Fostex FM3 and FM4 Review
Ah, Fostex; I'm not sure I completely comprehend the manufacturing or marketing ethos of this company. To the best of my understanding, it seems to be something along the lines of 'Let's make a product that is pretty solid, has some good features, and appeals to a limited group of professionals. However, we'll just make version 1.0, only make it for about a year, then discontinue it and never speak of it again.'
Between the exchange rates in Australia and having a good dealer here in Sydney, I've ended up with a variety of Fostex gear in my studio. I tend to do a lot of research prior to purchase, but it's often difficult to find much commentary online regarding Fostex equipment in use. So I thought it might be worthwhile to write a bit about my experiences with some of this kit. The first two items are the FM-3 and FM-4 field mixers (the FM-4 is from work; I purchased the FM-3 myself when the dealer had a demo unit at an unbeatable price).
Both units are physically and technically similar with a few significant differences. The cosmetics of Fostex gear has, in the past, been—distinctive; let's just say that functionality apparently won over aesthetics. That's not to imply their gear was not well built; I have seen Fostex equipment running along smoothly many years after the expected use-by date. But they took things up a notch with both these mixers. They are very well machined and put together (externally and internally). I expect many years of solid service from them; I take good care of my gear and don't work in extreme environments but I would imagine this kit would also stand up well to rough use as well.
The layout is logical and easy to comprehend (though, granted, it's laid out like most professional mixers in this regard; if you have a basic understanding of signal flow, you'll be able to pick either unit up and have it working in a few moments). There are some 'set and forget' features in the on-screen menu; but most functions are modified by physical switches and knobs. I find this reassuring in actual use as I don't want to fiddle with menus in the middle of a live broadcast. All the controls are very well thought out with recessed dials to set and lock; the main gain and volume dials are well dampened with a useful tactile references (always welcome as I'm often working in poorly lit environments).
All the standard inputs are accepted through the three or four Neutrik connectors (XLR only not the XLR/TRS combo; I suppose if one dearly needed TRS the connectors could be readily replaced as they are a standard fitting). In addition to line level, dynamic, and P48 they've also included T-Power which is a pleasant bonus for professionals using the few remaining or older T-Power microphones. Note that both units provide a solid P48 feed to all mics. I have run these in the studio powering multiple large diaphragm mics at once with no issues at all. Granted, that's been with an external 12v power supply, but the internal battery also seems to provide adequate power for extended times. With dynamic or line level inputs, the batteries last all day.
On the subject of power, both units share a nicely designed caddy that holds 8 AA batteries. I have them loaded with NiMh rechargeables (there is an option in the menu to give accurate battery readings for either alkaline or rechargeable). The caddy is a welcome departure from other designs which required the user to remove a double handful of AA batteries from the unit itself. This is frustrating in the field in the middle of a recording or standing outdoors, etc. Instead, I have several loaded caddies in the bag and can just quickly exchange them. There is also a door on the unit itself that closes over the battery cavity if none is loaded. Quite tidy. Also, kudos for sharing the same caddy for both units. Normally though I'm using these units in the studio or in a location setup with power. In that case, I plug in a heavy duty 12v power supply. Both units have a standard professional four pin power connection (as well as a Hirose DC out for ancillary devices). I can't stress how much I wish more gear had this standard connector. It's a given, in professional environments, that one will connect and disconnect the power thousands of times over the life of the unit. I have had multiple failures of the little consumer barrel connectors that are too often used.
Moving round to the front, we have the control surface. This is similar on both units. Obviously the FM-3 only has three channels; however, it also loses continuous channel panning (has a L-C-R hard switch instead) as well as the tone controls of the FM-4. I find that I don't use the EQ much in the field unless it's in a live setting and I'll not have the opportunity to EQ in post. You can only EQ two individual channels at a time anyway so it's more of a problem solver than an everyday feature. Both units provide plenty of gain with all but the most dense dynamic mics. Any powered mic I've put through has come through with gain in spades. All channels are very clean and clear of any hint of hiss or distortion (I wouldn't hesitate to use either unit for detailed music recordings though most of what I do is speech).
