Prizes and Conceit

Prizes bring out a hidden competitive streak in me. Today, I didn't win the prize for best presentation, but received gushing praise from a number of audience members. After the presentation but before the prize ceremony I could feel my head swell with conceit. I felt invincible at the time and didn't like feeling that way. Pride comes in the way of good research as it blinds you. And, the prouder you become, the smaller is the universe of  work you think deserves your attention. I sometimes struggle to deal with pride, even though I am assume that being aware of this problem is an achievement in itself. I am 100% sure that had I achieved great success when I was younger I would have been insufferable. Occasional failures for some people are not just inevitable but essential. There is no point in feeling guilty about conceit. Feelings always give to other feelings.

Hard to Say Sorry

Can some South Asian/African men go through life without ever saying sorry? I believe they can. Or at least they can without ever saying sorry to a woman, especially from their family. Is it a cultural thing? And does it matter if other cultures express contrition with other words or with non-verbal actions? Is it necessary for every culture to atomize the individual and put his or her emotions on a pedestal? This is a tricky one and possibly requires a level of anthropological insight that is beyond me. But, human interaction always carries the risk of causing hurt or offence. If the offence is unintentional, it is necessary to make amends in some way. If someone can consistently get away without making amends, it indicates an exploitative relationship. I do believe power differentials are universal and span cultures. There might be cultures that do not see justice for an individual as being of paramount importance. But, once exposed to ideas such as liberty, equality and justice, can one ever go back to being ignorant of such ideas. At the minimum, one would desire all these for oneself. What was supposed to be a rant against the structutral misogyny of South Asian and African societies has turned into an extremely knotty discussion. Ah well!

Mavericks and Oddballls

Yesterday, I watched a news story about an Indian magician trying to replicate one of Harry Houdini's escape tricks. He was to be lowered into the Hooghly river in Kolkata with his arms and legs trussed up like a turkey. In footage of him before the stunt, he says in Bengali that if he is able to escape it would be magic, else tragic. He had bright orange flowing hair,, a pencil-thin moustache and wore a  red band around his head that was adorned with medals. His stunt costume comprised a bright yellow jumpsuit, red shorts and a swimming camp. The footage ends as he is lowered into the water, eyes closed and taking gulps of air. He never resurfaced. His body was found a few days later washed on the river shore about a one kilometre downstream.
He was a comic figure who probably earned his living performing in circuses in small towns. In an India engulfed in right-wing madness, he feels like a quaint figure representing sanity. The oddball impervious to the madness around him, free in his own world. When you feel like you are not fighting groups or ideologies, but fighting an age, fighting a world that you are only physically a part of but which appears alien to you in every other respect, perhaps the best strategy is to build a world of your own. Draw comfort from the magical, the fantastical. Magic does not represent an escape from the real world but is a world in its own right. Oddballs do engage with the world at large, but strictly on their own terms. When you don't seek affirmation or validation from the outside world, when even the threat of or actual violence cannot force you back into that world, when you are immune to  ridicule and censure, the outside world has little power over you. I am sure I am projeccting my nihilism on the dead magician. Well, so what?

Self-Aggrandizers

I always thought working for one of Rupert Murdoch's companies was excellent training in navigating office politics, but now I am not so sure. I feel naive for believing that academics were too guileless for political machinations. That they may be, but even inept maneuvering can be extremely irritating. I always thought I was zen enough not to be bothered by rookie politicking, but not any more. Academia seems to be teeming with self-aggrandizing mediocrities and they can be infuriating to be around. As much as I like to think that I am skilled enough to handle them, it must be acknowledged that dealing with them requires emotional energy. Fortunately, tolerance for bad behavior within academia is rapidly shrinking. People are realizing that intelligence is not compensation enough for obnoxiousness. Even if obnoxiousness stems from insecurity, as is often the case, your insecurity is not other people's problem. 

Jokey McJokeFace

I have never been the class jester/clown and neither have I ever fancied myself as one. It has long been clear to me that in order to find someone funny, you need to like them first. The question of wit, comic timing and ability to read the audience arises only if likeability can been established. My introverted personality doesn't exude the warmth that paves the way for likability, and so the question of being a jester seldom arises. This fact has never bothered me.
However, I have noticed myself taking up the mantle of jester with increasing frequency in the past six-eight months. This usually happens either when I am in the company of people I get along well with or when I am bored in a group. Entertaining with quips that border on meanness is not a very pleasant thing to do, and I try to restrain myself. But during the recent summer school in Italy, I found myself unable to control myself.
It wasn't like I was bored. But, being perceived as funny and witty is addictive and when my jokes drew a few laughs I felt the need to continue and push the envelope. I frequently made jokes that crossed the border between mean and sardonic and felt a little guilty afterwards. There are many kinds of funny. There is the center-of-attention, good-at-miming-and-story-telling kind of  funny. And then there is the more understated quick-witty-response kind of funny where time is of the essence. One doesn't have time to reflect whether one is being inappropriate or mean.
Nonetheless, getting the mix between naughtiness and self-deprecation is tricky. This is a new facet of my behaviour and I don't quite know what to make of it. I am not going to psycho-analyze myself but I want to reflect enough so that I don't turn into a jerk. When you are a man and often in the company of women whom you consciously or unconsciously try to impress, it is a slippery slope to jerkdom by way of wit alley.
Which is why it is best to only crack jokes when you are feeling cheerful and content with the world at large. Else, jokes can easily become an outlet for anger and frustration, which exponentially increases the possibility of causing offence. When one is feeling angry or low, it is best to keep a low profile. 

Back in Bristol

I got back late last night and spent most of today relaxing. It's been almost two weeks since I blogged and I missed it. It was not a lack of time that prevented me from blogging but a lack of private space. I was sharing a room, and I discovered that I find it difficult to blog with someone in close proximity, even if they can't see my screen. Blogging is a private activity even if the final output isn't. 

I feel like blogging has become an emotional anchor of my life. It helps me process thoughts, emotions and events and makes me a more content and, hence, nicer person to be around. When one doesn't have the opportunity to reflect and ruminate, the unprocessed thoughts and emotions usually find their way out in one's words or actions. And, that is usually not a good thing. 

The two-week summer school was an intense experience which has given me a lot of food for blog. I wish I had written down all the ideas that came to me, but I hope I can pick up on at least some of them in the following days and weeks.

Off to Italy

I'm off to Italy to attend a summer school in macroeconomics in the shadow of the Dolomites mountains. My blogging is likely to be intermittent for the next two weeks. I went back to my blog entry before my visit to the same summer school last year. I was apprehensive that it would be heavily modelling-based and I would feel out of place. That apprehension turned out to be true but I did not feel out of place. My research presentation raised some eyebrows but most people were gracious enough to keep their charitable opinions to themselves. The world is changing, macroeconomics is changing, and now is the not the time to scoff at new ideas and new ways of doing economics. The ground is shifting from under the feet of the orthodoxy. I, and the authors I admire, have little interest in overthrowing the orthodoxy. We want to create new knowledge rather than just refute dogma. But, if the orthodoxy comes in our way, we will fight it. I am further along in my research and more confident of its value, which is why I am quite at ease this time around.