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Haunted by Buzzer

Haunted by Buzzer

I give up. I can’t get the song “Buzzer” out of my head. It’s been days now, and despite my attempts to put it out of my mind it’s affecting me at a deep emotional level. It’s not unusual for me to have a song running through my head now and again, but this one is a little different. I’m getting noodged (smile-out) to write about it, and it’s clear that I’m going to be haunted by this song until I do.

The song very obviously refers to Stanley Milgram’s famous experiment on authoritarianism, and is written from the perspective of a participant – one of the people who “pressed the buzzer” that appeared to give other people increasingly painful electrical shocks.

Controversy surrounded Stanley Milgram for much of his professional life as a result of a series of experiments on obedience to authority which he conducted at Yale University in 1961-1962. He found, surprisingly, that 65% of his subjects, ordinary residents of New Haven, were willing to give apparently harmful electric shocks-up to 450 volts-to a pitifully protesting victim, simply because a scientific authority commanded them to, and in spite of the fact that the victim did not do anything to deserve such punishment. The victim was, in reality, a good actor who did not actually receive shocks, and this fact was revealed to the subjects at the end of the experiment. But, during the experiment itself, the experience was a powerfully real and gripping one for most participants.

Below you can see a video and the lyrics to the song. A higher-quality version of the song is here at NPR, recorded live in concert from WXPN and Wiggins Park in Philadelphia on July 11, 2008. I would be surprised if Dar Williams doesn’t talk about “Buzzer” in the NPR interview, but I’m resisting listening to it until I’ve worked this through.

[youtube width=”400″ height=”343″]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwvLzG51EWQ[/youtube]

Dar Williams, “Buzzer” (from “Promised Land”)

Sitting with the number eight platter at the restaurant,
Four twenty-nine for almost anything I want,
Add it up, it’s cheaper than the stuff I make myself,
I get by, I never needed anybody’s help,
And I tore out an ad and they told me that I
Would press the buzzer, press the buzzer,
At the graduate lab, they were doing some tests,
I pressed the buzzer, pressed the buzzer.

Ride the circle off of the highway.
Spiral into the driveway,
In the maze of old prefabs
They’ll be waiting at the lab.

I don’t know how everybody makes it through the daily drill,
Paint their nails, walk a dog, pay every bill,
I’m feeling sorry for this guy that I press to shock,
He gets the answers wrong, I have to up the watts
And he begged me to stop, but they told me to go,
I press the buzzer, I press the buzzer.
So get out of my head, just give me my line.
I press the buzzer, I press the buzzer.

Ride the circle off of the highway,
Spiral into the driveway,
In the maze of old prefabs
They’ll be waiting at the lab.

They called me back to the lab to discuss the test,
I put my earrings on, found my heels, wore a dress.
Right away I knew, it was like I’d failed a quiz
The man said “Do you know what a fascist is?”
I said, “Yeah, it’s when you do things you’re not proud of,
But you’re scraping by, taking orders from above.”
I get it now, I’m the face, I’m the cause of war
We don’t have to blame white-coated men anymore.

When I knew it was wrong, I played it just like a game,
I pressed the buzzer, I pressed the buzzer,
Here’s your seventy bucks, now everything’s changed,
I press the buzzer, I press the buzzer
But tell me where are your stocks, would you do this again?
I press the buzzer,
And tell me who made your clothes, was it children or men?
I press the buzzer.

Ride the circle off of the highway,
Spiral into the driveway,
In the maze of old prefabs
They’ll be waiting at the lab.

The opening of the song evokes the character of the singer, a self-reliant northeastern woman of the early sixties. She’s focused on the details of getting through each day, cutting corners, trying to be a responsible person. Seventy dollars for her participation would have been decent pay.

Right from the first chorus, there is something sinister about the people “waiting at the lab,” especially since they are surrounded by all the spirals and mazes in the chorus. The words are reinforced by the melody and the way the sound slows and expands, and the image of the people waiting in the middle of the maze is the last echoing image of the song.

