Showing posts with label essays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label essays. Show all posts

Saturday, 20 August 2016

On Difference, Snowflakes, and Alan Bennett

Hector: The best bits in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - which you had thought special and particular to you. Now here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out and taken yours. 

(Alan Bennett, The History Boys)

*

I am not sure why, or when, I first read The History Boys.

*

individual
   unrelated 10 adj.
   nonuniform 17 adj.
   original 21 adk.
   self 80 n. 
   special 80 adj. 
   unit 88 n.
   one 88 adj. 
   person 371 n.

(Roget's Thesaurus) 

*
Although the history of snow is as long as the history of water, and hydrogen, and oxygen, the history of the snowflake could be said to begin with Wilson Alwyn 'Snowflake' Bentley, born in Jericho, Vermont, who dedicated his life to photographing snowflakes. Having taken a few pictures of the reticent crystals, he proceeded to take another 5,000 images, just to make sure what he was seeing was correct. What he was seeing was perfect individuality, and he went on to record that individuality over and over again, receiving the American Meteorological Societies' first ever research grant in honour of his work, awarded in recognition of 'forty years of extremely patient work'. In the quest to prove that total, inexhaustible individuality is possible, one can afford to be patient. 

*

After beginning university, and realising how dismally average I was for my year-group, I printed Psalm 139, NRSV version, and blutacked it to the side of my wardrobe. O Lord, you have searched me and known me. Jeans, tee-shirt, socks. For I am fearfully and wonderfully made

*

individualism
   particularism 80 n.
   independence  744 n.
   selfishness 932 n. 

*

I saw The History Boys performed twice on stage. I had also seen a play at the National Theatre, so I felt that between the two, I had essentially seen the original History Boys. By the second time I saw it, I had read the play and worked out the french parts, and enjoyed myself laughing at the jokes in schoolboy french while the other students from my school looked puzzled.

*

I want to light up with the zest of the words.
I want to wear a proper tragic mask.
I want to have an excuse for drama. 

(Joanna Hollins, poem, c. 2009)

*

The story of snowflakes does not begin with Wilson A. Bentley because he photographed snowflakes. He was not the first person to see snowflakes. The story begins with Bentley because he published them. Shortly before he died, he published a book, Snow Crystals, which made the snowflake, in all its minuscule glory, available to the public. The eye becomes the microscope, and what was once homogeneous falling snow became a whirlwind of infinite individual flakes.

*

I date my first recurring nightmare, where I shrunk away from myself, and felt the universe shatter into infinite pieces, from the age I first learnt about atoms.

*

In The History Boys, the students begin with the basic conviction that whilst they are individuals, history is one fixed story, to be learnt and memorised. The new teacher, Irwin, teaches them to think of history as individual perspectives, but that their own individuality is a lie - something to be constructed with care. The narrative is speckled with 'gobbets' taught by Hector and used by Irwin: fragments of poetry, mainly, but also philosophy, history, linguistics. For Hector, each piece given is a liberation, a sign of individuality. For Irwin, they are a tool to disguise the lack of it. In the play, Irwin's methods win out. By using individuality as a tool, a way of questioning the narrative, each boy is able to win his place at Oxford. Yet the play is successful because it is quotable, because it can be broken down into memorable 'gobbets', to be holed up, memorised, brought out at opportune moments. 

'It is as if a hand has come out, and taken yours...'

*

When I write my university application, I restrain myself to only one History Boys quote. However, I take Irwin's advice seriously; any method invented by a 20th century playwright to describe a group of grammar-school boys advancing to Oxford in the 1980's will clearly work for me. On this basis, I spend my sixthform years reading as widely and esoterically as I can, or at least, as I perceive. I reference Mark Steel in my history A level. Quote the Old Testament in English Literature. The highlight of my university application is a reference to George Orwell's Keep The Aspidistra Flying, whereupon I compare myself to the eternally miserable Gordon Comstock.  

*

individualist
   free person 744 n.
   egotist 932 n.

*

The website KnowYourMeme.com dates the phrase 'special snowflake' from the 1999 film Fight Club. At this point, 'snowflake' is synonymous with 'individual'.

It is also synonymous with a kind of education where children are taught that they can, and should be individual, like snowflakes, and then punished when they fail to attain these standards. 

*

31st January, 2012. Question and Answer session with the Education Committee. 

Chair: One is: if 'good' requires pupil performance to exceed the national average, and if all schools must be good, how is this mathematically possible?

Michael Gove (Secretary for Education): By getting better all the time. 

Chair: So it is possible, is it?

MG: It is possible to get better all the time. 

Chair: Were you better at literacy than numeracy, Secretary of State?

MG: I cannot remember. 

*

If the only mark of achievement is distinction, and every student achieves well, then there can be no distinction. There are three solutions to this. One is to limit the amount of students who can achieve, thus increasing the distinction of those who do. One is to diversify the number of ways in which students can achieve, and the types and forms of distinction. In this way, many students will be able to achieve moderate levels of distinction, at the expense of a system of objective value. The other is to accept that the only distinction worth having is achievement itself, and work blissfully and invisibly into nothingness.

