Good Hair Day

Today, I got a haircut I really liked. I can't remember the last time that happened. There have been haircuts that I have liked and haircuts that I have been complimented and the two categories have not always overlapped. But not only does this haircut look good, it also feels good. When I pass my hand through my hair (which I do a lot) the hair is exactly the length it should be. And, that is a tremendously satisfying feeling after the disaster that was the last haircut.

Autumn

There is a nip in the air now, which doesn't go away even when the temperature heads north of 20C. I usually dress according to the temperature forecast of the day, but find myself feeling colder than I should at a particular temperature.  I am still clinging on to my summer jacket but it will soon have to make way for the autumn one. The same with my summer duvet.The transition days between seasons are always annoying because one  can't figure which clothes or duvet to use. When winter was turning to spring, there was a stretch when I was shuffling between my winter and summer duvets on an almost daily basis. Which is why,  this time, I am not going to change to my winter duvet until the nighttime temperature resolutely drops below 5C and promises to stay there, at least for a few days. 

I have already started to feel less energetic and many people around me have started complaining that they feel more tired than usual. Maybe our bodies are girding for winter. It is only a matter of time before I abandon my Saturday morning jogs. One must change with the seasons.

The Bicycle Thief

Bloggers live for days like today, when the post of the day practically writes itself. This evening, I was walking towards where I had parked my bike after my yoga class and I reached the spot, I saw a man bent over the stand where I thought I had parked my bike. For a second, I wondered whether he was trying to pinch it, but quickly dropped the thought. It was the middle of the evening in a decent part of town and there were a lot of passerbys. But, when I came got closer, I saw that he was indeed trying to figure out the combination of my bike lock. I told him I could tell him the number if he wanted as it was my bike and I new the code. He was nonplussed, assuring me that he could figure it out himself. He said he was intrigued by my lock because he had a similar one and he was trying to see if he could figure out the code. I stared at him in disbelief as he continued to fiddle with my lock. Finally, I told him that I was in a hurry and could he please leave my bike alone. He withdrew without a fuss, but that wasn't the end of it. He shuffled over to another bike and started to work on its lock. I couldn't believe what I was seeing! I told him "Look mate I just caught you trying to pinch my bike, at least don't  try to pinch another bike while I am still around". He got the message, and skulked away without looking back. And, my first thought was, "Wow, now I don't have to wrack my  brains over what to blog about tonight!"

Generosity

A few days ago, there was an article about how Bristol University students set up a collection drive to send one of the cleaners at their uni on a foreign holiday. The cleaner was admired by the students for his "positive attitude and happy-go-lucky approach to life". 

This gesture obviously doesn't compensate for the fact that cleaners in this country (and most countries) are underpaid and exploited, and maybe it wasn't meant to. However, what I found interesting is that the cleaner was a jolly extrovert, and my heart went out to all the introverted cleaners who won't be going on a foreign holiday. In fact, all the introverts stuck in service-oriented jobs who are dismissed as surly or unfriendly. 

First Day of Teaching

My first day of teaching passed off without incident. My class was at 4 pm and I was too distracted to do anything else before it. I probably drove my colleagues nuts with my fidgeting so by the time it was 4 pm, both they and I  were quite relieved. 

What I have realized is that I am good at explaining stuff but not so good at encouraging discussion among the students. To get them to be more than passive listeners. I feel myself talking at them rather than talking to them. In an age where teachers are pushed to get students to "engage", I don't think I am doing a particularly good job. But, I try to be friendly and approachable without needing to banter. I can't banter, least of all with British kids, so I  don't even try. I believe to be a good teacher you need to be not disliked. It is difficult to explain anything to an audience that doesn't like you because they are hostile and too guarded to pay attention to what you are saying. So, I don't aim to be liked, only to not be disliked.

