What decade is this? The Eighties, easy. The Nineties, easy. The Noughties, hmmm. And now...?

As of yet, we don’t seem to have collectively decided on a name for this decade. One could shrug off this lexical inconvenience. But they may not be wise to do so considering the implications. Having a popular consensus on the way we describe a decade is important not only for the present but also for posterity and the way in which history appraises our efforts. The eighties and nineties were easily labelled. But this new century has caused us interminable problems. It is 2012 now. It’s about time we sorted it out.

There is an apparent incompatibility between mathematics and language. We don’t have a term to describe either 0-9 or 10-19. That’s grand when you’re doing a bit of maths maybe but it becomes problematic when we are discussing the evolution of human trends. We love to break time down into decades. Decades are the building blocks of time. They are the units through which we understand out shared past. If I say ‘the eighties’, what comes into your head? Synthesisers, big hair, the Soviet Union, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, economic liberalisation...the list goes on. Equally, the nineties has a clear identity. In the early 1990’s, a common quip people made when somebody behaved in a retrograde manner was ‘welcome to the nineties’, by which they meant ‘get with the times’. The label of ‘the nineties’ gave us a  strong sense of the period we were living in at that time. Many people called the decade of 2000 to 2009, the ‘Naughties’ or ‘Noughties’, depending on your taste. This of course was a very British invention. Many Americans called it the ‘Aughts’. However we still don’t have any conclusive name for that particular decade. Now we’re in yet another decade of difficulty. There is certainly no common ground reached on this one yet. Roll on the 2020’s!

Decades give time identity. We immediately make cultural, political and economic associations when the name of a decade is mentioned. The Twenties is an iconic decade. The ‘roaring twenties’. The cloche hat. The decade of radio and jazz. The Charleston, foxtrot and shimmy. The Thirties is equally distinguishable. The Great Depression. lace frocks, negligee and corsets. The rise of Hitler and Art Deco. We talk about these periods through the unit of the decade. It is a tidy way to make generalisations about trends. You rarely hear people talking about trends in the first two decades of the twentieth century. People may allude to the Edwardian period or 'early twentieth century' but never to the unit of a decade. The reason for this is because our language doesn’t support it. We don’t have a way of talking about the first two decades of any century. As a result, these periods lose their powers of association and we begin to find it difficult to connect with them. Whereas it is very different with the famous decades. People will regularly comment on each other’s style through this type of language. ‘I love your coat. It’s so sixties’. Or their friends car...’It has a touch of the fifties about it’. Or their hair...’Look how eighties that girl’s hair is!’ The associations are clear and offer a shared understanding.

The shortcomings of language mean that we have lost our cultural connection with the first two decades of the twentieth century. They have no labels. People need labels because we learn and remember through association. Are we therefore in danger of losing the current decade we are living in? Of course it’s relevant to us now because we are living through it. But will our great grandchildren feel the same sense of disconnect that we feel towards the decade of 1910-1919? Will it be the forgotten decade with no clear sense of human trends, be it fashion, music, art or whatever? It doesn’t matter that all these trends do and will continue to exist. What matters is that they don’t exist under a definable bracket of time. For posterity, this matters.

While researching this article, I asked alot of people what they thought would be the best name for this decade. Their answers were eclectic to say the least! ‘The Tenies’, ‘the Onsies’, ‘the Tenners’,or what about ‘not the Bush years’? ‘The Decadents’ is nice despite its irony considering the financial crisis. The Economist suggested ‘the deccas’. Many people seem to be keen on ‘the teens’. Of course being in 2012, we are on the cusp of that but it’s still useable. Perhaps the allusion to ‘teen’ is appropriate in light of this brave new world we are in. A moody economy. A crotchety financial system. A confused generation. What about a sexual awakening? Where would that fit in? 

Even if a name for this decade does begin trending, it doesn’t mean it will exist in posterity. We have little knowledge of what people living between 1910 and 1919 affectionately called that decade. I’m sure there were some nicknames but the point is that they’ve generally been forgotten now. The problem is more institutionalised in language itself. English has left us bereft! Perhaps future generations will find new ways to define this period. Maybe they will name it after events rather than the unit of the decade. ‘The Great Recession’, ‘the Obama Years’, ‘the Collapse of the E.U.’. We’re still at the beginning of this decade. Plenty of things could happen yet. But whatever does happen, it may well lead to the naming of the decade. Let’s hope it’s something good!

