essay, the most common explanation of the philosophical zombie will be expressed.  The various sides of the thought experiment will be explained as well.  The conclusion will demonstrate how this particular experiment fails. 

The thought experiment of the philosophical zombie was written about extensively by David Chalmers in his 1996 book The Conscious Mind.  This work built on the prior ideas of philosophers like Saul Kripke.  The philosophical zombie is a creature, not a person, who is, molecule for molecule identical to an ordinary living, breathing human being, except for one important difference; the zombie has no consciousness.  It looks and feels just like any sentient being on the planet but does not feel or think.  This zombie twin has physical function and physiological organization the same as people.  Additionally, behavior is replicated by neurologic function.  For example, should the zombie be prodded with a red hot fireplace stoker then the zombie would react in the same painful manner as any ‘normal’ human.  Since we can conceive of such a creature, as the argument goes, they are possible, at least metaphysically.  Had the circumstances of the natural world been different, zombies could have very well existed or exist (Kobes, 2007).  Ultimately, the experiment is an argument against the idea that everything in our world has a physical basis, including consciousness. 

The debate today is rather vigorous.  Some argue that any zombie like that in this thought experiment could not be exactly like us.  Aspects of our perception, a part of our consciousness, would not be available to the zombie.  And, if our consciousness is a causal relationship between sensory inputs and behavioral outputs, there is no way for the zombie to be, molecule for molecule, like a person (Pratt, 2013).  Essentially, if it walks like a human and it quacks like a human then it must be a human.  Others argue that a zombie could evaluate their visual perceptions in terms of environmental contrast and behaving in that environment.  The counter argument is that since the zombie lacks a ‘normal’ consciousness, experiences and perceptions are not a factor.   Another group of philosophers state that, once a zombie comes into being and begins interacting with its environment that those experiences start to form a type of consciousness (Pratt, 2013).    A fourth group argues that any being, or creature, with analytical mechanisms, would experience consciousness.  If this philosophical zombie is biologically identical to sentient humans, then they would experience some sort of consciousness (Loosemore, 2009).  As zombies search for brains, they must interact with their environment and analyze and experience their surroundings.  Some do not argue about the veracity of the philosophical zombie, rather they state that the argument itself is circular and, therefore, not valid.  The idea that something physically identical to a human being but lacking subjective experience would assume that subjective experiences do not produce consciousness, which is what the experiment is trying to prove (Brown). 

All of these stances, arguments and counter arguments suppose that we know something about consciousness.  However, this supposition leads to a very difficult problem, what Chalmers calls the ‘hard problem.’  To date, no scholar, philosopher or academic has proved, convincingly, a casual explanation of how and why we are conscious.  There has been no conclusive evidence showing that we are not, in fact, zombies (Harnad).  To many, consciousness has multiple meanings.  Consciousness can mean that a being is ‘awake,’ alert and aware of one’s surroundings.  Taken a step further, it can also mean that the ability to have intentions, purposeful thoughts and behaviors.  To conceive of a thing is also to conceive of what that thing lacks.  Therein lies the problem.  How can we conceive of a thing that cannot, itself conceive of that thing that we cannot even define (Loosemore, 2009)?

It is very easy for any individual to conceive of zombies.  The Walking Dead, Sean of the Dead, Night of the Living Dead and Zombieland are but a few examples of zombies in popular media.  As such, zombies are definitely possible in one’s imagination.  This thought experiment is based on the assumption that what we can conceive must be possible.  This shows a limitation of thought experiments themselves.  All thought experiments, from the Chinese Room to a tree falling in the forest, rely on conceiving a certain set of properties.  And, while truth might be stranger than fiction, the fictions that can be conceived by humans can be complex and varied.  Ultimately, any conceived parameters and properties are just that: fictions created in one’s imagination. 

A better thought experiment could easily be found.  One would be to simply imagine two identical human beings living on two different planets.  One could be called Bob(Earth) and Bob(Mars) and their consciousness could be debated.  However, there already exist two identical individuals on this planet: identical twins.  We can call this the Twins Experiment.  Their experiences can be created and conceived.  Then, their consciousness can be debated and examined.  Various philosophers and scholars can publish volumes on the subject.  Perhaps, this experiment may yield some answers; perhaps, it may arrive at a definition of what constitutes consciousness.

