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Recently I spent four days in Austin, Texas for the South by Southwest (SXSW) Music Festival. This is an annual event in which approximately 1,850 bands – mostly independent and unsigned to a record label – were invited to perform in local venues throughout the downtown area of this college town (Root, 1). The music festival followed on the coattails of two other well-known festivals, the South by Southwest Interactive Conference and the South by Southwest Film Festival, and was the most well attended event of the three. Last year over 13,000 people descended into the bars and parks of Austin for the music festival, and early estimates of this year’s crowd projected a record number of participants (Root, 1).
In the pages that follow, I will describe my observations about the expression of public opinion by local residents of Austin. It is important to highlight that these observations were of public opinions and not of attitudes, the difference being that public opinion is generally correlated to actions while attitude more often relates to feelings. As Vincent Price writes of this distinction, “Opinions have usually been considered observable, verbal responses to an issue or question, whereas attitude is a covert, psychological predisposition or tendency” (46). Considering that all of my research resulted from verbal conversations with various individuals, the sentiments expressed by them will hereby be referred to as opinions.
My observations took place in two public spaces: a local bar and a local restaurant, where I functioned as an observer and as a participant observer, respectively. For the purposes of this paper, I will analyze two of the interactions I had in these spaces and will discuss how the spiral of silence, pluralistic ignorance, the third person effect, and cross-cutting networks affected the dynamics and perceptions of participants.
My first encounter occurred when I was engaged in some mid-day reading on the patio of Moonshine, a bar situated on a quiet side street adjacent to the central downtown area. Sitting in a rocking chair that was roughly twenty feet away from the font door, I was able to eavesdrop on a conversation between two thirty-something patrons, Matt and Sarah, who were standing on the front steps. Sarah initiated the dialogue by asking Matt if her friend (presumably an employee of the bar) was still on shift. Matt informed Sarah that her friend had already left for the day, and then introduced himself, casually mentioning that he had seen Sarah around the bar. Soon they were swapping stories about the music festival – which bands they had seen play, which parties they had attended – and eventually the conversation evolved into a discussion of the benefits and the drawbacks of this kind of tourism for their hometown. They both agreed that the festival was good for business (Sarah photographed many of the bands for regional publications and Matt managed the Moonshine Bar and Restaurant), but also noted that the resulting traffic, congestion and late-night partying in public spaces disrupted their daily routines.
Matt expressed his environmental concerns with the festival, complaining about the “tons of waste” produced by vendors and concert goers, but not without smirking at the irony of how so many “lefty hipsters” who probably thought of themselves as “concerned environmentalists” could indulge in so much conspicuous consumption. Sarah agreed with this sentiment. Matt did most of the talking after this point. Soon he had steered the conversation into the territory of national politics, discussing his support of Ron Paul during the 2008 presidential election, the details of Paul’s “constitutional libertarian” political philosophy, and his own thoughts on the causes and effects of global warming.
Throughout the entirety of their conversation, Matt and Sarah confined themselves to an isolated portion of the patio; I was the only other patron within earshot, and I pretended to be lost in my reading (though I was busily scribbling notes and observations in the margins of my notebook) so as to effectively eavesdrop on their conversation. This might explain the liberty Matt took to express what he considered to be controversial opinions:
“If I say I don’t believe in global warming, people think I voted for Bush. But really, the term global warming is masking what’s really going on. The United States is engaged in industrial farming and the creation of genetically modified organisms around the world. They’re fucking with the food supply; with the ecosystem and the very things that we eat and the way we’ve eaten for centuries! And that’s what they don’t want you to know. The planet isn’t transforming just because we’re releasing more CO2 into the air. It’s so much more than that.”
At this point in the conversation, Matt began to lament about the polarizing effects of politics on the average citizen, admitting that he felt embarrassed during the 2008 election to campaign for Ron Paul because he was a Republican candidate. “I mean, my friends thought I was crazy. So I just stopped talking about it. They were like ‘You don’t support Obama?! What’s wrong with you?!” Sarah nodded and added, “Yeah, totally,” to which Matt took as an invitation to continue with his frustrated political reflections:
“And all the pundits weren’t even talking about Ron Paul, unless they were balking at him for calling for an end to the Federal Reserve. I mean, I’m a constitutional libertarian; I believe that our government should abide by what’s outlined in the constitution, and I was so inspired when Ron Paul was talking about the backwardness of the Federal Reserve System. It has to go. But you even mention those things, and that maybe you’ll vote for a Republican candidate, and people look at you like you have a third head.”