Teaching Again

Tomorrow starts the last (anticipated) hurdle in my recovery journey.  The last time I taught, I bailed on the course when we were two-thirds of the way in and ran back to India to cope with my anxiety problems. That was a deeply embarrassing experience which I thought I would never recover from. But, recover I did and here I am.
The last time around, my symptoms had turned teaching into an ordeal even though I had initially quite enjoyed it. And, I am good at teaching, if I may say so myself. Now, I am in much better shape, physically and emotionally. However, I am approaching this teaching with some trepidation because I will be working with someone who is not the brightest nor the nicest spark in the room. I was hoping my first teaching assignment after coming back would be a smooth experience, but that wasn't to be. But we can only play the cards we are dealt, so I am girding myself for the challenge. 

Elmet

This evening,  I attended a talk by the author of the book my book club is reading this month. The book was nothing special, and the only reason I went was because I had bought the ticket weeks ago in a burst of enthusiasm for improving my social life. But, the author was a good speaker and mature beyond her years. She spoke about how cognition and emotion are inextricably linked in a work of fiction. For a work of art to appeal to you (this is me, not her) it has to speak to you on both levels. First, at the cognitive level, because it has to be credible even if its pure fantasy--it shouldn't insult your intelligence. And, then at the emotional level to make it special and human. A good novel draws on both imagination as well as personal experience and also weaves in social commentary without sounding pedantic.

 It was also fascinating to go deep inside a book and listen to the author's motivations. A book has so many more layers than are accessible to the lone reader. As much as I enjoyed reading Han Kang's The Vegetarian, it really came alive in the book club discussion when the others also shared their thoughts on it. Discussing a book with smart and emotionally aware people is a great experience. 

What I Know Now That I Wish I Had Known Then ...

I got an email from the graduate school asking if I would be willing to speak to the incoming PhD cohort on "What I know now that I wish I  had  known then".  My first thought was to say No, because I would have to talk about my suspension from studies because if I didn't, it would feel  dishonest. And I don't feel comfortable doing that. Yes, one feels really lost at the beginning of a PhD, especially in a foreign country, but I had survived, hadn't I? And its not like the PhD community in my university is close-knit, so why should I bother giving advice to people I might never see again?
But, I replied to the graduate school saying I was ready to participate. It would be just a few minutes of my time. I don't have to center my talk around my suspension and could just casually slip it in so that people would know whom to talk to if they were in a similar situation. And, I keep complaining about the lack of PhD community spirit, so it would be hypocritical of me to refuse to contribute to building it in whatever small way I could. 

Cause and Effect in Emotional Life

I have recently become quite interested in the concept of causality, and how different scientific approaches deal with the issue. I feel it is one of the key features that distinguishes different ways of knowing, but the literature doesn't share my enthusiasm for it.
Today, as I was feeling a little low, I immediately tried to ascribe a cause to it. Was it because I had slept badly the previous night, or was I nervous about teaching, or was it because of my friend's recent death, or was it a matter of the heart? Ascribing causes to an emotion helps us make sense of it, or at least gives us the impression that we have made sense of it. This reduces its raw emotive power, which is particularly useful for negative emotions. It also allows you to activate coping mechanisms, which you have honed through previous  experiences.
But is it possible that these ascribed causes or triggers are a mental fetter? Do they lock us into a particular way of thinking about certain events and people? When you concoct a story about why you are feeling a certain way, do you push yourself to feel that way if the contents of the story occur again? In other words, if you tell yourself that you are feeling a certain way because X happened, do you subconsciously train yourself to feel the same way if X happens in the future? Do you diminish the possibility that your emotional  response to a certain trigger might evolve? The only answer is to learn to listen to yourself, to learn when to take evasive action and when to do nothing, which is easier said that done.
I am periodically visited by mild anxiety symptoms and most times there is no discernible cause. I have given up trying to identify the cause for these very physical symptoms and they usually blow over by the following day. I don't react to low spirits in the same way, but maybe I should.

