Search Results for "u"

Does Democracy Demand the Tolerance of the Intolerant? Karl Popper’s Paradox

Pho­to via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

In the past few years, when far-right nation­al­ists are banned from social media, vio­lent extrem­ists face boy­cotts, or insti­tu­tions refuse to give a plat­form to racists, a faux-out­raged moan has gone up: “So much for the tol­er­ant left!” “So much for lib­er­al tol­er­ance!” The com­plaint became so hack­neyed it turned into an already-hack­neyed meme. It’s a won­der any­one thinks this line has any rhetor­i­cal force. The equa­tion of tol­er­ance with acqui­es­cence, pas­siv­i­ty, or a total lack of bound­aries is a reduc­tio ad absur­dum that denudes the word of mean­ing. One can only laugh at unse­ri­ous char­ac­ter­i­za­tions that do such vio­lence to rea­son.

The con­cept of tol­er­a­tion has a long and com­pli­cat­ed his­to­ry in moral and polit­i­cal phi­los­o­phy pre­cise­ly because of the many prob­lems that arise when the word is used with­out crit­i­cal con­text. In some absurd, 21st cen­tu­ry usages, tol­er­ance is even con­flat­ed with accep­tance, approval, and love. But it has his­tor­i­cal­ly meant the opposite—noninterference with some­thing one dis­likes or despis­es. Such non­in­ter­fer­ence must have lim­its. As Goethe wrote in 1829, “tol­er­ance should be a tem­po­rary atti­tude only; it must lead to recog­ni­tion. To tol­er­ate means to insult.” Tol­er­ance by nature exists in a state of social ten­sion.

Accord­ing to vir­tu­al­ly every con­cep­tion of lib­er­al democ­ra­cy, a free and open soci­ety requires tense debate and ver­bal con­flict. Soci­ety, the argu­ment goes, is only strength­ened by the oft-con­tentious inter­play of dif­fer­ing, even intol­er­ant, points of view. So, when do such views approach the lim­its of tol­er­a­tion? One of the most well-known para­dox­es of tol­er­ance was out­lined by Aus­tri­an philoso­pher Karl Pop­per in his 1945 book The Open Soci­ety and Its Ene­mies.

Pop­per was a non-reli­gious Jew who wit­nessed the rise of Nazism in the 20s in his home­town of Vien­na and fled to Eng­land, then in 1937, to Christchurch, New Zealand, where he was appoint­ed lec­tur­er at Can­ter­bury Col­lege (now the Uni­ver­si­ty of Can­ter­bury). There, he wrote The Open Soci­ety, where the famous pas­sage appears in a foot­note:

Unlim­it­ed tol­er­ance must lead to the dis­ap­pear­ance of tol­er­ance. If we extend unlim­it­ed tol­er­ance even to those who are intol­er­ant, if we are not pre­pared to defend a tol­er­ant soci­ety against the onslaught of the intol­er­ant, then the tol­er­ant will be destroyed, and tol­er­ance with them. — In this for­mu­la­tion, I do not imply, for instance, that we should always sup­press the utter­ance of intol­er­ant philoso­phies; as long as we can counter them by ratio­nal argu­ment and keep them in check by pub­lic opin­ion, sup­pres­sion would cer­tain­ly be unwise. But we should claim the right to sup­press them if nec­es­sary even by force; for it may eas­i­ly turn out that they are not pre­pared to meet us on the lev­el of ratio­nal argu­ment, but begin by denounc­ing all argu­ment; they may for­bid their fol­low­ers to lis­ten to ratio­nal argu­ment, because it is decep­tive, and teach them to answer argu­ments by the use of their fists or pis­tols. We should there­fore claim, in the name of tol­er­ance, the right not to tol­er­ate the intol­er­ant.

This last sen­tence has “been print­ed on thou­sands of bumper stick­ers and fridge mag­nets,” writes Will Harvie at Stuff. The quote might become almost as ubiq­ui­tous as Voltaire’s line about “defend­ing to the death” the right of free speech (words actu­al­ly penned by Eng­lish writer Beat­rice Eve­lyn Hall). Pop­per saw how fas­cism cyn­i­cal­ly exploit­ed lib­er­al tol­er­a­tion to gain a foothold and incite per­se­cu­tion, vio­lent attacks, and even­tu­al­ly geno­cide. As he writes in his auto­bi­og­ra­phy, he had seen how “com­pet­ing par­ties of the Right were out­bid­ding each oth­er in their hos­til­i­ty towards the Jews.”

Popper’s for­mu­la­tion has been been used across the polit­i­cal spec­trum, and some­times applied in argu­ments against civ­il pro­tec­tions for some reli­gious sects who hold intol­er­ant views—a cat­e­go­ry that includes prac­ti­tion­ers of near­ly every major faith. But this is mis­lead­ing. The line for Pop­per is not the mere exis­tence of exclu­sion­ary or intol­er­ant beliefs or philoso­phies, how­ev­er reac­tionary or con­temptible, but the open incite­ment to per­se­cu­tion and vio­lence against oth­ers, which should be treat­ed as crim­i­nal, he argued, and sup­pressed, “if nec­es­sary,” he con­tin­ues in the foot­note, “even by force” if pub­lic dis­ap­proval is not enough.

