My biggest takeaway from the reading and the podcast is that little things matter more than we think they do, because if everyone takes care of the little details in their world, the cumulative affect can be massive. As Zinn illustrates with examples such as the movements against the Vietnam War and for civil rights, that the people and structures in power are “in fact quite vulnerable” (Zinn 64). Nothing is set in stone the way we assume it is. If I make the choice, for example, to try to reduce my personal energy consumption, it will do next to nothing for the environment. In a vacuum, I am nearly powerless in that regard. But there are millions more of “me” across the world. If we each take the cynical mindset, no one acts and we all lose. But if everyone adjusts their decision making slightly, we will start trending in the other direction.

After I read the chapters, a thought crossed my mind: “If I were to die right now, which moments in my life would have been the most meaningful”? I didn’t consider any objective accomplishments. The moments that came to my mind all had to do with interpersonal connection. A specific conversation that I had with someone. A time when I supported someone during a moment of panic or grief. A time where I set a good example for a younger sibling or cousin. A time where I stood up for someone. We all have had these moments. Interestingly, I rarely consider their importance. My mind tends to be occupied by goals and things that I can touch or visualize. Objective markers of “success”. The world tells us that we need to own and accomplish things. Value is rarely placed, however, on helping each other and deliberately sharing our human experiences.

I remember when I first saw the “This is America” music video. I had already heard the song, and was not prepared for the disconnect between its catchy melody and the violence depicted in the video. The second execution, where Donald Glover shoots the choir, was especially jarring. It happens so suddenly, and your brain almost doesn’t know how to interpret the senseless act of violence. Pairing the upbeat and fun song with the shocking and grim video was a smart choice. It forces the audience to consider that something is wrong, and that the problem is hiding in plain sight.

In “Slaying New Black Notions”, Osman discusses how the video shows a “relentless looping,” and people’s “inattentiveness to the horrors behind them” (Osman 40). The video illustrates how we’ve been desensitized to the violence committed against Black Americans on a regular basis. As Osman identifies, “our inattentiveness is designed to
maintain a system” that allows discrimination and violence to take place. Horrific things happen, and then the newest trend or piece of information diverts our attention, causing the atrocities to fade into the background. I think that music allows this work of art to be much more effective in conveying a message than it would be with only visuals or text. The song creates a rhythm for the visuals, and serves to illicit a positive emotional response, which makes the audience’s negative reaction to the visuals even more jarring in contrast.

For almost the entire time she is stuck in the room in The Yellow Wallpaper, the narrator expresses a dislike of the wallpaper, but otherwise seems to be working to keep a positive attitude. Obviously, there are naive comments, like “He says no one but myself can help me out of it, that I must use my will and self-control and not let any silly fancies run away with me.” (Stetson 652), or “John is away all day, and even some nights when his cases are serious. I am glad my case is not serious!” (Stetson 649). These thoughts implicitly criticize the treatment of women as helpless and below men during the 1800s. We see the isolation treatment through the woman’s eyes, which helps the audience understand the narratives that were being told to women at the time. Society saw women as second class, and wanted them to see themselves that way too. The woman describes herself as a “burden” (Stetson 649), and explains how she gets “unreasonably angry with John sometimes” (Stetson 648). She has been conditioned to believe in her husband’s authority, even though he clearly doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

What strikes me about The Yellow Wallpaper is how fast the narration turns from upbeat and somewhat rational to the opposite. The woman decides that there is another woman in the walls, and she states it casually and moves on. The last couple of pages are devoted to this delusion. I think that her quick descent into madness is an effective shock tactic, as it illustrates how the isolation treatment is not only ineffective, but can only be maintained for so long until a person cracks. Twenty first century audiences can easily understand how keeping someone in a room and having them not think or do anything for days on end is ridiculous. I am not surprised, however, that this story was effective in opening the eyes of people at the time, who actually believed in and prescribed the treatment.