Both units have the standard set of slate and monitoring controls (including basic MS mix in the headphones). They've included useful little things like a locking slate switch; instead of a momentary contact, you can turn on a 1k tone and keep it going whilst setting levels down the line. The headphone path is...adequate. It's built more for power than nuance; I can drive any pair of headphones I have (or two pair as there are two headphone jacks); however, it's not the quietest headphone amp in the world. This is something that I wish mixer manufacturers would not skimp on as I would like to hear exactly what I'm recording. I know there must be some trade off between power and detail for this though. My FM-4 did have some noise issue with the headphone amp and, after repair, it sounds far better (better than the FM-3). I have a feeling that the dealer here replaced a part with one having a superior spec to the original.
The menu system isn't often accessed as it's where one sets some level and routing parameters as well as safety features (one can turn off T-Power to avoid the risk of damaging dynamic or ribbon mics). The limiter on both units is quite good and can be set to a soft curve or something a bit more aggressive. The menu also shows the current routing diagram of the main bus; however, that's all apparent from the setting of the switches on the side of the unit so I'm not often looking at that.
Now, on the menu, here is my one significant gripe with the whole design—the display screen. It's too small, too dim, and too low resolution; there is just no getting round that. If it were just for the menu options, that would be fine. However, it's also used for metering—one of the most important visual interface functions of a mixer. You can switch between showing a full screen Left or Right or showing both L/R simultaneously. Also, it's good that they include both peak and VU metering, but having it all on the little screen all together makes for squinty viewing on the go. I'd really much rather have an old fashioned analogue VU meter with a basic LED bar of peak indication. It's also (again, in Australia) difficult to see this display in bright sunlight (as opposed to the SoundDevices mixer I have which I have to turn down to avoid lighting up the room indoors). This isn't an altogether write-off for the units but you should carefully consider under what circumstances you'll use the kit.
Both units have a comprehensive output section which makes them useful for a variety of routing needs. I'm often needing to route to different recorders and/or send a line feed for live sound at different levels. The FM-4 also allows one to send a 'straight' feed 4-in/4-out. I sometimes use it as a pre-amp head in the studio to send four line level outs to my audio interface when I run out of mic-pres (the FM-3 is just two channel out as there isn't space on the panel for individual outs for all three channels). I do have a five pin cable to daisy chain the units together. This feeds the output of the FM-3 straight into the bus of the FM-4 giving me seven channels mixed down to stereo or mono. I rarely use this but it can be a handy feature if I'm out somewhere and don't want to haul out a large desk mixer when I just need a few extra channels.
Altogether, both units are well built, sound great and are worth looking into if you can find them on the used market. I just wish Fostex had continued with the line and kept improving it. There is, internally, even a connection for a A/D convertor card. I checked with the dealer here who said that was a planned expansion that just never made it to market. I would love to have this as a mic-pre with AES out! Alas; not to be.
Pros:
solid build
clean sound and amplification
all expected connections for input/output and power
ability to cascade units for additional channels
very flexible options for varying output levels (balanced and unbalanced)
Cons (though these are mostly nit-picking except for the metering):
metering limitations
powerful but not nuanced headphone amp
series seems to have vanished off the catalogue
Remembering a Life of Joy
“Walk cheerfully over the earth, answering that of God in everyone.”
My mother passed away last week; I spoke at her funeral on Monday. When I began to write the words I would say, it was my intention to make a eulogy. However, I need someone to write to so rather than speak of her, I wrote to her in a letter. I placed a copy of this in her casket and read it at the funeral service.
Dear Mom,
For these past days, I’ve struggled to find words to say in this moment. It’s something we’ve been aware of and preparing for but, when it came, it all seemed so sudden. I’ve never known a moment of my life without knowing you were there somewhere or at least on the other end of the phone. Now I’m standing here and, while your presence has not diminished, it has changed. It will take a while for all of us to live with this. It will take a while for all of us to understand the ways we’ve been parted but also, perhaps, the new ways in which we are together. Yesterday, at the visitation, so many friends and family spoke of the presence you had in their lives and how they feel this will continue. I think your spirit was so alive with people here that, even now, we feel that will carry on.
I spoke with you the day before you died; you could acknowledge hearing me but really couldn’t form words. I said you were the best mother I could have ever hoped for; that you would always be in my spirit. That, if you needed to get better you could but also, if you needed to let go, you could go that way with grace. We’ve spoken much in the past months of hope and grace–the hope for healing but also the grace we can find in difficult times. We are given this grace to learn what it means to be human spirits in this world yet that’s not often an easy grace to receive. You have, for me and so many of the people here today, been a channel for grace. You've come to be, in the midst of it all, an example of what it means to have a good spirit in the times that challenge us most. I think, for all of us who knew you, that’s not making you more than who you were–but saying you always seemed to be the best of who you were in the middle of that grace.