However, for the sake of the thought experiment, this author will ponder whether such a creature could exist and what it might mean for our consciousness.  Zombies lack agency, the ability to perform actions in the world.  Performing behaviors requires some thought, some ability to have a meaningful actions, even if it is only for brains.  Therefore, any actions made by such a zombie must be governed by extraneous electrical impulses that can contract muscles or by our autonomous and parasympathetic nervous systems.  However, it seems implausible that, without a consciousness, we would only want to consume human flesh.  If that were the case, that zombies function on mere impulse, but can we call the unfortunate soul on hospital life support a zombie?  After all, they could react to certain stimuli.  It would hardly seem appropriate to call them zombies.  Perhaps this is because we conceive of zombies like those in 28 Days Later.  Supposing that zombies are logically possible requires at least two beliefs.  First, that something can be true if it can be conceived.  Simply put, zombies are not possible with the current natural order of things.  Put another way, the existence of zombies have not empirical truth.  The reality of a philosophical zombie requires belief in conceptual truth, that what can be imagined has the ability to be real.  Second, that consciousness must be something that transcends words which would draw into question the appropriateness and veracity of any thought experiment dealing with consciousness.  After all, a thought experiment ceases to be a thought experiment if they are so implausible as to elicit more discussion about the validity of the experiment than engagement with the experiment itself.

References

Brown, R. (2010). Deprioritizing the a priori arguments against physicalism. Journal of Consciousness Studies, 17(3-4), 47-69.

Harnad, S. (1995). Why and how we are not zombies. Journal of Consciousness Studies, 1(2), 164-167. 

Kobes, B.W. (2007). Functionalist Theories of Consciousness.  In T. Bayne, A. Cleeremans & P. Wilken (Eds.), Oxford Companion to Consciousness. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Loosemore, R.P.W. (2009). Consciousness in human and machine: A theory and some falsifable predictions. In B. Goertzel, P. Hitzler & M. Hutter (Eds.), Proceedings of the Second Conference on Artificial General Intelligence (Arlington, March 2009). Paris: Atlantis Press.

Pratt, M. (2013). Redefining the class of qualitative states – A reply to Shoemaker. Res Cogitans, 4(1), 52-62.

The Moral Lessons of Materialism

The Christian parable of the prodigal son in the Gospel of Luke (15:11-32) and the Buddhist allegory of the son in the Lotus Sutra contain striking similarities.  Yet, upon closer reading, the stories diverge and are demonstrative of their individual faiths.  They are also indicative of the differences between Christianity and Buddhism in their respective paths to achieving a higher spiritual plane.  Both passages contain references to materialism and wealth, which plays a central role in the shaping of the story and the moral lessons they contain.  However, the representation of materialism within each story does not convey or share a universal meaning.  This paper will examine the similarities between the two stories and how the topic of materialism, which both parables share, distinguishes the moral lessons imparted by the passages.

In the Christian story, the son essentially demands his share of the family inheritance, to which the father acquiesces.  The son then leaves home, spending his inheritance until he is destitute.  Famine strikes the area where the son is living.  Downtrodden and feeling defeated, the son enters into a job he considers to be of low socioeconomic order, lower than that of his father’s servants back home.  He eventually returns home where his father welcomes him with open arms and throws a banquet to welcome his son back, regardless of the squandered inheritance. 

Similarly, in the Buddhist story, the son leaves home, with no inheritance or wealth.  He wanders the land for years, poor, taking jobs here and there to provide continued sustenance.  Eventually, the son stumbles upon the house of his father, who had moved while he was away.  The father had grown wealthy and unrecognizable to his son after such a long time apart.  The son takes up employment in his father’s house and is promoted until finally discovering that his father is his wealthy employer. 

