When Survivor first aired, I watched the initial episode with the naive idea that it was actually a show about survival. As in, dump a group of people on an island, and the one or ones who is the best at building shelter, figuring out sources of food, and keeping their innovative and rational wits about them, win. With rescue teams to keep the others from actually dying. Imagine my disappointment to discover that it was, instead, a show offering a re-run of junior high cliques and pout-fests. "Oh, dear god," I thought. "Junior high was bad enough the first time. Spare me the torture of watching it all over again." But I reassured myself with the thought that surely, this kind of show wouldn't last.
Last, of course, doesn't begin to describe what's happened in the reality TV world. Rabbits should reproduce and spread so prolifically. And even a number of my very intelligent friends have become avid fans of one show or another.
My own view, however, has remained unchanged. If a sinister power wanted to get state secrets out of my hands, a few days of non-stop reality TV show watching would do the trick. Enough back-to-back Bridezillas, The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency, and Bachelor-babe catfights, with no hope of turning the channel, and I'd be pleading for mercy. But I'd also assume that I was the only torture victim in that equation.
Drawing on interviews with reality TV show contestants whose non-disclosure contracts have now expired, the article, headlined "Tired, Tipsy, and Pushed to the Brink," details a broad range of techniques routinely used on contestants, including sleep deprivation, isolation, taunting, food deprivation, and pushing of alcohol consumption. Take out the alcohol, and the list reads like a page straight out of a manual for enhanced interrogation techniques. Which both explains a lot, in terms of the bad behavior on those shows, and also provides a vivid illustration of why those techniques don't always get reliable intelligence from suspects.
Granted, reality show contestants have the option of leaving at any time--a significant difference. And one could argue that if contestants are stupid enough to sign on for the 15 minutes of humiliation fame reality shows offer, they deserve what they get. But even if contestants have visions of easy money or fame, I'm not sure they really know what they're getting into. Many may assume they can beat the system, knowing that they don't normally behave like the people they see on the shows. But even the stalwart feminist warrior Germaine Greer, who signed on to Britain's "Celebrity Big Brother" show in 2005 in the hopes of raising money for her rainforest charities, was overwhelmed by the abuse and dysfunction and quit after only four days. (Her account of her brief stay makes for interesting reading.)
There are undoubtedly any number of individual vulnerabilities and character flaws that plays into the equation, as well. But isolation, group pressure and sleep deprivation are powerful behavior-altering techniques, regardless of who's involved. That's why interrogators use them. When I was 16, I spent a week at a "Girl's State" convention that was ostensibly aimed at teaching us how to be better citizens. By the standards of reality TV, the experience was mild. But we were kept up late, roused early, and subjected to non-stop mandatory lectures each day. Group pressure to approve and conform was great. And within only a few days, almost all individual thought had evaporated. Each speaker got a standing ovation. Any differing opinion was booed, and the questioner ostracized. It was a frightening glimpse into how easy brain-washing and behavior modification are to accomplish--especially in a group.
Add alcohol, taunting, and the other tactics that seem commonplace in reality TV show environments, and you have a disturbing cross between George Orwell's 1984 and a modern-day Roman Coliseum. And yet, like the Romans of old, we cheer. We laugh. We watch. Seemingly without any twinge of conscience. And the puzzling question is ... why?
Is the entertainment quality of the shows that much better than the scripted programs we used to watch? I can't imagine I'd find many who'd say that. Are we so twisted that we love seeing other humans suffer? Or does watching the immature manipulative behavior, suffering and humiliation of seemingly-willing participants on those shows make us feel better about our own lives, no matter what we're going through?
Perhaps, like the contestants themselves, we don't realize what we're endorsing when we watch the shows, or buy the products they advertise. But that's beginning to change. As more information about the treatment of contestants comes out, will we continue to watch? Even knowing that that the last thing the behavior on reality TV shows represents is reality .... unless it's the reality of what vulnerable people will do under harsh and artificially-induced conditions?
The producers of these shows may be behaving as badly, or worse, than their inebriated, sleep-deprived contestants. But they could rightly argue that just as the slave trade depended on having people willing to buy the slaves, the reality TV shows depend on having audiences willing to watch. We are complicit. And as long as we are willing consumers of the product, the torture will continue--both for viewers who have increasingly fewer options in terms of what to watch, and for those hapless souls who sign up for a dream, and end up in a nightmare.
