Opinion

JENNIFER CALFAS

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The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Monday, March 23, 2015

Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Ben Keller, Payton Luokkala, Aarica 

Marsh, Victoria Noble, Michael Paul, Anna Polumbo-Levy, Allison 

Raeck, Melissa Scholke, Michael Schramm, Matthew Seligman, 

Linh Vu, Mary Kate Winn, Jenny Wang, Derek Wolfe

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

their saliva, etc. — these elements 
often don’t come into my conscious 
awareness. My mind filters out 
all this “disgusting” information 
automatically before I perceive 
the person (more precisely, before 
I perceive my virtual image of the 
person). And it’s not like I couldn’t 
have access to the censored infor-
mation if I so desired. If I thought 
about it — that is, if I made a con-
certed effort to bring such knowl-
edge into my conscious awareness 
— I could integrate the gross/dis-
gusting stuff into my virtual image 
of the person. For example, as the 
children’s 
potty 
training 
book 

taught me, “Everybody Poops,” 
I know declaratively that all the 
gross/disgusting stuff is going on, 
but I have an unconscious psycho-
logical censor that keeps me from 
actively thinking about the gross/
disgusting stuff, and thus keeps 
this knowledge from entering my 
(conscious) virtual reality.

When we interact with people 

over social media, we are already 
interacting with these sterilized or 
cleaned-up versions of other people 
— that is, their virtual selves. Social 
media expedites the censorship or 
filtration process. It does so in two 
ways: (1) the user puts forward the 
virtual image of themselves that 
they want to represent them, and 
thus the burden of censorship is 
reversed and transferred to the 
gross/disgusting individual, not 
the person interacting with him, 
her or them. (2) The social media 
provider (Facebook, Twitter, Ins-
tagram, etc.) limits the expression 
of its users by defining what virtual 
representations of people are pos-
sible such that only clean, virtual 
versions of its users can exist with-
in the social media. Through these 
two complementary cyber process-

es, the social media platform, along 
with other people/users, expedites 
the work of censoring the undesir-
able elements of themselves and 
constructing clean, virtual versions 
of people for us to interact with.

In short, social media is the 

device of the lazy fantasizer. We 
still have to do some work compil-
ing the often fragmented images 
of people — and by images I don’t 
simply mean their photos, rather 
the full spectrum of components 
of users’ virtual (social media) 
self-representation — but largely, 
the work of fantasy production 
has largely been co-opted from the 
individual psyche and reallocated 
to 
the 
given 

social 
media 

paradigm 
and 
 

its users.

Apart 
from 

these two main 
processes 
of 

the 
construc-

tion 
of 
social 

media’s virtual 
reality, there is 
the element of 
the user’s individual choice of the 
content he or she encounters. I, as 
a Facebook user, can, to an extent, 
choose what content I want and 
don’t want. I can’t choose beyond 
what the social media paradigm 
allows me to choose, and if I choose 
to include other users, I often can’t 
choose which of their posts I see 
and which I don’t. But, I can choose 
who I am friends with on Facebook, 
who I follow on Twitter, what pages 
I “like,” etc. And so, in this way, I, as 
a user, exert more control over my 
virtual reality than I often can exert 
in everyday life, where images and 
information flow at me chaotically 
— that is, my encounter with them is 
often beyond my control. This great-

er element of control in the virtual 
world over the “real” world gives 
me pleasure. As a result, I may enjoy 
social media’s virtual reality even 
more than “real” virtual reality and 
therefore, in this sense, prefer it.

Bottom line: We enjoy social 

media because it offers us a stable, 
sterile, prefabricated virtual real-
ity through which we can “peep” 
on other stable, sterile, prefab 
“people” or users. We are always 
alone even when we are with other 
people, but when we are with other 
people through social media, we 
are even more alone with even 
more people. In ordinary, everyday 
conversation, people can disrupt 

our virtual rep-
resentations of 
them 
by, 
say, 

farting or oth-
erwise 
draw-

ing attention to 
the elements of 
themselves that 
our mind auto-
matically 
and 

unconsciously 
censors. 
But 

through social media, it is more 
difficult to disrupt our virtual 
 

reality or fantasy.

Social media allows us to be 

alone with other people like never 
before. We can enjoy our fantasy 
world with sterile, virtual users 
kept clean, tidy and at arm’s length 
much more easily than we can 
anywhere else (except, perhaps, 
in our dreams, which is the ulti-
mate place where we can be alone 
with people). Social media allows 
our fantasy to be constructed for 
us and to go on with relatively 
 

little interruption.