You have, in your life, brought the joy of your presence to so many people–as a nurse, as a friend and neighbour, as a member of our family, your joyfulness was your most apparent trait. I think, as a child, I didn’t fully realise the energy needed to maintain the kind of graciousness you brought to people; but, somehow, you seemed to always have plenty of it in reserve. Our ancestors were Quakers, their founder, George Fox had a saying–he hoped we could "Walk cheerfully over the earth, answering that of God in everyone.” You I think, more than many people I know, could see that of God in others. So much of your spirit has informed who I am as a person. I have walked all over the earth, not always in cheerful places, but the spirit you have given me as my mother has also allowed me to see the presence of God in all these different people. I hope I can go cheerfully in my journey as you did in yours; I hope that the energy for doing so can pass along to me–to all of us here–in a way that can increase and multiply. That, for me, is the legacy you leave.
Since I flew back a couple days ago, I’ve been looking through pictures of us as a family when I was a child. It’s a strange thing to see pictures of you and dad when you were fifteen or twenty years younger than I am now. It’s something to realise the responsibility you both took on to have a child but, as I think how much I’ve grown during the past twenty years as an adult, to also consider how you were maturing and growing during that time in your life. Of course, as a child, your parents are always ‘adults’ like you are some kind of static finished people. But I’m of an age now where I am friends with ‘young’ people who are older than you when you had me–and we still all have a lot of completing to do. I want to thank you for the time you took to grow with me; to become who you were and shape who I am. You are my mother, but in so many ways you were also my closest friend. In that, you have shown me what friends need to be so I can wisely choose mine and also be a friend to others.
There is much more I would like to write; I will probably still take the time to do so in the coming weeks and months. I’m so glad we’ve had the time we were given since you fell ill to speak openly about many things; most people don’t have that opportunity. When you had heart surgery and were later diagnosed with cancer, I was far away having such a difficult time personally. I’m glad you could see that time pass and know that I’m okay. Also, and this is a dear gift, many people speak of frustrations with their mother or unresolved issues of one kind or another–we truly had none of that. You told me last month that you were at peace with whatever was to come of this; I can tell you now that, though I will miss your presence here, I’m at peace with where we parted. We had forty tremendously close years together and I will carry that with me for whatever time I remain here as well.
I’ve always been a wanderer; I’ve traveled and now live on the other side of the world. Yet, wherever I have been, I knew you and dad were here at ‘home’–that this was a place to return to. That’s a little different now; a few days ago in Australia, on the phone with dad after you passed, I felt this great loss of home. But, I’m coming to understand that you are with me everywhere now, that this spirit of you and what you’ve helped make in me gives me that sense of place wherever I am.
When we last spoke, I told you I love you; you did manage to say, ‘I love you’ in return. Those were your last words to me; I imagine they were your first as well. All the years in between were filled with love. I hope, as I continue on in this world, I can bring the love you have shown me to others in my life. We shall all miss you but you’ve left your love here with us; so, for me, the greatest part of you remains.
Where are we again?
If Australia isn't a distinctive place that welcomes the newcomer as 'The People of Australia', it will be lost—not that the culture we have now will be inundated by others, but there will be a more serious loss of soul from lack of cohesion. It will be the loss of a shared sense of place
From the Centre outward...
I’ve had several conversations in the past months with Australians whose families have been here for generations as well as more recent immigrants. I’m noting that Australia, and this is really generalising, does not offer a strong sense of common cultural identity. There just isn’t a critical mass of shared history, art, language and literature that acts as an underlying core for people to hold. In contrast to, say the UK, which can look back at a thousand years of 'place'; regardless of who people are or where they come from they can have some sense of place in where they have arrived. This just isn’t apparent in Australia; the Aboriginal past is so completely wiped from the culture that even Aboriginal people struggle to grasp it—so that’s not a viable thread (and would not really be for the majority of people living here anyway). The Colonial history doesn’t offer much in the way of a positive underpinning to society either. I sense that, for the majority of white Australia, there is this general unease over one’s identity. It’s as if there is a projected form over the envelope of who they are that doesn’t quite fit.
