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Camila Hamel's avatar

What you understand as character, I call identity. These cultural elements embody attitudes, that, if strong enough, or cohesive enough, engender the zeitgeists that can also resonate with people individually, to the extent that they see themselves in these things and form preferences.

The idea of being seen as 'having good taste' is a cultural value.

But identities, like the culture that foster them, are mutable. Whereas, I see a person's character as something fixed, like a basic config comprising the acts a person would or would not do.

Being affluent is the most conventional way of expressing quality and excellence, prime societal values. This expression of quality is so highly valued that people confuse it with notions of good character. Culture is commodity; art is a social vehicle designed to convey status.

There is something infantilizing men and women today, and consumerism certainly plays a part, and perhaps it's contributing to the death of empathy/community living. But Im not sure there aren't other factors involved, such as the obsession with success/failire, and the ever-increasing demands on productivity and intolerable levels of stress. Social media is also to blame, with its insistence that outward approval should be the highest societal value.

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Charles Schifano's avatar

Thank you for adding your thoughts, Camila. Perhaps we're closer on this subject than it might seem, as it sounds right to me to describe identities as mutable. And I think that mutability with other traits—such as manners or virtues—is not exactly the ideal. Thank you for the comment.

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Camila Hamel's avatar

No, in essence, I agree with you. Forgive me for the mile-long comment, which proves in any case to be such a hasty incapsulation of these ideas. I do think about this a lot, and I don't claim to understand it completely. These are just conjectures. :) Thanks for the post, Charles.

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Dane Benko's avatar

This whole conversation points to why I'm so bothered by the phrase "It was my childhood!" It's okay to have some nostalgia and to fondly remember what it felt like watching movies or reading books or listening to music or whatever that you've subsequently grown up on. It's okay if you still like it or if you now see its flaws but forgive them because of your childhood enjoyment. What's bizarre to me is then buying into new versions, sequels, franchises or whatever. It's not the same product! And above all, do you really want your 'childhood' to be the intellectual property of some corporation?

My example is Jurassic Park. I lived and breathed that movie for years after its 1993 release. Had all the toys, novelized the movie myself with a friend, studied maps to figure out where Isla Nublar would be located, knew way more about the potential scientific approaches than were realistic, had detailed debates over whether the characters were better in the book or the movie... etc.

None of that makes any of the Jurassic Park sequels good. Not one of them. So I stopped watching them, because they're not good. But people keep saying "But Jurassic Park was my childhood!" So what? Why do you identify with a franchise? That seems like a really superficial place to distinguish your memories. Your self.

One of those small moments my mother taught me a lot was when we watched The Matrix at my urging, despite the fact she doesn't like science fiction, and afterward she said, "Listen, it's a very good movie. I don't like it at all." People need to separate the distinction between 'liking' a thing, its qualities, and its importance. Nobody "likes" Salo: or the 120 Days of Sodom, but it's important. Is it a good movie? I actually don't think so. Any of these issues being bounded by your own personality or character is bound to be fragile.

I don't believe in guilty pleasures. Like what you like, even if you recognize the quality is poor. But simply being capable of understanding other people don't like the same things is basic maturity.

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Charles Schifano's avatar

I can certainly appreciate these words: "Listen, it's a very good movie. I don't like it at all." Thinking in those terms is not that common, but I think it is a great way to approach art. For me, music probably comes as the easiest example. There are some musicians who don't appeal to me at all—but I can certainly discern their talent and artistry. Noticing that something is good, but not to your taste, is important, I believe. Thank you for adding the comment and your thoughts, DB.

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Daniel A Detwiler Ph.D.'s avatar

Hi Charles, you hit the nail on the head. My wife and I joined friends for an opera in a major US city. At the first intermission shared only between ourselves that we HATED IT. We usually love operas. The set was awful, there were long periods where no one was on the stage, there wasn’t one memorable aria and the music was bad. Twice out of context two performers let out an operatic screech. No explanation. Afterwards our friends extolled how they loved it. I gently asked about the set, the onstage absences and the screeching. One agreed the points were germane. I stopped there as it was clear that “liking opera” meant we should not persist with this discussion. I think this fits with what you are saying. Going to and liking opera is central to their identities. It obfuscates whether any particular opera is great, fair or awful. Daniel

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Charles Schifano's avatar

Thank you for the kind words and for adding that story, Daniel. It is notable that your story comes from opera. Of the more traditional arts, that's perhaps one of the few places where you can, occasionally, find a boisterous and angry crowd when the performance isn't considered sufficient.

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Meghan Browne's avatar

Fascinating!

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Charles Schifano's avatar

Thank you very much, Meghan.

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