Robots

This morning, a PhD colleague asked us if I we were willing to participate in an experiment with robots that his friend was running. Another colleague and I readily agreed, so after lunch we headed to the Bristol Robotics Laboratory, a giant warehouse-shaped building which sits behind our own monstrous (by British standards) faculty building.
Before the experiment, we were asked multiple-choice questions about our perception of robots. The experiment itself was simple enough. The robot was supposed to give us instructions about how to build a toy cart but the only robot-like thing he did was point to the parts. I suspect the experimenter was controlling the robot as it was not a "smart" (autonomous) one. So, it was more an experiment on humans than on robots. I made what I was thought was a mistake in assembling the car but I realized quickly enough and corrected it without seeking the robot's or the experimenter's help. Maybe the long-dormant engineer in me woke up and put himself to the task of building the cart, robot or no robot. So, I suspect I was a bad experiment subject because I didn't really pay much attention to the robot's instructions once I got a fair idea of the assignment. It turns out the robot had been programmed to deliberately mislead me as the experimenter wanted to gauge my reaction to being misled. But, the plan bombed in my case because I thought I had made a mistake. In any case, the robot seemed dumb and annoying to me and that reflected in my answers in the post-experiment questionnaire.
Do I need to fear robots? I feel some tasks are beyond the capabilities of robots, although I must confess I know next to  nothing on the subject. Sure, you can programme robots,  teach them to mimic humans, teach them to "learn" from their mistakes like humans do, and of course, all these are tremendous achievements of science. But, can robots have consciousness? Can a robot be aware that she is a robot? Can they emote themselves, not just mimic human emotions? Do they have the capacity for imagination and abstract reasoning? Both are vital in research as well as artistic endeavours. I am sure there is a wide literature that answers (or  goes some way towards answering) some of  the questions I have raised. But, since this is a barely-read blog, and not an academic article, and as I don't really care that much about robots, I can't be bothered to seek this literature out. 

Bath

After 14 months of living  in Bristol,  I can finally say that I've been to Bath. People come from far and wide to visit this town, with its mixture of Norman, Victorian, Georgian and Celtic architecture ( I wikied this). Historically a refuge of wealthy Londoners, it is very white and very prosperous. It took all of 11 minutes on the train for me and my housemate to get there.
It isn't much of a revelation to say that I am a lazy and reluctant traveler. My dating profile doesn't list 'travelling' as a hobby and I only travel for work or to visit family/friends. And, when I travel with family/friends, I am usually not the one taking the lead in organizing the trip. I can't imagine being on the road for months, or even weeks, on end as I would be thoroughly bored. Everyone needs a change of scene from time to time and so do I. But running away from something is not the same as running towards something else. Its not like I hate to travel, its just that I don't enjoy it enough to do it for its own sake if I don't have company. Just like I have a functional relationship with food and would never eat alone in a nice restaurant, not because I feel awkward about eating alone, but because I can't be bothered to take so much trouble over food. I am a wanderer at heart, but I do all my wandering in my mind. 

Common Sense and Academic Effort

I remember a conversation with one of my PhD colleagues from the finance stream. He was struggling to understand what methodology for my PhD thesis I was using after I told him I wasn't going to be using Econometrics, or any kind of statistics for that matter. I jokingly said that my methodology was 'common sense'. He said ,"Yes, sure seems like it" and he didn't mean it as a compliment.
That got me thinking about  the role of common sense in academic effort. Academics, who see themselves as specialists, obviously have a problem with the "common" in 'common sense'. And,  this is not just them being snooty. Many of their inferences either contradict common sense or are blindingly obvious to someone endowed with common sense. How does one distinguish between robust intellectual effort which deploys scientific methods to reach a inference, either obvious or not, from pointless mental gymnastics which reach ludicrous conclusions? That is a difficult one.
I again got thinking about the role of common sense in academic effort while reading Schumpeter this week. He defines science as "refined common sense" and "tooled knowledge". Both phrases make a lot of (common) sense. Science is not just about accumulating knowledge but using knowledge as a tool to say something about the world. Similarly, science attempts to go beyond common sense without abandoning common sense. But, then Schumpeter went on to say something even more interesting (and true): " ... common-sense knowledge goes in this field (economics) much further relatively to such scientific knowledge as we have been able to achieve, than does common-sense knowledge in almost any field".  Touche! Complex-looking mathematical equations are often used to obscure and obfuscate. Push back the curtain of maths and what you often find is unrefined common sense or a ludicrous proposition. Economics  could surely do with more unvarnished common sense. 