There is this great fear of ‘the other’ that I don’t think would be so prevalent if people had a stronger sense of their own identity. People seem wary of the perceived dangers posed by immigrants who have other ideas about culture and society; I just wonder if there was a much more lively sense of cultural identity if that fear would diminish.
Part of the issue with that may be the lack of integration the last few generations of immigrants have been offered here. I regularly meet Greek immigrants that came here forty and fifty years ago who are still struggling to speak English. I was recently part of an interview panel at work where several (quite capable) candidates could simply not communicate with us. One had been in Australia well over a decade. All over Sydney, there are suburbs that are almost wholly one ethnic group or another that keep to themselves in their own cultural enclaves. Even the public schools, in which parents can actually be quite self selecting, some are often almost wholly one ethnic group or another. That is going to inevitably lead to ‘otherness’ and potentially toward a situation of conflict; it’s ultimately a fractured state if the citizens are unable to have a cohesive shared set of cultural markers. If people can't, at a basic level, even communicate in a common language, there is going to be disenfranchisement and lack of societal engagement.
I don’t think that means that anyone needs to lose the originating culture; there are plenty of examples where forcing that issue caused overt damage over generations. Immigrants must be allowed to identify ‘from’ and have a clear sense of personal and familial history. But if we cannot identify the ‘in’, we remain adrift and unconnected. Both are part of one’s identity; it’s not either/or. One can be simultaneously ‘from’ a place and ‘in’ another. The first identity is not lost to take up the second—nor must the influx of ‘other’ diminish a culture unless it has lost its moorings to begin with. You can’t code switch if you don’t have the material to work with from one cultural set to the other.
Welcome home and carry on
If Australia isn't a distinctive place that welcomes the newcomer as 'The People of Australia', it will be lost—not that the culture we have now will be inundated by others, but there will be a more serious loss of soul from lack of cohesion. It will be the loss of a shared sense of place. Many people will come from a multitude of cultures, of other distinct places and, in lieu of a presented and shared civic culture, be obliged to shelter in enclaves of cultures without a connecting thread. Or, worse, people will flee here with a damaged sense of identity, from war or distress, and be able to find no solid ground to land upon.
A couple months ago, I had a frank discussion with a Lebanese man who has been here for thirty years. I asked him if he feels Australian now; he thought for a moment and said,
“Yes, I do—but I will always be Lebanese, I have that to hold to as my own identity. I’ve lived here and raised a family here and, for what it is, I feel Australian. It’s more difficult for my children. The children of immigrants grow up in a home that is neither the old country or the new. They are somewhere in the middle and don’t always know which way to turn.”
I later spoke with another Lebanese man who has been here for eight years. There is an ongoing discussion about 'what is to be done' with young men of Arab descent who become radicalised. The government wants to treat it as a law enforcement issue. The ‘public’ say that Islamic schools and mosques are to blame. I think that neither address what’s happening. This is mostly occurring in second or third generation youth. The second fellow I spoke with said, ‘What do these kids know about Islam? There isn’t a strong enough Muslim culture here to give them any kind of real grounding in it. They don’t have that as an identity and they can’t fit into white Australia either so they are looking for something that lets them know who they are. That’s what ISIS is pumping out!” He showed me some pictures of his brother back in Lebanon; he’s a corporal in the regular army. Lebanon is, of course, fighting off incursions by ISIS all round. His brother said that the ISIS fighters are from all over the place but they share this ‘we are in this together for the cause’ kind of mentality. I just wonder how many of those young men are from places where their parents immigrated to a generation ago; how many of them could not find a place there and who are now looking to prompt the crisis that gives them a sense of identity.
I also wonder what difference it makes that one can now so readily choose an identity. Perhaps we haven’t evolved enough culturally to be able to do this smoothly. It’s only within the past few hundred years that people have been able to do this en masse (it’s been so much accelerated over the past century and looks set to be the norm by either choice or force in the coming one). It’s not something that one used to have much say in; one’s identity was a given—something formed over generations. A sense of place that offered stability of mind and social structure; that’s all increasingly cut adrift. Even if one became an immigrant, because of the limitations of travel and economics, that reception and absorption was gradual. We are going to see migrations now that are exponentially larger and faster than ever before. I wonder what that’s going to do to both the existing societies in place and those who come into them? I was reading this morning an account from the Iraq War; when the country began to fracture after the American invasion. People began to flee to the relative stability of Syria; I wonder how many of those families seeking asylum in Europe now are doubly displaced? How does one maintain identity in the midst of that?
