What defines "masculinity"? (revised)

In World Lit we have discussed multiple definitions, coming up with a consensus of the stereotypical factors that contribute to masculinity. In society, we view traits such as strength, bravery, wit, honor, aggressiveness and detachment from emotion as masculine qualities. It is also easy to define masculinity by saying what is not considered masculine, but rather the opposite of masculine: feminine. Weakness, sensitivity, kindness, nuturance, emotiveness, and dependence are considered more feminine traits according to societal opinion. Masculinity and femininity are often considered direct opposite, and to be completely masculine, one cannot possess any feminine traits and vice versa. I do not think, however, that everything is so cut and dry.

Society tends to pigeon-hole masculinity as a male characteristic, but both men and women can possess these perceived masculine qualities. Masculinity is not a biologically predetermined characteristic and in truth, not all men are conventionally "masculine", but rather have a balance of both femininity and masculinity. There are men out there who are brave and sensitive, strong and kind, emotional and aggressive. Similarly, women can be any combination of the supposed "masculine" and "feminine" characteristics. I believe that the concept of being masculine or possessing masculinity is not one that is so easily defined; there is too much grey area.

If we are to go by society's typical outlook on masculinity in relation to Orwell's 1984, we will definitely find the roles reversed between Winston and Julia. In the book, she is the one who is courageous and dominating, the one who makes all of the decisions, who seems to be completely free of strong emotions. Whereas Winston is dependent upon her to make all of the choices, he is the weak character who needs to be taken care of, he lacks bravery and strength and relies completely upon Julia. This reliance upon a woman is hardly considered masculine and it illustrates that masculinity is not strictly a male concept. Julia plays the traditional masculine role in the novel. This helps to broaden our view of masculinities, rather than have them trapped within the confines of gender.

I feel that this is why it is hard to come up with a clear definition of what it means to be masculine - because it is generally spoken of in relation to males than to people in general.

Big Brother also exemplifies masculinity in 1984. Appearing as the epitome of masculine – powerful, strong and protective – he devalues the masculinity of the males in society; thus he serves as an ideal for members of The Party to strive towards. This is stereotypical in that the most masculine figure in Orwell’s novel is male. It goes to show how biased society’s outlook on such qualities as “masculinity” and “femininity” has come to be. It is hard to pinpoint a clear definition of what it means to be masculine because what is perceived as masculine has become skewed by gender; we forget that both men and women can embody masculinity.

Is it possible to be happy? (revised)

The very premise of Freud's Civilizations and its Discontents is that happiness cannot be achieved unless we are allowed to express and fulfill our every desire as human beings. However, this absolute freedom could never be granted because it would supposedly lead to violence and the downfall of civilization. These conflicting points of view leave people trapped within a society where the desires of the id are suppressed, thus they are indefinitely "discontent" according to Freud. But the question is, is some measure of happiness attainable without full expression of every underlying desire?

I think that happiness can be found within a repressed environment, though it is fleeting. In the world of today, everybody is a consumer, which fosters an ever-increasing desire for material things that bring us a feeling of happiness to have. For example, buying a new phone or iPod or laptop or clothes or whatever it is, brings joy. This joy is not permanent, however, as newer and better products continue to be made to entice consumers. This quickly diminishes the happiness and creates a feeling of want that is insatiable - for the cycle never ends. Therefore, it is possible to find happiness with material things, but it will be temporary.

The immaterial can bring happiness as well. Love or affection is considered to contribute to joy and fulfillment, but not always - not complete happiness. Lovers fight or grow apart or break up or have difficult days that prevent joy. Love definitely creates happiness, but does not necessarily lead to unwavering content.

So happiness is possible, but does happiness inevitably mean contentment? I feel contentment is a more permanent and concrete feeling, while happiness is fleeting and fragile. This stability makes contentment harder to achieve.

I think that what Adam Curtis is saying in his documentary is much like Freud, that contentment within civilization is impossible because desires are suppressed. And while people are unknowingly satisfying their id's desires by falling for advertisements and the consumer market ploys, they can be happy but not truly content with life. The only way that people can find utter peace and satisfaction is if they break away from society where their ids are uninhibited.