The two stories are similar in some ways.  At its most basic premise, they both contain a son who leaves home only to return destitute at a later date.  On a deeper level, both stories are about the son, metaphorically representing humans, and his path to find the highest spirituality in their respective faiths, the Christian communion with God and the Buddhist attainment of ultimate wisdom.  In both instances the son also suffers through menial tasks and poverty on their journey.  There is a father figure in both parables that represents the central deity in their religions.  They end with the son earning his eternal reward, a personal relationship with God and the realization of spiritual enlightenment.

The parables share materialism in their stories.  However, there are differences between them.  These dissimilarities lie in the interaction of the son with mortal trappings, with materialism and wealth.  The Christian son spends his time away from home as most modern Western college students might spend their spring break.  Luke 15:13 describes this behavior as “reckless.”  It is foolish spending.  This son consumes goods and/or services that eventually leave him broke.  Whereas, the Buddhist son, when he returns ‘home’ to his father’s residence, is startled and panicked by materialism.  Such is the materialistic splendor that this son does not even recognize his father.  In fact, this opulence frightens the son to the extent that he flees his creator. 

It is clear that both parables use materialism, and its affects, to develop the stories’ moral and spiritual meaning.  In the Christian story, the decadence of materialism, as portrayed in the son’s loss of his greedily acquired inheritance, represents the fall from the Christian path, a rebellion against God’s teachings.  This son had succumbed to sin but is not a black sheep, just a lost one.  The son’s desire to leave the wealth and economic comfort he was born into is a personal choice.  Freedom of the will took him away.  But, this same freedom is also what can save the son.  The moral lessons of this story is that following the Christian path is a choice, one that we must freely make, no matter how lost or how far one has strayed.  The son loses his inheritance, his connection with his God, but is able to restore this relationship through conscious action.

In the Buddhist story, materialism demonstrates a higher form of spirituality.  The son and his father are not wealthy when the son leaves.  It is the son’s spiritual ignorance that forces him from home.  His journey, over fifty years and many miles, represent the cycle of rebirth as he wanders through various forms of physical existence.  Unlike the Christian story, the Buddhist son does not actively seek to return home.  Rather, it is spiritual progress that leads him to a place where he can attain the ultimate wisdom.  His father, the Buddha personified, was unrecognizable to his son, disguised by opulence and pageantry representing enlightened spirituality.  While the son is afraid of the pomp and spectacle, he makes the decision to return to his father’s house as a servant.  The son works his way up from his ignorance, accumulating wisdom, until, through the acquisition of his father’s materialistic inheritance; he attains the ultimate wisdom and reality.  The lesson we can obtain from the Buddha in this instance is that through the search for wisdom can sometimes be a long, slow, miserable trudge.  But, one must be willing to follow the path and that only through wisdom can one attain their divine end.

Wealth and materialism are not used to the same metaphorical end for both stories.  In the Christian parable, materialism is used to demonstrate the trappings and temptations that exist outside God’s path.  The Buddhist story uses the same earthly materialism to represent that which is accomplished through the attainment of wisdom.  Materialism is not one of the more prominent aspects of discourse concerning these two parables but could be just as spiritually enlightening and meaningful as other interpretations of these two passages.

Moral Authority, the State and Confusius

Confucius’s philosophy can also be seen as social commentary, especially when it relates to his thoughts on the concept of family and individual responsibility.  His teachings were both political and ethical.  They were born out of the social and political events surrounding the rise of the Zhou power.  They served to legitimize political authority at the highest levels and to create social harmony.

Confucius places an emphasis on the family and its function.  He sees it as one of the most fundamental units of society at large.  Because families participate in society, it is a logical step to think that how one performs in society, as an adult, would be built on the foundations instilled as a child, by one’s family.  It was the family’s responsibility, Confucius argued, for the education of their children.  Parents should ensure that their children are prepared for live in society and would be able to meet and overcome the problems they would later face.  If done properly, there would be obedience within families where individuals did what needed to be done, not simply what the individual wanted to do. (Duiker, 2006)  It is ultimately a political statement, however.  Good family members, who are obedient and who put their responsibility to the community, and state, over their individual desires would become good members of society, and, therefore, good subject.  Obedient subjects would create political stability.

