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Are You a Psychopath? Take the Test (And, If You Fail, It’s Not All Bad News)

We’ve all heard the old philo­soph­i­cal sce­nario known as the trol­ley prob­lem: as the run­away vehi­cle of the name careens out of con­trol toward the edge of a cliff, you must choose whether to pull the lever to switch it to anoth­er track. The catch: while the trol­ley would then no longer plunge off that cliff, bring­ing about the cer­tain deaths of the five peo­ple aboard, it would instead kill some­one stand­ing on the oth­er track, who will sur­vive if you don’t pull the lever. In a more fraught ver­sion of the prob­lem, you must choose not whether to pull a lever, but whether to shove a per­son of con­sid­er­able bulk onto the (sin­gle) track, stop­ping the trol­ley but killing the bulky indi­vid­ual.

In the Big Think video above, Oxford psy­chol­o­gist Kevin Dut­ton, author of The Wis­dom of Psy­chopaths: What Saints, Spies, and Ser­i­al Killers Can Teach Us About Suc­cess, uses the trol­ley prob­lem to illu­mi­nate the con­di­tion of psy­chopa­thy. While non-psy­chopaths may dither about the first ver­sion of the sce­nario, they even­tu­al­ly come to the con­clu­sion that they pre­fer one death to five. They have much more of a strug­gle with the sec­ond ver­sion, which requires them to actu­al­ly push the lone stranger to head off those five deaths. Psy­chopaths, by con­trast, expe­ri­ence no such dif­fi­cul­ty: the trol­ley prob­lem, for them, hard­ly amounts to a prob­lem at all, and Dut­ton explains, neu­ro­sci­en­tif­i­cal­ly, why: “Imag­ine that I were to hook you up to a brain scan­ner and present you with those two dilem­mas. I would see the emo­tion cen­ter of your brain, your amyg­dala and relat­ed brain cir­cuits, the medi­al orbital frontal cor­tex for exam­ple, light up like a pin­ball machine.”

And if he’d scanned a psy­chopath? “Pre­cise­ly noth­ing.” All this assumes, of course, that you do not your­self suf­fer from psy­chopa­thy. If you don’t know whether you do, Dut­ton offers a handy mul­ti­ple-choice “psy­chopath chal­lenge” on his site that can give you an idea of the direc­tion your brain may lean. If you’ve got a touch of the old psy­chopa­thy, don’t lock your­self away; as Dut­ton explains in this Time inter­view, “you don’t need to be vio­lent,” and you can even attain greater suc­cess in cer­tain fields than non-psy­cho­pathics — espe­cial­ly if you con­sid­er vig­i­lant­ly and unhesi­tat­ing­ly min­i­miz­ing the death tolls at divert­ed cliff­side trol­ley tracks a field.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

This is Your Brain on Sex and Reli­gion: Exper­i­ments in Neu­ro­science

What Hap­pens When Your Brain is on Alfred Hitch­cock: The Neu­ro­science of Film

The Dalai Lama on the Neu­ro­science of Com­pas­sion

Free Online Psy­chol­o­gy Cours­es

How To Think Like a Psy­chol­o­gist: A Free Online Course from Stan­ford

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Lynda Barry, Cartoonist Turned Professor, Gives Her Old Fashioned Take on the Future of Education

With col­lege tuitions bal­loon­ing to the point of implo­sion, and free edu­ca­tion­al con­tent pro­lif­er­at­ing online, the future of edu­ca­tion is a scorch­ing hot top­ic.

So where are we head­ing?

Cours­era and Khan Acad­e­my?  Video game-based cur­ric­u­la? Expe­ri­ence-dri­ven microlearn­ing?

Or school build­ings that moon­light as can­dy?

So sug­gest­ed one of the younger par­tic­i­pants in a work­shop led by the Uni­ver­si­ty of Wisconsin’s Assis­tant Pro­fes­sor of Inter­dis­ci­pli­nary Cre­ativ­i­ty, car­toon­ist and author Lyn­da Bar­ry (aka Pro­fes­sor Long-Title).