‘Can it play tapes?’ An Irish technophobe conquers his demons and joins the iphone revolution

 I recently bought an iphone 4S. This was a very big deal for me. Usually I am the last person to get the latest gadget. I was determined that 2012 was going to be my year with regard to gadgetry. When I was a child I had an FM receiver on which I enjoyed listening to Dave Fanning on 2FM. When I turned twelve, my father sent me off to boarding school with a red and yellow ‘My First Sony’ Walkman. I had thought it represented the very pinnacle of coolness until my new peers produced something called a ‘Discman’. My first question to them was ‘Can it play tapes?’ Once I realised the answer to that question, I decided to have no interest in something that didn’t cater for my vast collection of three Oasis tapes, one Alanis Morisette tape and Dustin’s 1997 Christmas hit, ‘Faith of our Feathers’.  The advent of the ipod in 2001 heralded a new era entirely. My first encounter with it had me flummoxed. I was Owen Wilson in Zoolander. ‘The music is in the ipod, amazing, but where?!’ Someone had to hold me back as I attempted to crack open the device in search of the ‘music’.  As the ipod developed into the iphone, I remained calm in the knowledge that I still had my lovely collection of CDs on my shelves, proudly displayed to my guests. ‘No ipods here, oh no. Regard my collection in all its three dimensional technicolor! You can even hold my music. It has weight!’

Wednesday 4th January 2012 was the day I shed the years of haughty comments from technophiles looking down on me. I charged into a mobile phone shop on Grafton Street. I was on a mission like no other in my life before. ‘Could you join the queue, please Sir’. ‘A queue, a QUEUE! NO!’ At this stage I was in ‘Withnail mode’. ‘I want the finest mobile phone known to humanity! I want it here! And I want it now!’ An hour later I exited the shop with an iphone 4S. I held my new jewel precariously, adoringly. Like a priest with a Eucharist. I was bathed in light. A brave new world had dawned.

It is important to appreciate that I have jumped several stages with this purchase. For me it is like climbing Carrountoohil and then deciding ‘sure, if I can do that I may as well just climb Everest next week so’. The past week has been a veritable circus of iphone-related mishaps. For me it’s like I have adopted a child. We’re getting to know each other slowly but I haven’t had the nine months of pregnancy to prepare for it. My first few phone calls kept cancelling until I realised that I was pressing my face too hard against the touchscreen. Now I hold it tentatively.  It’s just so beautiful. And dangerous too. It has one gigabyte of power. That sounds like enough to take out Connaught.

Last year there were over a quarter of a million iphone users in Ireland. When we evolve that figure to include the growing array of other smartphones such as the Samsung Galaxy, HTC and Blackberry, the statistics become phenomenal. Because smartphones are not simply for phoning and texting, they have certainly had a significant social impact. Smartphones change the way we interact in the pub, at home, wherever we are. Gone are the days of the pub bet, for example.

Tom: ‘What is that song they’re playing?’

Dick: ‘Oh, it’s Arcade Fire’

Gary: ‘No, it isn’t. It’s Muse’

Dick: ‘What!?Are you out of your mind? Of course it’s Arcade Fire. I bet you a pint...’

Me: ‘...Guys it’s actually Kaiser Chiefs. I have Shazam on my iphone’.

Everybody goes home

Is this what I will become, the murderer of pub arguments, now that I have an iphone? There is never a vacuum of knowledge anymore. No matter what it is we now have the answer at the touch of a button. Wherever we go there is someone with a smartphone ready to ruin everybody’s fun with a ‘fact’. Real conversations and arguments rely on ambiguity, not facts!