*

Shortly before starting university, I read A Very Short Introduction to Marx. My purpose in reading it was to avoid having to actually read Marx, but improve my ability to argue with my Oxford-educated and rather good-looking history teacher. I learnt that under communism, individuals aren't important; we matter as part of the whole. This conflicted strongly with my innate Christian belief that our intrinsic worth is tied to our individuality. Being a contradiction in terms made me feel more individual, so I spent my first year of university loudly announcing that I was a Catholic Marxist.

*

individuality
   essence 1 n.
   speciality 80 n.
   nonconformity 84 n.

*

Thinking about it now, it seems all a matter of perspective. How far you zoom in on the microscope. 

*
The insult 'special snowflake' can be broken down thus:

firstly, the word 'special', from 'special needs', used to create negative associations around disabilities and then to negatively associate the subject with disability;

secondly, in the connotations around snowflake, which are:

fragility and weakness, and therefore femininity, with a hyper-masculinity that does not melt, yield, or break in antithesis;

infantility, in that the perception that individuality exists and should be valued is naive, and what is naive is infantile; also in the association with the schoolroom and the teacher who tells her class that they are all valued for who they are, before the world teaches them that this isn't true

and waking one day unable to distinguish themselves, believe that the best recourse is to knock down those who still perceive themselves as individual;

and thirdly, in combination, as an expression that to express individualism, and take pride in it - or defend it - is to be abnormal, and inferior; a suggestion that being differing from the collective identity is reductive.

This all depends on the existence of such a collective identity.

And of course, the perception that such an identity would be superior. 


*

Shortly before leaving for university, my best friend and I went to the theatre to see another Alan Bennett play, called The Habit of Art. 

The Habit of Art is a very erudite, meta-play. A second stage is erected on stage, and the play concerns a group of people putting on a play about Auden and Britten, who were the only memorable characters. The dialogue flickered rapidly between play and meta-play with no chance to get into either. We left disappointed, but it took me a few months to admit I'd disliked it. 

*

Ironically, Wilson A. Bentley was killed by the collective; he caught pneumonia after walking home in a blizzard. 

*

Later on in my degree, I had the first of a series of conversations which would go along the lines of this:

me: Gosh, you know, I quoted The History Boys in my personal statement. I thought it was ever so clever back then. 

them: Oh yes! I did as well.

me: Ah, really?

Of all the crushing realisations, the realisation that the document you had written to prove your individuality constructed from quotes about a play about constructing individuality is particularly crushing. 

*

For it was you who formed my inward parts;
you knit me together in my mother's womb. 

(Psalm 139.13-14)

Am I the sum of my parts? And if I add more parts, am I more likely to be individual?

*

Identical snowflakes were first proven possible by Nancy Knight, in 1988, and created in laboratory conditions by Kenneth G. Libbrecht around 2015. Smaller crystals form similar base shapes, growing more individual as they become more complex. Under perfectly identical conditions, perfectly identical snowflakes can be created.

With this stunning revelation, every argument ever which placed value on identity simultaneously collapsed, and everyone agreed that we were just 'humans', and should probably stop all this nonsense with racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, and classism, and we all settled into perfect peace until someone picky pointed out that one of the snowflakes was on the left, and the other the right, and this was a fundamental difference between them, at which point we went back to bombing the hell out of each other and insulting minor differences in identity. 


*

There came a point in my third year of university, when I had eventually realised that I was average for what I did, achieving without distinction, when I decided to stop worrying about being an individual. My faith taught me that I had intrinsic worth purely by merit of existing, and if I didn't think about that too hard, it wasn't an entirely terrifying concept. I had also decided to stop writing essays as if I was Alan Bennett. 

*

I have always been terrified of individuality, because it felt like a challenge I could fail at. 

*

This is not an individual experience.

*

Not being individual is not the terrifying thing it was made out to be as children. Sometimes, once in a million billion times, one snowflake may brush another snowflake who looks a little like it. 

*

Thousands of pounds and tens of thousands of photographs have been used to make this point. 


When the phrase 'special snowflake' is used as an insult, the speaker is using the term to express their own fear at failing, and their hatred of anyone who embraces being different, or believes that different identities require different treatments. Rather than coming from a belief that individual identity is valueless, this comes from a strong belief in individual identity: their own, which is justified by the claim that their identity is part of the collective identity. Strangely, these kinds of people rarely react well to situations where their identity is not part of the majority.

*

In a blizzard, as the unfortunate Bentley discovered, it does not hugely matter if snowflakes are completely unique, or if they may have some similarities. 

