Reading, the Net and the plasticity of the human brain

Good piece by Maryanne Wolf, whose book — Proust and the Squid: The Story and Science of the Reading Brain — was really helpful when I was writing Chapter 1 of G2Z.

To begin with, the human brain was never meant to read. Not text, not papyrus, not computer screens, not tablets. There are no genes or areas in the brain devoted uniquely to reading. Rather, our ability to read represents our brain's protean capacity to learn something outside our repertoire by creating new circuits that connect existing circuits in a different way. Indeed, every time we learn a new skill – whether knitting or playing the cello or using Facebook – that is what we are doing.

New capacities, however, change us, as the evolutionarily new reading circuit illustrates. After we become literate, we literally "think differently" about language: images of brain activation between literate and nonliterate humans bear this out. The brain's plasticity allows an intrinsic variety of possible circuits – there is no set genetic programme. For example, in the case of reading, this means there will be different reading brains depending on various environmental factors: the Chinese reading brain, for example, uses far more visual areas because there are more characters to learn.

The power of images — and their fragility

This morning’s Observer column.

Dear Photograph is a remarkable demonstration of the power of ordinary, humdrum photographs to evoke memories. Anyone who has ever found a shoebox of old prints in an attic will know this. They yield up images of ourselves when we were young, slender and innocent, of our parents with unlined, carefree expressions and unfurrowed, untroubled brows, of holidays once enjoyed, places once visited. Photographs freeze moments in time, reminding us of who we were – and, by implication, of who we have become.

But Dear Photograph is also a stark reminder of how threatened this power of photography has become. There is, for one thing, the brusque, matter-of-fact, upfront Terms and Conditions of the site. “When you submit your materials,” it reads, “you grant dearphotograph.com a non-exclusive, irrevocable, royalty-free licence to use the work to be used, copied, sub-licenced, adapted, transmitted, distributed, published, displayed or otherwise under our discretion in any and all media”. Or, to adapt the famous broken English internet meme, “all your memories are belong to us”.

CORRECTION: Broken link to dearphotograph.com now fixed. Thanks to Seb Schmoller for spotting it.

Fifty years on

Fifty years ago today, the East German Communist regime started to seal off their part of Berlin from the West. This is my piece of the Wall — a gift from a friend who went to Berlin in 1989 when the wall came down. It normally sits on the windowsill of my study.

In 2003 I went to Berlin and walked some of the route of the Wall, spending a long time looking at what used to be “Checkpoint Charlie” — the official crossing point. It was strange to see what had once been a flashpoint of nuclear confrontation looked humdrum.

Today’s Guardian has a nice piece about the anniversary.

Nothing to hide?

Lovely exchange in the comments section on Dan Gillmor’s splendid Guardian piece about Cameron’s idea of controlling social networking technology.

@IvyLeague 12 August 2011 2:51PM

“If you’ve got nothing to hide then you have nothing to fear”.

So glad to hear that, now I’d like your full name, address, date of birth, make and model of car you drive, all telephone numbers mobile and landline, name of employer, email address, annual income (gross and net), and of course I’d also like to know what your daily schedule is and what times you estimate being out of the house this weekend. Come on now, if you’ve nothing to hide then you’ve nothing to fear. Please post this information publicly, or are you up to something?

Oh and please post your internet history too, I’d like to check what sites you browse, just to make sure you aren’t fapping to something nasty. By your own statement if you are reluctant to do so then you must be up to something criminal. Or you could admit your over simplistic statement was absurd.

Cameron’s lousy judgement

Ever since he hired Andy Coulson we’ve known that Cameron’s judgement is seriously flawed. Events last week confirmed that, as this excellent New Statesman piece by Medhi Hasan points out.

What, I wonder, was the defining image of the past week? A terrified woman jumping out of a burning building? A 140-year-old furniture shop in Croydon that managed to survive the Blitz, engulfed in flames? An injured, bleeding teenager having his rucksack emptied by a passing group of feral youths?

Or was it, perhaps, a tanned and smiling David Cameron, arm around an Italian waitress, Francesca Ariani, at the Dolcenero café in Montevarchi? Our holidaying PM, who had earlier provoked headlines by failing to leave Ariani a tip, had gone back to the Tuscan café to make amends, with photographers in tow.

Purely in PR terms, it was a bizarre decision by the man who was once head of corporate communications for Carlton Television. Back home, as violence and looting erupted in Britain's cities, the photograph, published in newspapers on 7 August, served to remind the public that their Prime Minister was abroad, on a £6,000-a-week holiday, with no plans to come back and take charge.

As late as 6.30pm on the evening of Monday 8, a full 48 hours into the riots, Downing Street was adamant that there was no need for the Prime Minister to return home early from Italy…

Note the PR-flackery of the return to the cafe “to make amends” with photographer in tow. New Labour couldn’t have done it any better.