The layers of ourselves
There are obviously many layers down through that to explore; those are just some initial musings and I realise that there are numerous complexities that I'm not addressing here. I'm observing this all from a quite narrow urban view; I'm also aware that there are obviously people in Australia who have a wholesome healthy sense of self-identity! I'm just commenting on what happens at the edges and as an immigrant myself. Having a core sense of identity that can be shared with the people around me is paramount; equally so, a respect for the history and cultures that everyone brings must be fostered as well. My reflection on this is because I sense we haven't quite found the way to do this—and it's a skill we need to develop quickly.
I say all that, not from a fear of losing my own identity or a lack of it, I’m simply wondering about this sense of a collective loss around me. Perhaps I am looking back at a time when I did feel more ‘a part of something’ and now I’m having to better define my own identity as an individual. I can see the benefits and pitfalls of both situations. I have lived abroad for a decade and, in some ways, feel more at ease in places where I am obviously distinct and apart. Again, I think this comes from having a healthy sense of one’s own identity; however, there is a flip side this also allows me to step aside out of conversations and engagement with the adopted culture. I always have an excuse as the outsider. I’m exploring the reasons behind this for myself; I need to understand if I’m moving from something or towards. I can easily feel immersed and at ease almost anywhere now but that does not mean I am of that place. I’m just wondering where my heart is and where it needs to be. Where that is, I’m not sure I can wholly answer on my own. It’s a question that I am accountable for but it involves the hearts of 'the other', the land under my feet and perhaps some larger measure of destiny than I have the scope to comprehend.
The Perception of Danger and the Assumption of Safety
Erawan Shrine in Central Bangkok one week prior to the bombing; I hope it returns as a place of peace soon.
I woke Tuesday morning to the news that the Erawan Shrine in central Bangkok had been bombed; this is particularly poignant for me as I was at that shrine a week before to the day. I'm going to take care not to say 'relevant' for me as, frankly, other than the shared humanity I have with the victims, I am not really connected to the incident. I think there can be a bit of 'adventure hubris' in saying too eagerly, 'yeah, I was right there man…well, a week before but, hey, close call wasn't it?'
I do find it ironic that I was also in Madrid at one of the train stations that was bombed about a week prior; in both instances I had the thought that these places seemed relatively safe. I continually (and this is perhaps more prevalent with American friends) hear comments about how unsafe the world is now—that we could be attacked 'anywhere and everywhere'. However, the chances of 'us' experiencing a terrorist incident are vanishingly small; I've been in some pretty dodgy places yet my most dangerous moment came on an open stretch of road in rural Maryland (in an accident with a statistically impossible chance of survival).
There is something askew with both the sense of safety and danger when people simultaneously assume that the real risks are on the battlefield or 'over there' in Syria, Iraq or South Sudan but, also, 'they' are coming to get us here in our local neighbourhood. Yes, both/and, but perhaps not at the extremes imagined. That's no consolation to the people living in the midst of war or the families of those killed in attacks; but I personally can't live my life in constant heightened awareness of danger. I also don't make flippant assumptions about risks (either in the aforementioned dodgy places or walking home in my quiet suburb at night).
This is the psychology of terrorism; you don't have to acquire an arsenal of nuclear bombs or vast armies. All that needs doing is to subtly shift people's assumptions about safety and risk. Once you've done that, you have control over their actions and life decisions. This shift can be about one's own city or some distant place; I was reminded yesterday about a conversation I had after returning to Philadelphia from the DR Congo, "Didn't you feel really…unsafe?" Yes, The DRC is dangerous, but I felt no more unsafe than I did in Philly where I, almost every night, heard gunshots down the street. That doesn't mean I must stop engaging with life in my neighbourhood or the world.
This comes down to something I've been speaking with a friend with over the past weeks; she does work in dangerous situations involving human trafficking and the darkness of the world. But, she said it's more dangerous to ride a motor scooter in traffic in Thailand (after experiencing this firsthand…yes). If you are doing what you are destined to do; then what greater safety is there? Everything must happen as it must. There is an old saying about 'sitting in the Heart of God'; that's not a place of fear. It may be a place of dangers and risks; but dangers and risks are everywhere—and, in a sense, nowhere in particular. I should think it's more important to encounter one's full purpose in life and let that life unfold as it may (but do wear a helmet).
