Seminars
The Global Village
An interesting idea that was brought up in this global village seminar was
national identity. There are many identities based on culture, religion, or
where a person is from, and a person’s identity may change based on where they
live. And then there is the big question, would equality in the whole world, the
same national identity in everyone, bring people together, or drive them apart?
There are over 248 nationalities in the world today, and the majority of the
world is multi-national, people have at least two ethnicities from
‘interbreeding’ with people of other countries. In the reading, the author said,
“I am Chinese, because I live in San Francisco, a Chinese city. I became Irish
in America. I became Portuguese in America.” People become different a lot of
times based on where they live, this man became three different national
identities in one country. Another idea discussed in this seminar was, “would
equality between races and cultures bring people together or drive them apart?”
The argument was made that even though people may at some point all become the
same race; a mixed race of most all nationalities, that there would still be
divisions between people because some believe themselves to be superior to
others no matter who they are or what they look like. Ashton added to this
saying that people will always think they are better than others, it is human
error, we all think we are better than the next person and want to be at the
top, and above everyone else. Therefore, Ashton said, the idea of the Global
Village will never happen because even though we may all look the same, there
will never be that equality and togetherness as some people believe, not matter
how great it may be. Even if the whole world turns into one race, a mixed race,
there will still be social divisions such as money and how good looking a
person may be.
Pico Ayer, in the paper the global village has finally arrived,
predicts that at some point in the future, everyone in the world will all be of
one, mixed race, ethnicity, and every country around the world will have the
same culture and the same ideas as everyone else in the world. This paper was
written in 1993, since then some of this may have happened. America is a very
mixed racial and cultural country, with many ideas floating around anywhere you
go. Many countries around the world have adopted some of our society’s ideas
such as music. Many countries have taken music from “the western word” and are
now making their own versions of it, in many countries; it is now a big part of
their lifestyle. Since 1993 more and more people have moved between countries,
people originating in other countries around the world have moved to America
whether for better jobs, or family; and many people from America have moved into
other countries around the world. People are mixing like they never have before,
and when people move into other countries, they end up marrying people of other
races, and making multi-raced children. This is adding diversity within
countries, and what Pico Ayer predicted about one mixed race, is definitely
starting to happen.
It is true, not everyone is of every race existing around the world,
however, the argument has been made that there is no one left in the world of
only one race. Everyone has at least two ethnicities that make up who they are.
Ayer predicts that at some point, everyone will have some of every race,
resulting in a one race world of mixed races. Already this is being seen, no
state in America are there only whites, or only blacks, or only Chinese,
everywhere you go there will be mixed races. And the same with any other
country around the world, mixed raced people will be found everywhere, and the
number is growing each year. At some point, I believe this will happen, if
people are moving in between countries at the rate they are today, over 17
million long-distance moves annually (David Bancroft Avrick), then eventually,
maybe 50 generations in the future, what Ayer predicted will become
reality.
The Idea that at some point in the future, everyone will have the same,
mixed, culture was talked about in the seminar. Last year, we learned about
socialization and how it affects our decision making and who we are culturally.
Because of what we learned last year, I partly disagree with the statement, ‘at
some point everyone will be the same.’ Because everyone I socialized
differently, they all grow up with different viewpoints and ideas, this has been
happening for a very long time, many people get what they believe based on what
their parents believe or what they grew up around. Therefore, it will be near
impossible for everyone to be the exact same culture, and have the same ideas
because the socialization that has been passed down from generation to
generation. The way of thinking, will keep being passed down, until or unless
everyone in the world breaks away from the ideas and cultures presented to them
while growing up, and becomes of the next mixed culture being talked about for
the future. The idea of socialization connects to this question in the seminar,
because in many ways, it keeps it from becoming a reality in the world.
Choice Question:
The idea of globalization and that eventually everyone in the world will
be of the same race and culture, can be related to an epidemic. It always starts
out in one place, usually at a house or another specific area; in this case, it
could be the USA. If an epidemic or other fast moving and contagious disease
isn’t kept in one place and is not confined to that house or person, it starts
to spread. If people don’t stay in their original country, but begin to move
away, the epidemic has started to spread. People begin marrying and having
children with people of other races, beginning to create a mixed race
population. An epidemic, unless kept confined will eventually spread until I has
hit everywhere and everyone. People moving from country to country and having
mixed race children, will soon cover all of the USA, until everyone “has the
epidemic” until everyone is of the same mixed race, and is living the same
lifestyle and culture.