In a new model of living, residents will have their own “microunits” built around a shared living space for cooking, eating and hanging out.
SYRACUSE—This office looks like a pretty typical co-working space, what with the guy with a ponytail coding in one corner, the pile of bikes clustered in another, and the minimalist desks spread across a light-filled room. Troy Evans opened this space, CoWorks, in a downtown building here in February.
Coworking is probably a familiar concept at this point, but Evans wants to take his idea a step further. On Friday, on the top two floors of the building, he’s starting construction on a space he envisions as a dorm for Millennials, though he cringes at the word “dorm.” Commonspace, as he’s calling it, will feature 21 microunits, which each pack a tiny kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and living space into 300-square-feet. The microunits surround shared common areas including a chef’s kitchen, a game room, and a TV room. Worried about the complicated social dynamics of so many Millennials in one living unit? Fear not, Evans and partner John Talarico are hiring a “social engineer” who will facilitate group events and maintain harmony among roommates.
What do we actually know about the candidate’s health?
Cameras rolling, Manhattan gastroenterologist Harold Bornstein was confronted last week with a letter that carried his signature. In that letter, the writer “state[d] unequivocally” that Donald Trump “will be the healthiest individual ever elected to the presidency.”
Donald Trump would be the oldest individual ever elected to the presidency. He sleeps little and holds angry grudges. He purports to eat KFC and girthy slabs of red meat, and his physique doesn’t suggest any inconsistency in this. His health might be fine, but a claim to anything superlative feels off.
Bornstein might have jumped on that opportunity to get out of this mess—to say that Trump had dictated the letter, and Bornstein only signed it. Or that Trump had at least suggested phrases. Because it’s not just the facts of Trump’s life that don’t add up, but the linguistics of the letter.
In the age of the digital hermit, a psychologist explains what it means to avoid other people—and what to do about it.
People today might not actually be avoiding social interaction any more than they did in past decades, but they’re certainly more vocal about it. The rise of digital communication seems to be spawning a nation of indoor cats, all humble-bragging about how introverted they are and ordering their rides and groceries without ever talking to a human.
Sometimes reclusiveness can be a sign of something more serious, though. Social anxiety is one of the most common mental illnesses, but it’s still poorly understood outside of scientific circles. The good news is that it’s highly treatable, according to Stefan G. Hofmann, the director of the Social Anxiety Program at Boston University.
I recently talked with Hofmann about how social anxiety works and what people who feel socially anxious can do about it. An edited transcript of our conversation follows.
Practices meant to protect marginalized communities can also ostracize those who disagree with them.
Last week, the University of Chicago’s dean of students sent a welcome letter to freshmen decrying trigger warnings and safe spaces—ways for students to be warned about and opt out of exposure to potentially challenging material. While some supported the school’s actions, arguing that these practices threaten free speech and the purpose of higher education, the note also led to widespread outrage, and understandably so. Considered in isolation, trigger warnings may seem straightforwardly good. Basic human decency means professors like myself should be aware of students’ traumatic experiences, and give them a heads up about course content—photographs of dead bodies, extended accounts of abuse, disordered eating, self-harm—that might trigger an anxiety attack and foreclose intellectual engagement. Similarly, it may seem silly to object to the creation of safe spaces on campus, where members of marginalized groups can count on meeting supportive conversation partners who empathize with their life experiences, and where they feel free to be themselves without the threat of judgment or censure.
The San Francisco quarterback has been attacked for refusing to stand for the Star Spangled Banner—and for daring to criticize the system in which he thrived.
It was in early childhood when W.E.B. Du Bois––scholar, activist, and black radical––first noticed The Veil that separated him from his white classmates in the mostly white town of Great Barrington, Massachusetts. He and his classmates were exchanging “visiting cards,” invitations to visit one another’s homes, when a white girl refused his.
“Then it dawned upon me with a certain suddenness that I was different from the others; or like, mayhap, in heart and life and longing, but shut out from their world by a vast veil. I had thereafter no desire to tear down that veil, to creep through; I held all beyond it in common contempt, and lived above it in a region of blue sky and great wandering shadows,” Du Bois wrote in his acclaimed essay collection, The Souls of Black Folk. “That sky was bluest when I could beat my mates at examination-time, or beat them at a foot-race, or even beat their stringy heads.”
