On the Margins--a Metaphor

 Behind our townhouse there's a strip of lawn at the foot of a sloping bank up to a strip of the woods which remain from the original landscape before the townhouse cluster was developed.  Originally when I bought the townhouse from the developer the bank was planted to grass.  When the maintenance company's crew mowed the lawn it also mowed the grass on the bank.  For a few years.

Unfortunately the bank was good Virginia red clay, so the grass never thrived. It was invaded by weeds, which soon the mowing crew decided not to cut. Over the years some woody brush has filled in behind the weeds, which have advanced down the bank and into the strip of lawn. Just the other day I noticed how narrow the strip of lawn had gotten, as each year the crew abandoned more land to the weeds.

The situation reminds me of the borders of our fields, back on the farm I grew up on.  Something similar happened there.  First you have a fence, and a few weeds grow up around it.  The fence posts prevent you from mowing under the fence, so you mow within a foot or two of it.  But areas which aren't mowed become a niche for brush to grow up, which shades the adjacent area, where the weeds invade next. 

When mowing hay, you don't really want to cut brush which might get baled, or which might clog the cutter bar of the mowing machine.  So each year you mow just a tad further away from the original fence, and so the brush becomes a hedgerow, and the hedgerow grows and grows.

Which is sort of like my sideburns.  Particularly since covid, I go a long time between haircuts. When I shave each morning, somehow my sideburns become a little longer, meaning when I do get a haircut the barber needs to shave them back to their original place.

Bottom line: I think hedgerows and sideburns become good metaphors for what happens on the margins of states, the Roman empire, and organizations. Often the returns from maintaining them don't really justify the investment needed to sustain the difficult maintenance. 

Cars and Pedestrians--A Metaphor IV

 I want to push the metaphor comparing drivers and pedestrians to those entrapped in our racial web.

• the norms and rules for driving a car are both imposed by history and learned early, as we watch our parents and others drive from within the car, and watch other cars.  The norms and rules for being a pedestrian are less obvious and mostly less formal, except when walkers come into contact with cars, bicycles, etc.  But they too are learned early.  I had to learn to jaywalk; as a country boy and a natural born bureaucrat I over-conformed to the rules as I learned them. Mostly the norms are learned early enough they work below our consciousness--like walking to the right. 
• typically I think we are much less aware of the driver inside the car; we just see the car.  That's similar to how we treat members of racial/ethnic/identity groups.  We don't see the Amish or Hasids as individuals, not the ego within the body or clothing, just the outside.  The same goes for others on the stage of life: celebrities of all kinds.
• I choose to drive a car, or to walk. Once I make my choice, I inherit the whole cluster of norms described above.  My behavior as a driver is somewhat under my control, but it is very constrained.  The constraints are firmer for individuals; the norm is that an individual's racial identity is not under her control (particularly before the civil rights movement).  

I think what captured my imagination here is how quickly and sharply my behavior and attitudes switch when I got from pedestrian to driver and back.  Intellectually I know we fill many different roles as we live, all governed by social norms and habits, but this particular pair of roles illustrates their nature very well.

Cars and Pedestrians--A Metaphor III

 My second continuation:

The points I made in my previous post:What's going on?  

• binary--cars versus walkers
• power--cars have more power
• conflict over scarce resource
• laws and rules to govern power and conflict
• infringing laws
• identifying with fellows generates emotion
• game playing, esp by weaker

Any reader who has gotten this far may be asking: where's the metaphor:

Specifically, when we Americans have our usual discussions of race, of African-Americans and European heritage, we could be talking cars and walkers:

• blacks and whites are binary groups in society, but not in reality
• whites have more power than blacks
• the groups are competing for scarce resources--position in society as represented by wealth and prestige
• there are laws and norms to govern the behavior of the races
• both push the limits or violate the laws
• there's strong in-group feeling for those identifying with the group
• both sides play games, esp the weaker blacks

Cars and Pedestrians--A Metaphor II

 A continuation from yesterday:

What's going on?  

• there's a good binary separation going on: I'm either a driver in a car, or a walker.
• there's a power difference: as a walker I can't do much to a car; as a driver I can kill the walker
• there's a conflict of interests--drivers and walkers are dividing up a scarce resource--the right to traverse the intersection.
• there's laws, rules, and norms for each, I suspect particularly because of the conflict and power difference. We're both supposed to act in obedience to the traffic light.
• reality is that drivers and walkers push the envelope routinely.  We mock a driver who obsessively follows traffic laws, like never speeding. We acknowledge jaywalking.
• judging by my emotions, I feel some kinship with fellow drivers, also with fellow walkers; I'd guess that's a common feeling.
• both sides can play mind games. As a driver I don't always yield to a walker in the cross-walk.
• it seems to me mind games are the weapon of the weaker party. Personally, at the intersection I'm describing, there's are turn arrows.  When the through lanes change to red, the right turn arrow turns green.  After the turning traffic gets its turn, the turn arrow goes blank. A couple seconds later the walk sign turns on (and the turn arrow goes to blinking yellow).  I make a habit of starting to cross when the turn arrow goes blank-- figuring that means the turning traffic now needs to stop.  That means I'm often  stepping into the path of cars whose drivers are planning to slow but not stop for the turn.  I take satisfaction in imagining the drivers are frustrated, and perhaps will remember to be more cautious next time.