Confucius was not only talking the kids at the back of the class.  He also had thoughts on those in the higher echelon of the political hierarchy.  Even emperors had their roles to play.  If the ruler set a good example, the benefits would be seen by society and the subjects would act accordingly.  This would ensure political stability.  In Confucius’s time, it was thought that rulers derived their authority by a mandate from heaven. (Adler, 2005)  By cultivating the morality of emperors, kings and rulers, society could be transformed.  A weak kingdom could be made powerful; a chaotic empire could be pacified by following Confucian philosophy.  Essentially, he was making the statement that government by moral authority was far superior to government by immoral authority.

Confucian thought helped to reinforce the divine authority of rulers, an idea planted by the Zhou dynasty that can still be seen today.  By establishing a political system, with the family at the base, which reached from the ground up through the ruler and into heaven, he found a way to establish political harmony and societal peace.  Even though he may not have had the immediate effect he desired, his comments, though, would resonate through the ages. 

Works Cited

Adler, Joseph A.  “Chinese Religion: An Overview.”  In Encyclopedia of Religion, 2^nd ed., edited by Lindsay Jones.  Detroit: MacMillan Reference USA, 2005.

Duiker, William J. and Jackson Spielgovel.  The Essential World History, 3^rd ed.  Boston: Cengage Learning, 2006.

Homeland Security and the War on Terror

“They who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.”[1]  When we wage war, on terror, drugs or anything else we affix after “war on," we simultaneously define an enemy.  It becomes an ‘us against them’ affair.  “Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists.”[2]  In the modern ‘war on terror’ we have defined the two sides.  Through the execution of trying to procure safety and win the ‘war’ we have employed our biases and prejudices, not all of which has been successful, beneficial, or constructive.  This paper will briefly examine the causes of biases and suggest remedies to overcome those biases.  Two examples from the homeland security arena will be used throughout. 

The early part of the twenty-first century has witnessed terrorism and attempted terrorism centered on the aviation industry in the United States.  Examples include the September 11 attacks and the infamous underwear and shoe bombers.  In response, security measures at airports have increased.  Two practices, employed with the Transportation Security Authority (TSA), require the screening of passenger behavior and additional security measures of passengers holding a passport from identified countries.  These practices have resulted in charges of racial profiling based on the bias of the TSA employee charged with ensuring safety.  One officer is quoted as saying “They just pull aside anyone who they don’t like the way they look – if they are black and have expensive clothes or jewelry, or if they are Hispanic.”[3]  Essentially, passengers are being identified if they look like the vision of a terrorist the officer holds.  One example is from King Downing, the national coordinator of the American Civil Liberties Union’s Campaign Against Airport Racial Profiling.  The allegation is that he was stopped, ironically as it seems, because he is of African descent and wears a short beard.[4]  His race and appearance attracted attention.  Another example is the security practice of additional screening for holders of passports from 14 named countries.  The countries have been labeled “state sponsors of terrorism” or “countries of interest” by the State Department.[5]  The populations of the vast majority of countries are predominantly Muslim.

It would be nearly impossible to know the exact reason for officers’ biases in these situations.  However, we can make an educated guess.  Biases arise from our experiences.  They are formed and influenced by our social interaction with family, friends, and others in our daily lives though exposure to ideas and modeling our behavior after theirs.  There also exists a complex interaction between what we learn in social settings and an individual’s personality.[6]   The collective experience of terrorism in the United States is has been given the face of someone with darker skin and a beard, emblems of radical Islam.  This raises issues of security in one’s personal effects and against unreasonable search and seizures. 

Another example of bias in a homeland security situation is the case of Abdul Ameer Yousef Habeeb.[7]  He was detained, which was eventually determined to be illegal, by officers from Immigration and Customs Enforcement while traveling to a new job in Washington DC from Washington State.  His alleged crime was being from Iraq and not registering with the government.  Habeeb was a legal refugee from Iraq and was under no obligation to register with officials.  He was stopped based solely on his appearance.  It is doubtful that had he appeared as someone of western European descent he would not have been stopped.  Habeeb sued the government and won, receiving an official apology from the government.  The bias here again is the perceived appearance of a passenger. 