Ways of Seeing

I am reading a brick-sized tome by the Austrian economist Joseph Schumpeter, one of the most well-known economists of the 21st century. The book is titled The History of Economic Analysis. Today, I read the part where he talks about vision as a precursor to analysis. How you view a certain phenomena  as interesting and worthy of examination precedes any analysis you make of it. As it happens, I am taking an epistemology course called Ways of Knowing. Maybe, there should also be a course entitled Ways of Seeing (or maybe there already are such courses). It is not simply a question of "framing" a problem, or deciding the limits of the scope of your analysis. Before you can do that, you need to see it as a problem, and often it is a problem that no one else has seen before. This act of cognition precedes analysis. It is not clear to me whether a way of seeing is a fundamental psychic process or whether it can be reduced to ideology (political worldview) or epistemology (ways off knowing). Maybe the way you know influences the way of see.  

9/11

Today is the 17th anniversary of the most cataclysmic day of the 21st century. I am not a fan of historical accounts that place too much emphasis on specific events or individuals. "What if this hadn't happened or this person hadn't been born?" is an interesting thought experiment, but little else. But so much of today's turmoil can be directly traced to that September morning in New York and the chain of events it set in motion--the wars in Iraq and Syria, the refugee crisis in Europe, the rise of far-right nationalism, terrorism. It almost feels like Sept. 11, 2001, marked the end of a more innocent time. In the new era, airport security checks would become an unavoidable menace, young brown men would be singled out for extra scrutiny by all types of security personnel, Islam would become a byword for  terrorism, America's wars would be fought with drones and without boots on the ground, and liberalism would face its biggest crisis since the War. The events of the day itself remain shrouded in mystery and its not just conspiracy theorists who believe that 9/11 was an inside job.
For my grandparents' generation, the era-defining question was what were they doing at midnight on Aug.  15, 1947, when India gained independence from the British. For my and my parent's generation, the question is what were we doing on September 11. I remember that it was evening in India when a friend called to tell me to switch the TV on. This was before the days of broadband internet and social media, so the TV was the primary source of real-time news. For the next few hours, I was glued to the TV. Little did any of us millions of people across the world watching the TV know how dramatically  our world was about to change.

Systems and Order

The last book my book club read was on slavery. It was an intense and harrowing read, and the topic of slavery loomed large on my mind for days. So, I began to wonder why systems that oppress humans in the the worst imaginable ways survive? Why did the slaves get up every morning to work in the fields, with the ever-present danger of punishment, torture and rape. Surely, death was preferable to such an existence? Yes, from the liberal well-fed (and judgemental) perspective of today.

Is it because slavery, for all its brutalities, was a somewhat orderly system? The slaves still got fed (however badly) at the end of the day, and a place to sleep and wash in. People had well-defined roles and functions. Brutality had been a made a precondition for the survival of the system, thus rendering brutality banal. The culture of slaves and slave-owners was well-established. Given the choice between chaos and a brutal system how many of us would choose chaos, especially if we were not the main target of the brutality? Maybe this is a cynical view, and its possible that I will regret writing this tomorrow. But, sometimes I wonder whether well-to-do socialists calling for the overthrow of capitalism would respond if the economy descended into chaos tomorrow and if everything we take for granted as our style of life was imperiled. Maybe a spontaneous communism would emerge in some places, I don't know. But, a revolution that can't feed its people won't last long. 

AirBnB

I have been in Bristol for 13 months cumulatively, and for almost all of that time (save for three weeks in a house with a landlord from hell) my abode has been an AirBnB. Many people express surprise when I tell them as they assume someone who is doing a PhD would have a more permanent living arrangement. My reply is that there is too much luck and effort involved in finding a place whicch is i) hospitable ii) conveniently located iii) with convival housemates iv) who don't have annoying living habits. Would I prefer to live with friends? Of course. But, I get along well with my landlord, he has helped me through some tough times and I have tried to repay the favour, the house is conveniently located and I am comfortable. So, it would take a lot of convincing for me to make the effort to find a new place.  

