Opinion

JENNIFER CALFAS

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AARICA MARSH

and DEREK WOLFE

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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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