Profiling such as the examples cited above are detrimental to safety and security.  They redirect resources from other, more constructive endeavors.  This misuse of time and manpower is based on biases; biases that can be reduced and overcome.  One approach is the intergroup interaction.[8]  This method seeks to add to our collective set of experiences.  Individuals are placed in situations with those from the biased group.  Security officers would then be mixed in with members of the Arab and Muslim communities.  They would, hopefully, quickly learn that not all Muslims are terrorists.  Another approach to bias reduction is cognitive.  This approach conditions individuals to examine their own thought processes by, for example, showing statistical data to disprove held biases.  More accurate assessments are generally obtained.[9]  Both approaches, intergroup and cognitive, can be combined in an integrated approach to bias reduction.[10]      

Benjamin Franklin’s quote at the beginning of this paper has been bandied about often in the post 9/11 world.  It is true that we have given up personal liberties in the quest to win the ‘war on terror.’  Most citizens accept this as evidenced by the lack of rioting at security checkpoints at airports.  However, we seem to have accepted it in haste.  Biases exist in nearly everyone.  The amount of information can, at times, be overwhelming and, whether for the sake of simplicity or self-preservation, must then be categorized for efficiency of cognitive storing and recall.  However, there are methods and approaches to reduce or extinguish biases.  This begs a response as to why such programs seem to lack effective training.  Security programs appear to have been employed too hastily with training forsaken for immediate safety.  It is treating the symptoms, not the cause.  It is treating our fears, not defeating terrorism.  Through an unbiased approach to homeland security, we can know that the liberties we have given up are truly for our security. 

---

[1] Franklin, Benjamin. (1756).  Pennsylvania Assembly: Reply to the Governor.  Votes and Proceedings of the House of Representatives, 1755-1756, 19-21.

[2] http://georgewbush-whitehouse.archives.gov/news/releases/2001/09/20010920-8.html - President George W. Bush Address to a Joint Session of Congress and the American People.  September 20, 2001.

[3] http://www.nytimes.com/2012/08/12/us/racial-profiling-at-boston-airport-officials-say.html?pagewanted=all

[4] Dwyer, Michael. (2007, Dec. 3).  ACLU Official Alleges Racial Profiling at Airport.  NBCNews.  Retrieved from http://www.nbcnews.com/id/22087842/#.Usli8fRdU8I

[5] http://www.tsa.gov/press/releases/2010/01/03/tsa-statement-new-security-measures-international-flights-us

[6] Farley, John E. (2000).  Majority-Minority Relations, 4^th Ed.  Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall.

[7] https://www.aclu.org/immigrants-rights/aclu-sues-federal-agents-illegal-arrest-and-detention-iraqi-refugee

[8] Paluck, E.L. & Green, D.P. (2009).  Prejudice Reduction: What Works? A Review and Assessment of Research and Practice. Annual Review of Psychology, 60, 339-367.

[9] Schaller, M., Asp, C. H., Roseil, M. C., & Heim, S. J. (1996). Training in statistical reasoning inhibits the formation of erroneous group stereotypes. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 22(8), 829-844.

[10] Paluck, E.L. & Green, D.P. (2009).  Prejudice Reduction: What Works? A Review and Assessment of Research and Practice. Annual Review of Psychology, 60, 339-367.

Immigration: Salad Bowl or Melting Pot

Two general theories try to explain the assimilation of immigrants in American culture.  First, there is the “melting pot” theory.  It argues that a homogenous society will form as different ethnic groups interact together.  The end result is a common culture shared by all.  The second theory is that of salad bowl.  This argues for a more mosaic like approach.  Ethnic groups do not melt into each other; rather, they retain their differences, existing next to each other not amalgamating into one.  In this paper I will argue that the melting pot theory may have been true for earlier generations, but has given way to our modern salad bowl and will likely become more heterogeneous in the future.

William Booth, in his article One Nation, Indivisible: Is it History?, discusses the myth of the melting pot.  The idea that immigrants to the U.S. assimilate and contribute towards a homogenous society has long roots in the American psyche.  Early waves of immigrants sought opportunities.  Once their feet hit these shores, they began searching for the ‘American dream.’  To realize that dream was to assimilate into the dominant culture, which was prescribed by white Protestants.  Often those promoting and encouraging the dominant culture were not always welcoming of outsiders.  Legislation and preterlegal measures were employed to maintain the cultural status quo in certain areas of the country.