 
— Zak Witus can be reached 

at zakwitus@umich.edu.

I

t’s Saturday, March 21, and 
I hear the beeping of my 
iPhone at 9:30 a.m. I lift my 

hand from the top 
of my black and 
yellow covers to 
a 
text 
message 

regarding pregam-
ing in an hour.

Today’s 
desig-

nated to celebrat-
ing 
St. 
Patrick’s 

Day. It’s a day-long 
shit show where 
students flock to 
fraternities. They 
dance on ledges 
and take pulls of Crystal Palace while 
 

belligerently drunk.

I head to a pregame hosted by my 

friend. Walking alone, I see a group 
of friends draped in green clothing. 
One girl has a green four-leaf clover 
taped on her cheek. She’s wearing 
a green shirt and a green tutu cov-
ering her pants. A guy is wearing 
a green cap, green suspenders and 
a green tank top with a shot glass 
cup necklace. I see another group 
of friends. A guy is wearing a white 
and green tank top, a leprechaun 
hat and green pants. He’s throwing 
Lucky Charms at a girl in a green 
snapback and green shorts. She eats 
them as her eyes glaze over, overly 
intoxicated. Everyone’s homoge-
nous. Everyone looks the same.

I walk faster to my friend’s 

house. I arrive and head upstairs. 
We quickly pound a few rounds in 
order to head out quickly.

We head to the nearest frat party. 

I enter an open space divided by 
friends interacting within their 
circles. Everyone’s wearing simi-
lar green outfits and talking only 
to their friends. They’re like little 
planets, and I revolve around them 
until I’m at the center, asking for 
a drink.

I continue revolving with the 

green planets around the green 
grass in the backyard. I see two 
planets collide as two girls recog-
nize each other. They look so happy 
interacting. Then they head back to 
their planets, continuing the same 
pattern, continuing to revolve, 
 

halfheartedly amused.

I see one of my friends. She’s danc-

ing on a ledge, so I join her. We find 
more friends and continue dancing. 
But we’re not really dancing. There’s 
not enough room on the ledge. We 
resort to compact motions.

I’m happy to be with my friends. 

We break out of our little planet to 
take a picture. It’s nice. We’re all 
smiling. But the smiles are decep-
tive. When that picture gets posted 
to Facebook, people will think that I 
spent the whole 
day ecstatic at 
these 
parties. 

At least, that’s 
what 
I 
think 

when I see those 
pictures on my 
newsfeed. 
The 

reality is that 
I’m only happy 
to be with my 
friends, and I’d 
be much happier 
if I was with the same people in a 
different context. A context that’s 
more my style, like a house party, at 
a bar or chilling at my house.

I’m still on a ledge dancing with 

my friends, but the monotony from 
performing the same motion is get-
ting old. I look around. On the side-
walk I see dozens of green people, 
pulsating through the grid of down-
town Ann Arbor, looking for the 
right party to revolve around, look-
ing for a place to belong. I look to 
my right and see a guy tugging on a 
girl’s wrist, trying to get her to leave 
the party. She looks flustered. She 
wants to stay here. I watch the scene 
until it ends to make sure she’s okay, 
and I proceed to watch her rejoin 
her planet.

I continue looking around and 

see everyone dancing on the ledge. 
I’m met with a dozen faces plas-
tered with a dozen shades of fab-
ricated enthusiasm. Perhaps I’m 
being too presumptuous, but almost 
no one looks like they’re having the 
kind of fun that warrants stand-
ing outside in 40-degree weather, 
wearing eclectic green clothing.

I stop and take a look at myself. 

I’m wearing a pair of bright green 

pants and a headband that I pur-
chased for last year’s partying. I’m 
nothing more than a component of a 
planet revolving around the system.

I can’t help but ask myself, 

“Why?”

Why do I commit myself to 

attending these parties at places 
where I clearly don’t belong? Why 
do I convince myself that I’m hav-
ing fun to justify attending again? 
Why do I go out of my way to wear 
stupid clothing to look like every-

one else? If it’s 
genuinely 
to 

avoid the fear 
of missing out, 
how 
much 
of 

a coward am I 
that I can’t dis-
associate 
from 

a system I don’t 
love?

I’m sure that 

some people are 
having fun at St. 

Patrick’s Day darties. I do see stares 
of genuine excitement, and I’m sure 
not everyone I perceive as bored 
actually is bored.