She’s not without compassion. She’s not a sadist. She feels sorry, in a distant sort of way, for the man that she thinks she is training, or punishing, or torturing. His inability to get the answers right is associated structurally with a failure to meet everyday stresses and challenges; an implied judgment is yoked to a certain kind of empathy.

When he begs her to stop, she is told by an authority figure (one of the white-coated men, no doubt) to go on. And she does, without much further comment except the repetition of “I press the buzzer” throughout the rest of the song.

She would have been one of the majority who continued to press the buzzer (the button, the shocker) up to the limits of the experiment. I wonder if this song drew from the testimony of one of the actual participants. Imagine how horrible it would be to realize that you were capable of doing something like this, and not even under any dire choice or extraordinary sense of necessity, but just because there was an authority figure that told you it was all right and released you from attaching any sense of personal ethics and responsibility to your actions.

What a setup. What a perfect, horrifying setup.

It’s no big surprise that the Milgram experiment was controversial. It was a terrible thing to do to people, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some people were affected by it for the rest of their lives. I would be devastated to learn such an ugly truth about myself. But there were some, later, that were thankful for the experience; they learned a deep-down lesson.

62% wouldn’t refuse to continue? The results shocked the world. For many, it seemed to explain how Hitler could have transformed the “good Germans” into a nation that could condone and participate in the events of World War II.

I have always wondered what I would have done. The experiment itself has a high heuristic function, so once you know about it you can never really be sure what you would have done if you had not known about it. I think I would have protested, and then refused to continue – but I have never been totally and absolutely sure. That faint uncertainty in the background adds to my horror and sadness about the experiment – and probably makes the song more emotionally resonant and powerful. Milgram’s study of obedience to authority brought many insights that have been used for good – and for evil – in the years since.


For me, the song centers on the line “we don’t have to blame white-coated men anymore.” It comes after the realization of what has really happened here. Standing there, having failed the life quiz, dressed up in heels and a dress, to realize… But there is a bit of cognitive dissonance here. Yes, she admits it – “I get it now, I’m the face of war” but that doesn’t let off the “white-coated men” at all. Not at all. Mengele did experiments. The U.S. government has done some fairly awful experiments too. And there is a lot of debate in scientific circles about utilizing the results of experiments when human suffering has been involved. Even when the results are valid, it makes one complicit in what was done to achieve those results.

There is a vague undercurrent of anti-intellectualism in the song, which I understand because it strikes back at judgment. “You think you’re so much better than me? You think you’re so ethical. You’re not any better than me. You’d do the same, you people waiting at the lab.” There is a challenge here. “If I’m the fascist,” she seems to be saying, “then as I ask myself, ask yourself too: In what ways are you doing the same? Tell me about your stock portfolio, tell me about who makes your clothes, children or men! Have you stopped to consider all the many compromises we make in our lives every day, the ones that support human suffering under authoritarian power? I’m guilty, but you won’t even think about how you are part of the same system, how you shunt off the responsibility of it.”

An aspect of the Milgram experiment that has always bothered me is how Milgram staged it. Obviously, he couldn’t have Gestapo-uniformed people as the authority figures. I always thought it was an interesting choice to select scientists, people who looked like doctors, maybe. That’s a comment on the scientific community, and on the medical profession – isn’t it? – that they can be switched out for Nazis so easily.

And a further thing. I’ve never been completely satisfied with the explanations given about why a majority of the people continued to administer the shocks. There may be a very small minority who are sadists. Then there are the people who would start to feel uncomfortable. At what point would each person need to be urged to continue? And WHY would they continue? Really why? In his 1974 article, “The Perils of Obedience,” Milgram said:

The legal and philosophic aspects of obedience are of enormous importance, but they say very little about how most people behave in concrete situations. I set up a simple experiment at Yale University to test how much pain an ordinary citizen would inflict on another person simply because he was ordered to by an experimental scientist. Stark authority was pitted against the subjects’ strongest moral imperatives against hurting others, and, with the subjects’ ears ringing with the screams of the victims, authority won more often than not. The extreme willingness of adults to go to almost any lengths on the command of an authority constitutes the chief finding of the study and the fact most urgently demanding explanation.

