An argument against censorship

Image sourced from deviantart.com. Labelled for non commercial use without modification

Image sourced from deviantart.com. Labelled for non commercial use without modification

I discovered this letter from Charles Bukowski on the Farnam Street Blog by Shane Parrish.

7-22-85
Dear Hans van den Broek:

Thank you for your letter telling me of the removal of one of my books from the Nijmegen library. And that it is accused of discrimination against black people, homosexuals and women. And that it is sadism because of the sadism.

The thing that I fear discriminating against is humor and truth.

If I write badly about blacks, homosexuals and women it is because of these who I met were that. There are many “bads”–bad dogs, bad censorship; there are even “bad” white males. Only when you write about “bad” white males they don’t complain about it. And need I say that there are “good” blacks, “good” homosexuals and “good” women?

In my work, as a writer, I only photograph, in words, what I see. If I write of “sadism” it is because it exists, I didn’t invent it, and if some terrible act occurs in my work it is because such things happen in our lives. I am not on the side of evil, if such a thing as evil abounds. In my writing I do not always agree with what occurs, nor do I linger in the mud for the sheer sake of it. Also, it is curious that the people who rail against my work seem to overlook the sections of it which entail joy and love and hope, and there are such sections. My days, my years, my life has seen up and downs, lights and darknesses. If I wrote only and continually of the “light” and never mentioned the other, then as an artist I would be a liar.

Censorship is the tool of those who have the need to hide actualities from themselves and from others. Their fear is only their inability to face what is real, and I can’t vent any anger against them. I only feel this appalling sadness. Somewhere, in their upbringing, they were shielded against the total facts of our existence. They were only taught to look one way when many ways exist.

I am not dismayed that one of my books has been hunted down and dislodged from the shelves of a local library. In a sense, I am honored that I have written something that has awakened these from their non-ponderous depths. But I am hurt, yes, when somebody else’s book is censored, for that book, usually is a great book and there are few of those, and throughout the ages that type of book has often generated into a classic, and what was once thought shocking and immoral is now required reading at many of our universities.

I am not saying that my book is one of those, but I am saying that in our time, at this moment when any moment may be the last for many of us, it’s damned galling and impossibly sad that we still have among us the small, bitter people, the witch-hunters and the declaimers against reality. Yet, these too belong with us, they are part of the whole, and if I haven’t written about them, I should, maybe have here, and that’s enough.

may we all get better together,
yrs,

I'm not sure if I've articulated this earlier on these pages. But I think Farnam Street one of the best reads online. And the weekly digest that originates from there is one of the rare ones I wait for to catch up on all I may have missed out on. The context in which the letter was written is here.

While on the blog, if you think the content worth your while, may I suggest you donate whatever you think appropriate in the tip jar? Creating good content is hard work and few people appreciate it. It isn't fair to whine on the dumbing down of good content and decline in the same breath to pay for what is good. That is hypocrisy.

How to commit Internet Suicide

Photo: Priyanka Parashar/Mint

Photo: Priyanka Parashar/Mint

First a caveat. I love the Internet. But I’m committing Internet suicide. Puritans may argue what I’m doing doesn’t quite qualify; it’s actually putting my online presence on life support. I guess they’re right. Be that as it may, I put my actions down to one overwhelming reason. I need to be in control. The way things are, I’m not. Allow me to put that into perspective.

Ranjit Nair is chief executive at Germin8.com, a big-data analytics firm. By way of example, he told me of how companies like his get routine requests from public relations (PR) firms to mine information on where a journalist’s inclination lies. With information of that kind on hand, they know what pitch to make and to whom.

Then there are firms who ask the Internet landscape be trawled to identify people who speak well of them. Once identified, these people can be incentivized to behave as brand ambassadors.

The human resource (HR) function at large corporations now deploys trawlers to pick up as much as they can about a potential recruit. This data is used to scrutinize candidates. That is why, oftentimes, before a candidate has appeared for an interview, the interviewer’s mind is made up.

Practically everything is out there. My political affiliations, my religious beliefs, people I agree with, brands I like and dislike. “The lines between our online and offline presence have blurred,” Nair says.

These are not unusual activities. But it makes me uncomfortable. By way of analogy, he describes mob behaviour in the offline world. After an attack, they disappear into the aftermath. Contrary to public perception, in the online world, there is no anonymity. Each footprint can be tracked.

There are a few ways to look at what this means:

• Resign and accept neither privacy nor controls are in your hands.

• Be afraid and stay away.

• Get proactive and take control of your online identity.

To my mind, the first is a cop-out, the second a compromise and the third pragmatic. That is why I’ve opted for the third. The question is how do you implement it?

Step 1: Limit social media

The sound thing, Nair argues, is to accept that social media is impossible to ignore. “So, I don’t post anything I may be embarrassed to talk about in the offline world.”