The argument for a diminished god
I’ve written a page in my notebook some time ago; it’s on my mind this morning as I sit awake, jet-lagged, in a Dallas airport hotel at two in the morning:
“An argument for a diminished god; a system based on ‘Almighty God’ does not allow for a society based on self-governance. It sets up ‘leaders’, not representatives. We have set ourselves a god that is harmed by insult, whose face and name we must protect at all cost. This has led to much suffering for both ‘ourselves’ and ‘the other’. A god of jealousy and grudge can never be stable—who can look up to a god that embodies the worst of our nature.”
It seems to me that, deep in the kernel of ‘organised religion’ that this is the crux of conflict; it’s not that people have faith and disagree over this in general, it’s that people become obsessed with the power of their proclaimed god and, by extension, their own power. When that power is defamed or threatened, there is a vigorous response (all involving some kind of spiritual or physical violence to either oneself or the other). When that power remains unchecked, there is hubris and the entitlements of power.
When one’s god is beyond all question of power and the norms of reality and you are part of or under the charge of that god, there is always the risk that you extend yourself beyond what you, as an individual, have any warrant to do. This can, of course, lead to great creative beauty and humanity; however, the more trodden path (or at least the more currently visible one) spans the range from everyday pettiness to violent martyrdom. It is the same hierarchal framework of war that we’ve been living under since the first king was set up over a given square of land (and there is a story in the Bible where God warns about the nature of kings). We’ve put the sceptre and sword in god’s hand and look for the opportunity of blood.
Last night, I continued a conversation with a friend begun after Easter weekend. We had spoken about the continuing process in us of learning to live in this life; the difficulties of learning hard lessons and having death and resurrection as we go. I wrote to her,
“I think that is just the model of the spirit of Christ within us; there is always this talk about ‘dying to self’ from the view that one has to sacrifice and leave behind everything that makes us human (so much so that the dying leaves the human part so deeply buried and removed and we are almost expected to be this inert perfected spiritual being). But the resurrection part, the living on and evolving, is what too often is forgotten. I think people are not so afraid of dying; they are afraid of the struggle of coming back to life afterward.”
We cannot make death the focus of god in our lives (either calling upon the vengeful god to support us in our violence to others or pleading with the merciful almighty god who will save us in the end). I want to listen for the quiet diminished god who is there in the much more difficult process of life and resurrection; the god who is close as the slow process of growth comes to bear or my wounds are healing cell by cell. That is the god who is everywhere regardless of these confusions of creed and conflict. I don’t wish for a more almighty god of power and sudden intervention; that’s not going to bring healing. I wish for a diminished god working slowly in this quiet Cosmos; that may be an idealist’s dream but I would rather close my eyes to dream on this than shut them in fear when the terrors come.
The martyrdom of silence
There is much discussion about the need for better clarity and connection in 'The World'. I'm sure that whatever future we have together will require more understanding and cohesion; however, I wonder, again, if we so much lack the ability to communicate or we have simply lost the capacity to be silent. On the news last night, after the arrests of several suspected terrorists in Belgium, an imam in the town they were from said, "I think, unfortunately, much of the radicalisation is taking place online now; it's certainly not happening here in the mosque." The problem may not be that people are isolated it's that they are too filled with an infected language—and the spirit can only bear so much filling before it overflows into violence.
We've evolved in sparse small quiet groups. Now we are overwhelmed with sound. I've noted that some of the most socially desperate places I've been are also the most noisy—that the actual physical environment tends toward an unrelenting wash of sound (hard surfaces, crowded living and working spaces, etc.). This is not insignificant; I think it's actually a substantive issue. If you live in a place where, even to be heard, you have to constantly shout and strain your voice, this will form your perspective on how you interact with others. It will have some bearing on every kind of social interaction. Also those who are quiet won't be heard; it's only the loudest voices that can speak over the din. This is, metaphorically and physically, where much of the ideology of violence springs from—obviously not all; that's too much of a generalisation. However, I'm extending my generalisation into the online connections that seem to feed this phenomenon of radicalisation. People are caught up in little hard rooms with too much reverberation and it's driving them mad.