Barry’s mes­sian­ic embrace of the arts has proved pop­u­lar with stu­dents of all ages. When the university’s Coun­ter­fac­tu­al Draw­ing Board Project invit­ed fac­ul­ty, staff, and oth­ers to con­sid­er what the “appear­ance, pur­pose, atmos­phere and com­mu­ni­ty of the cam­pus” would be like in 100 years time, Bar­ry delib­er­ate­ly widened the pool to include chil­dren.

Yes, their inno­va­tions tend­ed toward vol­cano schools that erupt at dis­missal, but pre­sum­ably some of those same chil­dren will be in the van­guard when it’s time for ini­tia­tives that seem unimag­in­able now to be imple­ment­ed. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and all that.

Or as one gim­let-eyed youth put it, in a hun­dred years “the teach­ers will all be dead.”

No won­der few adult par­tic­i­pants can see past a but­ton-dri­ven, her­met­i­cal­ly sealed, dig­i­tal future where­in every stu­dent has a chip implant­ed in his or her head.

Bar­ry, no stranger to depres­sion, man­ages to laugh such gloomy fore­casts off, despite what they por­tend for the tac­tile, hand­made ephemera she reveres. A sense of humor—and humanity—is at the core of every edu­ca­tion­al reform she prac­tices.

Rather than rip each other’s writ­ing to shreds dur­ing in-class cri­tiques, her stu­dents call each oth­er by out­landish pseu­do­nyms and draw med­i­ta­tive spi­rals as each oth­ers’ work is read aloud. Every read­er is assured of a hearty “good!” from the teacher. She wants them to keep going, you see.

Sure­ly there are insti­tu­tions where this approach might not fly, but why poo-poo it? Isn’t fuel­ing the cre­ative spir­it a prac­ti­cal invest­ment in the future?

“It’s there in every­body,” Bar­ry believes. “You have to give peo­ple an expe­ri­ence of it, a repeat­ed expe­ri­ence of it that they gen­er­ate them­selves.”

Maybe some­day, some kid who hasn’t had the love of learn­ing squelched out of him or her will apply all that cre­ativ­i­ty toward cur­ing can­cer. That’d be great, huh? At worst, that care­ful­ly tend­ed spark can give solace in the dark days ahead. As fans of Barry’s work well know, art exists to car­ry us through times of “sor­row and grief and trou­ble.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Car­toon­ist Lyn­da Bar­ry Reveals the Best Way to Mem­o­rize Poet­ry

Join Car­toon­ist Lyn­da Bar­ry for a Uni­ver­si­ty-Lev­el Course on Doo­dling and Neu­ro­science

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Google Makes Available 750 Icons for Designers & Developers: All Open Source 

google icons

If you’re a design­er or devel­op­er, Kottke.org thought you’d might like to know: “As part of their Mate­r­i­al Design visu­al lan­guage, Google has open-sourced a pack­age of 750 icons. More info here.”

Over at Github, you can view a live pre­view of the icons or down­load the icon pack now.

Our friends at Boing­Bo­ing add, “They’re licensed CC-BY-SA and designed for use in mobile apps and oth­er inter­ac­tive stuff.” Use them well.

 

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Steven Pinker Identifies 10 Breakable Grammatical Rules: “Who” Vs. “Whom,” Dangling Modifiers & More

The sense of style

We’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured Har­vard cog­ni­tive sci­en­tist Steven Pinker dis­cussing writ­ing at a Har­vard con­fer­ence on the sub­ject. In that case, the focus was nar­row­ly on aca­d­e­m­ic writ­ing, which, he has uncon­tro­ver­sial­ly claimed, “stinks.” Now—“not con­tent with just poach­ing” in the land of the scribes, writes Charles McGrath at The New York Times Sun­day Book Review—Pinker has dared to “set him­self up as a game­keep­er” with a new book—The Sense of Style: The Think­ing Person’s Guide to Writ­ing in the 21st Cen­tu­ry. The grandiose title sug­gests to McGrath that the sci­en­tist intends to sup­plant that most ven­er­a­ble, and most dat­ed, clas­sic writer’s text by Strunk and White. He’s gone from chid­ing his fel­low schol­ars to writ­ing pre­scrip­tions for us all.

