Thursday, February 27, 2014
School Is Just Not For Everyone [GRADE THIS ONE]
"Why do I even go to school anymore?"
"Because it keeps you out of trouble."
I don't think I can argue with my mom on this one, but the fact that if I weren't still regularly going to school for 9 hours a day I'd probably be getting in a lot more trouble may be the only reason I can justify high school nowadays. As I look forward to wrapping up my tenure in the American public education system in the next couple of months, I've been thinking a lot about the highs and lows I've experienced in education over the last 12 years, and if there were other ways I could've been spending that time. While it may partially be the senioritis talking, I've come to the conclusion that school really just isn't for everybody.
This isn't to say that I haven't experienced a ridiculous amount of learning, about people, about the world, about curriculum, during my time in school; calling these last 12 years anything less than positive would discredit some of the amazing teachers and classmates I've met. With that in mind though, and as I look ahead to the next stage of education where I'll have more control over what kind of environment I'm in, I can't help but wonder about supplements or alternatives to traditional schooling that would be as or more beneficial.
Again, I can attribute some of my feelings toward school right now to the fact that I'm three months from high school graduation and senioritis is in full effect, but the thought of annotating a novel or delving into some math problems repulses me right now. So what else could I have been or will I be doing in lieu of school? I suppose that hinges partly on how I view school; some people choose a path that sets them up with an entirely different set of skills, but is still considered school. Trade and vocational schools seem much more specific, like an avenue for people who know their purpose and just need the tools to attain it. Had I known from an early age that I was destined to become a welder, maybe a vocational schooling would've been right up my alley, but I definitely have to give credit to the school system I've been in for narrowing my interests over the last 12 years, because there is no way I would've been able to make that sort of career decision at an early stage in my life (I can't even make it now).
There are plenty of credible defenses for traditional schooling, and why certain aspects of it can be beneficial throughout a person's entire life. Liberal arts educations in particular have a lot going for them in terms of how they can help people appreciate culture, and non-career aspects of life, but this is looked at in comparison to a sort of education that has people studying scientific experiments in labs. What if someone's education was only focused on culture? Wouldn't they have a huge appreciation for life then? This raises other questions about being able to contribute to the world, and how people should use their education as a foundation for bettering the world.
I can't help but feel the need to set myself apart from the rest of the scholastic community, an urge that according to Killer Mike could help me become something more than just a factory worker for the rest of my life. I guess I have to give credit to the fact that he said "try to learn stuff outside of school as well as in school," meaning that you probably shouldn't just have one or the other (school or no school). I still think traditional school isn't meant for everybody, but I guess just realizing that in the first place might be enough to set me apart slightly from the rest. After all, I've only got three more months to kill until pretty much all of my learning can be done outside of school, so until then I'll just be happy that I've determined that I don't belong in academia, and plan for how I'll continue learning stuff once I'm free from its shackles.
"Because it keeps you out of trouble."
I don't think I can argue with my mom on this one, but the fact that if I weren't still regularly going to school for 9 hours a day I'd probably be getting in a lot more trouble may be the only reason I can justify high school nowadays. As I look forward to wrapping up my tenure in the American public education system in the next couple of months, I've been thinking a lot about the highs and lows I've experienced in education over the last 12 years, and if there were other ways I could've been spending that time. While it may partially be the senioritis talking, I've come to the conclusion that school really just isn't for everybody.
This isn't to say that I haven't experienced a ridiculous amount of learning, about people, about the world, about curriculum, during my time in school; calling these last 12 years anything less than positive would discredit some of the amazing teachers and classmates I've met. With that in mind though, and as I look ahead to the next stage of education where I'll have more control over what kind of environment I'm in, I can't help but wonder about supplements or alternatives to traditional schooling that would be as or more beneficial.
Again, I can attribute some of my feelings toward school right now to the fact that I'm three months from high school graduation and senioritis is in full effect, but the thought of annotating a novel or delving into some math problems repulses me right now. So what else could I have been or will I be doing in lieu of school? I suppose that hinges partly on how I view school; some people choose a path that sets them up with an entirely different set of skills, but is still considered school. Trade and vocational schools seem much more specific, like an avenue for people who know their purpose and just need the tools to attain it. Had I known from an early age that I was destined to become a welder, maybe a vocational schooling would've been right up my alley, but I definitely have to give credit to the school system I've been in for narrowing my interests over the last 12 years, because there is no way I would've been able to make that sort of career decision at an early stage in my life (I can't even make it now).