By this line of rea­son­ing, vig­or­ous resis­tance to those who call for and enact racial vio­lence and eth­nic cleans­ing is a nec­es­sary defense of a tol­er­ant soci­ety. Ignor­ing or allow­ing such acts to con­tin­ue in the name of tol­er­ance leads to the night­mare events Pop­per escaped in Europe, or to the hor­rif­ic mass killings at two mosques in Christchurch this month that delib­er­ate­ly echoed Nazi atroc­i­ties. There are too many such echoes, from mass mur­ders at syn­a­gogues to con­cen­tra­tion camps for kid­napped chil­dren, all sur­round­ed by an echo cham­ber of wild­ly unchecked incite­ment by state and non-state actors alike.

Pop­per rec­og­nized the inevitabil­i­ty and healthy neces­si­ty of social con­flict, but he also affirmed the val­ues of coop­er­a­tion and mutu­al recog­ni­tion, with­out which a lib­er­al democ­ra­cy can­not sur­vive. Since the pub­li­ca­tion of The Open Soci­ety and its Ene­mies, his para­dox of tol­er­ance has weath­ered decades of crit­i­cism and revi­sion. As John Hor­gan wrote in an intro­duc­tion to a 1992 inter­view with the thinker, two years before his death, “an old joke about Pop­per” reti­tles the book “The Open Soci­ety by One of its Ene­mies.”

With less than good humor, crit­ics have derid­ed Popper’s lib­er­al­ism as dog­mat­ic and itself a fas­cist ide­ol­o­gy that inevitably tends to intol­er­ance against minori­ties. Ques­tion about who gets to decide which views should be sup­pressed and how are not easy to answer. Pop­per liked to say he wel­comed the crit­i­cism, but he refused to tol­er­ate views that reject rea­son, fact, and argu­ment in order to incite and per­pe­trate vio­lence and per­se­cu­tion. It’s dif­fi­cult to imag­ine any demo­c­ra­t­ic soci­ety sur­viv­ing for long if it decides that, while maybe objec­tion­able, such tol­er­ance is tol­er­a­ble. The ques­tion, “these days,” writes Harvie, is “can a tol­er­ant soci­ety sur­vive the inter­net?”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

20,000 Amer­i­cans Hold a Pro-Nazi Ral­ly in Madi­son Square Gar­den in 1939: Chill­ing Video Re-Cap­tures a Lost Chap­ter in US His­to­ry

How Did Hitler Rise to Pow­er? : New TED-ED Ani­ma­tion Pro­vides a Case Study in How Fas­cists Get Demo­c­ra­t­i­cal­ly Elect­ed

Rare 1940 Audio: Thomas Mann Explains the Nazis’ Ulte­ri­or Motive for Spread­ing Anti-Semi­tism

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Read More...

The Venice Time Machine: 1,000 Years of Venice’s History Gets Digitally Preserved with Artificial Intelligence and Big Data

Along with hun­dreds of oth­er sea­side cities, island towns, and entire islands, his­toric Venice, the float­ing city, may soon sink beneath the waves if sea lev­els con­tin­ue their rapid rise. The city is slow­ly tilt­ing to the East and has seen his­toric floods inun­date over 70 per­cent of its palaz­zo- and basil­i­ca-lined streets. But should such trag­ic loss­es come to pass, we’ll still have Venice, or a dig­i­tal ver­sion of it, at least—one that aggre­gates 1,000 years of art, archi­tec­ture, and “mun­dane paper­work about shops and busi­ness­es” to cre­ate a vir­tu­al time machine. An “ambi­tious project to dig­i­tize 10 cen­turies of the Venet­ian state’s archives,” the Venice Time Machine uses the lat­est in “deep learn­ing” tech­nol­o­gy for his­tor­i­cal recon­struc­tions that won’t get washed away.

The Venice Time Machine doesn’t only proof against future calami­ty. It also sets machines to a task no liv­ing human has yet to under­take. Most of the huge col­lec­tion at the State Archives “has nev­er been read by mod­ern his­to­ri­ans,” points out the nar­ra­tor of the Nature video at the top.

This endeav­or stands apart from oth­er dig­i­tal human­i­ties projects, Ali­son Abbott writes at Nature, “because of its ambi­tious scale and the new tech­nolo­gies it hopes to use: from state-of-the-art scan­ners that could even read unopened books, to adapt­able algo­rithms that will turn hand­writ­ten doc­u­ments into dig­i­tal, search­able text.”

In addi­tion to pos­ter­i­ty, the ben­e­fi­cia­ries of this effort include his­to­ri­ans, econ­o­mists, and epi­demi­ol­o­gists, “eager to access the writ­ten records left by tens of thou­sands of ordi­nary cit­i­zens.” Lor­raine Das­ton, direc­tor of the Max Planck Insti­tute for the His­to­ry of Sci­ence in Berlin describes the antic­i­pa­tion schol­ars feel in par­tic­u­lar­ly vivid terms: “We are in a state of elec­tri­fied excite­ment about the pos­si­bil­i­ties,” she says, “I am prac­ti­cal­ly sali­vat­ing.” Project head Frédéric Kaplan, a Pro­fes­sor of Dig­i­tal Human­i­ties at the École poly­tech­nique fédérale de Lau­sanne (EPFL), com­pares the archival col­lec­tion to “’dark mat­ter’—doc­u­ments that hard­ly any­one has stud­ied before.”