But if this seems out of bounds, wait until you hear what he sug­gests. Instead of issu­ing even more seem­ing­ly arbi­trary, bur­den­some com­mands, Pinker aims to free us from the tyran­ny of the sense­less in grammar—or, as he calls it in an arti­cle at The Guardian, from “folk­lore and super­sti­tion.” Below are five of the ten “com­mon issues of gram­mar” Pinker selects “from those that repeat­ed­ly turn up in style guides, pet-peeve lists, news­pa­per lan­guage columns and irate let­ters to the edi­tor.” In each case, he explains the absur­di­ty of strict adher­ence and offers sev­er­al per­fect­ly rea­son­able excep­tions that require no cor­rec­tion to clar­i­fy their mean­ing.

  1. Begin­ning sen­tences with con­junc­tions

We have almost cer­tain­ly all been taught in some fash­ion or anoth­er that this is a no-no. “That’s because teach­ers need a sim­ple way” to teach chil­dren “how to break sen­tences.” The “rule,” Pinker says, is “mis­in­for­ma­tion” and “inap­pro­pri­ate for adults.” He cites only two exam­ples here, both using the con­junc­tion “because”: John­ny Cash’s “Because you’re mine, I walk the line,” and the stock parental non-answer, “Because I said so.” And yet (see what I did?), oth­er con­junc­tions, like “and,” “but,” “yet,” and “so” may also “be used to begin a sen­tence when­ev­er the claus­es being con­nect­ed are too long or com­pli­cat­ed to fit com­fort­ably into a sin­gle megasen­tence.”

  1. Dan­gling mod­i­fiers

Hav­ing taught Eng­lish com­po­si­tion for sev­er­al years, and thus hav­ing read sev­er­al hun­dred scram­bled stu­dent essays, I find this one dif­fi­cult to con­cede. The dan­gling modifier—an espe­cial­ly easy error to make when writ­ing quickly—too eas­i­ly cre­ates con­fu­sion or down­right unin­tel­li­gi­bil­i­ty. Pinker does admit since the sub­jects of dan­gling mod­i­fiers “are inher­ent­ly ambigu­ous,” they might some­times “inad­ver­tent­ly attract a read­er to the wrong choice, as in ‘When a small boy, a girl is of lit­tle inter­est.’” But, he says, this is not a gram­mat­i­cal error. Here are a few “dan­glers” he sug­gests as “per­fect­ly accept­able”:

“Check­ing into the hotel, it was nice to see a few of my old class­mates in the lob­by.”

“Turn­ing the cor­ner, the view was quite dif­fer­ent.”

“In order to con­tain the epi­dem­ic, the area was sealed off.”

  1. Who and Whom

I once had a stu­dent ask me if “whom” was an archa­ic affec­ta­tion that would make her writ­ing sound forced and unnat­ur­al. I had to admit she had an excel­lent point, no mat­ter what our over­priced text­book said. In most cas­es, even if cor­rect­ly used, whom can indeed sound “for­mal verg­ing on pompous.” Though they seem straight­for­ward enough, “the rules for its prop­er use,” writes Pinker, “are obscure to many speak­ers, tempt­ing them to drop ‘whom’ into their speech when­ev­er they want to sound posh,” and to gen­er­al­ly use the word incor­rect­ly. Despite “a cen­tu­ry of nag­ging by pre­scrip­tive gram­mar­i­ans,” the dis­tinc­tion between “who” and “whom” seems any­thing but sim­ple, and so one’s use of it—as with any tricky word or usage—should be care­ful­ly cal­i­brat­ed “to the com­plex­i­ty of the con­struc­tion and the degree of for­mal­i­ty” the writ­ing calls for. Put plain­ly, know how you’re using “whom” and why, or stick with the unob­jec­tion­able “who.”