Yet, I am hard-pressed to believe that contentment is attainable beyond the confines of society. Both Freud and Curtis claim that without the suppression of the id and the indirect fulfilment of its desires through consumerist substitution that there would be chaos. If this is true, how can contentment be possible? Unless a chaotic environment is a factor in feeling content, which I am sure it isn’t. Is the fragmentation of society thus the key to contentment?

Perhaps contentment is simply impossible from any viewpoint. Within society, we are suppressed and unable to fully express ourselves, and therefore discontent. Outside of society, we are free to express ourselves to the fullest, leading to violence and disagreement, and therefore discontent. People are either too suppressed or too uninhibited. There needs to be a balance between the two, or contentment remains elusive. So the question stands: Is contentment possible? Or is happiness forever the fleeting substitute for the ideal?

Basically, society is built upon substitution. People substitute material possessions for their underlying desires, happiness for contentment. It is definitely possible to find happiness within civilization, through buying new things or falling in love (etc.). The feeling of content, the uninterrupted complete and utter enjoyment and fulfillment that comes along with it, cannot be achieved. There are too many competing factors that conflict with it. This is the sacrifice we choose to make in order to maintain society, the temporary happiness may last for hours, days, months or years before it is interrupted...but there is always more to be found.

Socrates: A martyr-figure? (revised)

I can't decide.

I think that the problem is that martyrdom often gets muddled with personal conviction. It seems impossible to me to know whether a person's intentions are those of a martyr without their blatantly stating so. And if a person says that they are a martyr, doesn't that technically undermine their scheme?

The definition of “martyr” that I am using to examine Socrates is different than what is considered the conventional one. Usually, a martyr is somebody who is put to death for refusing to renounce their beliefs (generally religious), but in this context, the definition I am going by is “somebody who displays or exaggerates their discomfort or distress in order to obtain sympathy or admiration”. The first definition could be applied to various religious people who have died for their beliefs. Such is the case with the crucifixion of Christ, who willingly died for humanity’s sin. I do not think that this conventional definition applies to Socrates’ situation for he is fighting for his own innocence rather than religious belief.

Socrates is a long-standing iconic figure in several nations worldwide due to what is believed to be his "martyrish death". However, there are plenty of people who believe that Socrates was simply defending himself because he was genuinely willing to die for what he knew to be true. I think that I am being persuaded to join this category for a number of reasons.

During his trial, Socrates defends himself and his principles with passion and a perplexing logic, which, I'm certain, is where the "martyr-figure" label originates. I do not think, however, that Socrates's words are meant to instill a feeling of sympathy upon his audience; rather he is just speaking in the manner he usually would. He is more interested in speaking the truth than inciting pity; making a point of explaining his innocence down to the tiniest detail, not for fear of punishment or death, but because he so strongly believes in what he has to say.

It is the method in which Socrates goes about cross-examining people and their ideas that both makes him a genius and leads to his condemnation. He is a man on a quest to discover whether he is most wise, as the Delphic Oracle suggests, and is therefore accustomed to cross-questioning every man he is confronted with. The logic he uses when talking to people is astounding. He seems able to find fault with any claim presented to him. The man had the great talent of making men feel like fools, leading - as we discover - to his arrest for "corruption" of the youth. This Socratic Method of conversation and cross-examination is also evident in Socrates's trial. He is constantly questioning everything Meletus claims against him. This does not bode well. In the end - though Socrates has put forth a very thorough and convincing argument - I think the court judges have just gotten fed up with him. Perhaps this persistent form of questioning assisted Socrates in achieving martyr status, because in such a situation it is near impossible to tell whether he was adamantly searching out sympathy or simply trying to reach a logical conviction; although anybody who knew what Socrates was really about would realize it was the latter.

From my interpretation of both the personality and speaking strategies of Socrates, I suppose I would have to come to the conclusion that he cannot possibly be a true martyr. The philosopher was too humble a man, too immersed in his principles, too blunt in his speech to ever give a thought to searching out sympathy. He seemed to me to be someone who was to be taken at face value, with no hidden intentions, and I like that about him. Socrates didn't need to be a martyr because he didn't fear death. In Crito, he is even given an opportunity to escape, but he doesn't take it. Socrates has the courage to face death.