There are plenty of credible defenses for traditional schooling, and why certain aspects of it can be beneficial throughout a person's entire life. Liberal arts educations in particular have a lot going for them in terms of how they can help people appreciate culture, and non-career aspects of life, but this is looked at in comparison to a sort of education that has people studying scientific experiments in labs. What if someone's education was only focused on culture? Wouldn't they have a huge appreciation for life then? This raises other questions about being able to contribute to the world, and how people should use their education as a foundation for bettering the world.
I can't help but feel the need to set myself apart from the rest of the scholastic community, an urge that according to Killer Mike could help me become something more than just a factory worker for the rest of my life. I guess I have to give credit to the fact that he said "try to learn stuff outside of school as well as in school," meaning that you probably shouldn't just have one or the other (school or no school). I still think traditional school isn't meant for everybody, but I guess just realizing that in the first place might be enough to set me apart slightly from the rest. After all, I've only got three more months to kill until pretty much all of my learning can be done outside of school, so until then I'll just be happy that I've determined that I don't belong in academia, and plan for how I'll continue learning stuff once I'm free from its shackles.
Friday, February 7, 2014
This Is Not a One-Handed World
This past week has been one of the most physically challenging of my life. Quick backstory: about a week ago I cut the edge of my middle finger on my right hand with a router while working on a personal woodworking project. This is a router, for those of you that don't know, here is essentially how I was using it, and as far as the injury goes, I won't include a picture but I essentially tore away every layer of skin on my finger and narrowly avoiding hitting the bone. Long story short, it wasn't pretty and my hand has been in a splint for the past week to help it heal, giving me effectively one functional hand to live with.
It's been difficult, to say the least, adjusting to one-handed living, with some of the easiest parts of my day (taking a shower for example) quickly becoming some of the most challenging and dreadful. I vow to never take my two functioning hands for granted ever again once I can get this splint off completely, but I've definitely gained a lot of insight and appreciation for the challenges a lot of other handicapped people deal with daily. I'm lucky in the sense that eventually my finger will heal and I'll be able to live normally again, but unfortunately some people don't have that same luxury. In fact, tens of millions of people live with a physical functioning disability that affects their daily life, and that's only statistics gathered for the United States. I think it's safe to say more of our world is handicapped than we realize, but have we constructed a world where people can live with relatively the same amount of ease regardless of physical ability?
The past few days have taught me that the answer to the question is a resounding no. We may fool ourselves into thinking that anyone with a disability has the means to live normally, but while there may be an element of truth in that notion, as a general rule, the world doesn't take too kindly to handicaps. There used to be a show that ran on TLC called Little People, Big World that profiled a family of six, three of which have dwarfism, a medical condition characterized by abnormally low or slow growth. The point of the show was to highlight how people four feet tall could adapt to a world that's been built by and for much taller people and live a relatively normal life; while this was accomplished to some extent, what I remember about the show is how much of a struggle they seemed to go through to convince the rest of the world that they weren't struggling. If that doesn't make any sense, essentially the problem I've observed is that although it's possible to appear normal and modify the life of a handicapped person so that it doesn't stand out as different from anyone else, the amount of work that goes into appearing normal or trying to live normally is a testament to how not normal such a life is.
Why does it all matter though? Like I said, eventually I should (hopefully...) heal up just fine and not have to try to make my life normal, because it will be naturally. The takeaway should be that if we care at all about empathy and really allowing everyone to live with equal ease, we need to be much more observant and honest with how people with disabilities live. Opening a bag of chips or using a pair of scissors have been harder this past week than ever before in my life, but for some people that level of difficulty is the norm. Are fully capable people responsible for constructing equality amongst the disabled and the rest of the world? I'm going to stray slightly from the Devil's Advocate nature of this blog and let personal experience takeover; yes they absolutely are responsible, and if we're going to keep telling ourselves that we live in a land of opportunity and equality, we need to regularly check with the entire population and take the necessary measures to make sure that's true.
