Opinion JENNIFER CALFAS EDITOR IN CHIEF AARICA MARSH and DEREK WOLFE EDITORIAL PAGE EDITORS LEV FACHER MANAGING EDITOR 420 Maynard St. Ann Arbor, MI 48109 tothedaily@michigandaily.com Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890. Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s editorial board. All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors. 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. CONTRIBUTE TO THE CONVERSATION Readers are encouraged to submit letters to the editor and viewpoints. Letters should be fewer than 300 words while viewpoints should be 550-850 words. Send the article, writer’s full name and University affiliation to tothedaily@michigandaily.com.