The only way to know for sure is to ask. And that brings me back to my previous query: If a martyr admits to being a martyr, isn't their martyrdom thwarted?

If you were a citizen of Omelas, would you stay or would you walk? (revised)

Would I walk away from Omelas? The conscious part of my brain, the compassionate part, the ethical part, tells me that I should say yes. Society would most likely expect me to say yes. Many other people would undoubtedly say that they themselves would walk away. However, the implications of such a statement go far beyond what the average person can comprehend. Walking away means leaving literally everything behind: your family, your friends, your livelihood - even your dog. Everything that you know would disappear the second you decided to step away from Omelas, with only the vast unknown awaiting. This is a lot to give up for the misery of one child; a sacrifice that I don't know that I would have the courage to make.

 Fear often governs the process of decision-making, and I hardly think that this situation is an exception. It takes immense bravery to be able to, as was discussed in class, "exercise self-determination" and make an individual decision. This is made especially difficult when the pressures to conform are as great as they are in Omelas. Every other person that has been to visit the child has been able to accept that its existence is necessary, except for the handful that opt to walk away never to be seen or heard from again. Which would be the easier option? Both choices have their benefits and their downfalls but neither is particularly easy to stomach.

 If Omelas is truly as utopian as it seems to be, the issue of the child would never arise. A perfect society would never put the choice upon its citizens - whether purposefully or otherwise. Perhaps that is why Omelas has no guilt, to keep its people from leaving when faced with the horrible child, for I cannot believe that anyone should be able to peer into the cupboard and view the suffering within without feeling guilt. Not under normal conditions. In Omelas, the emotion has been removed completely from the repertoire of feeling and thus the child can be forgotten, neglected, and left to fester by the hundreds of people that visit.

 It has been suggested that Omelas is an analogy for our own society, a statement that I can't dispute. The child could represent any number of modern day things, from children in sweatshops of third world countries to the homeless people in our very own city of Vancouver. The point that the story is trying to convey is that tragedy is all around us; poverty is what bolsters wealth, that our very lives are dependent on the misery of others. While this may only be true to a fraction of the magnitude that the people of Omelas depend on the child, the facts still stand. Need surrounds us. There is always somebody worse off than ourselves; but we rarely do anything about it. Maybe we opt not to act because we feel that the demise of others is what keeps us happy, that it is simpler to accept things as they are rather than attempt change. I'm sure many people would be desperate to leave Omelas, to free themselves from the thought of the child; to essentially cleanse their minds from the shame upon which their lives are built. But who is to say that the memory of the child will not linger? Would leaving wipe the mind clean indefinitely or would the unpleasantness reoccur? We can't say. Fear governs. Striking out alone is far more dangerous than living with the occasional thought of the child (or so we tell ourselves). Fear tells people that walking away isn't worth it, fear binds people to society - and if we are bound, how is it ever going to be possible to completely walk away?

 Ethically speaking, is walking away the best decision? Does it really benefit anybody besides those leaving? Maybe choosing to leave Omelas is more selfish than ethical. After all, the act does not solve the problem; it merely frees those who walk away from individual guilt. The child is still locked away in the broom cupboard. The suffering still continues. Nothing has been achieved that can lead to the betterment of the child or the society built upon it. If those who walk away had the guts to steal the child with them – then and only then will that guilt disappear, because a truly ethical thing had been done. However, what about the guilt of leaving the entire society of Omelas to crumble? The city’s entire happiness hinged on that one child’s suffering, is it ethical to remove that from all those people? Thus stands the dilemma.