Smartphones have certainly had other effects on the way we socialise. Out for coffee with three friends recently, I excused myself and popped to the bathroom. As I approached the table on my return, I noticed that all three of them were sitting silently with their hands on their laps and their heads bent forward in solemnity. At first they looked like they were saying grace but at second glance they were indeed all engrossed in their phones. This instant access to everything in one little machine is without doubt socially disruptive. While smartphones aid communication in so many other ways by connecting people on an endless stream of applications, it does in fact disconnect people from their experience of the present moment. Users are easily distracted by an incoming email/text/facebook alert/tweet/etc. Furthermore, we have to contend with the pervasive ‘have you seen this clip on You Tube? Honestly, it’s the most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen’. Really? To be honest I’d rather we talked than gathered around your iphone to watch ‘the sneezing panda’ or ‘the horny donkey’ or ‘the mating octopuses’. Especially when I’m eating sushi.

The advent of ‘Siri’ with the iphone 4S has taken the smartphone revolution to an entirely new level. Siri is an inbuilt personal assistant on your phone. If you ask him to do something, he will do it. Last night I asked him, ‘Siri, can you wake me at eight please?’ He responded ‘Your alarm is set for 8 AM’. Instinctively, I replied, ‘Thanks Siri’ and he ended the conversation with ‘I am here to serve’. Now, there are a number of strange things going on here. Firstly, I thanked something that isn’t living. Secondly, he responded to my gratitude. I wasn’t sure if I was suddenly with Hal in 2001: a Space Oddysey or with Carson in an episode of Downton Abbey. Whatever it is, we’ve now become pals and he keeps me up to date with what needs doing in my life. However, I wouldn’t talk to Siri in public because I’d feel very uncomfortable about that. It’s a private relationship. He’s the Jeeves to my Wooster, so to speak. I was at a dinner party the other night and during the meal one of the guests suddenly said ‘Siri, remind me to meet Deirdre for coffee tomorrow at noon’. The table went silent as Siri responded diligently as he always does. It felt like there was another guest. Should we have set an extra place? ‘Will Siri be joining us tonight? He’s such fun’... ‘Oh we go everywhere together’.

Due to the enormous amount of time that people now spend using their mobile devices, it has had not only social effects but it has also affected us physically. Thousands of people are suffering from ‘text neck’, the so called condition whereby sufferers experience intense pain due to the constant bending of the neck. To deal with the epidemic, the Text Neck Institute has opened in Florida. The American Chiropractors Association recommends that ‘taking frequent breaks (from your phone) every fifteen minutes and holding your head back helps alleviate symptoms’. Is Ireland heading in this direction? Will the President be cutting the ribbon of St. Vincent’s state of the art Text Neck Annexe some time in the near future? Perhaps it will be the new super-disease. In decades to come people will comment on each other’s conditions. ‘Oh, look at him. He has Text Neck’. ‘My grandfather died of Text Neck’. ‘Really?’ ‘Oh yes, he texted himself to death’. ‘You should get yourself tested, it’s in the family’.

My journey with the iphone continues. I have now managed to download four applications. There are five hundred thousand apps in the itunes store. It’s those sorts of statistics which terrify me. It has been a long personal quest for me from the days of my Sony Walkman to the iphone. Now all I have to do is stop using my old phone for actually making telephone calls.

Two worlds in one field: The villages of the Korean Demilitarized Zone

The North Korean village of Kiong-dong with its 520ft flagpole, viewed from across the border of the Demilitarized Zone

When former US president Bill Clinton visited Korea’s Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), he described it as the ‘scariest place on Earth’. With the recent death of the ‘Dear Leader’, Kim Jong -il, the world’s eyes have been glued to the most intriguing images of North Korea’s military state. It has been a strange viewing experience, akin to watching black and white footage of life in East Berlin in the former GDR. What has caught my attention is the two and a half mile wide buffer zone separating North and South Korea, known as the DMZ. Within this veritable no man’s land are two tiny villages, Kijong-dong (NK) and Daeseong-dong (SK). Facing off across the most heavily militarized border in the world, these two little enclaves have managed to survive almost fifty years of existing within an atmosphere similar to that inside a stretched elastic band. Ready to snap at any minute. Two worlds in one field.