  1. Very unique

Often­times we find the most innocu­ous-sound­ing, com­mon sense usages called out by uptight pedants as ungram­mat­i­cal when there’s no seem­ing rea­son why they should be. The phrase “very unique,” a descrip­tion that may not strike you as exces­sive­ly weird or back­ward, hap­pens to be “one of the com­mon­est insults to the sen­si­bil­i­ty of the purist.” This is because, such nar­row thinkers claim, as with oth­er cat­e­gor­i­cal expres­sions like “absolute” or “incom­pa­ra­ble,” some­thing either is or it isn’t, in the same way that one either is or isn’t preg­nant: “refer­ring to degrees of unique­ness is mean­ing­less,” says the log­ic, in the case of absolute adjec­tives. Of course, it seems to me that one can absolute­ly refer to degrees of preg­nan­cy. In any case, writes Pinker, “unique­ness is not like preg­nan­cy […]; it must be defined rel­a­tive to some scale of mea­sure­ment.” Hence, “very unique,” makes sense, he says. But you should avoid it on aes­thet­ic grounds. “’Very,’” he says, “is a sog­gy mod­i­fi­er in the best of cir­cum­stances.” How about “rather unique?” Too posh-sound­ing?

  1. That and which

I breathed an audi­ble sigh on encoun­ter­ing this one, because it’s a rule I find par­tic­u­lar­ly irk­some. Of note is that Pinker, an Amer­i­can, is writ­ing in The Guardian, a British pub­li­ca­tion, where things are much more relaxed for these two rel­a­tive pro­nouns. In U.S. usage, “which” is reserved for nonrestrictive—or option­al claus­es: “The pair of shoes, which cost five thou­sand dol­lars, was hideous.” For restric­tive claus­es, those “essen­tial to the mean­ing of the sen­tence,” we use “that.” Pinker takes the exam­ple of a sen­tence in a doc­u­men­tary on “Imel­da Marcos’s vast shoe col­lec­tion.” In such a case, of course, we would need that bit about the price; hence, “The pair of shoes that cost £5,000 was hideous.”

It’s a rea­son­able enough dis­tinc­tion, and “one part of the rule,” Pinker says, “is cor­rect.” We would rarely find some­one writ­ing “The pair of shoes, that cost £5,000…” after all. It prob­a­bly looks awk­ward to our eyes (though I’ve seen it often enough). But there’s sim­ply no good rea­son, he says, why we can’t use “which” freely, as the Brits already do, to refer to things both essen­tial and non-. “Great writ­ers have been using it for cen­turies,” Pinker points out, cit­ing who­ev­er (or “whomev­er”) trans­lat­ed that “ren­der unto Cae­sar” bit in the King James Bible and Franklin Roosevelt’s “a day which will live in infamy.” QED, I’d say. And any­way, “which” is so much love­li­er a word than “that.”

See Pinker’s Guardian piece for his oth­er five anti-rules and free your­self up to write in a more nat­ur­al, less stilt­ed way. That is, if you already have some mas­tery of basic Eng­lish. As Pinker right­ly observes, “any­one who has read an inept stu­dent paper [um-hm], a bad Google trans­la­tion, or an inter­view with George W. Bush can appre­ci­ate that stan­dards of usage are desir­able in many areas of com­mu­ni­ca­tion.” How do we know when a rule is use­ful and when it impedes “clear and grace­ful prose?” It’s real­ly no mys­tery, Pinker says. “Look it up.” It sounds like his book might help put things into bet­ter per­spec­tive than most writ­ing guides, how­ev­er. You can also hear him dis­cuss his acces­si­ble and intu­itive writ­ing advice in the KQED inter­view with Michael Kras­ny above.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Steven Pinker Uses The­o­ries from Evo­lu­tion­ary Biol­o­gy to Explain Why Aca­d­e­m­ic Writ­ing is So Bad