 In the end, I think that my sub consciousness would take over. While my consciousness would be fighting to scream out, to run from Omelas and from the unethical principles on which it is built, it is much more realistic to admit that I just wouldn't have the courage. Yes, it is sad that the child must suffer. Yes, I think it unfair to base the happiness of many on the misery of one; especially one so innocent and undeserving. It seems selfish and unsettling that so many people just accept the child as part of life, but I can see why they do. Society has an overpowering influence in the individual's decisions, and it can be hard to choose a separate path. To venture out into the unknown, alone, unsure of whether the action of walking away is actually making a difference, rather than just putting my singular mind at ease, is hard. It is impossible for me to comprehend abandoning my family, my friends, everything I have ever known, for a life that has no certain outcome. A life that may not have an outcome at all. And while the existence of the child in Omelas, the existence of the thousands of suffering children in the world, plagues my heart and fills me with guilt, I cannot say that my leaving would accomplish anything worthwhile. I cannot say that I would take the child with me, and I cannot say that I wouldn’t. I cannot say with certainty that I would walk away from Omelas, I don't know that I possess the courage.

What defines "masculinity"?

In World Lit we have discussed multiple definitions, coming up with a consensus of the stereotypical factors that contribute to masculinity. In society, we view traits such as strength, bravery, wit, honor, aggressiveness and detachment from emotion as masculine qualities or "masculinities". It is also easy to define masculinity by saying what is not considered masculine, but rather the opposite of masculine: feminine. Weakness, sensitivity, kindness, nuturance, emotiveness, and dependence are considered more feminine traits according to societal opinion. Masculinity and femininity are often considered direct opposite, and to be completely masculine, once cannot possess any feminine traits and vice versa. I do not think, however, that everything is so cut and dry.

Society tends to pigeon-hole masculinity as a male characteristic, but both men and women can possess these percieved masculine qualities. Masculinity is not a biologically predetermined characteristic and in truth, not all men are conventionally "masculine", if we are to go by typical societal consensus of masculinity, but rather have a balance of both femininity and masculinity. There are men out there who are both brave and sensitive, strong and kind, emotional and aggressive - the concepts are not so black and white. Similarly, women can be both weak and witty, or any combination of the supposed "masculine" and "feminine" characteristics. I believe that the concept of being masculine or possessing masculinity is not one that is so easily defined; there is too much gray area. Perhaps it is subjective; where one may find someody masculine, another might not depending on individual views.

If we are to go by society's typical outlook on masculinity in relation to Orwell's 1984, we will definitely find the roles reversed between Winston and Julia. In the book, she is the one who is courageous and dominating, the one who makes all of the decisions, who seems to be completely free of strong emotions. Whereas Winston is dependent upon her to make all of the decisions, he is the weak character who needs to be taken care of, he lacks bravery and strength and relies on Julia to make all of the decisions. This definitely goes to show that masculinity is not strictly a male concept. Julia certainly plays the traditional masculine role in the novel. This helps to broaden our view of masculinities, rather than have them trapped within the confines of gender. I feel that this is why it is hard to come up with a clear definition of what it means to be masculine - because it is generally spoken of in relation to males and not to people in general.

If only society could break free of the view that masculine and masculinity are terms relative only to males, we would have a much less biased definition of the concepts.

Is it possible to be happy?

The very premise of Freud's Civilizations and its Discontents is that happiness cannot be achieved unless we are allowed to express and fulfill our every desire as human beings. However, this absolute freedom would never be granted because it would supposedly lead to violence and the downfall of civilization. These conflicting points of view leave people trapped within a society where the desires of the id are suppressed, thus they are supposedly indefinitely "discontent" according to Freud. But the question is, is some measure of happiness attainable without full expression of every underlying desire?

I think that happiness can be found within a "repressed" environment, though perhaps it is fleeting. In the world of today, everybody is a consumer, which, I believe, fosters an ever-increasing desire for material things. Material things that apparently bring us a feeling of happiness to have. For example, buying a new phone or ipod or laptop or clothes or whatever it is, brings us joy. This joy is not permanent, however, as newer and better products continue to be made to entice us all. This quickly diminshes the happiness and creates a feeling of want that is insatiable - for the cycle never ends. Therefore, it is possible to find happiness with material things, but it will be temporary.