Citations:
"How Many People Move Each Year â and Who Are They?" How Many
People Move Each Year â and Who Are They? N.p., n.d. Web. 23 Feb.
2013.
The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas
Boy in the Basement
I wake up once again to the little dark room, the only place I’ve ever
known. I look up and see the same dirty mops leaning against the door, proof
that I am still in the same place I have always been. I
look around, wondering what made me wake up, there is no noise above me, and I
don’t hear anyone outside my door. I stand up and look into the dark crevices of
room corners, and see a rat nestled inside my bowl. it has eaten the food given
to me sometime in the night, and is now asleep. I creep over to wear it lays and
quickly turn the bowl over and trap it inside, I hear its frantic squeaking as
it scratches the smooth walls of the bowl. Then I hear gruff voices outside my
door and three men burst in and kick me out of the corner, I stand up, used to
this routine and wait for them to find the rat and give me more food. One man
steps towards the bowl and lifts
it, the rat starts to scurry away but is stopped in its tracks as it is ground
into the dirt floor by a large boot and thrown into the corner with a small pile
of other rats which haven’t had the time to disappear into the ground. They get
a new bowl and refill it with a hard mash of a sort of grey color, although I
can’t tell the true color because of the lack of light in the room. The men
leave a slam the door on the way out; I walk over to the bowl and eat
ravenously, before another rat can eat what is mine. After finishing the small
portion I move the bowl over to the dripping pipe to get some water. After it is
filled I use the dirty water to quench my thirst, then to clean the sores that
have been all over my body as long as I can remember, they get worse every day,
though no one seems to care. Then people start to come and look at
me.
They peer through the small hole in the door and stare at me. Some just
stare, blank expressions on their faces, others burst into tears, wet streaks
running down their faces, and even others begin to yell, savage expressions
taking over their face, they all leave and never come back, their places taken
by others every day. I wonder why
they don’t help, don’t get me out of this room, out into the world, to the
joyful voices I hear every day, every night. The day ends and I am left alone
again, alone with the rats and dirty mops in the corner. Every night I hear
shouts and singing above me, the floor shakes from stomping of feet and good
smells waft through the cracks in the roof of my room. Every night, barely above
the sound of music I hear other moans, moans like I used to make. I always look
through the small crack in the thick wooden door, down the narrow hallway that
separates me from the moans, but as always, I never see anything.
One night I hear two people whispering outside my door, hear the usual
jingling of keys and lurch to my feet before I am kicked into a standing
position. A man and woman come in and mutter some soothing words into my ear
before picking me up and placing me in a large wooden box. They put their
fingers to their lips, motioning for ne to stay quiet, then close the lid on the
box, moments later I feel myself moving, being picked up and walked out the door
of my little room, leaving the rats and dirty mops behind.
I feel the edges
of the box, the coarse wood, and bring my hand away when I get a splinter from
the freshly cut wood. It smells like my door, but more fresh, damp, but not
dirty. I hear the creaking of a door and am suddenly blinded by light. Light
streaks through cracks in the box; I stay silent, curious about where I am being
taken. Finally, the box is opened
and I experience a new kind of blindness, I cant see anything but white, so I
close my eyes as they burn. I am lifted out of the box and set on a soft
surface, it is slightly damp, but feels nice to the touch. I hear people
speaking, they ae talking to each other, I wonder why I was brought here, and
what here is. The voices start arguing, saying something about why “more of
them couldn’t be saved, there were ten of them in there and you could only
rescue two?” Then, I hear a familiar yet distant voice, soothing, soft, like I
heard it in a dream. A dream where a man and woman stood over me, held me and
smiled, before giving me up. The only words I heard in the dream were “I love
you” the last memory, the last dream I had, before I woke up in the little room
with rats and dirty mops.
Part II
The people in Omelas are extremely happy; they base their happiness off
of a young child being put through misery. They see this child and know that
this is what they could be experiencing if they are not happy. Even though
people are distraught after seeing the suffering of this child, they know that
for them to have happiness, this child must be here going through what he is
going through. There are, however, some people who choose sadness, they choose
to walk away from Omelas, they choose that a child’s suffering is not worth
their happiness. There is a difference between people who stay, and those who
walk away from Omelas, those who choose to walk away have a sense of morals
those who stay don’t seem to have. Those who walk away know that staying and
seeing the child suffer, getting their happiness from someone else’s suffering
is not right, they want to go through their own suffering and gain their own
happiness, not on someone else’s account. This is the difference between those
who stay, and those who walk away from Omelas.