But a former colleague Rohin Dharmakumar and I have a rigid stance. We chose to delete our Facebook accounts. Dharmakumar takes his privacy seriously. I find status updates, numbers of likes, comments and cute baby pictures a waste of time.

Then there’s the whole razzmatazz about LinkedIn and how it can help advance my career. While there may be some merit, I find the numbers of people who want to connect with me intimidating. Personal experience also suggests the kind of offers that have come my way on LinkedIn indicates either of two things. Recruiting firms are incompetent, or I have an incompetent resume. I’m still to come to terms with why I maintain a cursory presence on it.

As for Twitter, I don’t want to give it up because I think it is a handy tool to discover useful links from interesting people I follow. But there are tweets I’ve posted in the past I’m embarrassed to admit originated from me. To ensure it doesn’t work against me, I deploy TweetDelete (www.tweetdelete.net). This application deletes my posts from the past at intervals of my choice.

Then there is the big daddy of them all—Google Plus. It sits insidiously and I’m still to figure how the heck did I get there? But I don’t want anything to do with this networking site either. Fortunately, opting out is easy without damaging other experiences on Google.

Early adopters may have created accounts on sites that don’t exist anymore. I recommend deleting your identities from there as well. It can be tedious.http://justdelete.me is a good place to begin identifying all of where you have a presence. It offers pointers on how to get out of it. That’s also when it hits you that there are places you can’t get out of—like Pinterest. By signing up with them, you have signed away your rights to delete. You can deactivate, but your data remain on their servers.

Step 2: Create a personal website

First question: Why have a personal website?

• I don’t want to be part of masses on social media.

• I want to be in control of the impression I convey online.

• I believe in a few things, personal and professional. I want all of those values conveyed in a distinct, ad-free environment, in a voice that is uniquely mine.

• My identity ought not to be tied to my workplace. I need to future-proof myself and this is a tool I can deploy to my advantage—even if it were just to showcase my resume.

Is building a personal website intimidating? No. It isn’t.

Some research and conversations with friends in the know later, the toss-up was between WordPress (www.wordpresss.com) and SquareSpace(www.squarespace.com). I chose the latter.

Why? Think of it as the difference between Android and Apple. Android offers freedom. Apple offers convenience. But what use is the freedom if I don’t know what to do with it? I’d much rather take the convenience and get my job done.

I’m no designer or developer, neither can I afford one. I’m just a regular bloke who wants a classy site optimized for the desktop, tablet and smartphone. SquareSpace allows me do just that with drag and drop options, and a personalized domain name thrown in. Their customer support is super as well and each time I pinged them for help, they’ve responded in minutes.

WordPress is good if you have time on hand and patience to tinker. A few years ago, I may have. But right now, I don’t.

Step 3: Get a personalized email address

For much the same reasons articulated above.

Pay and get an ad-free, customized experience. I don’t want any email service provider serving me ads on the back of some algorithm analysing what kind of emails hit my inbox. Zoho Mail (www.zoho.com) is among the better ones.

After trying it out though, I settled on hosting my email on Google. This, after I had grandly announced to Dharmakumar I’m settling on Zoho. Like I said earlier, he’s big on privacy and thinks their policies less intrusive. I agree. But three things tilted my decision in favour of Google. The interface is the one I’m familiar with, I can pay in Indian currency, and the setup was easier. That said, customer support for both are outstanding. But I must confess the friendly Irish accent of the gentleman who called me from Google’s call centre in Ireland to clarify some doubts I had, which flummoxed me for a bit.

The Minimalist

Photo: Mint

Photo: Mint

At first look, I am a First World minimalist porn star—the equivalent of hippies from the mid-20th century seeking India out to find their spiritual selves and cheap pot.

—For close to a year now, I haven’t held a regular job and am on the entrepreneurial path. It allows me to do what I want to do at a time and place of my choosing.

—I’m a Mac fan boy. Yes, it is expensive when compared with Android powered tools. But minimalists appreciate good design and simplicity. To acquire both of these, we invest.

—I own less than 100 things. My wardrobe has fewer than 33 items and is dominated by grey, blue, black and white. I don’t know how these numbers were arrived at. But Zen practitioners like Leo Babauta (www.zenhabits.com) argue that these boundaries inhibit material consumption and free us to follow passion.

—As a corollary, I’m off most social media and must confess to feeling happier because there is less noise to contend with. I rarely watch television. Between my laptop, smartphone and e-book reader, there are only so many screens I can deal with.

—When I travel, all that I need fits into a backpack. I don’t shop for anything except technology. Most of my assets like books, music and information are consumed digitally. Convenient, cheaper and clutter free.

This list on what constitutes my lifestyle can expand to include every minimalist prescription. But a part of my mind argues that my minimalism and the reasons articulated above are specious. Instead, they are functions of compulsion, pragmatism and inertia. Because when I look closer, I see a conflicted soul on whom minimalism doesn’t sit easy. Think a poor boy growing in the poorer quarters of a city where only ragged people go. To him, minimalism is counter-intuitive. But as Art Garfunkel famously said in his prelude to Kathy’s Song at a live concert: “How nice poverty looks in retrospect.”