*

The students of The History Boys were all remarkable characters in their own right. Rudge with his golf and dark humour. Scripps and his faith. Posner, with his anxiety and biting sarcasm. Dakin, with his rampant sexuality and excessive self-consciousness. Timms. Akthar. Crowther. Lockwood. All innately part of the play. Desperate to stand out from the crowd, they are forced into a homogeneous character, the sarcastic, doubtful scholar, churned through Oxford in order to claim the same, identical mark of distinction. The play I had thought for so many years was about becoming an individual turned out be about destroying individuality, and it nearly took me with it. 


*

The reason why we know that most snowflakes are unique, but once in a million crystals, some can be made to look similar, is because humans love and are fascinated by snowflakes. Their difference is something to be celebrated and encouraged. It doesn't matter that sometimes their differences are minute, that many are broken, that they are fragile. The whole is made by their variations. Being the same and being individual is only a matter of distance. 


*

Bentley's book sold because it was beautiful. 

Saturday, 9 February 2013

Essay Block & Ash Wednesday

Warning: I basically wrote off the top of my head in this post. (Freewriting, I know these things!) and it contains teenage angst, even though I'm not really a teenager. If you are allergic to angst, the antihistamines are in the bathroom cabinet, and classic FM can be found online. Do not, under any circumstances, turn on Radio 4: our 'politicians' are still teething and having a bad week, bless... Anyway.

It's essay week, and the work is piling up. My deadline for the short essay I'm working on is Monday, and I have at least one other piece to write for Monday, as well as a novel to read for Monday afternoon, then another two essays to work on. I haven't got very far with any of this at all. 

So why am I writing this? I've been staring at my computer for a bout an hour, and frankly, I just need to write. Until you've started, you just can't continue. All of my essays have come back with comments to the effect that they improve near the end, as I realise what I'm doing and inspiration - as well as time pressure - spurs me on. Obviously this is something I need to work on, as I'd like all my essays to be this good, but to get to that point you have to write something in the first place. 

I've been working, slowly, on another post for this blog. I have bullet point notes and a full idea in my head. It's going to be a discussion of the deification of the mortal, and the human dependency on deity-figures (which sounds like an odd topic for a Christian, right?!) with a discussion on how I distinguish between my God (real - to me) and the varying false gods that capture my attention, like the Doctor, although I'm really not convinced by the plot arcs of the last series or so. 

But I've changed my mind about that post. I don't want this blog to turn into some kind of pretentious, moralising space where I post dull, self-righteous essays on my personal morality, and imply that you should follow it too. I'm thinking about where I should go with this blog, and like the essay on realism in relation to George Gissing and Matthew Beaumont that I should be working on, I'm having to re-think what I'm doing. 

I'll probably delete the draft versions of the last post, so you'll never get to see them. I'm not going to promise never to write another essay like the last post again, but I'll try not to. I'm afraid I don't always keep my resolutions; I have been kind of drunk once since my post on drinking, where I vowed never to be drunk ever again. Not dangerously drunk, not I-can't-stand-up drunk, but drunk. And I'm still not into drinking, and I have no intention of getting drunk ever again, but I still did it. I suppose what I mean is that I'm always trying to make things better, myself included, but writing self-righteous nonsense about my choices won't make me a humbler, or better person.

Wednesday this week is Ash Wednesday, and hopefully, I'll attend Mass in the Chaplaincy to be ashed, and make the repentance of sins which starts the annual journey towards Easter. I love Easter and everything about it; it takes me out of myself, briefly. On the Friday afternoon muffled bells ring, a solemnity only given for the death of a King (or Queen). Then there's the solemn wait, remembering, praying, and then at last, midnight on Saturday, and the end of the vigil. Easter, gaudy and bright, named after a pagan festival, commercialised, the day we remember Jesus rising for the dead. 

I'm not very good at Lent, so I still haven't decided how to prepare this year. I know already that if I try to give anything up, I will fail. This sounds a little negative, but will-power is not my strongest personality trait. Maybe I'll take something up, instead. Even if I accidentally miss Lent (like last year. Oops.) I like to do something for Holy Week, trying to pray more, or actually read the Bible, which I neglect too often.

Perhaps this year my resolution will be to listen more. It's to easy to get stuck in your own head, obsessed with your own voice and opinions, and forget to be there for others when they need you, and I think that maybe I've been caught in this trap recently. I know that I'm not humble, and I mean that, even though I'm confessing it here (!) and I'm conscious that in this blog I've been caught up in my own preconceptions and beliefs. I haven't helped anyone else by lecturing them on morality. From now on, I'm going to try to share more and lecture less, and be significantly less prosaic. Also, I'm going to make my posts shorter, if I can bear it...

I'm not sure how to sign this blog post off. I've been saying 'God Bless' but I'm not keen on those words - it sounds like I'm commanding God to bless you, which isn't very theologically correct! And I know that for many people reading this, those words won't mean anything, even if they comfort me. 
So perhaps this: In whatever faith you have, in your faith in your God or Gods, in humanity, in whatever keeps you strong, be confirmed this week. 

Back, for now, to the essays.

J.R.