Using big data and AI to recon­struct the his­to­ry of Venice in vir­tu­al form will not only make the study of that his­to­ry a far less her­met­ic affair; it might also “reshape schol­ars’ under­stand­ing of the past,” Abbott points out, by democ­ra­tiz­ing nar­ra­tives and enabling “his­to­ri­ans to recon­struct the lives of hun­dreds of thou­sands of ordi­nary people—artisans and shop­keep­ers, envoys and traders.” The Time Machine’s site touts this devel­op­ment as a “social net­work of the mid­dle ages,” able to “bring back the past as a com­mon resource for the future.” The com­par­i­son might be unfor­tu­nate in some respects. Social net­works, like cable net­works, and like most his­tor­i­cal nar­ra­tives, have become dom­i­nat­ed by famous names.

By con­trast, the Time Machine model—which could soon lead to AI-cre­at­ed vir­tu­al Ams­ter­dam and Paris time machines—promises a more street-lev­el view, and one, more­over, that can engage the pub­lic in ways sealed and clois­tered arti­facts can­not. “We his­to­ri­ans were bap­tized with the dust of archives,” says Das­ton. “The future may be dif­fer­ent.” The future of Venice, in real life, might be uncer­tain. But thanks to the Venice Time Machine, its past is poised take on thriv­ing new life. See pre­views of the Time Machine in the videos fur­ther up, learn more about the project here, and see Kaplan explain the “infor­ma­tion time machine” in his TED talk above.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Venice Works: 124 Islands, 183 Canals & 438 Bridges

Venice in Beau­ti­ful Col­or Images 125 Years Ago: The Rial­to Bridge, St. Mark’s Basil­i­ca, Doge’s Palace & More

New Dig­i­tal Archive Puts Online 4,000 His­toric Images of Rome: The Eter­nal City from the 16th to 20th Cen­turies

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Read More...

Salvador Dalí & the Marx Brothers’ 1930s Film Script Gets Released as a Graphic Novel

His­to­ry remem­bers Sal­vador Dalí as one of the most indi­vid­u­al­is­tic artists ever to live, but he also had a knack for col­lab­o­ra­tion: with Luis Buñuel, Alfred Hitch­cock, Walt Dis­ney, even, in a sense, with Lewis Car­roll and William Shake­speare. But would you believe the list also includes one of the Marx Broth­ers? Though the film on which they col­lab­o­rat­ed in the 1930s nev­er entered pro­duc­tion, its sto­ry has been told by Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad, a hybrid of illus­trat­ed text and graph­ic nov­el pub­lished just this month, itself a col­lab­o­ra­tion between pop-cul­ture schol­ar Josh Frank, artist Manuela Perte­ga, and come­di­an Tim Hei­deck­er.

When Dalí went to Hol­ly­wood, he wrote the fol­low­ing to fel­low Sur­re­al­ist André Bre­ton: “I’ve made con­tact with the three Amer­i­can sur­re­al­ists: Har­po Marx, Dis­ney and Cecil B. DeMille.” He seems to have been espe­cial­ly tak­en with Marx.

“They paint­ed each oth­er, and Dalí sent his new friend a full-size harp strung with barbed wire,” writes NPR’s Etel­ka Lehoczky. “So over­come was Dalí with Har­po’s genius that he wrote a treat­ment, and lat­er an abbre­vi­at­ed screen­play, for a Marx Broth­ers movie to be called Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad.” (It also had at least one alter­nate title, The Sur­re­al­ist Woman.)

The project made it as far as a meet­ing with MGM head Louis B. May­er, to whom Frank describes Dalí and Marx as pitch­ing such scenes as “Har­po opens an umbrel­la and a chick­en explodes on all the onlook­ers. He … puts each piece [of chick­en] care­ful­ly on a sad­dle that he uses as a plate, a sad­dle not for a horse, but for a giraffe!” Unsur­pris­ing­ly, the busi­ness-mind­ed May­er did­n’t go for it, but Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad has had a long after­life as one of the most intrigu­ing films nev­er made. In the ear­ly 1990s, the New York the­ater col­lec­tive Ele­va­tor Repair Ser­vice put on a pro­duc­tion based on the sparse mate­ri­als then known, just a few years before the entire screen­play turned up among Dalí’s per­son­al papers.

“Har­po will be Jim­my, a young Span­ish aris­to­crat who lives in the U.S. as a con­se­quence of polit­i­cal cir­cum­stances in his coun­try,” Dalí wrote. Jim­my was to encounter a “beau­ti­ful sur­re­al­ist woman, whose face is nev­er seen by the audi­ence” in a sto­ry dra­ma­tiz­ing “the con­tin­u­ous strug­gle between the imag­i­na­tive life as depict­ed in the old myths and the prac­ti­cal and ratio­nal life of con­tem­po­rary soci­ety.” Dalí prob­a­bly used the term “sto­ry” loose­ly: “Even jazzed up with jokes by Tim Hei­deck­er (a mod­ern Marx Broth­er if there ever was one), Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad — the movie, not the book — is a baf­fling mess,” writes Lehoczky. “Nei­ther Dalí nor Har­po seems to have real­ized that their approach­es to humor were vast­ly dif­fer­ent.”