I wonder if these self-styled 'martyrs' are, instead of glory and acclaim through their own death and the death of others, deep down only trying to find a place of silence? That they, in their physical and spiritual lives, are so overwhelmed with the noise that they are driven to silence it all and would, ultimately, silence everyone. We continually hear from the families of 'good boys' who have 'suddenly and without warning' killed dozens of people that 'we never saw it coming; he was such a quiet young man.' Well, yes, he might have been a quiet young man beaten down with the noise of his school, his city, his broken society and then by the screaming preachers of hate he found online. If he was boisterous and outgoing, he might of found some outlet to vent his frustrations; he may have thought he could find work or interact with people different from himself (there is another discussion here about the loss of traditional shepherds and rights of passage for young men). But if one is in a world with no silence and no retreat, then that is going to break people eventually. Unfortunately, that brokenness, for some, leads to what we see in the evening news. That gets amplified, from news to reaction, reaction to further violence, violence to the sounds of war.
New Production Photos Gallery
I've begun a new gallery in the photography section; it's, for the moment, all stills from our past two Teachers Federation film productions for cinema and television ads. I was the on-site client representative and (perhaps more usefully) the de facto stills photographer. See the whole gallery here.
The Constant
I've just yesterday flown back to Sydney from a holiday in the States; as I left the country, the story of the attacks in Paris were unfolding and unfinished. Every news channel in the hotel displayed a barrage of information—'experts' spoke of the social situation in France, issues over immigration and inculturation, economic pressures among migrants, dissatisfaction over political reforms, involvement of the French military in North Africa, the 'War on Terror', various riots in The Republic over the past years, the history of Colonial power, religions intolerance, religious tolerance, freedom of expression, temperance of that expression, a new device that can hold any smart phone in your car's air vent, the upcoming Super Bowl, how the French government should respond, what mistakes were made by French Intelligence, the inevitable surveillance state, and so on.
Then, I flew for fourteen hours from Los Angeles to Sydney and all that fell silent. Most international flights are, for now, still free of any internet or broadcast news incursion. You've only your own reflections on current events to mull over (my 'entertainment display' was non-functional so I also did not have the selection of films to peruse either).
All these diverse and discordant voices—everyone has some opinion. Some are willing to voice them; some turn to violent action. How can I comprehend the situation of someone whose life is so different—who has a whole set of values and beliefs that are either many degrees separated or outright antithetical to mine? It takes significant dialogue (and, of course, a willingness to engage in that for both parties). But what, in the human experience of our engagement with one another, is the constant? All discussions and interactions involve variables; some of the elements can be reconciled but the equations seem to be too dynamic in the moments of conflict and confusion. What is the static constant that we all share no matter our culture, history or faith? It's silence; we are forgetting how to respect the silence of our togetherness and risk losing the only thing that we can always hold in common.
I know that the news is necessary; but I wish, for a given event, there could be an embargo for some time—that the first response, in the face of tragedy, would be silence and time to reflect. The immediate impulse to find blame, identify the early childhood traumas of the perpetrators, or trace the path of money and weapons is not, primarily, the issue at hand. These events all spring from our inability to hold a balanced space together; there is a rupture in society that tears right down through individuals because they can't find a way to hold life on common terms.
We recognise, after the fact, the necessity of silence; in memorials, in the streets, in Parliaments, there is 'a moment of silence' held by all, no matter what their political bent or religion. We need to find a way to hold silence together beforehand; we need to find these ruptured men and women in their time of injured vulnerability and learn to be silent together; to hold the quiet that leads to a discussion. What they are receiving, instead, is that onslaught of noise and rage from every quarter that drives them into further despair. If every space of mind and spirit is filled with the clamour of so many competing ideologies, there will be no room left for the common silence. What remains for the catalyst of peace? We'll face a future of desperate commentators trying to unquietly uncover why?
Guardian Australia Culture Podcast
I'm trying to bring some income (and variety) into the studio at work during idle times; this week, I recorded the Guardian Australia culture podcast. I had four journalists sitting round a table talking about the recent Melbourne festival. It was also great to observe Miles Martignoni in action; he's an experienced radio producer who calmly guided the process and then edited the material into an informative finished piece. Have a listen at this link or subscribe on iTunes here.