Blame

Although we may think we have the answers on how the world works, there is always more to learn

Content warning: sexual assault, blaming survivors of sexual assault

I am the type of person who always wants to understand why things happen the way they do. I never really left that childhood stage of asking “why” about everything, which has mostly been a benefit seeing as I am a student journalist and a psychology major. Sometimes this default mode works really well because it helps me pick up on patterns, and also because it keeps me curious when I’m trying to solve problems. Few things stifle creativity like frustration, but few things nurture it like curiosity, so feeling excited about searching for the next step when life goes belly up has worked in my favour. This drive can also inhibit me, as it makes it more difficult for me to accept when there is no way I can make a situation better. Some days are not so bad, and I can mostly accept it. On others I get sent spiralling because when I cannot figure out how to fix a problem, I tend to assume the problem is me. That does not mean that I believe I caused the problem or am solely to blame for it, but I will get angry with myself because I am convinced there is a solution – some “why” I’m not seeing – and will feel inadequate when I cannot find it. I have a drive to find reasons for things, which can translate to a drive to assign blame when things go wrong, and most of that blame is directed internally. Of course, that is not the only direction blame can be pointed – it’s very easy to assign blame to others when things do not go as planned, though it is not always wrong to place blame elsewhere when you cannot solve a problem. For example, blaming the handful of companies who cause the majority of the world’s pollution and holding them accountable for their actions would make a larger impact than you as an individual committing to taking reusable bags with you when you shop, but as an individual you only have control over one of those things so blaming yourself for the State of the World (™) is not placing blame where it really belongs. My need to place blame somewhere comes from the idea that if I know what caused something and it’s a thing I don’t want to happen again, I now stand a chance of stopping that thing. When you’re a kid you learn that when you touch something hot, it burns you, and you gradually learn to exercise caution around these

things because you do not want that to happen. It can also help when figuring out what to do more of. People generally feel gratitude and joy when you offer to share what you have with them, so you can find patterns that show you how to improve the lives of others too. Even though there’s often something that likely caused an event to happen that you can watch for as a red flag next time, that is not always the case. When I am genuinely not sure what happened to cause a situation, that’s when I’ll hit my fun little spiral and have the urge to toss blame one way or another.

There is a concept, though, from social psychology that does a good job of outlining why it’s so tempting to assign blame and close the case before considering what really happened. The just-world hypothesis is based around the idea that people like to think of the world they live in as somewhere that is predictable and safe, where actions always have the same consequences and people always get what they deserve. When events happen that show people the world might not be as predictable and safe as they thought, they want to find explanations so that they can avoid the unpleasant

or traumatic thing that they hear, witness, or experience.

Ever heard of a sexual assault survivor being asked what they were wearing when they were assaulted? That is a perfect example of the just-world hypothesis. People obviously want to avoid being sexually assaulted, but the way they think around it places blame on the person it happened to. They are convinced there is a reason people who sexually assault choose certain people to assault, and that by not being “one of those people,” they’ll avoid being assaulted. They essentially try to find a sole cause for the event (i.e., how the person was dressed) that they can blame for the event and avoid, because they’re terrified of the unknown level of risk, of something they may truly have no control over.

So, is it okay for them to blame survivors of sexual assault if it’s just to make themselves feel safer? Abso-fucking-lutely not - that isn’t how the world actually works. People aren’t assaulted because of how they dress. They are assaulted because someone who felt entitled to that experience with them chose to take it from them. It’s not like assaults weren’t a problem back when people were wearing petticoats, because it’s never had anything to do with what the person who got assaulted was wearing. But believing that it did can give people some amount of perceived control, because in their minds they know what causes the things they don’t want to experience.

To circle back, I’d simply like to leave you with a word of caution. I understand the drive to find a reason behind events, behaviours, and choices, but you have to remember to not let your auto-pilot drive to find reasons navigate your search. Sometimes that autopilot will lead you down completely incorrect routes because it saw an easy explanation, and sometimes the easy ones don’t accurately reflect what’s going on in the world. People are bad at placing blame because we don’t like the way the world works. We like predictability and consistency, not new odds every day, so we imagine how we’d like the world to work and act as though it’ll listen.

“I understand the drive to find a reason behind events, behaviours, and choices, but you have to remember to not let your auto-pilot drive to find reasons navigate your search.

– Holly Funk

holly funk

editor-in-chief

Samule Sun They’re probably ruminating...

Fourth-year Arts student parses pros and cons of distanced learning

Andrew Neel via Unsplash Except my at-home workspace never looks this clean...

It will shock absolutely no one (I hope) that the University of Regina has returned to in-person classes as of August 30, 2021. When I spoke to other students this summer – which was considerably more than last year – I heard nothing but gloomy reports of how miserable the past year had been for them, having been shut inside. I made sure to smile, nod, and empathize for the most part…but the truth is, I did not think that distance learning was all that bad.