I wake up once again to the little dark room, the only place I’ve ever
known. I look up and see the same dirty mops leaning against the door, proof
that I am still in the same place I have always been. I
look around, wondering what made me wake up, there is no noise above me, and I
don’t hear anyone outside my door. I stand up and look into the dark crevices of
room corners, and see a rat nestled inside my bowl. it has eaten the food given
to me sometime in the night, and is now asleep. I creep over to wear it lays and
quickly turn the bowl over and trap it inside, I hear its frantic squeaking as
it scratches the smooth walls of the bowl. Then I hear gruff voices outside my
door and three men burst in and kick me out of the corner, I stand up, used to
this routine and wait for them to find the rat and give me more food. One man
steps towards the bowl and lifts
it, the rat starts to scurry away but is stopped in its tracks as it is ground
into the dirt floor by a large boot and thrown into the corner with a small pile
of other rats which haven’t had the time to disappear into the ground. They get
a new bowl and refill it with a hard mash of a sort of grey color, although I
can’t tell the true color because of the lack of light in the room. The men
leave a slam the door on the way out; I walk over to the bowl and eat
ravenously, before another rat can eat what is mine. After finishing the small
portion I move the bowl over to the dripping pipe to get some water. After it is
filled I use the dirty water to quench my thirst, then to clean the sores that
have been all over my body as long as I can remember, they get worse every day,
though no one seems to care. Then people start to come and look at
me.
They peer through the small hole in the door and stare at me. Some just
stare, blank expressions on their faces, others burst into tears, wet streaks
running down their faces, and even others begin to yell, savage expressions
taking over their face, they all leave and never come back, their places taken
by others every day. I wonder why
they don’t help, don’t get me out of this room, out into the world, to the
joyful voices I hear every day, every night. The day ends and I am left alone
again, alone with the rats and dirty mops in the corner. Every night I hear
shouts and singing above me, the floor shakes from stomping of feet and good
smells waft through the cracks in the roof of my room. Every night, barely above
the sound of music I hear other moans, moans like I used to make. I always look
through the small crack in the thick wooden door, down the narrow hallway that
separates me from the moans, but as always, I never see anything.
One night I hear two people whispering outside my door, hear the usual
jingling of keys and lurch to my feet before I am kicked into a standing
position. A man and woman come in and mutter some soothing words into my ear
before picking me up and placing me in a large wooden box. They put their
fingers to their lips, motioning for ne to stay quiet, then close the lid on the
box, moments later I feel myself moving, being picked up and walked out the door
of my little room, leaving the rats and dirty mops behind.
I feel the edges
of the box, the coarse wood, and bring my hand away when I get a splinter from
the freshly cut wood. It smells like my door, but more fresh, damp, but not
dirty. I hear the creaking of a door and am suddenly blinded by light. Light
streaks through cracks in the box; I stay silent, curious about where I am being
taken. Finally, the box is opened
and I experience a new kind of blindness, I cant see anything but white, so I
close my eyes as they burn. I am lifted out of the box and set on a soft
surface, it is slightly damp, but feels nice to the touch. I hear people
speaking, they ae talking to each other, I wonder why I was brought here, and
what here is. The voices start arguing, saying something about why “more of
them couldn’t be saved, there were ten of them in there and you could only
rescue two?” Then, I hear a familiar yet distant voice, soothing, soft, like I
heard it in a dream. A dream where a man and woman stood over me, held me and
smiled, before giving me up. The only words I heard in the dream were “I love
you” the last memory, the last dream I had, before I woke up in the little room
with rats and dirty mops.
Part II
The people in Omelas are extremely happy; they base their happiness off
of a young child being put through misery. They see this child and know that
this is what they could be experiencing if they are not happy. Even though
people are distraught after seeing the suffering of this child, they know that
for them to have happiness, this child must be here going through what he is
going through. There are, however, some people who choose sadness, they choose
to walk away from Omelas, they choose that a child’s suffering is not worth
their happiness. There is a difference between people who stay, and those who
walk away from Omelas, those who choose to walk away have a sense of morals
those who stay don’t seem to have. Those who walk away know that staying and
seeing the child suffer, getting their happiness from someone else’s suffering
is not right, they want to go through their own suffering and gain their own
happiness, not on someone else’s account. This is the difference between those
who stay, and those who walk away from Omelas.