Harvey’s article is interesting because he emphasizes leadership as a process rather than the expression of characteristics. When tasked with defining leadership, we often jump to characteristics that we associate with leaders (charisma, decisiveness, strategic thinking, etc). The “seven fundamental questions” method (Harvey 205) is better because it shows how the context of a situation and the makeup of a group are what actually dictate a leaders decisions, more-so than the traits of the leader themself.

On page 204, Harvey briefly discusses potential “substitutes for leadership”, and why they do not reliably occur. Among the substitutes is “heroism”, or the idea that a self-reliant and independent person can take agency and sort of do everything by themself on behalf of the group. Harvey points out that heroism only occurs in extraordinary circumstances, but that stories throughout history seem to be littered with heroic protagonists. This got me thinking about Dr. Bezio’s podcast, and the idea that popular culture (and any stories that we tell each other, really) have a profound impact on the way that we think. Why the disconnect, then, between the way that leaders really act, and the way that the idealized leader is portrayed in all of our stories? Perhaps the answer has to do with the lessons that a story is trying to teach. By exaggerating the role and individual influence of the leader, we encourage people to act. Or maybe it has more to do with the simplicity of assigning credit to one person. It’s easier to conceptualize the link between a person’s intrinsic properties and their actions than it is to account for the constant feedback cycle between a leader, their followers, and their environment.

The podcast debunks “Great Person Theory”, and Hayter’s article is an example of grassroots action taken by an entire community in order to restore voting rights. Great Person Theory is intuitive to many people because we want to simplify the narrative. The truth is, almost every significant action taken throughout history is a result of the collective agency of a group of people. However, it is easier to tell and understand a story that centers on the a single person, action, or event, rather than trying to account for the countless small factors that made the flashier, defining actions of leaders possible. I think that Great Person Theory applies to situations outside the realm of the study of history. For example, many people idolize athletes or artists. When a person is famous for something they’ve done or produced, it can be very hard to separate the person from their product. In fact, celebrities often seem like superhuman figures. We don’t think of them as people, but rather as the embodiment of their work. This perspective allows us to perceive celebrities as larger than life, and as somehow above normal people. We forget that they possess the same flaws as anyone else.

I watched ads from the 1956 race (Eisenhower vs Stevenson). Eisenhower was running for re-election that year, and his ads interestingly didn’t attack Stevenson at all. Stevenson’s ads, on the other hand, almost all included some reference to how Eisenhower hadn’t delivered on all of his promises during his first term. I wonder if Eisenhower’s refrain from attack ads has to do with the limited information that voters had back then (compared to the present day). Stevenson could very easily point to Eisenhower’s track record, but because the former hadn’t held presidential office, he had less of a reputation. Less people were familiar with the results of his policies, and therefore there was less about him available to effectively attack.

My favorite ad is one from Stevenson’s campaign. The ad is about 4 minutes long, and features a monologue from Stevenson, from his home in Illinois. The monologue takes up several minutes, and is all done in one take (there are no cuts or editing). Stevenson speaks well, but there are moments where you can tell he briefly forgot what he was going to say, or stumbled over a word or two. It also appears that he is giving the speech from memory, rather than reading from some kind of teleprompter. In a way, this ad is refreshing because it doesn’t seem as contrived and scripted as the campaign ads that I’m used to seeing. It feels like a human is talking to you, as opposed to an image or idea being marketed to you.

The Dorner reading discusses humans’ general inability to , or to accurately predict non-linear consequences of their actions. Dorner also uses the example of engineers at the Chernobyl plant to explain how experienced people tend to make decisions based on “intuition”, which leads to overcorrections and errors. In the podcast, Dr. Bezio mentioned how in the traditional (or at least stereotypical) model of leadership, one person makes decisions and commits to executing a plan. In reality, it makes more sense to have a team of people assessing a situation’s variables, and making small adjustments as they go.