The Marx Broth­ers, as every one of their fans knows, were “acute­ly con­scious of, and respon­sive to, estab­lished struc­tures: They sub­vert­ed the social order using its own rules.” Dalí, in film and every oth­er medi­um in which he tried his hand (and mus­tache) besides, usu­al­ly head­ed off “in a direc­tion orthog­o­nal to accept­ed real­i­ty.” To what extent Dalí and Marx were aware of that clash — and to what extent they delib­er­ate­ly empha­sized it — dur­ing their work on Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad remains a mys­tery, but you can read more about that work, and the work Frank, Perte­ga, and Hei­deck­er put in to bring it to graph­ic fruition more than eighty years lat­er, at NPR, Indiewire, and Hyper­al­ler­gic. The more you learn, the more you’ll won­der how even Dalí and Marx could real­ly imag­ine their project pro­duced by a stu­dio in the Gold­en Age of Hol­ly­wood. But as Tate Mod­ern cura­tor Matthew Gale plau­si­bly the­o­rizes, actu­al­ly mak­ing the film may have been beside the point.

Pick up a copy of Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad here.

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Two Vin­tage Films by Sal­vador Dalí and Luis Buñuel: Un Chien Andalou and L’Age d’Or

Alfred Hitch­cock Recalls Work­ing with Sal­vador Dali on Spell­bound

Sal­vador Dalí & Walt Disney’s Short Ani­mat­ed Film, Des­ti­no, Set to the Music of Pink Floyd

The 14-Hour Epic Film, Dune, That Ale­jan­dro Jodor­owsky, Pink Floyd, Sal­vador Dalí, Moe­bius, Orson Welles & Mick Jag­ger Nev­er Made

The 55 Strangest, Great­est Films Nev­er Made (Cho­sen by John Green)

Grou­cho Marx and T.S. Eliot Become Unex­pect­ed Pen Pals, Exchang­ing Por­traits & Com­pli­ments (1961)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Read More...

Watch “Special Delivery,” an Oscar-Winning Animated Short (1978)



From the Nation­al Film Board of Cana­da comes the “Spe­cial Deliv­ery.” Here is how they describe it: “In this Oscar®-winning ani­mat­ed short, Ralph’s day gets off to a bad start when he dis­miss­es his wife’s orders to clear the snow from the front walk. When he comes home and finds the mail­man dead on his front stairs, Ralph attempts a mas­sive cov­er-up with dis­as­trous results. One dead mail­man leads to a case of mis­tak­en iden­ti­ty, a run­away bride, and a very con­fused coro­ner. Life starts look­ing up for Ralph once he decides to stop wor­ry­ing about it all.” A copy of the film can be down­loaded here. Many more award-win­ning films from the Nation­al Film Board of Cana­da can be viewed here.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch 66 Oscar-Nom­i­nat­ed-and-Award-Win­ning Ani­mat­ed Shorts Online, Cour­tesy of the Nation­al Film Board of Cana­da

4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

Read More...

Mythos: An Animation Retells Timeless Greek Myths with Abstract Modern Designs


Design­er Stephen Kelle­her and ani­ma­tor Chris Guy­ot present “Mythos,” an ani­ma­tion that tells time­less stories–Greek myths–with sim­ple abstract designs. Here’s how they describe this project where the ancient unex­pect­ed­ly meets the mod­ern:

For cen­turies the Greek Myths have been used as cau­tion­ary tales and teach­ing tools for peo­ple both young and old. These sto­ries con­vey deep wis­dom about the human con­di­tion which con­tin­ue to res­onate with us. I want­ed to hon­or these ancient sto­ries by inter­pret­ing them in the age of the pix­el and gif.

The chal­lenge was to com­mu­ni­cate these com­plex sto­ries in the most min­i­mal way pos­si­ble while retain­ing their essence. By hav­ing each vignette loop seam­less­ly, the time­less and peren­ni­al nature of these sto­ries are rein­forced. Ulti­mate­ly these ani­ma­tions serve as visu­al short­hand for ancient truths which are as rel­e­vant today as they were when first told.

Sisy­phus:

After numer­ous trans­gres­sions, Zeus decid­ed to pun­ish the deceit­ful king Sisy­phus once and for all by forc­ing him to push a huge enchant­ed boul­der up a steep hill. As soon as he reached the top, the boul­der would roll back down to the base of the hill, con­demn­ing Sisy­phus to an eter­ni­ty of frus­trat­ed labor.

Icarus:

King Minos impris­oned Icarus in a tow­er along­side his father, the mas­ter crafts­man Daedalus. As a means of escape Daedalus cre­at­ed a set of wings made of feath­ers and wax for his son but warned him not to fly too close to the sun. Icarus did not how­ev­er heed his father’s advice. His wings dis­solved and Icarus fell into the sea below and drowned.