Steven Pinker Explains the Neu­ro­science of Swear­ing (NSFW)

Steven Pinker: “Dear Human­ists, Sci­ence is Not Your Ene­my”

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

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The Electric Rise and Fall of Nikola Tesla: As Told by Technoillusionist Marco Tempest

A cou­ple of years back, Mar­co Tem­pest, a tech­noil­lu­sion­ist from Switzer­land, retold the life sto­ry of inven­tor Niko­la Tes­la using the prin­ci­ples of Tana­gra the­ater, a form of the­ater pop­u­lar in Europe near­ly a cen­tu­ry ago. A good descrip­tion of this for­got­ten form of the­atre is sur­pris­ing­ly hard to come by. Per­haps the best I encoun­tered comes from this aca­d­e­m­ic web site:

Tana­gra The­atres exist­ed in many Euro­pean cities in the years 1910–1920. The name comes from the fig­ures exca­vat­ed at Tana­gra in the 1890s whose name became syn­ony­mous with per­fect liv­ing minia­tures, par­tic­u­lar­ly female. The sideshow illu­sion con­sist­ed of a minia­ture stage where liv­ing actors appeared as real but tiny fig­ures, through an arrange­ment of plain and con­cave mir­rors. Its devel­op­ment as a sideshow attrac­tion came about as a by-prod­uct of research into opti­cal instru­ments which could bet­ter sus­tain the per­cep­tion of depth. The use of con­cave mir­rors has a long his­to­ry in mag­ic but for the Tana­gra the stronger light of elec­tric­i­ty was essen­tial.

In his pre­sen­ta­tion, Tem­pest takes the con­cepts of Tana­gra to a whole new lev­el, com­bin­ing pro­jec­tion map­ping and intri­cate pop-up art. As you watch the show, you might find your­self intrigued as much by the method as by the sto­ry itself. If that’s the case, you will want to watch the “behind-the-scenes” video below. Tem­pest also gave his pre­sen­ta­tion at TED. You can watch it here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

 Thomas Edi­son and Niko­la Tes­la Face Off in “Epic Rap Bat­tles of His­to­ry”

Elec­tric Pho­to of Niko­la Tes­la, 1899

Free Com­ic Books Turns Kids Onto Physics: Start With the Adven­tures of Niko­la Tes­la

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Kevin Spacey Is the Rainforest, Julia Roberts is Mother Nature: Actors Play Nature in Environmental Shorts

When Hol­ly­wood’s for­mi­da­ble pro­mo­tion­al wing dis­cov­ered it could announce a movie by not just telling you a big star is in it, but that a big star is it, they had a decades-long field day with the idea that con­tin­ues, tire­some­ly, to the present moment. Right now, many of the bill­boards up around Los Ange­les insist upon telling me that “Keanu Reaves is John Wick,” but give it a few weeks and they’ll tell us some­one else we know is some­one else we don’t (unless, of course, we buy a tick­et). Con­ser­va­tion Inter­na­tion­al has tak­en this mar­ket­ing trope and spun it into a series of shorts fea­tur­ing “A‑list” actors, the most famous of the famous, play­ing the earth­ly enti­ties with which we should, per­haps, have more famil­iar­i­ty than we do. At the top of the post, Kevin Spacey is the rain­for­est. Just below, Julia Roberts is Moth­er Nature. At the bot­tom, Har­ri­son Ford is the ocean.

“I’m most of this plan­et,” Ford-as-ocean intones with his sig­na­ture (and increas­ing­ly gruff) gruff­ness. “I shaped it. Every stream, every cloud, and every rain­drop — it all comes back to me.” But as Moth­er Nature, Roberts makes impres­sive claims of her own: “I’ve been here for over four and a half bil­lion years — 22,500 times longer than you. I don’t real­ly need peo­ple, but peo­ple need me.” Not to be out­done, Kevin Spacey’s ever-giv­ing rain­for­est issues a chal­lenge to us all: “Humans, they’re so smart. So smart. Such big brains and oppos­able thumbs. They know how to make things — amaz­ing things. Now why would they need an old for­est like me any­more? Well, they do breathe air, and I make air. Have they thought about that?”