But I see too many people look-

ing unamused to think it’s just me, 
and I text too many friends after 
these events only hearing about 
lackluster experiences. Why do we 
so easily succumb to being little 
green toys in a little green backyard 
revolving around our little green 
planets when this isn’t what we 
want to do? The homogeneity and 
ridiculousness would make sense if 
everyone gushed with fun, but that 
doesn’t appear likely.

Getting into this school means 

someone thought you were spe-
cial. I’m not saying that to brag; it’s 
a reality. To get here, admissions 
officers holistically evaluated you 
and thought, “Wow, that person 
is both smart and unique enough 
to be here.” So why is untethering 
from these uninteresting, conform-
ing traditions so challenging for so 
many of us?

I don’t have an answer. Do you?

— Michael Schramm can be 

reached at mschramm@umich.edu

I

f, while listening to Robin Thicke’s, 
“Blurred Lines,” featuring T.I. and 
Pharell Williams, you couldn’t help 

but wonder — isn’t that a 
song already? The answer 
would be yes … or at least 
parts of it are, according to a 
federal judge.

Earlier this month, a 

federal judge ruled that 
“Blurred Lines” violated the 
copyrights of Marvin Gaye’s 
1977 song “Got to Give it Up.” 
The case awarded almost 
$7.4 million to Gaye’s family, 
and set a precedent that a 
song’s feel — not just its lyrics, composition or 
recording — is protected by copyright.

The 
decision 
complicates 
an 
already 

convoluted mess of copyright rules and 
precedents that increasingly fail to respond 
to the needs of digital music production. 
Sampling lyrics and progressions — never 
mind “feels” — from other artists’ work is 
commonplace and benefits consumers by 
yielding new creative works sporting the 
sound and style of familiar tunes.

Sampled work is popular. Kayne West’s No. 

1 album, Yeezus, features at least nine tracks 
that sample, and it debuted as the best-selling 
album on the Billboard 200 chart. But even as 
West has seemingly profited from the ability 
to build off of other artists’ works, fledgling 
artists often lack the means to do so legally.

Artists 
wishing 
to 
sample 
from 
a 

copyrighted work have limited options. 
They can seek permission to use a portion 
of the work, often agreeing to pay steep fees 
in exchange for the right to sample seconds 
of content. They could also use the sample 
without permission, risking a costly lawsuit if 
the copyright holder decides to challenge the 
use in court and expensive fines if their use of 
the work isn’t deemed fair use by the court. 
Fair use is a set of squishy factors — including 
the reason for and size of the sample, the 
creative content of the sample and the effect 
that sampling might have on the market — 
under which using a copyrighted work is 
permissible. Even the courts have had trouble 
deciphering the fair use clause, prompting the 
Supreme Court to resolve the contradictory 
precedent set forth in the various rounds of 
expensive and drawn-out lawsuits.

The Copyright Act of 1976 needs revision. 

Instead of requiring artists to play lawsuit 
roulette with their creative work, the law 
should be amended to include clear, specific 
definitions for permissible music sampling in 
its definition of fair use. The knowledge that 
using a sample of a specific type or length 
— for example, chord progressions lasting 
less than ten seconds — could promote the 
creation of new, legally compliant works by 
eliminating the current law’s ambiguity.

And just how necessary is a revision of fair 

use? Revisit the title of this column, where I 
have used lyrics from Secondhand Serenade’s 
track “Vulnerable.” Under current guidelines, 
whether or not this column breaks copyright 
law is ambiguous, and definitively unknowable 
unless challenged and ruled on in court.

Future copyright policy should focus 

on addressing two massive shortfalls of 
the Copyright Act: the unfairness of the 
law and the chilling effect the law has on 
 

musical creativity.

The new law should clearly define fair 

use in a way that adequately reflects the 
constitutional purpose of copyright law: to 
promote progress. The current law abjectly 
fails in this task. In effort to amply protect 
artists who have already profited from their 
work, the act fails to allow sufficient creative 
space for new artists, especially those wishing 
to take advantage of digital mixing technology 
and those coming from the hip-hop genre.

A clear and expanded definition of what 

constitutes an acceptable sample would 
further the mission of the Copyright Act by 
allowing for the progression and growth of the 
music industry. While incomes of individual 
music labels and artists may arguably decline 
due to the increased right to sample, it’s far 
from clear that the music industry itself will 
suffer, as new artists are incentivized to 
create sans the stifling fear of litigation.