The other housemates are typically people passing through Bristol or who have just moved here and are looking for a room to rent. Sometimes, we get guests who stay for a few months, but that is rare. While some of the dozens of people who have stopped by had annoying habits, none of them was mean, cussed or crazy. Airbnb has a lot of flaws and has done a lot of harm, but there is something to be said for their feedback system. Allowing both guests and hosts to leave feedback encourages good behavior and ensures that good behavior is rewarded.

I am used to running into complete strangers in the kitchen or on the way to the bathroom at 6 am. Sometimes, I feel hedged in if there are too many people, especially in our small kitchen at meal times. But I usually do my cooking during the weekends when the kitchen is free. 

I usually don't bother to engage in conversation with people who are staying just for a day or two. With guests who are staying longer, I have had quite  a few interesting and pleasant conversations. These are pleasant passing acquaintances (I wouldn't call them friendships). Often in life, you find yourself in the company of agreeable folk who are going the same way as you for a bit. You share a few laughs and then go your separate ways without bothering to keep in touch. Most of my interactions in Bristol are of this fleeting nature and I am strangely quite okay with that. Interacting without the expectations of forming long-term friendships (or more) is quite liberating. 

Yesterday, for the first time, I went out with two of my housemates to a neighbourhood pub. We were joined by one of my one-handful of friends in Bristol, and as they say here, we had a jolly time. I had never imagined I would socialize with my housemates and was a little hesitant. But, I enjoyed myself.

Alienation

I was at a talk by a Thai author and his English translator today. At one point when they were discussing one of his recent novels, the translator remarked that a number of reviewers had picked up a strong sense of alienation in the novel. The author replied that the alienation had nothing to do with the present-day illiberal political climate in Thailand. He felt like an alien in any place he inhabited. That statement struck  a chord with me. The feeling of not belonging anywhere, of simultaneously yearning to belong and silently feeling grateful for not belonging. Of being pulled towards people and feeling like running away from them. The constant tug-of-war between the ache of loneliness and the comfort of solitude. I might not be a "creative" in the conventional sense of the word but I do see myself as a writer. And, I think writers are like a duck's skin. They inhabit their milieu of their subject but don't allow it to inhabit them. Reflection, especially critical reflection, needs distance as much as it needs closeness to the subject. Just like the duck's skin, which even when immersed in water, doesn't get wet. I am not saying writers need to feel a sense of alienation. All I'm saying is those who do face these challenges are likely to be writers or some other creative type. 

Black Klannsmen

I watched the Spike Lee movie Black Klansmen this evening. It is a well-made movie and although I was familiar with the plot because I had read a newspaper article about it a few months ago, I wasn't bored. The black characters were complex and the protagonist couldn't be slotted as either militant black or a house ni#$**. I felt the love story between the protagonist and his black radical girlfriend a little implausible a little fairy-tale-like. Also, the change of heart of the protagonist's white colleagues was a little hard to buy. It is based on a true story, but I wonder how much artistic license was deployed. What I particularly liked is how the filmmaker linked the movie to contemporary events, which is what separated it from a run-of-the-mill Hollywood movie based on an incredible true story. I suppose these are extraordinary times when even Nike is taking a stand on police brutality against black people. 

Worldly Activity and Angst

I was reading Max Weber's famous The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit Of Capitalism the other day. In one part he talks about how Calvinism advocated for "worldly activity" to keep religious anxiety (relationship with God,  etc.) at bay. Worldly activity refers to a professional vocation. And, it struck me how little things have changed. In the present impious day, worldly activity is seen as an antidote for existential angst. Humans have been agonizing over spiritual matters since time immemorial. Questions like who am I,why am I where, what is the purpose of my existence are not products of our enlightened time. These questions have been vexing women and men for millennia. Maybe these questions assumed different forms with  the ebb and flow of religious sentiment.But, the ability to ask existential questions such as these, while also going about existing like every other creature on this  planet, is probably what makes us human. 