You can watch the entire series of films, enti­tled “Nature is Speak­ing,” on a sin­gle Youtube playlist. The rest of the line­up includes Edward Nor­ton as the soil, Pene­lope Cruz as water (o, hablan­do en español, como Agua), and Robert Red­ford as, suit­ably, the red­wood. (You can also see clips from behind the scenes fea­tur­ing Nor­ton and Ford assum­ing their ele­men­tal roles in the record­ing stu­dio.) They all com­bine this con­sid­er­able amount of vocal star pow­er with equal­ly strik­ing footage of the part of the envi­ron­ment from whom we hear, and some­times of its destruc­tion. They car­ry one over­all mes­sage, which Con­ver­sa­tion Inter­na­tion­al has unshy­ly spelled out: “Nature doesn’t need peo­ple. Peo­ple need nature.” Still, it comes off less heavy-hand­ed than most of the envi­ron­men­tal mes­sages I remem­ber from the films of my 1990s youth. If, for the next series, they get Reeves on board (speak­ing of pieces of my 90s youth), can they find a suit­ably laid-back ele­ment to pair him with? For more infor­ma­tion on the cam­paign, please vis­it the Nature is Speak­ing site.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Envi­ron­ment & Nat­ur­al Resources: Free Online Cours­es

E.O. Wilson’s Life on Earth Released as a Free eBook and Free Course on iTunes

Har­vard Thinks Green: Big Ideas from 6 All-Star Envi­ron­ment Profs

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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IAI Academy Now Offers Free Courses: From “The Meaning of Life” to “A Brief Guide to Everything”

iai academy

This month, The Insti­tute of Art and Ideas (IAI), an orga­ni­za­tion com­mit­ted to fos­ter­ing “a pro­gres­sive and vibrant intel­lec­tu­al cul­ture in the UK,” launched IAI Acad­e­my — a new online edu­ca­tion­al plat­form that fea­tures cours­es in phi­los­o­phy, sci­ence and pol­i­tics. The ini­tial line­up includes 12 cours­es cov­er­ing every­thing from the­o­ret­i­cal physics, the mean­ing of life, the future of fem­i­nism, the often vexed rela­tion­ship between sci­ence and reli­gion, and more.

IAI Acad­e­my offers its cours­es for free. But, like oth­er course providers, they charge a nom­i­nal fee (right now about $25) if you would like a Ver­i­fied Cer­tifi­cate when you’ve suc­cess­ful­ly com­plet­ed a course. Here’s the ini­tial line­up:

  • A Brief Guide to Every­thing — Web Video — John Ellis, King’s Col­lege Lon­don, CBE 
  • The Mean­ing of Life — Web Video — Steve Fuller, Uni­ver­si­ty of War­wick
  • New Adven­tures in Space­time — Web Video — Eleanor Knox, King’s Col­lege Lon­don
  • Minds, Moral­i­ty and Agency — Web Video — Mark Row­lands, Uni­ver­si­ty of Mia­mi
  • Nine Myths About Schiz­o­phre­nia — Web Video — Richard Ben­tall, Uni­ver­si­ty of Liv­er­pool
  • The His­to­ry of Fear — Web Video — Frank Fure­di, Uni­ver­si­ty of Kent
  • Physics: What We Still Don’t Know — Web Video — David Tong, Cam­bridge
  • Sci­ence vs. Reli­gion — Web Video — Mark Ver­non, Journalist/Philosopher
  • Sex­u­al­i­ty and Pow­er — Web Video — Veronique Mot­ti­er, Uni­ver­si­ty of Lau­sanne
  • The Infi­nite Quest — Web Video — Peter Cameron, Queen Mary Uni­ver­si­ty of Lon­don.
  • End of Equal­i­ty — Web Video — Beat­rix Camp­bell — Writer/Activist
  • Rethink­ing Fem­i­nism — Web Video — Finn Mack­ay — Fem­i­nist Activist & Researcher
  • For more ever­green cours­es that you can down­load and enjoy when­ev­er you want, don’t miss our col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

    For MOOCs being pro­vid­ed in real-time, see our list of MOOCs from Great Uni­ver­si­ties.