Ordinary people, simply doing their jobs, and without any particular hostility on their part, can become agents in a terrible destructive process. Moreover, even when the destructive effects of their work become patently clear, and they are asked to carry out actions incompatible with fundamental standards of morality, relatively few people have the resources needed to resist authority.

The participants were not urged with persuasion. Only these statements were used, and in this order:

  1. Please continue.
  2. The experiment requires that you continue.
  3. It is absolutely essential that you continue.
  4. You have no other choice, you must go on.

The experiment was halted if the participant expressed a desire to stop after all 4 statements. Otherwise, it was continued to the maximum of three 450-volt shocks. Other scientists have confirmed the consistency of the results: 61–66 percent, regardless of time or place, will continue.

How is this to be explained? Really?

What we have are theories, and despite the evidence I see – even from the pseudo-religious right and the flag-wavers and all of those groups who hand over their critical faculties to an outside authority, I’m not entirely convinced by either the conformity theory or the agentic state theory.

The theory of conformism comes from the work of Soloman Asch. It says that someone who has neither the ability nor the expertise to make decisions will let their in-group’s hierarchical authorities make the decisions. I call this the theory of the follower. It is everywhere around us, but it runs counter to what I see as America’s attempt to create a society of free individuals.

The agentic state theory is where Milgram went, and it says that under uncritical obedience an individual starts to view him/herself as the instrument for carrying out someone else’s wishes (an authority – a person, a group, an ideology, a god) and therefore no longer sees himself as responsible for his actions. It does make sense to me that once such a fundamental viewpoint change has happened, everything essentially bad about simple obedience to authority follows.

Both of these are descriptive. They don’t provide much on how to counteract some of the negative aspects of complicance with perceived authority. We desperately need some insights on how to break these tendencies. They tried to do it in the late sixties – there were some who really tried. It was a failure, ultimately.

I’ve sometimes wondered if the participants might have been frightened for themselves. In a context where someone was being hurt, the leverage of intimidation might have been under-analyzed. “Better him than me,” right? There is a subtle threatening aspect to certain forms of authority. Could a quick cost-benefit speculation figure into this at all? Did they feel that they could be punished in some way if they did not obey, if they were not compliant? Or are the majority of people really that easily manipulated?

This song can’t help but remind me of the mechanisms of social control at work in America today.

We often assume that there is some kind of ubiquitous “They” who determine what the “right thing to do” might be. “They” are rarely identified…

We’ve already allowed so much, but our fanaticism in various realms of ideology have been, and will continue to be, so very destructive. In college, I thought the theories that talked about “control of the masses” were quaint. That only seemed to apply to crazy places like the USSR. (I was young….)

Preachers of the past might have said that we are losing our souls, but some of the powerful reconstructionists and literalistic bible-thumpers and last-days people and others among the pseudoreligious right are among the most hurtful and powerful authoritarians that we have. They’re no help at all. And we worship Money – the circulation of capital leaving a a slash and burn zone whose results we are just beginning to harvest. And we have dehumanized other citizens of Earth as though they were some demonic Other to ourselves.

Education was my hope. Let’s just say that I’m not as optimistic about that anymore.

We have already nodded to torture and illegal surveillance and oppression and grandiose imperial ambitions and seizure of natural resources and so on and so on and so on. Our crimes are immense. We’re just trying to get through the day. Other people are in control, and it’s up to them. Many of us don’t even bother to find out about the issues. We haven’t thought about the results very much until it hit our pocketbooks. I wonder if anyone will ever describe us as the “good Americans.” What Milgram proved is that the Germans weren’t any worse than us.

We press the buzzer.