There were downsides to it, of course, like the actual people-dying-from-the-pandemic aspect. As many clinical reports showed, quarantine and lockdown conditions caused severe mental health deterioration in many people, particularly students. I am not in any way trying to dispute that – for many people, quality of life diminished severely – or somehow say that the pandemic was a good thing. I did, however, notice many benefits of taking my classes from home.

In addition, I would like to acknowledge the privileges I have that made this a good experience: I am a younger student who lives away from home but have supportive parents who are able to contribute to my education. I live alone and have my own study and workspace in my apartment – though it is just a corner in my basement suite under one of the few windows. Conditions are obviously less ideal for students who lost full- or part-time jobs they needed to pay for…well, everything...and for students who are unable to work comfortably from home because of roommates, siblings, or parents. I do think, however, that many of these aspects of distanced learning can benefit anyone.

With that having been disclaimed, here are some benefits I noticed from a year of distanced learning: first, not having to commute. Housing near the university fills up extremely fast and is not always in the best condition. Regina is also a city designed for cars, and our public transit system is flawed and underfunded. More importantly, owning a car isn’t financially feasible for everyone, and neither are university parking passes. I personally dislike driving and opt for our “included with tuition” U-Pass, which means a half an hour commute to and from the university. This is still not a long commute, as citizens of Regina reports over hour-long commutes by public transit if transit comes to their area at all. Staying home eliminates a lot of wasted time that can be spent more wisely. This isn’t to say that productivity needs to be one’s biggest focus, especially during the pandemic. Although, speaking as a fulltime student who has been working at least two jobs year-round to get by, time is of the essence. Even if that extra hour a day isn’t spent working on an essay, reading, or studying, it is still invaluable time to a student. An extra hour for a university student means more sleep, more time to prepare a nutritious meal; more time to unwind with a TV show or movie, or more time catch

up with a friend, even if virtually.

Conversely, remote learning for me as an introvert meant not having to participate in extraneous socialization. I know, can I sound any more privileged? But personally, I find being around people, particularly in large groups, very draining if I have to do it for a long period of time. Eventually, this can lead to further burn out of the social kind, in addition to the mental burn out of school. This often leads to social withdrawal, which means not seeing friends or family in quantities that are enriching or beneficial for me (or them.) Instead, the pandemic led me to reach out to my friends and family more often, rekindle relationships I had let go due to lack of time or exhaustion, and talk to people more in my classes.

I made more friends over Zoom this year than I made in the previous two years of in-person school. I think these new connections were more easily forged because my social battery was functioning at much higher levels and because the circumstances forced us to be. If we didn’t make intentional efforts to connect with our cohorts, we wouldn’t connect with anyone at all. When I was working as a Teachers Assistant at the Writing Centre over Zoom last year, if there were no appointments in the time slots while we were switching shifts, we would often all stay on the call to chat about classes and current projects. I also had classmates take an email that was only meant to have a submission of feedback

and extend them into full conversations instead. Being more isolated somehow helped bring us together by leading us to reach out to people we might not have – because in a normal classroom setting, when your session is over, you just pack your bags and go.

One benefit of distance learning for me that may be a pitfall for others is that, as an English honours major, most of my schoolwork is reading hefty novels, and most of my classes are just discussing those hefty novels. The aforementioned extra hour in a day meant more time to do my syllabus readings, and, as a result, I was able to come to class more prepared. With more time to prepare and dedicate to my studies, my grades improved.

I do acknowledge, though, that it is certainly a different feeling to discuss a book over Zoom, but it’s not impossible. Online learning models don’t work as well for students in the sciences or fine arts who often require a hands-on approach. A friend of mine in Engineering often remarked that his professors weren’t as available for questions or to explain concepts as they might have been in-person.

The downsides to distanced learning are obviously more apparent. For those students who thrive on social activities and chatting with their peers, learn best by auditory or hands-on learning, or have learning environments that aren’t conducive to learning, online learning is not a viable solution for education indefinitely. However, it does expose many gaps in our education system that can be improved upon, either by making more classes, or aspects of classes, online – or simply addressing the root problem.

If anything, the pandemic proved a need for a better work-life and school-life balance, more leniency, empathy, and understanding from professors for students who have a tough enough time when it’s not a pandemic, affordable housing solutions for all - not just students, and a better system of public transit. Changes can be made to our modes of delivery to make them more hybrid. Just one example being that professors could now provide online copies of lectures for when students are sick or unable to make it into class – and, in addition, this would make classes more accessible for those who are hard of hearing or have auditory processing issues and struggle in a classroom setting. The bottom line is that we can learn from some of these positive aspects of distanced learning, and that perhaps all the struggles we faced in the last two years weren’t for nothing. Good can come from the flaws being exposed in our systems, particularly our educational systems – if we choose to address them.

“I make sure to smile, nod, and empathize for the most part… but the truth is, I did not think that distance learning was all that bad.

– Hannah Eiserman

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editors: sarah carrier, rooky jegede graphics@carillonregina.com the carillon | sept 2 - sept 15, 2021