It's been difficult, to say the least, adjusting to one-handed living, with some of the easiest parts of my day (taking a shower for example) quickly becoming some of the most challenging and dreadful. I vow to never take my two functioning hands for granted ever again once I can get this splint off completely, but I've definitely gained a lot of insight and appreciation for the challenges a lot of other handicapped people deal with daily. I'm lucky in the sense that eventually my finger will heal and I'll be able to live normally again, but unfortunately some people don't have that same luxury. In fact, tens of millions of people live with a physical functioning disability that affects their daily life, and that's only statistics gathered for the United States. I think it's safe to say more of our world is handicapped than we realize, but have we constructed a world where people can live with relatively the same amount of ease regardless of physical ability?
The past few days have taught me that the answer to the question is a resounding no. We may fool ourselves into thinking that anyone with a disability has the means to live normally, but while there may be an element of truth in that notion, as a general rule, the world doesn't take too kindly to handicaps. There used to be a show that ran on TLC called Little People, Big World that profiled a family of six, three of which have dwarfism, a medical condition characterized by abnormally low or slow growth. The point of the show was to highlight how people four feet tall could adapt to a world that's been built by and for much taller people and live a relatively normal life; while this was accomplished to some extent, what I remember about the show is how much of a struggle they seemed to go through to convince the rest of the world that they weren't struggling. If that doesn't make any sense, essentially the problem I've observed is that although it's possible to appear normal and modify the life of a handicapped person so that it doesn't stand out as different from anyone else, the amount of work that goes into appearing normal or trying to live normally is a testament to how not normal such a life is.
Why does it all matter though? Like I said, eventually I should (hopefully...) heal up just fine and not have to try to make my life normal, because it will be naturally. The takeaway should be that if we care at all about empathy and really allowing everyone to live with equal ease, we need to be much more observant and honest with how people with disabilities live. Opening a bag of chips or using a pair of scissors have been harder this past week than ever before in my life, but for some people that level of difficulty is the norm. Are fully capable people responsible for constructing equality amongst the disabled and the rest of the world? I'm going to stray slightly from the Devil's Advocate nature of this blog and let personal experience takeover; yes they absolutely are responsible, and if we're going to keep telling ourselves that we live in a land of opportunity and equality, we need to regularly check with the entire population and take the necessary measures to make sure that's true.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
The Super Bowl: What's Your Excuse?
The Super Bowl is consistently one of the most watched televised events of every year, with this past Super Bowl setting a record for viewership around the world. Did you watch it? If you did, what's your excuse? Are you really that dedicated to pinnacle of American Football, or are there other factors that dictate how you spent your las Sunday night, and how you'll probably feel compelled to spend at least one February Sunday night a year for the rest of your life.
When we break it down, there's really not that much inherently exciting about watching the Super Bowl on TV, at least not more so than any other televised football game. Odds are your "home team" or the team you tend to root for throughout the year wasn't even playing, and if you happened to be a die hard fan of one of the two teams that made it this year, there's still a 50/50 shot that your team suffered an embarrassing 35 point loss. So why'd you (or anyone else capable of being easily apathetic) turn your attention to the season finale of the NFL? The underlying point here is that there's a little more at play than athletic enthusiasm and fan loyalty to what seems to be a natural inclination to feel compelled to watch what could easily be any other meaningless football game.
Maybe it's the blatant materialistic pissing contest that's put on display every time there's a break in the football action; the beloved commercials that are always captivating and exciting until you actually watch them. Are they effective? Using myself as a gauge, not any more so than commercials aired over the course of the rest of the year. Are they entertaining? This is also subjective, but by and large, not really. Does that stop companies from paying seven figure sums for a 30 second opportunity to fail at connecting with 100 million viewers? Oh no. Not at all. But maybe these ads work on you, and they're your justification for conforming your Sunday night to the pressure of American pop and TV culture, sacrificing yourself to four hours of Fox telecast.