In the name of emotional well-being, college students are increasingly demanding protection from words and ideas they don’t like. Here’s why that’s disastrous for education—and mental health.
Something strange is happening at America’s colleges and universities. A movement is arising, undirected and driven largely by students, to scrub campuses clean of words, ideas, and subjects that might cause discomfort or give offense. Last December, Jeannie Suk wrote in an online article for The New Yorker about law students asking her fellow professors at Harvard not to teach rape law—or, in one case, even use the word violate (as in “that violates the law”) lest it cause students distress. In February, Laura Kipnis, a professor at Northwestern University, wrote an essay in The Chronicle of Higher Education describing a new campus politics of sexual paranoia—and was then subjected to a long investigation after students who were offended by the article and by a tweet she’d sent filed Title IX complaints against her. In June, a professor protecting himself with a pseudonym wrote an essay for Vox describing how gingerly he now has to teach. “I’m a Liberal Professor, and My Liberal Students Terrify Me,” the headline said. A number of popular comedians, including Chris Rock, have stopped performing on college campuses (see Caitlin Flanagan’s article in this month’s issue). Jerry Seinfeld and Bill Maher have publicly condemned the oversensitivity of college students, saying too many of them can’t take a joke.
Education experts offer their thoughts on how—if at all—schools should assign, grade, and use take-home assignments.
This is the third installment in our series about school in a perfect world. Read previous entries on calendars and content.
We asked prominent voices in education—from policy makers and teachers to activists and parents—to look beyond laws, politics, and funding and imagine a utopian system of learning. They went back to the drawing board—and the chalkboard—to build an educational Garden of Eden. We’re publishing their answers to one question each day this week. Responses have been lightly edited for clarity and length.
Today’s assignment: The Homework. Will students have homework?
Rita Pin Ahrens, thedirector of education policy for the Southeast Asia Resource Action Center
Homework is absolutely necessary for students to demonstrate that they are able to independently process and apply their learning. But who says homework has to be the same as it has been? Homework might include pre-reading in preparation for what will be covered in class that day, independent research on a student-chosen topic that complements the class curriculum, experiential learning through a volunteer activity or field trip, or visiting a website and accomplishing a task on it. The structure will be left to the teachers to determine, as best fits the learning objective, and should be graded—whether by the teacher or student. Students will be held accountable for their homework and understand that it is an integral part of the learning process.
People can get addicted to almost any product. Do manufacturers have a responsibility to stop them?
“A day doesn’t go by that I don’t see people come in with Q-tip-related injuries,” laments Jennifer Derebery, an inner-ear specialist in Los Angeles.
And yet there’s a scary warning on every box of Q-tips. It reads, “CAUTION: Do not enter ear canal. … Entering the ear canal could cause injury.” How is it that the one thing most people do with cotton swabs is also the thing manufacturers explicitly warn them not to do? It’s not just that people do damage to their ears, it’s that they keep doing damage.
Some even call it an addiction. On an online forum, Q-tip user associates ear swabbing with dependency: “How can I detox from my Q-tips addiction?” MADtv ran a classic sketch on a daughter having to hide Q-tip use from her parents like a junkie.
The talk-radio host claims that he never took Donald Trump seriously on immigration. He neglected to tell his immigration obsessed listeners.
For almost a decade, I’ve been angrily documenting the way that many right-wing talk-radio hosts betray the rank-and-file conservatives who trust them for information. My late grandmother was one of those people. She deserved better than she got. With huge platforms and massive audiences, successful hosts ought to take more care than the average person to be truthful and avoid misinforming listeners. Yet they are egregiously careless on some days and willfully misleading on others.
And that matters, as we’ll come to see.
Rush Limbaugh is easily the most consequential of these hosts. He has an audience of millions. And over the years, parts of the conservative movement that ought to know better, like the Claremont Institute, have treated him like an honorable conservative intellectual rather than an intellectually dishonest entertainer. The full cost of doing so became evident this year, when a faction of populists shaped by years of talk radio, Fox News, and Breitbart.com picked Donald Trump to lead the Republican Party, a choice that makes a Hillary Clinton victory likely and is a catastrophe for movement conservatism regardless of who wins.