Perse­phone:

The daugh­ter of Zeus and Deme­ter, Perse­phone was abduct­ed by the god of the under­world Hades. Although Zeus inter­vened and brought her back to the land of the liv­ing, Perse­phone was bound to Hades for four months of each year. In her grief, Deme­ter would make the soils bar­ren there­by cre­at­ing win­ter while Persephone’s return would mark the start of the spring.

Nar­cis­sus:

As pun­ish­ment for mor­tal Nar­cis­sus’ cru­el treat­ment of the nymph Echo, he was cursed by Neme­sis, the god­dess of revenge. She led him to a pool where upon see­ing his own reflec­tion, he became besot­ted with his image and was unable to leave. Fix­at­ed, starv­ing and in despair, he fell into the pool and drowned.

Midas:

Hav­ing done a great ser­vice for the god Diony­sus, King Midas was grant­ed one wish of his choos­ing. He wished that every­thing he touched would turn to gold. Upon turn­ing food, water and even his own daugh­ter to gold how­ev­er, he soon real­ized his fool­ish­ness and prayed to Diony­sus to undo his wish. Diony­sus took pity on King Midas and duly undid the wish.

The­seus:

A Greek hero of many adven­tures, The­seus is best known for his defeat of the Mino­taur. Under the decree of King Minos, every year four­teen young Athe­neans were sac­ri­ficed to the Mino­taur — a mon­strous half bull, half man who resided deep with­in the Labyrinth. Not only was The­seus able to slay the Mino­taur but he also suc­cess­ful­ly escaped the com­plex Labyrinth, solid­i­fy­ing his leg­end.

Enjoy…

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

via Aeon

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Short Video Intro­duc­tion to Hilma af Klint, the Mys­ti­cal Female Painter Who Helped Invent Abstract Art

36 Abstract Cov­ers of Vin­tage Psy­chol­o­gy, Phi­los­o­phy & Sci­ence Books Come to Life in a Mes­mer­iz­ing Ani­ma­tion

Free Cours­es on Design from the Famous Cal­i­for­nia Design Firm IDEO Start This Week

Read More...

How Does the Rorschach Inkblot Test Work?: An Animated Primer

A fright­en­ing mon­ster?

Two friend­ly bears?

Say what!?

As any­body with half a brain and the gift of sight knows, the black and red inkblot below resem­bles noth­ing so much as a pair of gnomes, gavot­ting so hard their knees bleed.

…or per­haps it’s open to inter­pre­ta­tion.

Back in 2013, when Open Cul­ture cel­e­brat­ed psy­chol­o­gist Her­mann Rorschach’s birth­day by post­ing the ten blots that form the basis of his famous per­son­al­i­ty test, read­ers report­ed see­ing all sorts of things in Card 2:

A uterus

Lungs

Kiss­ing pup­pies

A paint­ed face

Lit­tle calfs

Tin­ker­bell check­ing her butt out in the mir­ror

Two oui­ja board enthu­si­asts, sum­mon­ing demons

Angels

And yes, high-fiv­ing bears

As Ror­shach biog­ra­ph­er Damion Searls explains in an ani­mat­ed Ted-ED les­son on how the Rorschach Test can help us under­stand the pat­terns of our per­cep­tions, our answers depend on how we as indi­vid­u­als reg­is­ter and trans­form sen­so­ry input.

Ror­shach chose the blots that gar­nered the most nuanced respons­es, and devel­oped a clas­si­fi­ca­tion sys­tem to help ana­lyze the result­ing data, but for much of the test’s his­to­ry, this code was a high­ly guard­ed pro­fes­sion­al secret.

And when Ror­shach died, a year after pub­lish­ing the images, oth­ers began admin­is­ter­ing the test in ser­vice of their own spec­u­la­tive goals—anthropologists, poten­tial employ­ers, researchers try­ing to fig­ure out what made Nazis tick, come­di­ans…

The range of inter­pre­ta­tive approach­es earned the test a rep­u­ta­tion as pseu­do-sci­ence, but a 2013 review of Rorshach’s volu­mi­nous research went a long way toward restor­ing its cred­i­bil­i­ty.

Whether or not you believe there’s some­thing to it, it’s still fun to con­sid­er the things we bring to the table when exam­in­ing these cards.

Do we see the image as fixed or some­thing more akin to a freeze frame?

What part of the image do we focus on?

Our records show that Open Cul­ture read­ers over­whelm­ing­ly focus on the hands, at least as far as Card 2 goes, which is to say the por­tion of the blot that appears to be high-fiv­ing itself.

Nev­er mind that the high five, as a ges­ture, is rumored to have come into exis­tence some­time in the late 1970s. (Rorschach died in 1922.) That’s what the major­i­ty of Open Cul­ture read­ers saw six years ago, though there was some vari­ety of per­cep­tion as to who was slap­ping that skin:

young ele­phants

despon­dent humans

monks

lawn gnomes

Dis­ney dwarves

red­head­ed women in Japan­ese attire

chim­panzees with traf­fic cones on their heads

(In full dis­clo­sure, it’s most­ly bears.)

Maybe it’s time for a do over?

Read­ers, what do you see now?