Cars and Pedestrians--a Metaphor-I

 When I cross Reston Parkway on the way to and from my garden, I now use the button for pedestrian crossing.  (I used to jaywalk because it was easy enough to see oncoming traffic, I was impatient, but no longer--the risk seems greater the older I get.) Particularly going to the garden there's often stopped cars in the 2 through lanes, so cars zooming up Reston and looking to make a right turn onto Glade can't see me starting to cross. They are used to not having to stop, despite the law. 

As I'm walking I silently dare the bastards to run into me.  

When I drive north on Reston Parkway to the library, Home Depot, or Trader Joes, I pass by Reston Town Center.  There's apartment buildings on the south side of the road, with the hotel, stores and office buildings of the center on the north side.  So there's a pedestrian crossing with a button. With a four-lane parkway, it takes forever for the damn pedestrians to amble across.  Or at least, the light is timed so as not to hurry an eighty-year old man with bad legs.

I sit in the car, steaming.  

I think this scenario can serve as a metaphor for racism. 

I'll try to expand on this in the future.

"A Cage of My Circumstances"

 That's a phrase from Zadie Smith's recent book of essays. She's using it in the context of her body, a female black body.

I like the image.  On the one hand you have the concept of "privilege", which is sort of like a backpack containing an assortment of tools, which is that your history empowers you.  On the other hand you have a cage of circumstances, which is the idea that your history limits you.  Both I think are true.

More Metaphors--Wet Wood and Poison

 I posted earlier on nuclear reactions as a metaphor possibly explaining the rise in murders recently.  The key point is the reactivity--when the population becomes younger for whatever reason (baby boom, oldsters observing lockdowns, oldsters dying from covid) the interactions among people change a bit without the cushioning effect of the older.   A similar logic could apply to the pandemic--as more people are vaccinated, the reactivity goes down.

I came across a new metaphor today in a discussion of the effects of the vaccine.  The metaphor is wood, as in forest fires.  If the wood is very dry it catches fire easily, if there's been rain it doesn't. From that perspective the vaccine has the effect of dampening the wood.

A separate metaphor was poison--in a Post story explaining vaccination, the point is that the vaccine isn't binary, like shutting the door on the virus.  It's more like a poison.  So when the body is infected, the virus attacks and is multiplying, but then it starts to encounter the poison (as the immune system ramps up).  The virus starts to be poisoned, reducing its reproduction rate.  So testing may give a positive test during the time the virus is in its struggle with the immune system, as hopefully it's in its death throes.

Metaphor--Society, Nuclear Reactors, and Pandemic

 Long discussion in Post of the possible causes for increase in murders this year in America (not occurring elsewhere if article is right).

Thinking of a metaphor for human society--as a nuclear reactor, with police as the control rods absorbing or not the excess neutrons, thereby damping or permitting greater interactions. 

One might expand the applicability of the metaphor to the pandemic, with the control rods being the vaccines, masks, lockdowns, etc. 

You'd have to expand the discussion to include the rates of the radioactivity of the alternative materials which could be used for a reactor.  (I'd assume that radium, for example, could explode given the right setup.)  

Back to homicide--it seems to me one effect of the pandemic likely has been to change the characteristics of the public, those who are active in exchanges with others.  During the past year the "public" has become younger and poorer as the old and the better-off have been much better able to reduce their time in public.  That might well mean that the remaining "public" is more reactive, somewhat as if the uranium was more highly enriched.  

Cancel Culture Changing--Metaphor

 Yesterday I wrote on what I see as changes through our/my history of what is "canceled" and what is not.

I've a metaphor: 

Think of society in history as being reduced to a map in some way.  Then the boundaries of what's included and what's not can be represented by a low resolution magnifying glass help over the map, a glass which brings some aspects to the fore and doesn't recognize other aspects.  But over time the glass moves around, adding and subtracting things to look at.

Metaphors Again

I loved this metaphor in Gerson's column in the Post today.

Trump unfiltered is like a badly polluted canal. The scraps of narcissism, the rotten remnants of conspiracy theories, the offal of sour grievance, the half-eaten bits of resentment flow by. They do not cohere. But they move in the same, insistent current of self, self, self.

Read the whole thing.