The American dream—a myth?

All it took—according to Robin G. Nelson (Sci. Am., March 2022)—to prove that individualism is a myth was the Covid bug. 

Nelson's view is no doubt interesting, but is it sound?

We might not think so after testing it out.

The theory seems, it's true, to gain some support by the way people have, largely, put up a common front to combat the Covid virus.

The theory, however, is on shakier ground when it claims the primacy of collectivism, as it does when it tells us that in the view of some anthropologists “exceptionally high degrees of sociality, cooperation and communal care are hallmarks of humankind,” traits that distinguishes us from other animals. Sounds good, this; but maybe not so good when we realize that this thumbs up approach to “sociality” has been used to promote forms of social behaviour (communism for one) not exactly looked up to by most Americans. Of this, the regimentation of life in today’s China should be seen as a concrete example.

The theory is made even shakier by Nelson's view that the American dream (that in America one can prosper if he or she works hard enough) is a dehumanizing myth. This, I think, would be news to those masses of people who try to find their way in to the US at the southern border, all of whom come in search of precisely that—the American dream. These people come in search of a better life; this article claims they are delusional.

Shouldn't Sci.Am. (an evident supporter of this view) plead with the US Government to do everything possible to keep them out—on the ground that it is dehumanizing to let them in?

Ermes Culos

Ashcroft BC Can

Google e Dante

 Le prime due terzine dell'Inferno dopo sei traduzioni di Google Translate:

sul nostro modo di vivere
L'ho trovato in una foresta oscura
Perso per la strada giusta. 

Come sapere cosa sta succedendo, è difficile
È una foresta selvaggia e verde
Rinfresca la testa.

Per il povero Dante, quindi, Virgilio era stato una guida un bel po’ più affidabile del Google.

Miracolo della tecnologia linguistica

 A bit of linguistic humour.

Google Translate is, if not a miracle, at least a marvel of modern linguistic tech. Look what it can do: 

You can feed it a thought like this—“Ashcroft is a wonderful little town”—

and Google Translate will instantly toss it out in German as “Ashcroft ist eine wundervolle kleine Stadt,” or in Italian as “Ashcroft è una cittadina meravigliosa.” You can also have Google translate this sentence in a hundred other languages or so. And Google will do a pretty good job in every one of these languages.

But—

In my last Facebook post I quoted this well-known passage from Romeo and Juliet: 

‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy:

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

What’s Montague? It is nor hand nor foot

Nor arm nor face nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O be some other name.

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet;

So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,

Retain that dear perfection which he owes

Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,

And for that name, which is no part of thee,

Take all myself.

Then I had Google translate the passage from English to German, from German to Hindi, from Hindi to several other languages, and finally, again, to English. And this is the end result:

Your name is my enemy.

Alone, even if you're not in Montex.

What is Montego? Without arms and legs,

I have no hands or eyes.

It belongs to men. Yes Yes Another name!

What is Belady called?

All other words smell good.

If Romeo hadn't called himself Romeo, he would have done so.

All you have to do is maintain good content

No name. Romano, tell me your name

And the name is not yours.

good

A miracle, yes, but not without a stain or two.  :)

A name change?

 Sure, the name Powell River may, for some people, evoke memories of a colonial past, but the name Juan de Fuca, too, conjures up memories of Spanish explores and of a colonial past. So does George Vancouver, who worked at the service of the colonial British. The name of our province too is tainted: what could be more colonial sounding than British Columbia? And what about America itself, named, as it is, after Amerigo Vespucci, the Italian explorer who worked for both the kings of Spain and Portugal. Does this mean that all of these names should be changed to bring them in line with today’s ways of thinking? Will changing these names really alter what has happened in the past? Changing these names may well make us forget the past, but would that be a good thing? Even if we grant that the world would have been a better place had these people never existed, isn’t it better to remember that they did in fact exist and that—through the act of remembering—we may avoid making the mistakes they supposedly have made? There is also this: that for a lot of people these names conjure up, not negative, but very positive things. An obvious example: America! Think of what that word has meant, and continues to mean, for millions. And a smaller, but for many an equally resonant name: Powell River—a name that has called to the town that bears that name so many people from all over the world looking for a better life. With due respect to those people who feel offended by this name, isn’t canceling the name a kind of disrespect for many many other people?

I am one of these other people: Powell River was, for quite a few years, my first home away from home. And by the way, I came to Powell River for a region of Italy called FRIULI, and—wouldn’t you know it?—FRIULI comes from the Latin Forum Julii, named after Julius Caesar, the Roman conqueror of that part of Italy that bears that name. For all I know Julius Caesar may have been a mean conqueror and colonizer, but he could have done a lot worse than leave behind a nifty name like FRIULI.