Entrepreneurship was accidental. The walls in my home are white because I don’t have to invest researching what looks best—not Zen-inspired notions of stillness. I own less because I find walking through crowded shopping aisles claustrophobic. I’d much rather my wife did it for me. I’m training for a full marathon because alcohol-driven binges and incessant smoking has taken its toll on my 41-year-old body.

I find television loud and social media littered with rubbish. I invest in technology because I’m passionate about it.

So how did I get to be a poster child who fits every cliché of this 21st century trope?

The answer came to me—in an altogether different conversation and context—from Kuldeep Datay, a Mumbai-based clinical psychologist. He told me that all behaviour is a function of something simmering deeper. Much thinking later, I concluded all of my actions were driven by a desire to unclutter my mind. Minimalism is part of that quest to focus on the essential. Because as Antoine de Saint-Exupéry writes in The Little Prince, “What is essential to the heart is invisible to the eye”.

To seek reinforcement, I sought out Gourav Jaswal, one of my contemporaries. I respect him because I think of him as a person who puts thought into what he does. After various stints in television and print, he took a call to move out of Mumbai to Goa. There, he set up Synapse, a media consulting firm.

To my mind, he could have been part of the “mainstream”. He chose to focus on a few things instead—like the quality of his life. Email and telephone interactions with him later, a few things emerged.

Lesson #1: Choose your boundary

Ours is a world where relevance (signals) is outstripped by irrelevance (noise). How measured I am when writing or conversing are things I have control over. But on television or social media, I am at the mercy of the medium or the sender. If irrelevant, this information is distracting. This is not to say all of television and social media is noise. The call I need to take is whether or not I have enough in me to wade through the noise. Much like Gourav, I don’t have it in me. Like him, I have to choose the boundaries I intend to operate within. That is one of the many reasons I quit Facebook.

As he puts it: “Can I walk into a rave club and search for a corner to have a quiet conversation? It is not just futile, but petulant to try and change the rules of an environment everyone seems to enjoy.” But, as Datay would argue, it is equally petulant to live hermit-like. You cannot divorce yourself from the world you live in either. That is why I continue to remain on Twitter and maintain a limited profile on Linkedin.

Lesson #2: Choose your place

Gourav moved out of Mumbai because he thought commute times were awful. Everybody who works at Synapse can reach home within 4 to 8 minutes on foot.

“Not living in a big city leads to missed opportunities. Like that of having the spotlight on you, the amplification prominent people, media and platforms provide. However, Indian cities provide a very stark choice. Unlike San Diego, Munich or Singapore, they impose a very specific grid upon you. Only extraordinary money and effort allows you escape that imposition,” says Gourav.

“Living as I do, there are far less things I miss than I would if I were living in Delhi, Mumbai or Bangalore. I am a thousand miles away from the level of accomplishment I believe I should have,” he adds.

Gourav isn’t complaining, because “…the fact that I live in Goa accounts for a ‘fraction’ of the limitations I work with”, he says.

Lesson #3: Choose focus

Enjoyment goes hand-in-hand with intense focus. An orgasm, for instance, is unlikely to be an event people do not enjoy or during which they get distracted. This is true of a sportsperson in flow, a musician performing, or a writer absorbed in his work. To achieve the kind of focus where enjoyment is primary and everything peripheral is ignored, practice is essential. The question is, what kind of practice?

To start with, choose “attention-shifting” over “multitasking”. The problem with multitasking, says an article on the theme in The New Yorker, is that it supports multiple desires within one person at the same time. “The Web calls us constantly, like a carnival barker, and the machines, instead of keeping us on task, make it easy to get drawn in—and even add their own distractions to the mix. In short: we have built a generation of ‘distraction machines’ that make great feats of concentrated effort harder instead of easier,” says the article.

While there are various tools out there, my favourite is Rescue Time (www.rescuetime.com). While a free version is available, the premium edition costs $9 a month. Once downloaded, it works at the back-end. It allows you to define everything you need to achieve and the time you’re willing to allot. The tool allows you to block everything unnecessary. The more you let it run, the more detailed reports it generates of time spent—including reports on when you need downtime.

For instance, I now know I am most distracted mid-week on Thursdays. My attention span dips and I need downtime. Having taken that downtime, my productivity doubles on Fridays.

As the great Stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius writes in his Meditations: “Is it not better to do what is necessary and no more, to limit yourself to what reason demands of a social animal and precisely in the manner reason dictates?... Most of what we say and do is unnecessary anyway; subtract all that lot, and look at the time and contentment you’ll gain.”

This article was first published by Mint. All copyrights to this piece rest with the newspaper.