Furthermore, 
allowing 
sampling 
will 

reduce the inequality created by the current 
law. The current legal process surrounding 
copyright 
features 
a 
wildly 
expensive 

discovery processes and all but requires 
expert legal counsel. Simplifying the law 
may allow artists to better understand their 
rights, even if they can’t afford an attorney.

Industry giants can afford to pay licensing 

fees or engage in the fair-use litigation game. 
But, ostensibly, less-established artists are 
extremely disadvantaged by a system that 
requires them to risk participation in lawsuits 
or pay fines they cannot afford. When artists 
can’t afford to play by the Copyright Act’s 
unfair rules, many quit the game altogether 
— choosing instead to flout the rules or stop 
producing. The effect is dichotomous: a 
massive silencing of nascent creativity and 
huge advantages for established artists. As 
the blog Priceonomics puts it, “a law that 
makes it impossible to play by the rules 
is not a good one.” Amending the fair use 
clause of the Copyright Act to definitively 
allow reasonable sampling will reduce 
the likelihood that new artists will find 
themselves choosing between two options 
that they cannot afford.

Music labels may counter with the 

argument that the effect of a less arduous 
policy will be hugely detrimental to an 
industry that has recently seen a substantial 
decline in revenue. But even with decreased 
profit margins, the music industry sustains 
extremely competitive supply, as up-and-
coming artists vie for benefits like fame, 
arena 
tour 
sell-outs 
and 
advertising 

contracts. Enormously high profits and power 
experienced by former captains of industry — 
or their heirs — are not necessary for future 
industry growth. A more relaxed copyright 
policy may actually help the industry by 
providing legal avenues for newcomers to 
sample in the same ways that established 
artists do. Because artists will still be 
sufficiently incentivized to produce, and 
more artists may be producing, the industry 
will likely benefit from this policy.

Regardless of opposing pressure from 

music industry behemoths, it’s essential that 
Congress amend the Copyright Act to include 
a precise, but permissive provision defining 
what 
constitutes 
a 
sample. 
Promoting 

creativity and fair competition is far more 
important than protecting the profits of the 
industry’s wealthiest.

— Victoria Noble can be reached 

at vjnoble@umich.edu.

Isn’t that a song already?

Why we enjoy social media
W

hy do we enjoy social media? 
What attracts us to it? What do 
we find enjoyable about it?

Maybe 
the 
obvious 

answer is that social media 
sponsors a new form of 
voyeurism — that is, watch-
ing someone without them 
knowing that you’re watch-
ing them for pleasure (espe-
cially sexual pleasure).

But 
what 
attracts 
us 

can’t only be social media’s 
voyeuristic 
capabilities, 

because social media also 
allows us to interact with 
other people. Inter-subjec-
tive interaction with the sex object used to be 
antithetical to voyeurism, but that’s no longer 
true with social media. Social media has cre-
ated a new kind of voyeurism — interactive 
voyeurism. Social media has thus created the 
possibility for high levels of fantasy previously 
exclusive to our dreams. We can now enjoy 
peeping on people without them knowing 
while simultaneously interacting with them 
(e.g., messaging with a person before, after or 

while viewing photos of them without their 
knowing).

Overall, though, the way we interact with 

people over social media — take Facebook, for 
example — is not so unlike the way we inter-
act with people in “real life” (by which I mean 
ordinary, non-digital intersubjective/interper-
sonal social life). Critics often want to condemn 
social media as pseudo-interaction or pseudo-
communication, but it does, in truth, operate 
on the same basic principles as any other form 
of interpersonal human interaction.

In our ordinary, non-digital life, our mind 

constructs virtual representations of people. 
We never deal with the person per se, only the 
mentally processed (or post-cognized) per-
son. How do we mentally process people? Our 
mind censors lots of information about a per-
son when it creates virtual representations of 
him or her, especially what we might call the 
“undesirable” or “impolite” information.

When I’m conversing with my friends, 

I’m interacting with a virtual representation 
of them that consists in their faces, maybe 
their clothing, what they’re saying, etc. But 
what isn’t included? Gross/disgusting stuff 
like their bowel movements, their sweat, 

Social media allows 
us to be alone with 

other people like never 

before.

VICTORIA
NOBLE

ZAK
WITUS

Little green planets

MICHAEL
SCHRAMM

Getting into this 

school means someone 

thought you were 

special.

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