A close look at census data dispels the melting pot theory.  Even though Booth is correct in claiming that assimilation and ‘success’ are hard to measure, through observation we can see the diversity and division.  Ethnic enclaves have always existed to some degree but, through data the definition becomes sharp and clear.  These boundaries are formed not only by a shared cultural heritage but economics as well.  Economic opportunities are about whom one knows.    It is circular arrangement.  Immigrants arrive in the U.S. in areas similar to the culture they emigrated from.  Connections that may stretch back to the old country lead to the foundations of a new life in America.  The process is repeated.   

Today, it does not seem enough to simply be an American.  One might be Korean-American, Congolese-American, or Irish-American.  A hyphenated identity, with one foot rooted in cultural heritage and the other climbing a rung of American economic advancement.  Cultures are not blending or melting.  They are staying intact and producing two cultural spheres: one of the immigrants’ home and one American. 

Studies indicate that immigrant parents are concerned about their children becoming “too American.”  Holly Atkins (2001) paints a picture of the diverse American cultural landscape, one that is not blurred together.  It is more of a salad bowl; different cultures existing together yet clearly defined.  Her palette is the vestiges of the home that immigrants left.    To stave off homesickness, people celebrate the culture of their homeland.  Not being an American is simply not an option.  But, that does not mean they must forget who they were, who they are, and where they came from. 

The melting pot theory has dissolved to the more acceptable and accurate ‘salad bowl’ theory.  It is no longer necessary, economically, to full assimilate as soon as possible to the dominant American culture.  Ethnic enclaves provide economic opportunities while existing in a familiar cultural framework.  Assimilation is just not necessary for immigrants to succeed.

There is another factor to consider as well.  The United States was long considered to be the land of freedom and opportunity, and may still very well be.  Some may have gone so far as to call it the best country in the world.  Booth (1998) cites a study by researchers Alejandro Portes and Ruben Rumbauthow of children of immigrants in southern Florida and California.    When asked if they believed the U.S. was the best country in the world, most answered ‘no.’ 

The America of earlier generations was one of possibility and, to an extent, unknown.  Today, American cultural hegemony is broadcast on TVs and computer screens throughout the world.  Immigrants know more of what lies on the other side of the ocean, on the other side of the fence.  The exclusionary legislation and preterlegal actions of before are no longer culturally or morally supported.  The prescribers of dominant American culture have simply moved.  (Booth, 1998)  They have taken to more homogenous towns, far from the crowds of cities and their hinterlands. 

With immigrants believing that America is not the best country in the world and American culture being so widespread, we can partially understand global attitudes towards the U.S.  The more militant others become towards America, the more Americans seems to embrace and exalt a shared American culture.  Immigrants, while decrying militancy, have not necessarily bought into this embrace.  They continue the traditions of the ‘old country.’  With American culture becoming more defined, and ethnic enclaves holding onto their cultural identity, it appears as though the salad bowl is becoming more defined than ever before.  And, if American culture continues to vilify others, it will throw into question if there will even be a bowl left to contain the salad. 

Works Cited

Atkins, Holly.  (2001, December 17).  An American ‘tossed salad’.  St. Petersburg Times.

Booth, William.  (1998, February 22).  One Nation, Indivisible: Is It History?.  The Washington

Post, pp. A1.

Chekhov's "The Seagull"

“I’m in mourning for my life.”  So writes Anton Chekhov.  His play, The Seagull, has stood the test of time.  It has been produced across the globe for a number of reasons.  One reason is the method and style that Chekhov employed.  It allows audiences to focus more on the characters, their motives and emotions, which, ultimately makes them easily relatable.  Another reason is the quality of characters that he developed in the play.  One further reason, and the final one addressed in this paper, is that the themes of the play transcend time. 