Feeling reticent to publicly express support for an underdog Republican candidate in a left-leaning city like Austin was a clear illustration of the spiral of silence effect argued by political scientist Elisabeth Noelle-Neumann. Believing that his view was far outside the mainstream, Matt opted to stay silent among his peer group in order to avoid feelings of embarrassment and social isolation. His pattern of behavior fits with another aspect of Neumann’s theory: when a person perceives their view to be a minority one, they are likely to either 1) become ambivalent in their opinions, or 2) remain hardened, yet silent, in their opinions. This second point very much reflects Matt’s behavior. And what is more, while a person who perceives their opinion to be unpopular may avoid publicly expressing it, they may simultaneously seek out those who display an appreciation for their beliefs. Neumann writes of this phenomenon:
“After a lengthy struggle, a minority faction may be reduced to a hard core of persons who are not prepared to conform, to change their opinions, or even to be silent in the face of public opinion. Some members of this group may get accustomed to isolation, and many of them manage to support their opinions by selecting out persons and media which confirm their views” (Noelle-Neumann, 49).
For whatever reason, Matt assumed that Sarah’s opinions would be in line with his, and as they found themselves safely at a distance from co-workers, peers and outside observers, Matt was able to express an opinion that was typically viewed as socially risky.
Further distilling Noelle-Neumann’s theory, Elihu Katz writes of speaking and silence in terms of pluralistic ignorance. This is a phrase used to capture the phenomenon that occurs when a person believes he or she is the only person (or one of a small minority of people) to hold a particular opinion on a given issue, and that “most people” possess diametrically opposed beliefs indicative of mainstream values. Even on the rare occasions that these “groups of individuals” may constitute a majority of opinion, it is their perception that they are unsupported. Thus, as Katz writes, the unsupported “lose confidence and withdraw from public debate, thus speeding the demise of their position through the self-fulfilling spiral of silence. They may not change their minds, but they stop recruitment of others and abandon the fight” (Katz, 89).
This theory seems directly applicable to many of Matt’s lamentations around his inability to have a voice in the 2008 election. He discussed the transition that transpired between his enthusiastic public displays of support and efforts to mobilize interest in the candidacy of Ron Paul at the beginning of the election cycle, to muted and passive concern, as the result of negative peer pressure. Because everyone else was supporting Barack Obama for president (or so he perceived), Matt felt marginalized and alienated from his friends and coworkers.
Large portions of the conversation between Matt and Sarah also support another aspect of Noelle-Neumann’s spiral of silence theory, that impressions about current majority opinions can often affect projections about future public sentiment. Noelle-Neumann argues that as people convince themselves that they hold a minority opinion, the more likely they are to doubt that the mainstream will ever adopt their views. The spiral of silence has a powerful grip: outsiders believe they will always exist outside of and in contrast to the mainstream majority. “There is a positive correlation between the present and the future assessment: if the opinion is considered to be the prevailing one, it is likely to be considered the future one also” (Noelle-Neumann, 45). An hour after the initial exchange of names and introductions, Matt and Sarah left the bar together. The last thing I heard from Matt before they both disappeared out of earshot was the question – a rhetorical question asked as much to himself as it was offered to Sarah – “Is there any place for people like us?’
The next day I engaged a local couple in conversation as we sat next to each other on the outdoor patio of a downtown hamburger joint. After a few minutes of small talk, the boyfriend, Jonah, mentioned his admiration for the bike culture in San Francisco (my hometown), at which point I asked both of them if there was much of a bike culture in Austin. Jonah answered:“Well, I have a bike, but I don’t ride it as much as I should. We definitely have a growing bike culture here, but it’s not where it should be. Drivers aren’t used to bikers yet, and there are such aggressive drivers. They’re building a light rail soon, which should be really good for everyone who commutes.” At this point, I asked when building started and where funding was coming from. Anne responded: “They started work on it but construction won’t be done for a really long time. I mean, it passed …last election, and they just started building. “
Jonah interjected:
“Yeah, and it totally should have passed [as a ballot measure] in 2000. We could have gotten more federal funds for it then. But people didn’t understand the importance of light rail. It failed forty-nine to fifty, which is like, crazy. Fifty percent of the people in Austin thought that light rail wasn’t a good idea? I have to think it was the result of this huge advertising campaign funded by car companies. I’m sure that affected people who were on the fence. The whole cost argument, you know. But everyone I know supported light rail, so I really don’t understand who those fifty percent were and where they hang out.”