Maybe you're just a party animal. Maybe you capitalize on the fact that some people you know like football enough to throw a party and invite you. You know what a party means right? Borderline dangerous consumption of alcohol and junk food. I suppose that could just make you a glutton. Nonetheless, perhaps your gravitation towards the Super Bowl revolves around your inherent desire for some pizza, rather than an appreciation for competition and sportsmanship.
Don't get me wrong, I say all this not because I have any vehement dislike for the Super Bowl, I'd describe myself as pretty passive towards the event in its entirety. I watched it this year, as I do pretty much every year, but I couldn't help but ask myself why I was glued to the TV set last Sunday, because for all intents and purposes as soon as my Fantasy team doesn't look promising I don't really care about football, and I tend to never spend my Sunday nights watching TV. Surely there must've been some other factors at play for me, and I couldn't help but think that I wasn't the only one watching that wasn't exactly a die-hard football enthusiast. No matter your motivation, it can't be that bad to devote one Sunday a year to pay homage to a cornerstone of American culture. I just know that for me the facade of actually being interested only works for so long, and if there were two Super Bowls a year, I'd probably take a pass on one of them.
When we break it down, there's really not that much inherently exciting about watching the Super Bowl on TV, at least not more so than any other televised football game. Odds are your "home team" or the team you tend to root for throughout the year wasn't even playing, and if you happened to be a die hard fan of one of the two teams that made it this year, there's still a 50/50 shot that your team suffered an embarrassing 35 point loss. So why'd you (or anyone else capable of being easily apathetic) turn your attention to the season finale of the NFL? The underlying point here is that there's a little more at play than athletic enthusiasm and fan loyalty to what seems to be a natural inclination to feel compelled to watch what could easily be any other meaningless football game.
Maybe it's the blatant materialistic pissing contest that's put on display every time there's a break in the football action; the beloved commercials that are always captivating and exciting until you actually watch them. Are they effective? Using myself as a gauge, not any more so than commercials aired over the course of the rest of the year. Are they entertaining? This is also subjective, but by and large, not really. Does that stop companies from paying seven figure sums for a 30 second opportunity to fail at connecting with 100 million viewers? Oh no. Not at all. But maybe these ads work on you, and they're your justification for conforming your Sunday night to the pressure of American pop and TV culture, sacrificing yourself to four hours of Fox telecast.
Maybe you're just a party animal. Maybe you capitalize on the fact that some people you know like football enough to throw a party and invite you. You know what a party means right? Borderline dangerous consumption of alcohol and junk food. I suppose that could just make you a glutton. Nonetheless, perhaps your gravitation towards the Super Bowl revolves around your inherent desire for some pizza, rather than an appreciation for competition and sportsmanship.
Don't get me wrong, I say all this not because I have any vehement dislike for the Super Bowl, I'd describe myself as pretty passive towards the event in its entirety. I watched it this year, as I do pretty much every year, but I couldn't help but ask myself why I was glued to the TV set last Sunday, because for all intents and purposes as soon as my Fantasy team doesn't look promising I don't really care about football, and I tend to never spend my Sunday nights watching TV. Surely there must've been some other factors at play for me, and I couldn't help but think that I wasn't the only one watching that wasn't exactly a die-hard football enthusiast. No matter your motivation, it can't be that bad to devote one Sunday a year to pay homage to a cornerstone of American culture. I just know that for me the facade of actually being interested only works for so long, and if there were two Super Bowls a year, I'd probably take a pass on one of them.
Monday, January 13, 2014
Success: Revisited, Revised, Reevaluated
I want to be successful. I've wanted to be successful ever since I knew that there was a possibility that I won't be. I think we all want to be successful, yes? But at what cost? I've never seen "success" as a negative thing, and I probably shouldn't; to me achieving success is reaching a point where you've accomplished something that you want to do and are happy with the outcome. Lately though, I've thought about success in a different way, what I refer to as "popular success", where you've achieved something that not only you want, but that 'benefits society', or some cliché like that. And when I think about success this way, I think about it in a much more negative way, like, "what will I have to sacrifice to achieve success?"