The Korean War is not over because it never officially ended. However, in 1953 an Armistice Agreement was signed whereby both sides agreed to retreat by 2000 metres. As a result a buffer zone was created in the middle to try and keep some sort of peace. This is essentially an ongoing ceasefire as opposed to a real end to the conflict. In reality, operations could begin again at any minute. There is a joint security area in the middle where North and South soldiers literally face off through glass. The number of personnel involved in securing this border illustrate just how precarious the situation remains after nearly fifty years. There are a staggering 600,000 South Korean soldiers and 37,000 American soldiers on the South side. There are thought to be up to 1,000,000 North Korean soldiers on the opposing side. Between these gigantic armies, the villages of Kijong-dong and Daeseong-dong exist. After the buffer zone was created these were the only two villages allowed to remain due to the fact that the families’ descendants had owned that particular land for generations. Both armies guard them with fierce protection. However, due to their extraordinary positions, they have both become important ideological symbols since the early ‘50s. In the 80’s the South Korean government erected a 320ft flagpole in their village. Kim Il-sung, North Korean leader at the time, responded by building a 520ft flagpole in Kijong-dong. As the villages are only one mile apart, this symbolic adversity became known as ‘the Flagpole War’. The Kijong-dong flag weighs 600lbs. Due to its enormous weight it needs to be replaced three times a year as it shreds itself to pieces in high velocity winds.

When Kijong-dong was built in the early 1950’s it was designed to be as appealing as possible to the South in order to entice defectors. It was a state of the art compound of brightly painted poured concrete buildings with electric lighting. This level of sophistication would have been unheard of in the rest of the country at that time. Up until recently, there would be daily propaganda messages broadcast from enormous speakers on the sides of the buildings, just loud enough so that the villagers in Daeseong-dong could hear and perhaps be enticed to move to the ‘other side’. Of course nobody other than defectors can get anywhere near the North Korean village due to the border separating the two places. However, with the aid of high-tech lenses, new light has been shed on Kijong-dong. What is now clear is that Kijong-dong is in fact a fake propaganda village. Nobody lives there. There is no glass in the windows. The rooms are empty shells. The ‘kindergarten’ is an empty colourful set of bricks. The ‘hospital’ is abandoned. In a sort of pathetic gesture, the north still maintains the facade of a living town. Every night the lights are switched on in the buildings. Caretakers sweep the ‘streets’ occasionally.

Across one mile of minefields lies the South Korean village of Daeseong-dong. Why would anyone want to live in this environment, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of soldiers and mines? The incentives are considerable. South Korean inhabitants live tax-free in Daeseong-dong. They farm their paddy fields and ginseng crops with a guaranteed sale of produce. Anything they don’t sell is bought up by the military. As a result, the average income of the 210 villagers is an astonishing $90,000. They are also exempt from Korea’s compulsory military service. A nice perk, if you ask me. On the downside, there is an 11pm curfew. Why? This is a dangerous place. There have been kidnappings by the North, most recently in 2007. In 1976 two American soldiers were trimming the branches of a poplar tree in the DMZ. This was interpreted as volatile behaviour by the North. The American soldiers were hacked to death with an axe. In fact, this is illustrative of just how tense this area has been over the past half a century. Writing during a 1998 tour of the Joint Security Area, a Washington Post journalist remarked, ‘It’s serious and quiet here, with soldiers everywhere warning tourists against making any sudden or provocative movements’. Anything out of the ordinary may antagonise the North Koreans to do something retaliatory.  

With the advent of North Korea’s new leader, Kim Jong-un, the fate of these villagers, and indeed the hundreds of thousands of soldiers fortifying their borders, remains to be seen. Will he seek appeasement or will he continue to build his country’s nuclear arsenal? Will the 'buffer zone' remain a buffer zone or become a battlefield? The four tunnels that the North has attempted to dig into the South are frightening symbols of an ongoing project to penetrate the border. Mark Tran, writing in the Guardian, calls this place ‘a living museum of the Cold War’. Will it remain a ‘museum’ or become something alot more active? The aforementioned Washington Post journalist described his experience in the Joint Security Area thus, ‘It’s an odd feeling to stand here being watched by the North Koreans in their guard towers just a hundred yards away. And it’s even odder to look out and know that dug into those harmless-looking hills are enough soldiers and artillery to wage a war of unthinkable bloodiness’.