The immaterial can bring happiness as well. Love and affection for someone or from someone is considered to contribute to joy and fulfillment and I wholeheartedly agree that love is one of the happiest emotions there is, but not always - not complete happiness. Lovers can fight or grow apart or break up, there are difficult days that are anything but happy within loving relationships. Love, while definitely inciting happiness, however, does not lead to unwavering content.

So happiness is possible, but does happiness inevitably mean contentment? I feel contentment is a more permanent and concrete feeling, while happiness is fleeting and fragile. This stability makes contentment harder to achieve. And if letting our ids run wild and make all the decisions would incite violence and chaos, would the feeling of content even be possible anymore?

I think that what Adam Curtis is trying to say in his documentary is much like Freud, that contentment within civilization is impossible because desires are suppressed. And while people are unknowingly satisfyinng their id's desires by falling for advertisements and the consumer market ploys, they can be happy but not truly content with life. Perhaps that is the distinction, people can find utter peace and content beyond the confines of civilization, where they can express themselves unihibited by society. They cannot do this among other people though, for fear of violence and chaos - and without other people, how can we have society?

Basically, happiness is possible as a substitute for complete contentment. It is definitely possible to find it within civilization, through buying new things or falling in love for example. But the feeling of content, the uninterupted complete and utter enjoyment and fulfillment that comes along with it, cannot be achieved. There are too many competing factors that conflict with it. But this is the sacrifice we choose to make in order to maintain society, the temporary happiness may last for hours, days, months or years before it is interrupted...but it is always enough.

Curtis and Freud might be right about not being content, but they can never say humanity is not happy.

Socrates: A martyr-figure?

I can't decide.

I think that the problem is that martyrdom often gets muddled with personal conviction. It seems impossible to me to know whether a person's intentions are those of a martyr without their blatantly stating so. And if a person says that they are a martyr, doesn't that technically undermine their scheme?

Socrates is obviously a long-standing iconic figure in several nations worldwide due to what is believed to be his "martyrish death". However there are plenty of people who believe that Socrates was simply defending his beliefs because he was genuinely willing to die for them. I think that I am being persuaded to join this category for a number of reasons.

During his trial, Socrates indeed defends himself and his principles with passion and a perplexing logic, which I'm sure is where the "martyr-figure" label originates. I do not think, however, that Socrates's words are meant to instill a feeling of sympathy upon his audience; rather he is just speaking in the manner he usually would. The philosopher does not strike me as somebody who would wish to incite pity. He is the poverty-stricken father of three children, yet hardly makes mention of them in his testimony. He does not beg for the mercy of the court officials. Both of which would stir up compassion, if that is what Socrates was going for. Instead, he makes a point of explaining his innocence down to the tiniest detail, not for fear of punishment or death, but because he so strongly believes in what he has to say.

It is the method in which Socrates goes about cross-examining people and their ideas that both makes him a genius and leads to his condemnation. He is a man on a quest to discover whether he is most wise, as the Delphic Oracle suggests, and is therefore accustomed to cross-questioning every man he is confronted with. The logic he uses when talking to people is astounding. He seems able to find fault with any claim presented to him. And while we can see this brilliance now, I'm sure that most men that had the fortune to speak with Socrates would find their minds boggled. The man had the great talent of making men feel like fools, leading - as we discover - to his arrest for "corruption" of the youth. This Socratic Method of conversation and cross-examination is also evident in Socrates's trial. He is constantly questioning everything Meletus claims against him. This does not bode well. And in the end - though Socrates has put forth a very thorough and convincing argument - I think the court judges have just gotten fed up with him. Perhaps this persistent form of questioning assisted Socrates in achieving martyr status, because in such a situation it is impossible to tell whether he was adamantly searching out sympathy for his situation or simply trying to reach a logical conviction. Although anybody who knew what Socrates was really about would realize it was the latter.

From my interpretation of both the personality and speaking strategies of Socrates, I suppose I would have to come to the conclusion that he cannot possibly be a true martyr. The philosopher was too humble of a man, too immersed in his principles, too blunt in his speech to ever give a thought to searching out sympathy. He seemed to me to be someone who was to be taken at face value, with no hidden intentions, and I like that about him. Socrates didn't need to be a martyr because he didn't fear death. In Crito, he is even given an opportunity to escape, but he doesn't take it. Socrates has the courage to face death. Would a martyr pass up that chance? I couldn't tell you, but my gut says "probably not".

