Musing's musings

Marketing madness

So I'm sitting at home, debating about what to make for dinner and watching coverage of the first day of the U.S. Open, when a commercial comes on for a certain product. I like this product, and use it myself--but I'm shaking my head at the content of the commercial. Nor is this commercial the only place I've seen this kind of hyperbole: I regularly get surveys that feature it. And I don't get it--at all.

The line that got me thinking along these lines was "Your [product] completes my life," and was voiced by someone appearing to be a teen-age girl. First off, I rather doubt that's the kind of thing that the average teenager would say without being prompted. More to the point, I also doubt that this product (or any product, really) rates that highly. Yet, as I already noted, I see these kinds of tropes in marketing campaigns all the time. I regularly get asked, about this brand or that product, whether it makes me feel hip, or special, or cultured--and whole lists of other adjectives. Every time I get one of those surveys, I scratch my head and wonder what sort of people have such drab, nothing lives that using a particular product, eating a certain type of food, staying in a certain hotel, or flying on a certain airline, would make them feel other than who they were.

Don't get me wrong: I appreciate nice things, good food, and the like, just as much as the next person. But I don't define my life in terms of what I eat, where I sleep, or how I get to where I'm sleeping. What I want out of my food is that it be safe and nutritious, reasonably priced, and something that I like. Beyond that, I don't give it another thought. Same thing with wine and spirits, juices, teas, sodas, and all the rest of the universe of consumer goods with which we surround ourselves in these United States, and about which we are constantly bombarded with information trying to get us to prefer Brand X over Brand Y.

The things that complete my life, that make me feel special, are not the sorts of things that one can buy in stores. They are the friends and family members who enrich my life, the wonders of the world that I get to enjoy (and occasionally to photograph), the teachers who open up new intellectual horizons for me, that sort of thing. I have a few nice things, materially speaking, and I enjoy and appreciate them. But for most of them, what makes them special and enjoyable are the memories associated with them, the person(s) who gave them to me, the occasion(s) which they were intended to commemorate, or some other immaterial factor. I don't own a Rolex watch, but neither would I think of myself as somehow smarter, hipper, or more sophisticated if I did. It's a watch, for crying out loud--all I really care about is that it tells the time accurately and be readable.

I am reminded, in this context, of something John Shea wrote in his book Starlight. He was quoting someone else, whose name I can't remember, but who mused, as he was sitting at a shopping mall some years ago during the Christmas season, that people weren't shopping for things they wanted (or wanted to get), but rather came to the mall looking for something to want. And that's a problem. Scripture tells us that it is the love of money that is the root of all evil, but I'm inclined to think that the love of material things is, if not one and the same root, at least a closely related one.

This problem can only get worse in an economy where fewer and fewer people make things and build things, and more of them try to stay employed by selling people the things that others make. This is at least one of the reasons why our last president urged us, in the aftermath attacks on the World Trade Center and the useless series of wars he started thereafter, to go shopping--because if we don't, the economy gets even worse. Well, I'm sorry, but that's not an idea that works for me. I don't define myself by what I own, and I don't go shopping unless there's something I either need or want. I refuse to feel guilty about that, and I considered it crass (to say the least) when that was the appeal that Bush made to the American people. Not because I think that possessions are evil, or that people working in retail shouldn't make a good living--but because I don't want to live my life around what I own, how I come to own it, where I go to buy it, or anything so essentially trivial.

Now he, too, belongs to the ages

I awakened this morning to the sad news that Senator Edward Kennedy had died early this morning of the brain tumor that was diagnosed just about a year ago today. Just yesterday afternoon, I heard a park ranger at Ford's Theatre quote the words of Edwin M. Stanton on the passing of Abraham Lincoln, and they were the first words that leapt to mind as I contemplated what to title this post.

After watching a bit of CNN's coverage, I got cleaned up and left the hotel bright and early to walk down to the Mall. From what I could tell, there didn't appear to be any visible signs of mourning: the flags surrounding the Washington Monument, and on every building I saw, governmental or otherwise, were all still at the top of their staffs. (I suspect that even once President Obama gave the order to lower the flags in Washington, those around the monument will stay up--they don't appear to have a mechanism for lowering them.) However, as I hiked further east toward the Capitol, I finally noticed a flag at half-mast. It was flying, somewhat interestingly, over the Rayburn House Office Building. Finally, when I got close enough to the Capitol itself to make out the flagstaff in the morning haze and the glare from the sun climbing higher in the sky behind it, this is what I saw:

By the time I walked back down the Mall to the Washington Monument to see if I could get in for the first tour of the day, I noticed that the flag over the White House was also at half-mast, though that was the only other one I noticed. By the time I headed back to the hotel to get a shower and check out, I was noticing flags at half-mast all over the place. And, to borrow a phrase I saw carved into the wall of the Lincoln Memorial a couple of nights ago, "it is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this." Whether one liked Kennedy or loathed him (and/or his politics), the fact that the man served in the United States Senate for longer than I've been alive is something worthy of respect.