(Addendum after the first posting: Dar Williams did talk about “Buzzer” in the NPR interview. She described the experiment, and said that she has thought about it often over the years since she first found out about it in college. Later, she accidentally rear-ended a woman in a traffic accident and, because the woman was from New Haven, it reminded her about the Milgram experiment. Talking to her gave Dar Williams the outline of the character in the song. She felt that she was being responsible by doing what “she was supposed to do.” Then, having realized what that really meant, the woman was sensitized to that dynamic and wouldn’t participate in it again. It was transformative.)

A Poem in Memory of Bob Detweiler

A Poem in Memory of Bob Detweiler

The ILA (Graduate Institute of the Liberal Arts at Emory University) has offered to honor Bob Detweiler by permanently naming one of their seminar rooms after him. Donations may be sent to:

Emory University
In memory of Dr. Robert Detweiler
Attn:
Jeffrey Prince
Senior Director of Development and Alumni Relations for Emory College
Arts & Sciences Development
825 Houston Mill Road, Ste. 102
jprince @ emory.edu
404-727-4494 (Office)
404-217-2778 (Cell)
404-727-1805 (Fax)

The Emory Report will also have an article on Bob in the coming week’s issue.

I’ll be delivering the poem below at the memorial service in the morning. When I’ve had more time to process all of this a little more I hope to write another, but I hope that this will serve the purposes of the occasion.

Nexus

In Memory of Bob Detweiler

We gathered here today as one
Make an unlikely flock,
So here is just a simple rhyme
To honor our good doc.

A teacher he, who greeted us,
And beckoned from the door,
And for each question that was asked
Presented us four more.

Some Jupiter in him – and Pan –
A touch of Socrates,
St. Nikolas for splintered ones
To put each mind at ease.

Grandfather to my Adelheid,
The alpine horn he blew.
(He had some running joke – I think –
With every friend he knew).

Imagination disciplined
Is what he taught us best –
To wrestle with the text unique
To BE THERE was the rest –

And maybe most in stories full
Of shaming, war and pain,
The book shows more than it can know –
Complexity constrained.

To find – in flesh becoming word –
A testimony true,
Behind the fiction, structures live
Transforming me and you.

When each of us recalls that sense
At other vineyards found,
We fire – like the synapse jumps –
New paths and meanings ground.

Extraordinary gift it is
When such a man as this
Combines the voices that he knows
As nexus of the mix.

For bare survival’s not enough
There should be celebration,
And dignity – respect and grace –
An artful life – affection.

Good company he was to us
To read – religiously,
Where it was safe to share our souls –
Write better ways to be.

No heart have I for coiled abyss –
No crafted emptiness
Wrapped up in ghostly metaphors
– And echoes of the rest.

If like the birds now – each to each –
We cry so differently,
We still take comfort – back and forth –
through our sweet liturgies.

Your work is done (… say “Hi” to Donne).
I miss your twinkly eye.
I thank you for the chance to talk …
Good-bye – dear friend, good-bye.

Old Tunes that Always Cheer Me Up

Old Tunes that Always Cheer Me Up

“The Meaning of Life” Theme – Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life




“The Masochism Tango” – Tom Lehrer




“The Elements” – Tom Lehrer




“Bruce’s Philosophers Song” – Monty Python




“Hair” – Hair




“Air” – Hair




“Once Upon a Dream” – Sleeping Beauty




“Where is Love” – Oliver




“A Little Priest” from Sweeney Todd




“Nothing’s Gonna Harm You” – Sweeney Todd




“Dance Ten, Looks Three” – A Chorus Line




“Buenos Aires” Patti LuPone, Evita




“Sweet Transvestite” – Tim Curry, Rocky Horror Picture Show




“Toucha Toucha Toucha Touch Me” – Susan Sarandon, Rocky Horror Picture Show




“Galaxy Song” – Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life



Poem: The Vine

Poem: The Vine

The Vine — A VirusHead Poem

All this talk of trees, on and on for the phallic market
Strategies of an oily snake for leafage sales (once his hanging
Globulars were taken). Sublime awareness must be more
Than a petty lesson from a parent uncomfortable
With the shape of fruition, death more complex
Than effect catalyzed by theft of figgish ‘apple’, or …
Lest we ruin another ancient secret, the swords still whirl.
But there was a gift, a scion, benevolent mutation,
An ancient cousin, less fond of the veil game,
Connections ‘r us – in moderation, not that there’s anything
Wrong with that. Playfully, the vine invites us:

‘Yes. Take, eat, suckle, nibble, drink’ – a homeopathic dose –
The measured amount that nourishes just enough,
(Just barely enough) on the wastes of flesh, for the new
Sinuous snake of wordflesh to spread, and
Not to burn. Note the nice black snakeskin cover.
What is good? What is evil? Forget fruits, we have
The BOOK. Stroke it. Hold it in your hand. Yes, it’s a fetish.
No fast-talker, this, but a breed of medusa. Don’t look!
Or not so closely that you get lost, but turn a mirror back
On the endless reflexivity. There is a back door.

A glimpse we have, and still unguarded,
A taste of the kiss of veritas. Glory seed, it waits
In cold confining, firmly packed and heavy,
Odorous manure of word, tradition, interpretation,
Community’s spores – embedded soldiers –
Shovel it, and spread thick muddy mundacity, while busy
Microbial servants work endlessly, and so, so fruitlessly,
To keep things clean. But they can’t stop it.
Reaching out, tendrils wisp and unfurl – beauty!
Out of the pungent darkness, a tiny finger
Crawls out of its tunnel and is born into the light. Free but rooted,
Held but yearning, the spirit of the vine.
Was there ever a more pleasing green?

Though it would, the vine cannot touch the sky.
It must – at its limit – extend horizontally, like
The famous crossbeam on the hill. Infected by the spirit,
You are, but the blood of it might not be what you expected.
Watch out for stomping peasants.
Rambling through the billion intersections
Of light and darkness and twilight and moonrise,
Absorbing rain and glare and breezy accidents
Of hills state and province, all with vineyard care
into a shimmering feedback loop, it forms
An eternal recurrence, the golden mean in fractal path,
Perfect, perfect imperfection. Like the face of
The lover, experience marking the quality
Of the vintage, the bouquet… the aftertaste.

The very sunlight is touched, and lovers
Everywhere feel it, as they lie intertwined
With and around and within each other
Under the bluer sky. You might not like
The hoofed Dancer, but those pipes were jazz.
Rhythm and melodic joy brought them up to
Dance and love and feel the world worlding,
Silly, erotic, full of life – even violent –
Just as (un)truthful, maybe (un)lying.
But some still choose to whisper “die”
Painting nature’s music the devil, the adversary,
Only to find themselves pulled by karma’s trowel,
Just dour weeds, withering now so close
Touching close, to the vibrancy
Of what they refused to know
While they lived by the scythe.

Ben’s Doodle for Google

Ben’s Doodle for Google

Mommy brag warning!

Our son’s “Google doodle” made the cut and he is one of only six finalists at his elementary school to have the opportunity to enter the big Google contest.

The contest theme is “What if…”. The kids had a template of the Google logo, and then designed their own drawings around it.

At Google we believe in thinking big, and dreaming big, and we can’t think of anything more important than encouraging students to do the same. So we hope you’ll gather those art supplies and some 8.5×11 paper and encourage your kids to enrich us all with their creative visions of our world, as it is and as it might be.

The thing that has Ben most excited is the possibility that his drawing would be showing on the Google home page for a whole day. He didn’t make any big deal about being one of the six winners from his whole school. I love that kid so much.

His drawing has an underwater theme, with fishes in two of the letters.

There are other prizes for the winners, to wit:

The National Winner will win a $10,000 college scholarship to be used at the school of their choice; a trip to the Googleplex on May 21, 2008; a $25,000 grant towards the establishment/improvement of a computer lab for their current school; a laptop computer; and a t-shirt with their Google Doodle printed on it. Their doodle also will be displayed on the www.google.com home page for one day. The National Finalists who did not become the National Winner will win a laptop computer, a trip to the Googleplex on May 21, 2008 and a t-shirt with their Google Doodle printed on it. The 36 Regional Winners who did not become National Finalists will win a trip to the Googleplex on May 21, 2008 and a t-shirt with their Google Doodle printed on it. The 460 State Finalists who did not become Regional Winners will each receive a Doodle 4 Google certificate.