The only way to know for sure is to ask. And that brings me back to my previous query: If a martyr admits to being a martyr, isn't their martyrdom thwarted?

If you were a citizen of Omelas, would you stay or would you walk?

Would I walk away from Omelas? The conscious part of my brain, the compassionate part, the ethical part, tells me that I should say yes. Society would most likely expect me to say yes. Many other people would undoubtedly say that they themselves would walk away. However, the implications of such a statement go far beyond what the average person could comprehend. Walking away means leaving literally everything behind: your family, your friends, your livelihood - even your dog. Everything that you know would disappear the second you decided to step away from Omelas, with only the vast unknown awaiting. This is a lot to give up for the misery of one child; a sacrifice that I don't know that I would have the courage to make.

Fear often governs the process of decision-making, and I hardly think that this situation is an exception. It takes immense bravery to be able to, as was discussed in class, "excercise self-determination" and make an individual decision. This is made especially difficult when the pressures to conform are as great as they are in Omelas. Every other person that has been to visit the child has been able to accept that its existence is necessary, except for the handful that opt to walk away, never to be seen or heard from again. Which would be the easier option? Both choices have their benefits and their downfalls but neither is particularly easy to stomach.

If Omelas was truly as utopian as it seems to be, the issue of the child would never arise. A perfect society would never put the choice upon its citizens - whether purposefully or otherwise. Perhaps that is why Omelas has no guilt, to keep its people from leaving when faced with the horrible child. For I cannot believe that anyone should be able to peer into the cupboard and view the suffering within without feeling guilt. Not under normal conditions. In Omelas, the emotion has been removed completely from the repertoire of feeling and thus the child can be forgotten, neglected, and left to fester by the hundreds of people that visit.

It has been suggested that Omelas is an analogy for our own society, a statement that I can't dispute. The child could represent any number of modern day things, from children in sweatshops of third world countries to the homeless people in our very own city of Vancouver. The point that the story is trying to convey is that tragedy is all around us, poverty is what bolsters wealth, that our very lives are dependant on the misery of others. While this may only be true to a fraction of the magnitude that the people of Omelas depend on the child, the facts still stand. Need surrounds us. There is always somebody worse off than ourselves; but we rarely do anything about it. Maybe we opt not to act because we feel that the demise of others is what keeps us happy, that it is simpler to accept things as they are than attempt change. I'm sure many people would be desperate to leave Omelas, to free themselves from the thought of the child; to essentially cleanse their minds from the shame upon which their lives are built. But who is to say that the memory of the child will not linger? Would leaving wipe the mind clean indefinitely or would the unpleasantness reoccur? We can't say. Fear governs. Striking out alone is far more dangerous than living with the occasional thought of the child (or so we tell ourselves). Fear tells people that walking away isn't worth it, fear binds people to society - and if we are bound, how is it ever going to be possible to completely walk away?

In the end, I think my subconsciousness would take over. While my consciousness would be fighting to scream out, to run from Omelas and from the unethical principles on which it is built, it is much more realistic to admit that I just wouldn't have the courage. Yes, it is sad that the child must suffer. Yes, I think it unfair to base the happiness of many on the misery of one; especially one so innocent and undeserving. It seems selfish and unsettling that so many people just accept the child as part of life, but I can see why they do. Society has an overpowering influence in the individual's decisions, and it can be hard to choose a seperate path. To venture out into the unknown, alone, unsure of whether the action of walking away is actually making a difference, rather than just putting my singular mind at ease, is hard. It is impossible for me to comprehend abandoning my family, my friends, everything I have ever known, for a life that has no certain outcome. A life that may not have an outcome at all. And while the existence of the child in Omelas, the existence of the thousands of suffering children in the world, plagues my heart and fills me with guilt, I cannot say with certainty that I would walk away from Omelas. I don't know that I possess the courage.