Nike and New Yorker

So, one piece of surprisingly pleasant news in these dark times. Nike, the Walmart/Monsanto of shoes, picked Colin Kaepernick, the black player who was sidelined for protesting police brutality in the NFL, for their new ad campaign. I was quite surprised that a corporate giant took such a progressive position on this issue. As it turns out, they also have campaigns featuring a hijabi and a transgender athlete.
But, lest we think the world is a better place, it emerged that the New Yorker magazine had invited Steve Bannon, Trump's one-time brains trust, to a one of their high-profile gabfests. The invitation was swiftly rescinded following the inevitable outcry. The New Yorker is elitist but as sophisticated as they come. It has some brilliant writers who take extremely progressive positions. So, why invite Bannon? Maybe the editor, David Remnick, thought he could engage Bannon in a battle of wits and win. In India, I'm sure a number of guests go on to Arnab Goswami's show thinking they can outargue him because they are obviously smarter than him. Then, they get clobbered to death because they are toothless villains in a movie starring Arnab, who carries out the "debate" on his own terms. Also, I suspect his microphone is set to a higher volume than his guests so he can just outshout them when they are getting the better of him. Many a smart man (and its always men) have felt the urge to defeat bigotted fascists in a battle of the wits and become the shining-armoured knights of the progressive world. Most  of them are smart enough to realize that by giving fascists a platform, they are legitimizing their views. They are reducing fundamental differences about how they see the world to intellectual disagreements. So why do they do it, despite being somewhat aware of the damage they are causing? Hubris is the only plausible answer I can think of.

White Privilege All About White People?

Today, I attended a talk about "Facing Up to White Privilege". It was quite bad and I dozed off in between. The structure was simple--exploitation of colored people in the past, discrimination against PoC today and what to do about it. My chief beef against it was its view of racism as an individual failing and as something that is done by white people to PoC in thought or in deed. It was not a nuanced view of the issue at all. She actually told the audience to try to catch racist thoughts and--I don't know--admonish themselves silently for it? It is a straight line from white privilege to white guilt and white fragility. And, white people remain at the centre of the conversation. Acknowledging your privilege and using it for racial equality/solidarity in any small way you can is not the same as policing your thoughts and being wracked by white guilt. Feeling guilty, especially something for which you are not directly responsible, keeps you at the centre of the issue. Your guilt, rather than structural oppression, becomes the main issue.
The lecture itself was an example of white privilege--a strictly mediocre white academic getting an audience of  about 50 people in a university setting.

Ride of Passage

Sorry for the punny headline, but I have been wracking my brains about what to blog about today and this is the only thing I could think of. Today, as I was riding to my book club meeting, a card driver honked and swore at me. I was riding on a pavement which runs along a motor road and doubles as a cycle path, and he was turning off the motor road. As far as I remember, his turning indicator wasn't on. It wasn't a close shave and he had barely begun turning, when he saw me, stopped and honked. That would have been the end off it, but I turned back and looked at him indignantly. Which is when he swore at me.
I wasn't daydreaming, but my attention was focused on cars coming out of the lane on to the motor road. I should have looked right to the motor road before I looked left, though.
I am surprised it hasn't happened before. I have been riding in Bristol for more than a year now and I have only been honked at once before. I am a safe rider and give cars a wide berth.
This is a rite of passage and a reminder to be more careful. I have been fortunate so far. One of my colleagues told me how a friend of hers would be sworn at multiple times in a single day by car drivers. And, I am glad I ride a cycle which doesn't go too fast. 

Smiling

 I recently read an article (in The Economist) I think about how perceptions of smiling differed across countries and cultures. In some cultures, smiling fosters trust, in others it does no such thing, and in yet others, such as India, it can even spark distrust. I remembered a conversation from 10 years ago with a Sri Lankan friend of friend who was visiting India. She was talking about how Indians never smiled at each other on the street. I remarked that since there were so many of us, smiling to everyone would make our jaws ache. She wasn't amused.
I agree that it is not common for strangers to smile at each other in India. A smile is often seen as an obsequious gesture--you plaster an oily smile on your face when you want to ingratiate yourself with someone. Indians prefer to stare, and that is also true of Indians abroad when they run into other Indians/South Asians. And, if  you are a man, you definitely don't smile at women. Most  young women assiduously avoid eye contact with men to keep pests away. Young Indian women smiling at each other is more common.