Image 1: Bat, but­ter­fly, moth

Rorschach_blot_01

Image 2: Two humans

Rorschach_blot_02

Image 3: Two humans

800px-Rorschach_blot_03

Image 4: Ani­mal hide, skin, rug

Rorschach_blot_04

Image 5: Bat, but­ter­fly, moth

Rorschach_blot_05

Image 6: Ani­mal hide, skin, rug

Rorschach_blot_06

Image 7: Human heads or faces

Rorschach_blot_07

Image 8: Ani­mal; not cat or dog

689px-Rorschach_blot_08

Image 9: Human

647px-Rorschach_blot_09

Image 10: Crab, lob­ster, spi­der,

751px-Rorschach_blot_10

View Searls’ full TED-Ed les­son here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Her­mann Rorschach’s Orig­i­nal Rorschach Test: What Do You See? (1921)

The Psy­cho­log­i­cal & Neu­ro­log­i­cal Dis­or­ders Expe­ri­enced by Char­ac­ters in Alice in Won­der­land: A Neu­ro­science Read­ing of Lewis Carroll’s Clas­sic Tale

Intro­duc­tion to Psy­chol­o­gy: A Free Course from Yale Uni­ver­si­ty

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Join her in New York City for the next install­ment of her book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain, this April. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Read More...

Bohemian Rhapsody’s Bad Editing: A Breakdown

Bohemi­an Rhap­sody may have won the Oscar for Best Edit­ing. But video essay­ist Thomas Flight isn’t per­suad­ed. In a 13-minute video, Flight decon­structs a 104-sec­ond clip from the biopic, reveal­ing the exces­sive 60 cuts that make up the scene. That trans­lates into a dizzy­ing cut every 1.8 sec­onds on aver­age.

For Thomas Flight, Bohemi­an Rhap­sody is noth­ing short of a “mas­ter­class in bad edit­ing.” For you, Flight’s video offers a nice short crash course in film edit­ing.

Accord­ing to The Wash­ing­ton Post, the pub scene decon­struct­ed in Flight’s video was actu­al­ly edit­ed by Dex­ter Fletcher–and not John Ottman, the film edi­tor who helped sal­vage the film and then won top hon­ors at the Oscars. Asked about the botched scene, Ottman told WaPo: “When­ev­er I see it, I want to put a bag over my head. Because that’s not my aes­thet­ic. If there’s ever an extend­ed ver­sion of the film where I can put a cou­ple scenes back, I will recut that scene!”

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How to Film Thought: A Close Look at the Mas­ter­ful Edit­ing of Sher­lock, Star­ring Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch

The Alche­my of Film Edit­ing, Explored in a New Video Essay That Breaks Down Han­nah and Her Sis­ters, The Empire Strikes Back & Oth­er Films

Scenes from Bohemi­an Rhap­sody Com­pared to Real Life: A 21-Minute Com­pi­la­tion

Hear How Queen’s “Bohemi­an Rhap­sody” Would Sound If Sung by John­ny Cash, David Bowie, Janis Joplin, Frank Sina­tra & 38 Oth­er Artists

Read More...

Natalie Portman Teaches a MasterClass in Acting

This week, Mas­ter­Class rolled out its lat­est course–Natal­ie Port­man teach­ing a 20-les­son class on act­ing. The upstart edu­ca­tion­al ven­ture writes:

One of her generation’s most ver­sa­tile per­form­ers, Acad­e­my Award-win­ning actor Natal­ie Port­man has been cap­ti­vat­ing audi­ences for decades. Since her on-screen debut at age 12, she’s worked with some of cinema’s most cel­e­brat­ed direc­tors and show­cased her skills through unfor­get­table roles in Black Swan, Jack­ie, and the Star Wars fran­chise.

Hav­ing nev­er tak­en an act­ing class, Natal­ie devel­oped her craft over 25 years of obser­va­tion, col­lab­o­ra­tion, and count­less bold exper­i­ments. The con­sum­mate dra­mat­ic shapeshifter, she has worked across gen­res and his­tor­i­cal peri­ods, imbu­ing each per­for­mance with an authen­tic­i­ty she attrib­ut­es to intense research, prepa­ra­tion, and an eye for human behav­ior.

And now, in her first-ever act­ing class, she “shows how empa­thy is at the core of every great per­for­mance, how to bring real-life details into every role, and how to build your own cre­ative process.”

You can enroll in Port­man’s new class (which runs $90) here. You can also pay $180 to get an annu­al pass to the entire­ty of Mas­ter­Class’ cours­es–a cat­a­log of about 50 cours­es, which includes oth­er act­ing class­es by Jodie Fos­ter, Samuel L. Jack­son and more.

FYI: If you sign up for a Mas­ter­Class course by click­ing on the affil­i­ate links in this post, Open Cul­ture will receive a small fee that helps sup­port our oper­a­tion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

450+ Movie Scenes Where Actors Break the Fourth Wall, Pre­sent­ed in Two Big Super­cuts

What Made Robin Williams a Unique­ly Expres­sive Actor: A Video Essay Explores a Sub­tle Dimen­sion of His Com­ic Genius

Movie Accent Expert Ana­lyzes 31 Actors Play­ing Oth­er Famous Peo­ple: Jamie Foxx as Ray Charles, Natal­ie Port­man as Jack­ie Kennedy, Cate Blanchett as Bob Dylan, and More

Read More...