A lot of this thought has been prompted by looking into the future, and thinking about stuff like "where do I see myself in 20 years?" Frankly, I don't know. I don't know where I see myself in 5 years, or even 5 days. I don't know what I want to do with my life, how I want to spend my time, reach my goals, or even what goals I want to set. I have a (rather short) list of criteria for my life no matter how I choose to spend it: 1. Enjoy my life and truly like how I live each day 2. Be an all around 'good person' to people around me. That's it. I just want to be good to myself and the people around me. Based off of this it seems like I have an infinite amount of ways to achieve "success", but if I don't truly enjoy what I'm doing then it's not really being successful.
The inconvenient, perhaps even unfortunate, truth that I've realized is that success isn't guaranteed. Of course there are many ways to define success, and maybe through someone else's eyes everyone finds their own form of success, but it seems like my version of success isn't granted to everybody. I don't know, and I'm not going to know exactly how the rest of my life will pan out, what I'll do for a living, if it will actually be for a living, what will motivate me. I used to think that all this was lain out for me and all I had to do was follow the right path, but apparently I have to create my own. Sure there's a lot of freedom with this, but then I have to start worrying about the two types of success, the one where I accept my life and the one where everyone else does too. What if I want to be filmmaker? Or drop out of school? Or become a prizefighter? Can I do that? I probably can, but will I be successful? Will I be satisfied, and will everyone around me, at least to some extent, also be satisfied? This is the part that I'm having trouble coming to terms with; I simply don't know.
I don't know where I'm going in life after high school, much less how I'll get there, and even less if I'll be happy where I end up. I wish all I had to do was stay on the straight and narrow to find my way and be successful, but it looks like I'm going to have to carve my own path. Something that sounds all nice and cliché, the only problem being I have no idea what I want it to look like. Maybe it's too early to get caught up in all this figuring out, maybe I still have time to enjoy my relatively simple style of living before I get bogged down with all this deciding and guessing and uncertainty. Nothing is set in stone, and I suppose I can always change my life at any given moment to reach success, but even that seems like a very laborious and pessimistic way to look at my future. Come to think of it, I consider myself successful now, I'm pretty happy with my life now, and as far as I can tell the people around me don't seem to have a problem with it. I don't think I got to this point by planning for the future and plotting out everything I'll do for the next few years. That seems to be my best way to achieve success, just keep doing what I've been doing for the past 17 years, and if that's really the secret to reaching success, then maybe everything will work out after all
The inconvenient, perhaps even unfortunate, truth that I've realized is that success isn't guaranteed. Of course there are many ways to define success, and maybe through someone else's eyes everyone finds their own form of success, but it seems like my version of success isn't granted to everybody. I don't know, and I'm not going to know exactly how the rest of my life will pan out, what I'll do for a living, if it will actually be for a living, what will motivate me. I used to think that all this was lain out for me and all I had to do was follow the right path, but apparently I have to create my own. Sure there's a lot of freedom with this, but then I have to start worrying about the two types of success, the one where I accept my life and the one where everyone else does too. What if I want to be filmmaker? Or drop out of school? Or become a prizefighter? Can I do that? I probably can, but will I be successful? Will I be satisfied, and will everyone around me, at least to some extent, also be satisfied? This is the part that I'm having trouble coming to terms with; I simply don't know.
I don't know where I'm going in life after high school, much less how I'll get there, and even less if I'll be happy where I end up. I wish all I had to do was stay on the straight and narrow to find my way and be successful, but it looks like I'm going to have to carve my own path. Something that sounds all nice and cliché, the only problem being I have no idea what I want it to look like. Maybe it's too early to get caught up in all this figuring out, maybe I still have time to enjoy my relatively simple style of living before I get bogged down with all this deciding and guessing and uncertainty. Nothing is set in stone, and I suppose I can always change my life at any given moment to reach success, but even that seems like a very laborious and pessimistic way to look at my future. Come to think of it, I consider myself successful now, I'm pretty happy with my life now, and as far as I can tell the people around me don't seem to have a problem with it. I don't think I got to this point by planning for the future and plotting out everything I'll do for the next few years. That seems to be my best way to achieve success, just keep doing what I've been doing for the past 17 years, and if that's really the secret to reaching success, then maybe everything will work out after all
1st Semester Blogging Reflection
I’m not trying to be cynical or overly critical, as my blog lens may suggest, but being brutally honest I can’t say I’ve learned much from blogging. I suppose that doesn’t really accurately address the prompt though, since I’m not supposed to be reflecting on what I’ve learned from blogging, but what I’ve learned about blogging. In this case, the simplest and most universally true answer I can give is that blogging is very much an investment. An investment of time, effort, personality, and priority where what you receive as enriching and stimulating takeaways is directly proportional to the work and care you put in to the blogging process.