    Relat­ed Con­tent:

    Take First-Class Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es Any­where with Free Oxford Pod­casts

    Down­load 100 Free Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es and Start Liv­ing the Exam­ined Life

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    The C.I.A.‘s “Bestiary of Intelligence Writing” Satirizes Spook Jargon with Maurice Sendak-Style Drawings

    CIA 1

    Ten years in acad­e­mia gave me a healthy dis­like of clichéd jar­gon, as well as an appre­ci­a­tion for jokes about it. There are a few, like the aca­d­e­m­ic sen­tence gen­er­a­tor and Ph.D. Comics, that cap­ture a bit of what it’s like to go to school and work in high­er ed. Cor­po­rate drones, of course, have Office Space and Dil­bert. But what about the spooks, those name­less, face­less agents who work tire­less­ly away in the base­ment of Lan­g­ley, doing who knows what to whom? Where does the C.I.A. go to laugh at its pecu­liar brand of hack­neyed dou­ble­s­peak? Not that we were sup­posed to know this, but per­haps many of them turn to an arti­cle called “the Bes­tiary of Intel­li­gence Writ­ing” in a 1982 copy of inter­nal agency newslet­ter Stud­ies in Intel­li­gence.

    CIA 2

    Medi­um describes this odd piece as a “zoo of fic­tion­al fau­na,” and like that strange lit­er­ary form, the medieval Euro­pean bes­tiary (often a source of satire and cri­tique), this 17-page arti­cle, with foot­notes, sin­gles out the most offen­sive spook buzz­words as though they were car­di­nal sins—naming 15 mem­bers of “the Col­lec­tion” in all, each one rep­re­sent­ed by its own Mau­rice Sendak-like pen­cil-drawn beast and a descrip­tion of its habits. The two-head­ed beast at the top, Mul­ti­dis­ci­pli­nary Analy­sis, is a “hybrid—the fruit of the casu­al mat­ing of stan­dard forms of Analy­sis.” Just above, we have Height­ened Ten­sions, “the adult form of Con­ven­tion­al Tensions—Tensions that have acquired stilts by thriv­ing on a rich diet of pover­ty, mal­nu­tri­tion and espe­cial­ly alien­ation.” Sounds like rough work, this spy game….

    CIA 3

    Most of the beasts are cud­dly enough, some mis­chie­vous, some per­haps dead­ly. Above, we have Dire Straits and below, Para­me­ters. “The Agency author and artist detailed 15 mon­sters in all—complete with illus­tra­tions,” writes Medi­um, “Both of their names are redact­ed in the doc­u­ment. We’ll nev­er know just which CIA agents turned their hand towards snarky polit­i­cal satire.” The doc­u­ment comes to us via a cache of records declas­si­fied in a law­suit filed by for­mer agency employ­ee Jef­fry Scud­der. We do know that the two anony­mous lam­poon­ists were inspired by A Polit­i­cal Bes­tiary, book by James Kil­patrick, car­toon­ist Jeff Mac­Nel­ly, and for­mer sen­a­tor and pres­i­den­tial can­di­date Eugene McCarthy. See the full, bone dry arti­cle here, and think about the work talk that might dri­ve you to such cre­ative extremes.