Artificial Intelligence Identifies the Six Main Arcs in Storytelling: Welcome to the Brave New World of Literary Criticism

Is the sin­gu­lar­i­ty upon us? AI seems poised to replace every­one, even artists whose work can seem like an invi­o­lably human indus­try. Or maybe not. Nick Cave’s poignant answer to a fan ques­tion might per­suade you a machine will nev­er write a great song, though it might mas­ter all the moves to write a good one. An AI-writ­ten nov­el did almost win a Japan­ese lit­er­ary award. A suit­ably impres­sive feat, even if much of the author­ship should be attrib­uted to the program’s human design­ers.

But what about lit­er­ary crit­i­cism? Is this an art that a machine can do con­vinc­ing­ly? The answer may depend on whether you con­sid­er it an art at all. For those who do, no arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence will ever prop­er­ly devel­op the the­o­ry of mind need­ed for sub­tle, even mov­ing, inter­pre­ta­tions. On the oth­er hand, one group of researchers has suc­ceed­ed in using “sophis­ti­cat­ed com­put­ing pow­er, nat­ur­al lan­guage pro­cess­ing, and reams of dig­i­tized text,” writes Atlantic edi­tor Adri­enne LaFrance, “to map the nar­ra­tive pat­terns in a huge cor­pus of lit­er­a­ture.” The name of their lit­er­ary crit­i­cism machine? The Hedo­nome­ter.

We can treat this as an exer­cise in com­pil­ing data, but it’s arguable that the results are on par with work from the com­par­a­tive mythol­o­gy school of James Fra­zier and Joseph Camp­bell. A more imme­di­ate com­par­i­son might be to the very deft, if not par­tic­u­lar­ly sub­tle, Kurt Von­negut, who—before he wrote nov­els like Slaugh­ter­house Five and Cat’s Cra­dle—sub­mit­ted a master’s the­sis in anthro­pol­o­gy to the Uni­ver­si­ty of Chica­go. His project did the same thing as the machine, 35 years ear­li­er, though he may not have had the where­with­al to read “1,737 Eng­lish-lan­guage works of fic­tion between 10,000 and 200,000 words long” while strug­gling to fin­ish his grad­u­ate pro­gram. (His the­sis, by the way, was reject­ed.)

Those num­bers describe the dataset from Project Guten­berg fed into the The Hedo­nome­ter by the com­put­er sci­en­tists at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Ver­mont and the Uni­ver­si­ty of Ade­laide. After the com­put­er fin­ished “read­ing,” it then plot­ted “the emo­tion­al tra­jec­to­ry” of all of the sto­ries using a “sen­ti­ment analy­sis to gen­er­ate an emo­tion­al arc for each work.” What it found were six broad cat­e­gories of sto­ry, list­ed below:

  1. Rags to Rich­es (rise)
  2. Rich­es to Rags (fall)
  3. Man in a Hole (fall then rise)
  4. Icarus (rise then fall)
  5. Cin­derel­la (rise then fall then rise)
  6. Oedi­pus (fall then rise then fall)

How does this endeav­or com­pare with Vonnegut’s project? (See him present the the­o­ry below.) The nov­el­ist used more or less the same method­ol­o­gy, in human form, to come up with eight uni­ver­sal sto­ry arcs or “shapes of sto­ries.” Von­negut him­self left out the Rags to Rich­es cat­e­go­ry; he called it an anom­aly, though he did have a head­ing for the same ris­ing-only sto­ry arc—the Cre­ation Story—which he deemed an uncom­mon shape for West­ern fic­tion. He did include the Cin­derel­la arc, and was pleased by his dis­cov­ery that its shape mir­rored the New Tes­ta­ment arc, which he also includ­ed in his schema, an act the AI sure­ly would have judged redun­dant.

Con­tra Von­negut, the AI found that one-fifth of all the works it ana­lyzed were Rags-to-Rich­es sto­ries. It deter­mined that this arc was far less pop­u­lar with read­ers than “Oedi­pus,” “Man in a Hole,” and “Cin­derel­la.” Its analy­sis does get much more gran­u­lar, and to allay our sus­pi­cions, the researchers promise they did not con­trol the out­come of the exper­i­ment. “We’re not impos­ing a set of shapes,” says lead author Andy Rea­gan, Ph.D. can­di­date in math­e­mat­ics at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Ver­mont. “Rather: the math and machine learn­ing have iden­ti­fied them.”

But the authors do pro­vide a lot of their own inter­pre­ta­tion of the data, from choos­ing rep­re­sen­ta­tive texts—like Har­ry Pot­ter and the Death­ly Hal­lows—to illus­trate “nest­ed and com­pli­cat­ed” plot arcs, to pro­vid­ing the guid­ing assump­tions of the exer­cise. One of those assump­tions, unsur­pris­ing­ly giv­en the authors’ fields of inter­est, is that math and lan­guage are inter­change­able. “Sto­ries are encod­ed in art, lan­guage, and even in the math­e­mat­ics of physics,” they write in the intro­duc­tion to their paper, pub­lished on Arxiv.org.