Citizen Doctorow

Cory Doctorow became a British citizen this morning. I was privileged to be invited to the ceremony in Hackney Town Hall. Beforehand I spent an hour walking the streets in Hackney that had been the locations of looting earlier in the week. What was astonishing was the air of quiet normality. The clean-up operation seemed to have been virtually comprehensive. Here and there some windows remained boarded up, but in general it would have been impossible for a stranger to know what had gone on. At one point I got lost and wandered into a Turkish tailor’s shop to ask for directions. He smiled and told me I was “twelve minutes” away from my destination. “How can you be so precise?” I asked. “Well”, he said, “unless you are a very fast walker that is what it will take”. He was spot on.

The citizenship ceremony was fascinating and oddly moving. In addition to Cory (attired in his special Union Jack jacket), there were about 20 other ‘new’ citizens, of whom the overwhelming majority were non-white. They were a wonderfully variegated lot, some dressed to the nines, others in what might charitably be described as “smart casual”. They came from all over the world, from Angola to Zimbabwe. We gathered in the Council Chamber, and after a time the Speaker of the Council, an imposing black woman in impressive robes entered to preside over the proceedings. She made a nice informal speech about the importance of citizenship, what a precious thing it was, and about the responsibilities and rights that it conferred on its holders. Then each new citizen was required to swear an oath or make a declaration pledging allegiance to “Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, her heirs and successors”. Interestingly, some of the candidates elected not to read from the supplied script but asked the Registrar to say the words, which they then repeated. (From which I inferred that some of them might have literacy problems, at least in English.) Most of those who read tended to mumble a bit. The only one who was as clear as a bell was Cory (no surprise there).

After that, all the candidates stood and collectively made the second part of the declaration. They were then welcomed as citizens of this great country, and presented with their certificates of naturalisation by the Speaker. Many opted to have friends and family included in the resulting photograph. One person was asked if he had any friends or family. “Yes”, he replied, “but not here”.

It was a touching and impressive occasion, the more so because of its location. It was impossible to square what I saw and heard in Hackney today with Cameron’s odious ranting about a “sick” society. What I saw were people whom I found infinitely more preferable (and probably more valuable to society) than the denizens of Canary Wharf or Eaton Square.

Cameron and the feral rich

Two very good pieces today bringing some semblance of sanity to balance the superheated indignation of the ruling elite.

First, Peter Oborne in the Telegraph who, like me, was struck by the hypocrisy implicit in the shock and outrage expressed in Parliament, in which MPs spoke about the week’s dreadful events as if they were nothing to do with them. “I cannot accept that this is the case”, he writes.

Indeed, I believe that the criminality in our streets cannot be dissociated from the moral disintegration in the highest ranks of modern British society. The last two decades have seen a terrifying decline in standards among the British governing elite. It has become acceptable for our politicians to lie and to cheat. An almost universal culture of selfishness and greed has grown up.

It is not just the feral youth of Tottenham who have forgotten they have duties as well as rights. So have the feral rich of Chelsea and Kensington.

Right on. Oborne goes on to recount a dinner party he went to in Kensington some time ago.

Most of the people in this very expensive street were every bit as deracinated and cut off from the rest of Britain as the young, unemployed men and women who have caused such terrible damage over the last few days. For them, the repellent Financial Times magazine How to Spend It is a bible. I’d guess that few of them bother to pay British tax if they can avoid it, and that fewer still feel the sense of obligation to society that only a few decades ago came naturally to the wealthy and better off.

Yet we celebrate people who live empty lives like this. A few weeks ago, I noticed an item in a newspaper saying that the business tycoon Sir Richard Branson was thinking of moving his headquarters to Switzerland. This move was represented as a potential blow to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, George Osborne, because it meant less tax revenue.

I couldn’t help thinking that in a sane and decent world such a move would be a blow to Sir Richard, not the Chancellor. People would note that a prominent and wealthy businessman was avoiding British tax and think less of him. Instead, he has a knighthood and is widely feted. The same is true of the brilliant retailer Sir Philip Green. Sir Philip’s businesses could never survive but for Britain’s famous social and political stability, our transport system to shift his goods and our schools to educate his workers.

Yet Sir Philip, who a few years ago sent an extraordinary £1 billion dividend offshore, seems to have little intention of paying for much of this. Why does nobody get angry or hold him culpable?

And as for the MPs. The idea of some of these moral cretins taking the ethical high road is simply staggering. There was Denis MacShane, for example, MP for Rotherham, explaining that “What the looters wanted was for a few minutes to enter the world of Sloane Street consumption.” Could this MacShane possibly be related to the MP who claimed (perfectly legally, I am sure) £5,900 for eight laptops?

And then there was the Labour MP Gerald Kaufman asking the Prime Minister to consider how these rioters can be “reclaimed” by society. Is he by any chance related to the Gerald Kaufman who submitted a claim for three months’ expenses totalling £14,301.60, which included £8,865 for a Bang & Olufsen television?

Mr Oborne is as nauseated as I am by the spectacle of Cameron taking the moral high ground. He talked a lot about morality, but only as something that applies to the poor. He would, he said, “restore a stronger sense of morality and responsibility – in every town, in every street and in every estate.” It never occurred to him that morality begins at home — in Downing Street. “The tragic truth”, Oborne writes, “is that Mr Cameron is himself guilty of failing this test”.