    CIA 4

    Relat­ed Con­tent:

    The CIA’s Style Man­u­al & Writer’s Guide: 185 Pages of Tips for Writ­ing Like a Spy

    How the CIA Secret­ly Fund­ed Abstract Expres­sion­ism Dur­ing the Cold War

    How the CIA Turned Doc­tor Zhiva­go into a Pro­pa­gan­da Weapon Against the Sovi­et Union

    Declas­si­fied CIA Doc­u­ment Reveals That Ben Franklin (and His Big Ego) Put U.S. Nation­al Secu­ri­ty at Risk

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

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    The Student of Prague: The Very First Independent Film (1913)

    When peo­ple talk about “inde­pen­dent cin­e­ma” today, they seem, as often as not, to talk about a sen­si­bil­i­ty — we all know, on some lev­el, what some­one means when they tell us they “like indie films.” But the term has its roots, of course, not nec­es­sar­i­ly in inde­pen­dence of spir­it, but in inde­pen­dence from sys­tems. Now that tech­nol­o­gy has grant­ed all of us the abil­i­ty, at least in the­o­ry, to make any movie we want, this dis­tinc­tion has lost some of its mean­ing, but between about twen­ty and eighty years ago, the com­mer­cial estab­lish­ments con­trol­ling pro­duc­tion, dis­tri­b­u­tion, and screen­ing enjoyed their great­est solid­i­ty (and indeed, impen­e­tra­bil­i­ty). Dur­ing that time, mak­ing a film inde­pen­dent­ly meant mak­ing a fair­ly spe­cif­ic, often anti-Hol­ly­wood state­ment. But what about before then, when the medi­um of cin­e­ma itself had yet to take its full shape?

    Not only does 1913’s The Stu­dent of Prague offer an enter­tain­ing exam­ple of inde­pen­dent film from an era before even Hol­ly­wood had become Hol­ly­wood, it has a place in his­to­ry as the first inde­pen­dent film ever released. Ger­man writer Hanns Heinz Ewers and Dan­ish direc­tor Stel­lan Rye (not to men­tion star Paul Wegen­er, he of the Golem tril­o­gy) col­lab­o­rat­ed to bring to ear­ly cin­e­mat­ic life this 19th-cen­tu­ry hor­ror sto­ry of the tit­u­lar stu­dent, a down-at-the-heels bon vivant who, besot­ted with a count­ess and deter­mined to win her by any means nec­es­sary, makes a deal with a dev­il­ish sor­cer­er that will ful­fill his every desire. The catch? He sum­mons the stu­den­t’s reflec­tion out of the mir­ror and into real­i­ty. So empow­ered, this dop­pel­gänger goes around wreak­ing hav­oc. Hard­ly the osten­si­bly high-mind­ed mate­r­i­al of “indie film” — let alone “for­eign film” — from the past half-cen­tu­ry or so, but The Stu­dent of Prague treats it with respect, arriv­ing at the kind of uncom­pro­mis­ing end­ing that might sur­prise even mod­ern audi­ences. If you don’t watch it today, keep it book­marked for Hal­loween view­ing.

    You can find The Stu­dent of Prague added to our big film col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

    Relat­ed Con­tent:

    Watch the Ger­man Expres­sion­ist Film, The Golem, with a Sound­track by The Pix­ies’ Black Fran­cis

    Watch Häx­an, the Clas­sic Cin­e­mat­ic Study of Witch­craft Nar­rat­ed by William S. Bur­roughs (1922)

    Watch the Quin­tes­sen­tial Vam­pire Film Nos­fer­atu Free Online as Hal­loween Approach­es

    Fritz Lang’s Metrop­o­lis: Uncut & Restored

    The Pow­er of Silent Movies, with The Artist Direc­tor Michel Haz­anavi­cius

    Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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    6 Hours of Mannequins Flying From Newark to San Francisco

    Is there any­thing worse than fly­ing from Newark to San Fran­cis­co? Maybe it’s watch­ing man­nequins tak­ing this cross-coun­try flight. Talk about tedi­um. And yet there’s some­thing a lit­tle bril­liant about this six hour adver­tise­ment from Vir­gin Air­lines — which promis­es a more inspir­ing flight. I mean how many six hour adver­tise­ments have you seen, let alone ones that have “action” from start to fin­ish? Some­where, some­one’s going to watch this thing all the way through. Maybe it’s you.

    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!

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