It is probably for this reason that I’m still skeptical of blogs. Before engaging in the process myself, I didn’t have the most positive perception of the productivity and usefulness of blogs. I pretty much assumed that they existed in their own little microcosm of the internet, and more often than not the only people who cared about the content and quality of a particular blog is the author themselves. Obviously this sentiment isn’t true, but it is definitely problematic; as a form of media, part of the purpose of blogs should be to engage people in thought and conversation about some important topic. The open-endedness seems to disadvantage blogs though, where they tend to drown each other out in the chatter, purely as a product of their existence. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to give a dissertation on why blogs, are counter productive, I’m just trying to convey the point that I didn’t have the healthiest view of how blogs could be advantageous prior to having to write one myself. Parts of this hyper-negative point of view has definitely subsided over the course of maintaining my own blog, but unfortunately it some of it remains.
I haven’t been able to bust my preconceived notion that blogs exist predominantly in their own respective microcosms of the outrageously vast internet. What I have found is that this isn’t entirely a bad thing. If the target audience for a blog happens to be pretty limited, like that of our Academy class, then blogging can actually be an appropriately sized forum for us to communicate ideas. We’ve effectively carved out a little section of the internet to collaborate and communicate amongst ourselves, something I value as one of the most important aspects of the Academy program. The most constructive and useful blog posts are those like Matthew’s on Wal-Mart, and Ross’s on the ICC, because they’re cogent, original posts, followed by a bevvy of equally interesting and stimulating comments from others. I know my own thoughts and opinions thrive off of other people’s, which I consider to be a healthy sign of openness and sympathy. As old fashioned as it may sound, I’m a firm believer that the best, most effective form of communication is face to face conversation, but blogging has been interesting in the sense that it’s extended ideas from our class and conversations to places where we can let ideas sit and ruminate, later reconvening online to further discuss them. This is probably the ideal use of blogs, to serve as a supplement to continue dialogue that already exists amongst a group of people, and a platform to revisit ideas deserving more attention.
It would make sense that the ideal usage of blogs emphasizes what I consider to be the single statement I’ve learned to be absolutely true of blogs, that they’re an investment. I’ve found my own blog to be most significant and interesting when I write posts that other people comment on and use for discussion. Whether people agree with me or not, their interest alone validates what I’ve written about as important and worth sharing. This is part of the reason I picked a blog lens that could potentially be pretty inflammatory, and Jacob’s comment on my first real post saying, “I love the fact that you raised this issue,” was comforting in a vindicating sort of way.
As we continue with these blogs, I think the healthiest thing for our blogging community would be more investment. This definitely entails an element of group effort, but for myself I’d like to continue to write posts that stir conversation and inquiry amongst readers. Through increased comments and continuing to incorporate what might be becoming my blog’s trademark phrase, “is this such a bad thing?,” I just want to keep things interesting and entertaining. Word Count: 746
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Islands Don't Naturally Look Like Palm Trees
The stipulation for this blog post is that it must be related in some way to either Islam and/or the Middle East. With that in mind, I'd like to talk a little bit about two things that have always fascinated me: cities and culture.
Without getting into the discussion on whether Islamic/Middle Eastern culture is accurately appreciated and understood by Americans, I think most intelligent/moderately globally aware people can agree that the Middle East has long been a breeding ground for very rich, proud cultures. From the days of the ancient Persians, to the Ottoman Empire, to modern day Saudi Arabia, these cultures deserve a massive amount of respect for how deep and bountiful they are to the people who inhabit the Middle East.