“We use equa­tions,” they go on, “to rep­re­sent both sim­ple and com­pli­cat­ed func­tions that describe our obser­va­tions of the real world.” If we accept the premise that sen­tences and inte­gers and lines of code are telling the same sto­ries, then maybe there isn’t as much dif­fer­ence between humans and machines as we would like to think.

via The Atlantic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Nick Cave Answers the Hot­ly Debat­ed Ques­tion: Will Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence Ever Be Able to Write a Great Song?

Kurt Von­negut Dia­grams the Shape of All Sto­ries in a Master’s The­sis Reject­ed by U. Chica­go

Kurt Von­negut Maps Out the Uni­ver­sal Shapes of Our Favorite Sto­ries

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Read More...

97-Year-Old Philosopher Ponders the Meaning of Life: “What Is the Point of It All?”

If you’ve sat by the bed­side of a dying friend or rel­a­tive, or recov­ered from a ter­mi­nal ill­ness your­self, you may know too well: the con­cerns of yesterday—career anx­i­eties, polit­i­cal high stakes, per­son­al grudges—can slip away into the rear view, becom­ing small­er and more mean­ing­less as hours pass into final days. What takes their place? Maybe a savor­ing of the moment, maybe regrets over moments not savored, maybe a grow­ing acknowl­edg­ment that grat­i­tude mat­ters more than being right. Maybe a will­ing­ness to let go of pri­or ideas—not to adopt new ones, but to open to the ques­tions again.

Some­times, this expe­ri­ence is bewil­der­ing and fright­en­ing, espe­cial­ly when cou­pled with the pains of ill­ness and old age. What­ev­er insights one might have at the thresh­old of death, they can­not eas­i­ly over­come “life­long habits,” says Her­bert Fin­garette in the can­did short film Being 97, a doc­u­men­tary made in the last months of the con­trar­i­an Amer­i­can philosopher’s life. By the time of his death,” notes Aeon, “Fin­garette (1921–2018) had lived what most would con­sid­er a full and mean­ing­ful life. His mar­riage to his wife, Leslie, was long and hap­py. His career as a pro­fes­sor of phi­los­o­phy at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­i­for­nia was both accom­plished and con­tro­ver­sial.”

By this time, his wife of sev­en­ty years had been gone for sev­en. And at 97, phys­i­cal­ly frail and his career long over, Fin­garette was com­ing to terms with “lone­li­ness and absence” as well as with his need for help from oth­er peo­ple to do sim­ple tasks. After 42 years of teaching—and writ­ing on sub­jects like self-decep­tion, Con­fu­cian­ism, eth­i­cal respon­si­bil­i­ty, and addiction—he was also grap­pling with the fact he had been wrong about one par­tic­u­lar­ly press­ing mat­ter, at least.

Fin­garette became infa­mous when, with­out under­tak­ing any sci­en­tif­ic research him­self, he claimed in the 1988 book Heavy Drink­ing that alco­holism was a prob­lem of self con­trol, not a dis­ease. But he does not speak of the polit­i­cal furor in this minor con­tro­ver­sy. Eleven years lat­er, he took on an even heav­ier sub­ject in Death: Philo­soph­i­cal Sound­ings. “What I said was in a nut­shell,” he recalls, “is there’s no rea­son to be afraid or con­cerned or any­thing about death because when you die, there’s noth­ing. You’re not going to suf­fer, you’re not going to be unhap­py… you’re not going to be…. It’s not ratio­nal to be afraid of death.”

He admits, “I now think that is not a good state­ment, because I think it’s impor­tant to fig­ure out why it is then that peo­ple are afraid of death. Why am I con­cerned about it?” His best think­ing aside, “my sense of real­ism tells me, well, no good rea­son or not, it is some­thing that haunts me. I walk around the house and I ask myself, ‘What is the point of it all? There must be some­thing I’m miss­ing in this argu­ment.’” He asks, he says, know­ing “that there isn’t any good answer.” But that doesn’t stop him from look­ing for one. We see Fingarette’s life­long habits as a thinker push him for­ward in pur­suit of what he calls a “fool­ish ques­tion,” although he intu­its that “the answer might be… the silent answer.”

It’s a painful exis­ten­tial real­iza­tion for a man so devot­ed to log­i­cal argu­ment and pro­nounce­ments of cer­tain­ty. This film of Fin­garette in his last months is both a per­son­al­ly mov­ing por­trait and a dra­ma in minia­ture of a uni­ver­sal human dilem­ma: why is it so hard to accept the inevitable? Why do we have minds that strug­gle against it? The mul­ti­tude of pos­si­ble answers may be far less mean­ing­ful than the expe­ri­ence of the ques­tion itself, painful and tran­scen­dent as it is, whether we are griev­ing the loss of oth­ers, fac­ing our own mor­tal­i­ty, or, as in Fin­garet­te’s case, both at once.

Being 97 will be added to our list of Free Online Doc­u­men­taries, a sub­set of our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

via Aeon

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Death: A Free Phi­los­o­phy Course from Yale Helps You Grap­ple with the Inescapable

Alan Watts Explains Why Death is an Art, Adven­ture and Cre­ative Act

When Aldous Hux­ley, Dying of Can­cer, Left This World Trip­ping on LSD, Expe­ri­enc­ing “the Most Serene, the Most Beau­ti­ful Death” (1963)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

 

Read More...

Quantcast