I hadn’t considered that short-sighted thinking and the tendency to only try to solve problems was an evolved trait of humans. It makes sense, as there’s no room for indecision or speculation in the wild. Plus, our current societal environment is more static and predictable than the environments faced by early humans. For example, most of us woke up today with some kind of plan in place. I knew that I would have several classes throughout the day, I knew where they were and when they would occur, and I know what work I need to finish before I go to sleep tonight. Contrast that with someone having to wake up every morning and go out in search of food, or be ready to defend themself at a moment’s notice. The structure and security of my daily life removes certain variables, which should allow me to focus on others and plan proactively. There is no planning proactively when you’re constantly worried about protecting yourself and fulfilling your basic needs.

This ad features former NFL quarterback, Peyton Manning. It’s funny, but it takes advantage of the Ad Vericundiam fallacy. Manning was a professional football player, and he is meant to represent strength, power, prestige, and overall desirability. He is a stereotypical “alpha male” and was idolized by millions of Americans during his playing days. The ad is for DirecTV’s NFL Sunday Ticket package. Although plenty of women watch football, this ad is targeted at men, many of whom both want to have access to every game on Sundays, and have some kind of insecurities about their masculinity. The humor in the ad masks the fact that DirecTV is addressing both of these factors. People are drawn to the star-power and celebrity of Peyton Manning, and making them more likely to want to buy the product. Manning is no authority on which TV package is best. In fact, he can’t even watch games on Sundays because he’s playing in one, but this fact doesn’t register with the viewer. Additionally, the “high voice” version of Manning is meant to contrast with the regular Manning. As I mentioned before, the regular version represents the idealized alpha male, who many men want to become. A high voice is stereotypically associated with less masculinity, and is depicted in the ad as a worse alternative to the real Manning. Even the way he is dressed and the settings where he finds himself are meant to make him seem less manly. The ad is entertaining, and creates desire for the product, as well as a subconscious fear of not having the product.

5 Ways Writers Use Misleading Graphs To Manipulate You

This graph is titled “Most Players Drafted in the First Round”. It does not specify the range of years, sport, or league to which the data refers. Any of these omissions on their own ruin the usefulness of the graph. Is this referring to football players? Basketball? Baseball? Are the players male or female? The data hasn’t been assigned a time frame, so I can’t infer any significant trend. For example, if the data dates back to the 1970s, it could be that USC used to have many players drafted, but hasn’t in recent years. Another factor to consider is the number of teams in the league, which impacts the number of choices in the first round of a given year’s draft. For example, the NFL has 32 teams. If Miami has had 60 players drafted in the first round since 2010, that would be 60/320, or 6 per year. However, if the data reflect the NFL’s “Super Bowl Era”, then the school has only had players chosen with 60/1,760 picks (actually a little less because the NFL hasn’t always had 32 teams, but you get the idea). Finally, the intervals on the graph aren’t specific enough. I know that Ohio State has had between 60 and 80 players drafted in the first round, but even if the graph is drawn exactly to scale, I can’t precisely tell how many players the bar represents.

The reading illustrates how graphs can be distorted so that they visually appear to convey data differently than it might sound when read aloud. This reminds me of when journalists will take a quote out of context and omit important information that clarifies a speaker’s point. In this day and age, we are so accustomed to taking in information in tiny chunks (tweets, notifications, short videos). The less information is present, the easier it is to manipulate an audience. We often unknowingly choose convenience and easily processed bits of data in favor of seeing the complete picture.

Make no mistake. To name a building after someone is to glorify that person. I don’t think that the argument for keeping the names of Ryland and Freeman Hall in order to preserve the institution’s history holds water. That’s what museums and textbooks are for. I think that the decision to add John Mitchell Jr’s name to the building, without removing Freeman’s name is a massive mistake. The purpose of including Mitchell’s name is to honor his legacy, but by leaving Freeman’s name on the same building, the university is sending the implicit message that the lives and contributions of the two should be praised and valued equally. 

You can’t have your cake and eat it too. You can’t say “we condemn the racist ideologies and actions that people like Ryland and Freeman represent” and also say “but their contributions were vital in making the university the wonderful institution that it is today”. The university has to pick a side. Will we revere people whose beliefs and actions are considered horrific today, or not? It’s disturbing to see the university make the same choice repeatedly, no matter how they try to dress it up and pretend that they’re in the right for “preserving history”.