The Seagull stood in contrast to the mainstream nineteenth century contemporary theater.[1]  The most physical, and therefore vivid, actions were not presented on stage.  This places more pressure on the dialogue, both what is spoken and not spoken, to deliver the real meaning of the play.  By sequestering action off stage, Chekhov is able to develop characters fully and make them into believable human beings.  The actions, attempted suicides, actual suicides, pregnancy, and affairs bolster the more emotional and cerebral aspects not only of the play but of what are relatable to the audience.  These elements are projected to the forefront.  The audience, then, is not overly concerned with the shock of lurid action.  As a result, it is easier to empathize with the characters.  The hollowness of unrequited love and derision from peers and family are conveyed in a more humanistic method.  We, the audience, know what should be said, but characters do not take cues from the audience.  The characters are more relatable as their emotions are given a voice, or lack thereof, and not merely inferred by actions.

The character of Irina Arkadina is one example of Chekhov creating an individual to which we can relate.  Arkadina’s actions in the play are never explicitly decried as wrong, nor are they hailed as morally right.  Rather, he appoints the audience as adjudicators of her character.   Arkadina is jealous, of nearly everyone.  She does not want her son to eclipse her station in the art world, even going so far as being the most vocal critic of her son’s play.  She does not want Nina’s youth and beauty to detract from her own (no matter how hard she tries to hold on to her own fading youth and beauty).  She hoards money to a fault, refusing the assist her family.  Today’s audience would see such acts as morally bankrupt. 

However, we can see Arkadina’s beating heart at times.  Moments of compassion, helping a less fortunate neighbor, caring for the physical health of her family, and, most poignantly, when she begs Trigorin not to follow Nina, prevents the audience from entirely judging her as evil.  There beats a heart, perhaps chilled by vanity and jealousy, but not devoid of the human characteristics of a mother and lover.  This duality of endearment and repulsion pulls the audience in.  When the curtain falls, we empathize with Arkadina and the news she will soon hear.  We contemplate what she might do after she hears of her son’s suicide.     

The Seagull has been staged around the world and has become well known.  While many adaptations and interpretations have been produced since the play was written, Martin Crimp’s version is of particular interest.  Crimp transforms Chekhov’s writing from the failure of interpersonal relationships to political and social failures predicated upon the audience, the spectators of life.[2]  Chekhov’s Russia may be noticeably absent from Crimp’s interpretation, but the echoes of serfdom, of inequality, and the need to redress grievances ring louder in the updated version.  What Crimp has done is take an existing text and “selfishly, write a play, because the material is already there: a sense of structure, a sense of character and a sense of situations.”[3]  He took The Seagull out of the nineteenth century and planted it firmly in the twenty-first century.  However, I believe that Crimp stayed loyal to Chekhov’s vision of the need for vigilant personal ethics.  Crimp takes it one step further, however, and positions the audience in the spotlight then drives the theme into spectators’ memories.  It is not enough for the audience to see that duplicity and poor ethical choices create carnage.  He posits that inequality can be conquered by its antithesis.   When Crimp is finished with the audience, we may well be in mourning for our lives. 

As we don our mournful garb, we can reflect on The Seagull and recognize why it still touches us years after it was first penned.  Chekhov’s style is timeless.  We can remove it from its original Russian context and, following Crimp’s lead, stage it today and still be intellectually engaged with it.  It is Chekhov’s use of subtext and well developed characters.  We are not told what to think or believe; rather we are left to make our own moral judgments.  As times change and eras ebb from one to the next, we can sit in the audience and play our part, perhaps even learn something and emerge from the theater morally superior to when we entered.  Then, and only then, we may not mourn our own lives. 

---

[1] Benedetti, Jean.  Stanislavski: An Introduction.  London: Methuen, 1989.  Print.  

[2] Escoda, Clara.  “A Textual Analysis of Martin Crimp’s Adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s The Seagull: The Importance of Testimony and Relationship.”  Platform 5.1: 54-70.  Electronic Print.

[3] Laera, Margherita.  “Theatre Translation as Collaboration: Aleks Sierz, Martin Crimp, Nathalie Abrahami, Colin Teevan, Zoe Svendsen and Michael Walton discuss Translation for the Stage.”  Contemporary Theatre Review 21.2, 213-225. Print.