It is for this reason that headlines like this intrigue and annoy me so much. Is Dubai the future of cities? I sure hope not. Sure, it may be an economic marvel that Dubai exists today, and their business-first mentality might be the sort of competitive mantra that will propel the world into a fiscal golden age, but is it worth the crimes they've committed against Middle Eastern culture and cities everywhere? Allow me to offer my sympathies to those who (vehemently) say no.
I've been mystified by cities for a long time (thanks Chicago). There's obviously something special about tall buildings and population density that yields unprecedented economic and cultural growth. While it is amazing that cities and urban centers can be hubs of both kinds of growth, I've watched enough inspirational Chrysler commercials to realize that the cultural heritage and customs of a city run deeper than its economic prosperity, often growing despite economic woes. It is for this reason, the fact that the cultural ties of a city take precedence over its affluence, that the concept of a city built like Dubai can be exasperating. Instead of being built on culture and the traditions of various groups of people, Dubai is built entirely on the prospect of quick wealth, exploitation of natural resources, and fierce economic competition. The fact that roughly "95 percent of the city's population is not even naturalized," proves how little culture plays into the identity of Dubai. This wouldn't be such a problem if people weren't trying to pass Dubai off as being a model for the future; its disregard for cultural traditions and customs flies in the face of the deep cultural connection felt by other peoples and cities throughout the Middle East region. Whether intentional or not, the city gives off a very fake vibe, like even the art museums and galleries that exist in the city are contrived and manufactured, much like the shape of Emirates' islands themselves. These modern economic boomtowns have every right to exist as long as they know their place; they can churn out resource exploitation on a massive scale, they just can't also expect to be seen as a respectable cosmopolitan culture. Think of it like Middle Eastern Disney World, profitable? Yes. Tourist attraction? Yes. Rich cultural experience? Unlikely. Model for the future of urban centers around the world? We can only hope not.
Without getting into the discussion on whether Islamic/Middle Eastern culture is accurately appreciated and understood by Americans, I think most intelligent/moderately globally aware people can agree that the Middle East has long been a breeding ground for very rich, proud cultures. From the days of the ancient Persians, to the Ottoman Empire, to modern day Saudi Arabia, these cultures deserve a massive amount of respect for how deep and bountiful they are to the people who inhabit the Middle East.
It is for this reason that headlines like this intrigue and annoy me so much. Is Dubai the future of cities? I sure hope not. Sure, it may be an economic marvel that Dubai exists today, and their business-first mentality might be the sort of competitive mantra that will propel the world into a fiscal golden age, but is it worth the crimes they've committed against Middle Eastern culture and cities everywhere? Allow me to offer my sympathies to those who (vehemently) say no.
I've been mystified by cities for a long time (thanks Chicago). There's obviously something special about tall buildings and population density that yields unprecedented economic and cultural growth. While it is amazing that cities and urban centers can be hubs of both kinds of growth, I've watched enough inspirational Chrysler commercials to realize that the cultural heritage and customs of a city run deeper than its economic prosperity, often growing despite economic woes. It is for this reason, the fact that the cultural ties of a city take precedence over its affluence, that the concept of a city built like Dubai can be exasperating. Instead of being built on culture and the traditions of various groups of people, Dubai is built entirely on the prospect of quick wealth, exploitation of natural resources, and fierce economic competition. The fact that roughly "95 percent of the city's population is not even naturalized," proves how little culture plays into the identity of Dubai. This wouldn't be such a problem if people weren't trying to pass Dubai off as being a model for the future; its disregard for cultural traditions and customs flies in the face of the deep cultural connection felt by other peoples and cities throughout the Middle East region. Whether intentional or not, the city gives off a very fake vibe, like even the art museums and galleries that exist in the city are contrived and manufactured, much like the shape of Emirates' islands themselves. These modern economic boomtowns have every right to exist as long as they know their place; they can churn out resource exploitation on a massive scale, they just can't also expect to be seen as a respectable cosmopolitan culture. Think of it like Middle Eastern Disney World, profitable? Yes. Tourist attraction? Yes. Rich cultural experience? Unlikely. Model for the future of urban centers around the world? We can only hope not.
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