It is scarcely six weeks since he jauntily turned up at the News International summer party, even though the media group was at the time subject to not one but two police investigations. Even more notoriously, he awarded a senior Downing Street job to the former News of the World editor Andy Coulson, even though he knew at the time that Coulson had resigned after criminal acts were committed under his editorship. The Prime Minister excused his wretched judgment by proclaiming that “everybody deserves a second chance”. It was very telling yesterday that he did not talk of second chances as he pledged exemplary punishment for the rioters and looters.

There was a time — round the time when his young son died and he was running for office — when Cameron seemed to have the makings of a rounded human being. But it turns out to have been an illusion. What’s happened is that the shallow, oily, polished PR-flack that he used to be has reappeared. And he’s running a corrupt, morally-compromised, untruthful administration that is more divisive than anything we’ve seen since Thatcher at her peak.

The other note of sanity today was struck by my lawyer friend, Conor Gearty, writing in the London Review of Books. He casts a sceptical eye over Cameron’s newly-discovered taste for repressive legislation. “The police do not need any new legal powers to deal with the kind of disorder that has been seen this week in English cities”, he writes.

The Thatcher government’s 1986 Public Order Act put the crimes of riot and violent disorder on a statutory basis, with those convicted being liable to terms of imprisonment of up to ten and five years respectively. Despite the prime minister’s snide remark in the Commons yesterday, there are no human rights concerns, ‘phoney’ or otherwise, that prevent pictures of suspects being circulated if that’s the most effective way of bringing them to justice.

The stop and search powers that came into force in 1986 have already been greatly expanded by legislation in 1994 and 2000 and are already arguably too broad rather than too narrow: police harassment of young men from certain ethnic groups has clearly already been a cause of huge resentment.

Though the old Riot Act of 1714 has been repealed, the law allows the police (and for that matter the rest of us) to use reasonable force to suppress an ongoing riot. This elastic provision would allow, in extremis, the deployment of troops and the shooting of civilian rioters (and others) that might well ensue. The police already use firearms and – another legacy from the Thatcher era – have the legal right to possess (and therefore to use) water cannon, baton rounds (plastic bullets) and CS gas if such equipment is ‘reasonably required… to discharge their functions’. Likewise, whether you want to call it a curfew or not, the common law has long allowed control of the movement of people if it is judged necessary to curb or prevent breaches of the peace.

The issue is not one of legality; it is of capacity. This is what makes the plan to make deep cuts to police forces across the country so politically risky.

Yep. It’s such an obvious point that even Boris ‘Bullingdon’ Johnson gets it.

Why we never learn

We’ve been here before and Seamus Milne nails it.

The Daily Mail thundered that blaming cuts was “immoral and cynical”, echoed by a string of armchair riot control enthusiasts. There was nothing to explain, they’ve insisted, and the only response should be plastic bullets, water cannon and troops on the streets.

We’ll hear a lot more of that when parliament meets – and it’s not hard to see why. If these riots have no social or political causes, then clearly no one in authority can be held responsible. What’s more, with many people terrified by the mayhem and angry at the failure of the police to halt its spread, it offers the government a chance to get back on the front foot and regain its seriously damaged credibility as a force for social order.

But it’s also a nonsensical position. If this week’s eruption is an expression of pure criminality and has nothing to do with police harassment or youth unemployment or rampant inequality or deepening economic crisis, why is it happening now and not a decade ago? The criminal classes, as the Victorians branded those at the margins of society, are always with us, after all. And if it has no connection with Britain’s savage social divide and ghettoes of deprivation, why did it kick off in Haringey and not Henley?

To accuse those who make those obvious links of being apologists or “making excuses” for attacks on firefighters or robbing small shopkeepers is equally fatuous. To refuse to recognise the causes of the unrest is to make it more likely to recur – and ministers themselves certainly won’t be making that mistake behind closed doors if they care about their own political futures.

It was the same when riots erupted in London and Liverpool 30 years ago, also triggered by confrontation between the police and black community, when another Conservative government was driving through cuts during a recession. The people of Brixton and Toxteth were denounced as criminals and thugs, but within weeks Michael Heseltine was writing a private memo to the cabinet, beginning with “it took a riot”, and setting out the urgent necessity to take action over urban deprivation.

This time, the multi-ethnic unrest has spread far further and faster. It’s been less politicised and there’s been far more looting, to the point where in many areas grabbing “free stuff” has been the main action. But there’s no mystery as to where the upheaval came from…

Watching the ‘debate’ in the Commons today, it was difficult to know which had been the more depressing: the looting, or the Establishment’s boneheaded reaction to it.

Oh, and by the way, isn’t it interesting how an organisation that was only last week widely regarded as incompetent, corrupt and institutionally racist has suddenly become our heroic bulwark against anarchy. I refer, of course to Inspector Knacker of the Yard and his colleagues in the Metropolitan Police. I bet the Murdochs cannot believe their luck. A week is indeed a long time in politics.