Fortunately, I've been mostly incommunicado all day--but I gather, from things I've seen here and there, that the haters have been out spewing their typical bile--and on the same day that the man died. Probably just as well I haven't been confronted with any of that BS, because I'd absolutely freak if I did. Again, say what you like about the man's politics--or his personality--but for the love of all that's holy, if you must tear him down, couldn't you at least have the common courtesy to wait until he's had a chance to cool off in his grave? Once upon a time, we knew the meaning of the phrase nil de mortuis nisi bonum, "speak nothing but good of the dead." Now, not so much, apparently.

With Ted Kennedy's passing, we may also have witnessed the passing of the last remnant of comity in the U.S. Senate. As one of the morning talking heads on CNN observed, one of Kennedy's closest friends was Senator Orrin Hatch, the Utah Republican whose political positions are about as far away from those of Senator Kennedy as it's possible to get. After nearly fifty years in the Senate, the man knew how to get things done--and had the clout and the character to make it happen. How many of his ninety-nine remaining colleagues can honestly say that of themselves, in this era of the politics of personal destruction? At the time Ted Kennedy entered the Senate, when a senator uttered the phrase "the enemy," he did not mean his colleagues on the other side of the aisle, he meant those idiots on the other end of the Capitol--the House of Representatives. We really should do what we can to return to that way of thinking--especially if we ever want to get any of the umpty-bajillion bits of pressing legislation passed that we have to get passed.

A couple of nights ago, I was sitting on top of a tour bus, coming across the Arlington Memorial Bridge, on our way to the Marine Corps War Memorial. In the darkness, just below the Custis-Lee mansion, I caught a glimpse of the eternal flame that burns on John F. Kennedy's grave. It flickered for a moment, and then disappeared from sight. It almost makes one believe in omens.

I hope to see his brother laid to rest there beside him, or in some other place of honor and respect. It is only his due, after a lifetime of service to this country. Good night, sweet prince; And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. We shall absent ourselves from felicity awhile in your memory.

Arrived safely

Despite having to get up well before the ass-crack of dawn, today was one of the better traveling experiences I've had recently. Next to no traffic anywhere on the way from home to airport, some lovely and interesting scenery to look at along the way (including a spectacular fog bank on a lonely country road before dawn, and a lovely line of clouds along the eastern horizon before the sun actually came up), the plane had something like 50 empty seats (meaning I got a row all to myself, and moved myself from aisle to window), left early, arrived early, a quick taxi ride from National to the hotel, which is just a stone's throw from the White House and the National Mall. Quick check-in, unpacked, checked in for the conference, then back up to my room to change into shorts and outdoor gear, followed by a quick schlep down to the Mall and a nice walk to the National Archives--where, I'm happy to say, the Constitution is still safely preserved (and my new camera does a much better job of photographing it)!

A lovely reception after the final "pre-conference" conference session tonight, but I'm still feeling a bit peckish. Thinking about heading down to the hotel bar for a nosh and an adult beverage or three. Tomorrow will be a full day, though I don't have anything scheduled for the last session--and I do have a night tour scheduled for 6:30, starting at the Willard Hotel, so maybe I'll drop by the Old Ebbitt Grill for dinner beforehand. Sure hope I get some equally good pictures tomorrow night!

Elvis has left the building

I'm heading out to O'Hare to catch a plane to Washington, DC for a few days. I'm sure the conference will be great, and that I'll come back with all kinds of useful information to pass on to the people who need it. Mostly, however, I'm looking forward to a chance to get away from the office and relax a little bit. I'm hoping to do quite a bit of writing and polishing on my exam paper draft: I'd like nothing better than to be able to hand it in when I get back, though I'm not committing to that. I'm also looking forward to visiting some of my favorite DC haunts: the National Archives, the World War II memorial, and the like. I've got a nice new camera and I'm eager to see what it can do for me in such great public spaces. Not that I have anything against my trusty little Sony, but it definitely had its limitations. I'll be back home, Deo volente, on Wednesday.

Why our children isn't learning good

(Apologies for the atrocious grammar in the post title: It was deliberately done to make the point.)

It is a regrettable truism in textbook publishing that as Texas goes, so goes the nation. With so many schools needing books, the biggest states like Texas and California have a disproportionate influence on what is, and is not, available from textbook publishers. No publisher wants to come out with a book that school districts in mega-states won't buy, so they tend to tailor their materials to what they know they'll be able to market in the biggest markets they have available to them.

This should be a textbook illustration of why unfettered capitalism is not always a good thing. But of course, such an opinion would be highly unlikely to pass muster with the Texas Education Agency, which recently released a draft of its new standards (PDF link) for the teaching of U.S. history since the Reconstruction. The standards were revised with the advice of what the TEA terms expert reviewers, though I would argue that their definition of that term is considerably looser than most historians would probably be comfortable with. Of the six individuals listed, two are professors of history, two are tied to evangelical ministries and have absolutely no academic background in history whatsoever, one is a lawyer whose academic background is not clear, and one is a professor of education with no discernible training in history.