Jonah’s belief that paid advertising campaigns swayed Austin residents’ voting habits is a clear display of the third person effect. This phenomenon is about believing that the perceived effect of a communication cannot affect you, or someone whom you might know, but it might affect someone else, a sort of hypothetical third person. Phillip Davison describes the third person effect in the following way: “individuals who are members of an audience that is exposed to persuasive communication…will expect the communication to have a greater effect on others than on themselves” (Davison, 3).
When a person is engaged with an issue that is of particular concern to them, they are more likely to have an underlying base of tacit knowledge that can function as a sort of lens. As someone concerned with women’s rights, for example, I might believe that I am better informed than others because I am particularly sensitive and attentive to feminist issues. A person in this scenario is more likely to feel that a third person effect is working against their efforts or opinions. As Davison writes: “In a sense…we are all experts on those subjects that matter to us, in that we have information not available to other people. This information may not be of a factual or technical nature; it may be our own experiences, likes, and dislikes. Other people, we reason, do not know what we know. Therefore, they are more likely to be influenced by the media” (9).
While the participants discussed above were able to articulate their opinion on a wide range of issues, a similar pattern emerged across these conversations: that of retroactive criticism. Hans Speier writes of this trend, “As a rule, public opinion realized the mistakes that have been committed in foreign policy only when they review it in retrospect the history of a generation” (Bismarck as quoted in Speier, 385). While the conversations I witnessed as both an observer and as a participant observer reflected concerns around local and national issues rather than foreign policy, the idea is still the same. In both these cases, individuals expressed their opinions publicly because they felt there had been some injustice or bad decision made in the past. In their conversation around issues of the day, they frequently expressed frustration and lamentation around these past mistakes, which stemmed from the behavior of their fellow citizens, of the media elites, or of politicians.
Contextualizing the nature of these interactions is of the utmost importance. Austin is known to be a politically homogenous space. It attracts a breed of unconventional individuals who are generally left leaning in their politics. In this way, local residents have carved out a community unique to the rest of Texas, which is generally more conservative and politically right leaning, yet they have created a place that lacks diversity of opinion in the process. In all of the conversations I engaged with or overhead during the four-day music festival, no cross-pressures – which provide a diversity of social cues and political attitudes – could be detected. SXSW may have exacerbated this phenomenon, as the attendees were a paradoxically homogenous mass of counterculture individuals commonly referred to as hipsters. Hipsters are a subculture known for adopting certain conventions in dress, self-presentation and lifestyle. Walking down the streets of Austin last week, one could observe an endless sea of individuals adorning tattoo sleeves, Mohawks, skinny jeans, and “fixie bikes.” This crowd was almost exclusively white and likely from upper socio-economic levels to be able to afford all the expenses associated with attending SXSW: airfare, hotel, food, and all access passes which cost a minimum of $695. The event took place during the week, which meant that participants needed to have flexible work schedules. No doubt that this sort of context would only serve to further reinforce the normative opinions, lifestyles, and behaviors of the large majority of white, left-leaning residents of Austin.
Diana C. Mutz writes of the effects of this kind of homogeneity or lack thereof in terms of political participation. In her research she found that individuals engaged in cross-cutting networks – through which differing opinions are expressed – are more likely to feel politically ambivalent and may be more delayed in their political actions, such as voting, in order to avoid confrontations that might compromise their social relationships. On the flipside, individuals who are not privy to cross-cutting networks are more likely to be politically active and to express strong opinions. Mutz writes of this trend: “High levels of political participation go hand in hand with homogenous networks” (850).
In closing, what I witnessed in Austin – public opinions affected by the spiral of silence, pluralistic ignorance, the third person effect, and an absence of cross-cutting networks – had much to do with the homogenous environment created by the mingling of residents and typical concertgoers at SXSW. In this kind of environment, there are high social rewards for demonstrating conformity in opinions, lifestyles, and appearances, and negative repercussions including social isolation and stigmatization for sharing ideas, holding beliefs, or trumpeting values that run counter to the carefully constructed “alternative” lifestyle of the mainstream hipster. My recent trip to Austin for the South by Southwest Music Festival proved to be more than a mini-vacation from which I would collect memories of live music performances as my souvenirs; it also provided me with an opportunity to embed myself in a foreign and fascinating culture as a social critic, a budding ethnographer, and an aspiring sociologist. As a student of sociology, I came to view Austin, generally, and the SXSW Music Festival, specifically, as environments that foster group-think, socio-political homogeneity, and extreme speaking and silence vis-à-vis individual beliefs about one’s minority or majority status.
Works Cited
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