A trip to the Googleplex?!? Me! Me! I wanna go!

Safe to Wander and Explore

Safe to Wander and Explore

Not too long ago, I was asked by a publisher if I might consider reviewing a children’s book. We corresponded a little bit and I said I would take a look. If I liked the book, I’d say so, and I’d run it by our little boy as well to see what he thought.

Well, I got the one book, but then I also received two more books directly from the author. They were all signed, with the date, and inscribed to Ben with message “Follow Your Dreams.” Ben was very happy with that, and so was I. Thank you, Stephen!

I opened up Creatures of the Night, and scanned the inside flaps as I normally do. There was a sweet photograph of Stephen J. Brooks holding a cute little girl – I’m guessing his daughter – but this is what send an arrow to my heart:

He has served as a Federal Agent for over a decade and writes to comfort children. He has always escaped into the magical world of word: comforted through poetry and prose alike.

In The Fairy Ball (which was I think intended for ME {smile}), there was more:

Now, more than ever, he sees the need to reassure children. He works to provide them a magical setting where they can escape the tribulations of their environment. Mr. Brooks writes books that provide enchanting worlds where children are safe to wander and explore.

Because this is a set of concerns very close to my own heart, I have to admit that I am predisposed to like the books. And I did like them. He has worked with different illustrators, some better than others. They are written in the kind of basic poetry found in many children’s books. The recurring theme is a child who wanders out to explore and experience a magical place, is able to navigate the environment and find new aspects of reality, and then returns to the mundane protected with a touch of spirit to help and guide them.

Part of the value of such books is to feed the imagination of children so that they can activate ways of seeing differently using their imaginations.

This sort of imaginative “inner space making” has survival value. I have experienced it for myself and I am convinced of the aching need most children have for it. Children who have experienced difficult realities have even more need for this than the more protected children do. This is how we learn to make sense of our experiential worlds and to multiply the possibilities for making our way along through them.

Ben’s favorite was Alexander Asenby’s Great Adventure. The young boy knight rides a dragon through the starry sky, helps a fairy king protect a town from trolls and other frightening creatures, shares in the celebratory feast and rides the dragon home – all the way back through the closet door. As a girl who would hide out in the closet at times, that rang well with me, too.

I also liked the metaphorical scent of lilac that permeated The Fairy Ball. It’s my favorite flower, and it has always made me feel that all was well. Oh, to dance with the fairies in a glen full of lilacs!

My favorite, however, was the one that I had opened first. Creatures of the Night is a bedtime story that opens up a meditative awareness of all the night-time lives that can surround us. The books constructs a privileged viewpoint that sees what no child can see. That in itself is very fun, but the story goes further in that it evokes an almost mystical sense of place in which the child can feel that he or she really is part of it all, belonging to the surrounding world of all the nighttime creatures. Nicely done.

Alas, I am also a teacher, and one who loves poetry, and so I cannot resist making a couple of suggestions for bringing future books to the next level.

If Mr. Brooks would pull more visual texture into the vocabulary, they could become extraordinary books.

It’s a matter of personal preference, of course, but I also think he could rethink the poetry’s meter. If he keeps the basic four-line stanza, the poetry would be better without the extra syllable in the last line. When you read it out loud, it is difficult to decide where the stress should be. I suspect many parents and children stumble there.

The majestic coyote makes his way
Through the woods each night.
He calls his friends to come and play
As he howls in the moon’s bright light.

I would prefer the last line to have the same beat, something like “Howling through the moon’s bright light.”

I enjoyed the books very much and so did Ben. My suggestions here are intended in a spirit of support.

I look forward to reading new books by Stephen Brooks. Writing gets better and better with the right kind of heart, and he has that in abundance.