I don't recognize the name of either of the two historians on the panel, but that is not in and of itself significant, since I'm a Europeanist by trade. According to his bio page at Texas State University, Jesus Francisco de la Teja holds a Ph.D. in Latin American history from the University of Texas at Austin. How this qualifies him to address U.S. history is not precisely clear to me. Lybeth Hodges' biography page at Texas Woman's University does not explicitly address either her academic background or her research interests, which is somewhat unusual in academic history. It does seem to me that both of the historians on the panel were chosen primarily for having done all of their academic work in Texas, rather than having the academic background to be able to address questions of American history.

Don't even get me started on having two evangelical Christians empaneled as "expert reviewers." Both David Barton and Peter Marshall appear to have an interest in history, but "having an interest" in a subject is not the same thing as having the necessary background and training to be able to evaluate how it is taught--not to mention the fact that the majority of both men's interest in history appears to involve removing from the teaching of history anything of which they personally disapprove (and they disapprove of quite a bit). If it were not such a serious issue, it would be hugely ironic to see, in Mr. Barton's review of the current standards (PDF link), his disgust that so few American high school graduates can, among other things, find Iraq on a map, name even one Cabinet-level agency in the federal government, or state the freedoms protected by the First Amendment. I agree with Mr. Barton that this lack of what I would consider elementary knowledge is appalling--but I would also argue that it is precisely the inclusion of people like Mr. Barton on review committees that explains why so few of our students come out of high school in possession of such elementary knowledge. They are too busy being force-fed blind patriotism and religious dogma in the guise of education to have the time needed to learn and remember things that are truly important.

It is also ironic to see that the draft standards include (p. 13) an expectation that students will be able to "use standard grammar, spelling, sentence structure, and punctuation" (an expectation which Mr. Barton derided as belonging more to language arts than to social studies or history), when, in one of the comments (A47, on page 5), the reviewers or the staffer who put together their recommendations into final form described Chester Nimitz as the "navel [sic] commander in the Pacific theater." (I should also note that, while the note in question says that Nimitz was added to the list of significant military leaders in World War II, his name does not in fact appear on the list of such leaders that students are expected to know about.) And while I agree that Nimitz played a significant role in WWII as CinCPac (and would argue that he was far more significant a military leader than Douglas MacArthur was), I suspect that his being a Texan might also have an impact on why the TEA wants students to learn about him.

It is not too much to ask, I believe--and particularly in an era when we are trying to get back to the idea that before someone can be certified to teach a particular subject, s/he should have to have received some academic training in it--that anyone asked to review educational standards should have to have the relevant academic background to be able to address whatever standards s/he is being asked to evaluate. If we're talking about the standards for teaching history, then we should be asking historians. If we're talking about mathematics, then it should be mathematicians on the panel--and not megachurch ministers, even if they're very good at counting to large numbers. Parents would rightly be outraged to learn that their children were being taught by people who had no real training in the material they were trying to teach. Why should they be satisfied to have "experts" reviewing the curricular standards that their children's teachers will be forced to follow (and which will likely have a disproportionate impact on the kind of textbooks get published for the next five to ten years) who lack such training?

What he said

As far as I'm concerned, Dan Savage has said all that needs to be said about President Obama's shameful record on gay rights since winning election--and also about the "wait your turn, faggot" crowd that inevitably pops up every time anyone has the temerity to point out that the Dear Leader is naked. The Dear Leader really hasn't been all that dear as far as the gay community is concerned, and he sure as hell hasn't been a leader. Or even that good of a follower.

But then Obama was sworn in under Rick Warren’s porcine gaze and the "fierce urgency of now" quickly morphed, in Andrew Sullivan’s damning turn of phrase, into the "fierce urgency of whenever." Never mind that gay people are being turned away from their partners’ bedsides during medical emergencies now. Never mind that people are being kicked out of the military now. Never mind that Arkansas banned adoptions by same-sex couples on the very same day that Obama was elected. (Gosh, where’s that bully pulpit when you need it?) The man who wasn’t afraid to appeal directly to us for our votes as a candidate -- and certainly wasn’t shy about asking us for our dollars -- couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge the promises he had made to us and seemed to greatly resent being asked to actually honor them.

That paragraph says, eloquently and concisely, everything I've been struggling to say for the last seven months. In all likelihood, I will be turning to it again and again throughout the next three and a half years because, as Savage concludes his piece:

Last fall we, along with everyone else, got swept up in the momentousness of the campaign, in the symbolism and the history and the drama, and lost sight of something important: Obama is a politician -- and a Chicago politician at that. Nothing is ever given to you. You have to ask and tell and demand and do the work -- not passing the legislation ourselves or signing it ourselves (no coup gay’tat is in the offing), but in making sure our "friends" in the White House and Congress understand that we won’t take "wait" for an answer.

What do we want? What we were promised. When do we want it?

Now.

We're not going to go away. We're not going to sit back and let you shove us back into the closet, or put our issues on a back burner until the next time you feel like coming around and begging for our time, our talent, and our treasure to help you get (re-)elected. In fact, if we don't start seeing some action--and I mean concrete action, not just pretty words or a cocktail party for the A Gays or a proclamation that carries with it no actual substance--you can beg us all you want for our support, but you still won't get it. Come 2010, if we're still standing on the outside looking in, the Obama administration and the Democratic Party are going to find out what "I just can't seem to find the votes" really means.